#it should be illegal to love a fictional character this much

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Aphrodite Headcanons: And She Took That Personal! (Greek Mythology)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am finally back with a new God/Mythology Video! This one is of Base Yandere Aphrodite from Greek Mythology!!! Please enjoy this!]

(DISCLAIMER: This is Based on Aphrodite from Myth, she most likely is not Yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine. Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons with Aphrodite, From Greek Mythology-

.Aphrodite is the Goddess of Sexual beauty. 

.There is not a man she cannot get, there are also a lot of women she cannot get. 

.She can easily invoke lust and desire. 

.Then there is you, the second human to steal her heat. 

.You are different from the human man that she fell in love with all those years ago. 

.You are a stunning creature beyond words! She needs to have you as hers and hers alone. 

.She is beyond smitten with you and knows that you and she will have fruitful children, may you be a uterus owner she will get the best godly sperm for you. If you are in the possession of balls she will bear your seed. 

.Either way, you and her will have godly offspring. 

.She is also going to do what it takes to woo you. 

.Very romantic outings with you, where she makes her desires for you very VERY clear. 

.She of course knows you will want her, I mean come on she is the goddess of beauty, sexual love, pleasure, and fertility what more could you want? 

.She like many other gods, is obsessive and possessive. 

.She would not want to share you at all! 

. Especially with no mortal. 

.And with Aphrodite if you were with a mortal woman? She would take that as a personal insult. 

.She is the Goddess of love and beauty and pleasure. What could some mortal woman give you that she cannot? 

.She is also one of your more vain and jealous goddesses. This is one of the biggest reasons that the whole Trojan War was started. 

.So she would take you being with someone other than her, male or female, but especially female as the biggest insult. 

.But do not worry you are her sweet little pet, she would never take this anger out on you! 

.Your lover though? Well remember all the things the Greek gods have done to women and men but mainly women (Yeah she is going to make your lovers suffer beyond words) 

.Turning them into horrific things and maybe even getting animals involved. 

.She does not care she is not sharing with any rivals, she is your Goddess and you will be hers and ONLY HERS. 

.She is particularly aggressive, petty, and vengeful with her female rivals, making them suffer the biggest humiliation and pain! 

.She has to shatter them. 

.She would confess to you after probably killing her rivals taking you close and kissing you. 

.If you kiss back and accept her love well you will be made into some immortal and will stay by her side for the rest of time. 

.If you turn her down? She will have to kidnap you and punish you, you should not be better than to turn down a literal Goddess, especially when that Goddess has given you her heart! 

.Do not worry she will break that spirit of yours and teach you that she is all that you need and that you will be much happier with her. 

.Whether you wanted it or not! 

.She would also use sex as a way to tame you, manipulating her skills in the bedroom. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Another chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

idk if this is something you would answer but how do you unlearn shame of being horny 😵‍💫

hi anon,

this is a complex question. unlearning shame of any kind can take a long time to sort out, and will be driven more by internal work you do to challenge and shift your own thinking than by anything else.

a good place to start may be by doing some reflection as to what you find shameful about being horny in the first place and working back from there to recognize sexuality and desire as morally neutral things.

for instance, I get a fair number of people asking if it's okay to think about real people that they know when they're horny, or masturbate to fantasies about those people. they feel a lot of shame about this, as if they're causing harm to these people by imagining them in sexual scenarios. but making up funny little scenarios in your head to nut to is a harmless act that only you will ever know about. it's not like whipping out your dick (gender neutral) and masturbating at strangers on public transit; what you do to get off in your private time only impacts you.

a problem would only arise if you decided to start treating your real, actual acquaintance, not the imaginary sexy version of them, differently, for instance by making untoward comments about their body, treating them as if they are obligated to be interested in spending time together or having sex with you, or, god forbid, telling them in detail about your sexual fantasies. now you're doing sexual harassment, which is inappropriate because of the hurt and discomfort is causes the recipient. being horny isn't the problem here, it's how you're treating another person.

people also feel a lot of shame around many other types of fantasies, especially if they involve dynamics that are off-limits or illegal in real life. often, the worry seems to be that being aroused by these imagined scenarios is akin to expressing support for these things to happen in real life.

listen: sexual fantasies about rape are some of the most commonly reported among cis women, and that's not because tons and tons of cis women secretly think that rape is a cool thing that should happen more. the people playing Baldur's Gate 3 and fucking Halsin while he's wildshaped into a bear aren't all chomping at the bit to commit a sex crime against a real animal. noticing that "teenage" characters on TV played by actors in their 20s and 30s are hot does not make anyone a pedophile. fiction is a safe realm to explore and enjoy things that we would never in a million years want to see happen in real life. I love Batman, but I can assure you I would not be a happy camper if a real-life billionaire started running around doing vigilantism in a fursuit while endangering a gaggle of teenage sidekicks.

and if you want to explore some of the stuff you're into in real life, awesome! great! there are ways to go about negotiating a lot of different kinks safely and responsibly (although probably not the bear thing, sorry about that). the world is full of people who want the experience of being stalked, beat up, kidnapped, and sexually assaulted - all mediated through pre-negotiated arrangements with people that they have chosen to enact these fantasies with them. so what is there to be ashamed of in that situation? sure, the situation you're engaging in might sound scary without proper context, but so do a lot of things. a stranger cutting open my skin, very likely causing bleeding, and leaving me with a mark that I'll have for the rest of my life sounds scary, and it definitely would be if it wasn't a situation that I agreed to! but that's also what getting a tattoo is, and that's an experience that I love so much that I pay for the pleasure. nothing to feel bad about there as long as you're playing safely!

listen: there's nothing wrong with being horny. the human sex drive is a completely natural one born from biological need that makes getting off feel good. there's no more sense in feeling shame about being horny than there is in feeling shame about being hungry or needing rest, although people do of course manage to feel bad about those as well. regardless of what causes it, when you feel the shame well up you have to push back on it and ask yourself who actually directly benefits from you feeling badly about yourself in that moment, and who is actually tangibly hurt by the actions you're shaming. and if the answer is "no one," move it along!

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | ten

🐴Chapter summary: When Mikrokosmos goes missing, you don’t know what to do and when Jimin suddenly starts talking to you, wanting to help find your horse, you’re not sure if you should accept or not. When you can’t find Mikrokosmos and have to spend a night with Jimin in the wide open land, will old feelings bloom? 🐴Chapter title: The First Touch 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex; sex in public (they are outside in nature by themselves), oral (both male and female receiving), very very brief anal play (female receiving), nipple play, hair pulling, sweet/dirty talk, pet name (babe), cock warming, multiple orgasms, a loooooooot of kissing (so much that it should be illegal), just very slow and tender love making. Jimin is very gentle, but he is also a devil 👿 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 16.4k (whoopps, but it’s smut!)

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “The First Touch” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: hello, how are you doing? After weeks of leaving you high and dry and potentially crying, I finally come bearing a gift in the form of slow and sensual smut. I really hope you love it, otherwise, shame on you (I’m sorry I just really love it, and it will get dirtier later (yes, that was more smut promised!)). This chapter was so fucking fun to write, and can you belive I wrote it in a day? The last three previous chapters have been harder to write, because they were more angsty, but this, oh dear god, when I write smut and fluff, the words just flows differently 🥰 So I really hope that you enjoy this, I ended up turning myself on with the smut, so yeah… I hope that means that it is good, please let me know okay???

And I am so sorry for all the angst I put you through, if you need therapy like me, send me the bill, okay? 🥹 We also finally get some answers to Jimin’s behavior the last chapters!! I really hope you enjoy, and I hope you haven’t given up on this series 😭

PSA! For the ultimate reading experience, I recommend grabbing a warm blanket and something nice to drink (whatever you like; water, tea, cocoa etc) 🫂

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“When I finally touch you Soft upon your skin You travel to the heart of me And so it begins” - ‘The First Touch’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You find yourself yearning for the ground to swallow you whole. The aftermath of the gala weighs heavily on your mind, and you’ve been evading Jimin ever since. Anger still lingers, but embarrassment overshadows it. Why on earth did you let yourself unleash such a torrent of emotions on him?

You release a frustrated groan, urging Marshmallow to stretch his stride, his powerful hooves churning up the earth beneath. The wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the anticipation of your imminent arrival at Bell Ranch.

Praying to avoid any encounter with Jimin or his undoubtedly furious girlfriend, you navigate the winding path to Bell Ranch with a knot of apprehension in your stomach. The thought of further embarrassment looms over you like a storm cloud, urging you to keep a low profile and escape unscathed.

Marshmallow ambles toward the pen, Yoongi immersed in his labor. Presently, his focus is on a horse adorned with a tapestry of brown and white spots, each stroke of his skilled hands an intimate dance with the wild spirit captured within the creature’s untamed gaze.

You bring Marshmallow to a stop, securing the reins to the fence, before settling into your customary perch. From this vantage point, you observe Yoongi, his hands orchestrating a ballet with the untamed energy of the horse.

Suddenly, a stir in the vicinity of the house catches your attention, prompting you to shift your gaze. There, you spot Jimin making his way toward you, an unusual limp in his stride suggesting he might have overexerted himself today. Despite the evident fatigue, he’s adorned in a button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled up, revealing the golden hue of his skin and the well-defined contours of his biceps. A gentle breeze plays with his blonde locks as he traverses the yard.

A curiosity nags at you as you observe Jimin’s solitary figure, wondering about the absence of Deiji and the distant expression etched across his face, brows knit in contemplation. The air seems to carry the weight of his thoughts, leaving you to ponder what might be troubling him. Just as you’re caught in this web of speculation, the abrupt roar of an engine pierces the air, drawing your attention. Swiftly, Jimin mounts his blue dirt bike, tearing out of the yard with an intensity that propels him over hills and into the expanse of a distant paddock.

He’s likely headed off to some task, a sentiment that resonates with your own responsibilities awaiting attention. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you shift your gaze back to Yoongi, his tender gestures toward the spotted horse capturing a moment of tranquility amidst the ranch’s bustling routine.

Yoongi’s playful grin widens as he teases, well aware that your attention involuntarily drifted towards Jimin once more. “How are you doing?”

A light chuckle escapes you. “Well, hanging in there. Just grappling with the lingering sense of embarrassment, you know?”

He erupts into laughter, the kind that reveals his gums and sets his chest into a hearty jiggle. “Got it. I heard Jimin’s girlfriend was less than thrilled with your little performance at the gala.”

You scoff, indifferent about his opinion. Regret lingers for your harsh words, a realization that an apology is overdue—a bridge you’ve yet to cross.

“I understand, but I was just so mad, and I couldn’t hold back,” you admit, your scuffed tone matching the internal storm that rages within, hands tightly clenched atop your legs.

“It’s alright. I don’t think Jimin minds. You’ve given him plenty to ponder,” he mentions, continuing to pat the spotted horse. Your raised eyebrow prompts him to elaborate.

“What do you mean?” you ask, curiosity sparking in your eyes, eager to understand his insinuation.

“The house has been unusually quiet since the gala. Maybe Jimin has taken your words to heart?” he suggests, eyebrows dancing in speculation. You scoff, skeptical of such a notion.

“Let’s shift the conversation, shall we? I’m done with Jimin,” you declare, though a part of you acknowledges that you’re far from finished with the unresolved tension. Uncertain whether you should approach Jimin – preferably without yelling this time – or wait for him to make the first move, you consider extending an apology to both him and Deiji.

Yoongi chuckles, orchestrating a rhythmic dance with the spotted horse as they traverse the pen at a leisurely pace. “Sure,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his voice.

A heavy sigh escapes you, and a pregnant pause lingers, only to be broken by Yoongi’s next words.

“I have a date with Hobi,” he announces, a radiant smile gracing his face, yet beneath the joy, a subtle tremor betrays a touch of nervous anticipation in his voice.

A grin spreads across your face, mirroring your genuine excitement. “That’s fantastic!” 

Your enthusiasm bubbles over, revealing just how genuinely thrilled you are for him.

Your eyes light up with genuine joy as you congratulate him, “I’m so happy for you, Yoon.” Your smile reflects the warmth and sincerity of your words.

A playful glint in his eyes, he teases, “Thank you, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

Anticipation bubbles within you, eager to hear the tales of their date, whenever they get to have it. As your thoughts wander, a silent wish lingers in the recesses of your mind—hoping for a touch of joy not just for Yoongi but for yourself as well, because you both deserve it, dammit.

“Are you ready to get Mikrokosmos home?” Yoongi’s question jolts you from your daydreams, nudging your focus back to reality. You silently curse yourself for entertaining thoughts about how their date would go and then your mind instantly wanders to sex. Damn, you really need to get laid. Why does your mind always have to go there?

You laugh nervously, your excitement bubbling to the surface. “Absolutely! I can’t wait to welcome Mikrokosmos home at last.”

“I’ll wrap things up here, and then we can ride her home together, sound good?” he suggests, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. You eagerly nod; a ride with the wind in your hair always has a way of soothing your heart.

As Yoongi wraps up his work with the spotted horse, coaxing it into accepting the halter, you watch attentively. Once done, he opens the gate, guiding the horse into a paddock. Together, you make your way to the stables to saddle up Mikrokosmos.

With unwavering patience, you nuzzle Mikrokosmos gently as you expertly fit the bridle and saddle onto her. Leading her out of the barn, you make your way down to the pen where Marshmallow awaits, tethered to the fence.

“Mind if I take Marshmallow? Later, Soo-ah or Ara can give me a ride home,” he proposes, deftly unfastening the reins from the fence. With a fluid motion, he swings one leg over Marshmallow’s sturdy back, securing himself in the saddle.

With a nod, you replicate the motion with Mikrokosmos. Grasping the stirrup, you press your weight onto your foot, smoothly swinging your body over the black mare’s back. A soft, airy whinny escapes her as you settle into the saddle.

“Let’s go!” you exclaim with enthusiasm, gently pressing your legs against Mikrokosmos’s side. She eases into a lazy canter before bursting into a steady gallop. Yoongi follows in your wake, and together, you ride over the hills, the sun casting a warm glow on your skin. In companionable silence, you savor the moment, connecting with nature and the rhythmic pulse of the horses beneath you.

Your heart races within your chest as you revel in the sensation of riding Mikrokosmos. Her movements feel like a dance, as if she’s carrying you to extraordinary places. Today, that destination is home. The anticipation builds as you look forward to having your horse with you at last. Countless hours of hard work have led to this moment, and the thought of bringing her home fills you with excitement and satisfaction.

The wind gently tousles your hair as you grip the reins, relishing the familiar sensation of freedom while riding. There’s a profound joy in being so intimately connected with nature. This feeling, the rush of wind, the rhythmic gait of the horse—it’s something you’ve truly missed. Since your dad took you away from the ranch, you’ve felt the absence keenly. Now, as you ride, you’re determined to reclaim everything you lost, to rediscover the simple yet profound joys that the ranch offers.

In no time, you and Yoongi arrive back at the familiar embrace of home. Guiding your horses up to the barn, you expertly stow them away, each finding comfort in their respective stalls.

As you and Yoongi make your way to the house, the air is suddenly pierced by the thunderous roar of an engine. Turning, you spot Jungkook’s sleek bike charging into the yard, your sister snugly positioned behind him. With a smooth halt, he steadies the bike, kicking the stand into place and plants his boots on the ground, unveiling his disheveled black hair as he removes the helmet. Following suit, Jessi frees her own brown locks, letting them playfully dance around her face in the breeze, a tandem display of casual grace as the bike’s engine settles into a quiet hum.

Your hand rises in a friendly wave, reciprocated by the warm smiles adorning both Jungkook and Jessi’s faces as they draw near.

“Hi,” resonates in perfect harmony from both, your sister’s fingers intimately intertwined with Jungkook’s. A twinge of happiness for them pulls at your heart, yet it’s hard not to let a tinge of personal sadness creep in as well.

Yoongi strolls up to Jungkook, nodding toward the bike, “Mind if I borrow that to ride home, in case you’re crashing here?”

Jungkook laughs and gives a casual nod, “Sure thing. Jessi’s playing chauffeur for me tomorrow.”

Yoongi grins with satisfaction, sharing a quick hug and bidding you farewell. He hops onto the dirt bike, revving the engine to life, the sound echoing through the air.

You stand there, watching as Yoongi rides off into the distance, a cloud of dust rising in his wake, the roar of the engine gradually fading into the peaceful surroundings.

“I’m going to grab a quick snack before dinner, do you want some?” You cast a casual glance toward your sister and Jungkook as you leisurely make your way toward the house.

“As long as it’s a sandwich, count me in,” Jungkook chuckles, with your sister in tow. The duo follows you into the house and converges in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you survey the available ingredients for sandwich-making. Jungkook and Jessi settle at the small table on the side, eagerly anticipating the creation of the culinary delights.

You retrieve the bread, butter, and a medley of ham and cheese from the fridge. Your hands move with a rhythmic grace, deftly assembling the ingredients, all the while humming the sweet melody of a love song that resonates in the air.

“Have you talked with Jimin since the gala?”Jungkook’s question punctures the air, shattering the peaceful rhythm of your sandwich-making. The ingredients lay untouched as you turn your attention to him, his words echoing in the kitchen.

Without turning away from the task at hand, you respond to Jungkook’s inquiry, your voice laced with a mix of uncertainty and a tinge of regret. “No, and I’m not sure he even wants to talk to me after everything that happened.”

As you continue working, your back facing Jungkook and your sister, you sense his understanding nod and his voice carries a gentle insistence. “I really think you should talk to him this time.”

You pivot, your eyes locking onto Jungkook, a giant question mark etched across your face. 

“Why?” You inquire, curiosity and a hint of reluctance evident in your expression.

A sly smirk lingers on his lips, aggravating you further. The infuriating knowledge he possesses irks you to no end. “I think he has something to tell you,” he teases, and you find yourself caught between irritation and curiosity. A sarcastic chuckle escapes your lips as you refocus on the sandwiches, allowing the knife to slice through them, the sharp blade echoing your conflicted emotions.

“Here,” you offer, presenting Jungkook with a plate laden with half a dozen sandwiches, though your sister politely declines any.

You snatch one for yourself, shooting a casual yet meaningful glance back at them, “Enjoy.”

Savoring each bite of the sandwich, you ascend the stairs to your bedroom, where your eyes linger on the canvas mounted on the easel. The palette has shifted, with softer tones emerging – hints of pink intermingling with delicate whites and purples, forming a composition reminiscent of a blossoming cherry tree.

Sinking into the soft embrace of your bed, a cascade of thoughts floods your mind. The weight of an overdue apology to Jimin and his girlfriend hangs over you, a lingering echo from the turbulent gala. Yet, Jungkook’s mysterious hint at something he knows adds an intriguing layer to your contemplation. Recognizing the need for resolution, you resolve to extend the olive branch of an apology first, aiming to pave the way for a more composed and genuine conversation with Jimin. The anticipation of what both interactions might unveil stirs within you, pushing you to take the first step towards reconciliation.

In an unexpected twist of events, you drift into an unplanned slumber, the embrace of sleep enveloping you so thoroughly that dinner becomes a distant echo. No one ventures to rouse you, and you awaken later on your bed, a half-eaten sandwich still clutched in your hand. The rhythmic resonance of hooves reverberates, drawing you to the window. A herd of wild horses, led by the imposing brown stallion, unfolds in the yard, remarkably close. Its flaring nostrils and challenging hoof scratches paint a vivid picture of defiance. Despite the intriguing spectacle, weariness tugs at you as you wearily retreat to your bed.

A disquieting sensation grips you, seeping into the very marrow of your bones and settling like a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. An unsettling intuition whispers that things are amiss, and you can’t shake the ominous feeling that something, somewhere, has gone terribly wrong.

Emerging from your bed, your hair a tousled bird’s nest, you scan the room, finding the familiar unchanged. In the bathroom, the routine of brushing your teeth provides a momentary distraction as foam swells in your mouth, only to be expelled and washed away. The warm shower cascades over you, but an indefinable unease persists. Hastily drying off, you return to your room, donning a shirt and pants with urgency. Boots secured, hat in hand, you bound down the stairs, a sense of urgency propelling each step.

Entering the kitchen, a picture of concern greets you — Jungkook, your sister, Soo-ah, Ara, and Ha-rin all wear furrowed brows, leaving you bewildered as to the unfolding situation.

“What’s happened?” You urgently inquire, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and foreboding, a silent acknowledgment that your unsettling intuition might have been onto something significant.

“The herd of wild horses were here last night,” Jungkook informs, a flicker of annoyance crossing his gaze as it shifts from your sister to you.

“Half of the horses are missing,” she exclaims, her voice tinged with frustration, a deep sigh escaping her. You stand there, gaping at them, a sinking feeling settling in. Half of the horses gone? The implications of this revelation weigh heavily on your mind, leaving you bewildered and searching for answers.

“How in the world are half of the horses missing?” you demand, furrowing your brows in disbelief. Nausea churns in your stomach as you contemplate which horses might be gone, a sense of urgency and worry gripping your every thought.

In a calm voice, Ha-rin explains, “It was the stallion. He kicked down the fence, and the horses bolted…”

You nod solemnly. Yoongi’s cautionary words about the troublesome stallion echo in your mind.

Your voice trembles with fear as you ask, “Which paddock?”

Jessi’s voice drops, “The East paddock,” she says, her anger seeping into every word as she sinks into a chair.

Realization crashes over you like a tidal wave. After stalling Mikrokosmos for the night, you released her into that same East paddock for some freedom—whatever freedom a fenced enclosure could offer. Oh, no. Could Mikrokosmos be among the missing horses?

“Mikrokosmos?” The word escapes your lips, a desperate plea wrapped in the echo of your worst fears. You don’t need them to confirm it; the sinking weight in your chest tells you everything. The truth is etched across their faces, mirroring the dread that’s settled in your bones since you woke up.

Fury courses through Jessi’s words as she spits out the painful truth, “She’s gone too, along with some of the other mares.” Her hand crashes down on the table, a symphony of anger and frustration. Jungkook steps in, his calming touch a feeble attempt to soothe the storm unleashed.

Hatred drips from Jessi’s words like venom as she rages, “That’s why I hate those damn wild animals! Always stealing our horses. That stallion probably wanted Mikrokosmos back…” Her words pierce the air, causing an uncomfortable twist in your stomach. Is she implying this is somehow your fault?

You begin to protest, “I didn’t have anything to do with this,” but Jessi dismisses your words with a quick and dismissive wave.

“I don’t think you did. I’m not blaming you. I’m just furious at that wretched stallion,” she explains, her anger palpable and raw, but there’s a softer edge to her words too.

It’s a relief to know she doesn’t pin this on you, that you’re not burdened with the blame. A soft sigh escapes your lips.

“So, what’s the plan then?” You inquire, scanning the faces in the crowded kitchen, a sense of urgency in your voice.

“We need to mend that fence, Jungkook, can we count on you for help?” Your sister implores, turning to him with a hopeful expression. He responds with a firm nod and a reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Feel free to track down the wild horses and check if you can locate them. Unfortunately, we’re short-handed today,” your sister suggests, rising from her seat and gazing out the window.

“No worries. I’ll head over to Yoongi and see if he can spare some time to join me,” you assure them with a gentle smile. Beneath the surface, a mix of sadness and frustration bubbles as you long for Mikrokosmos to return.

With determined steps, you rush out of the house and bound up to the stables, the urgency echoing in your every movement. In the quiet embrace of the stable, Marshmallow awaits, his presence a comforting balm to your racing thoughts. Swiftly, you open the door, embracing him in a soft hug before gearing him up with a bridle and saddle. Together, you emerge from the barn, and with a decisive leap, you saddle up, urging Marshmallow into a gallop, heading towards the Bell ranch with determination in your heart.

The wind tenderly weaves through your hair once more, a melancholic symphony echoing the turbulence within. Fueled by a potent mix of sorrow and frustration, your heart clenches with a resolute desire to reclaim what’s rightfully yours. Your grip tightens around the reins, a silent vow etched in your clenched fists, urging Marshmallow to race faster, the earth stirs in a tumultuous dance beneath his thundering hooves.

The pen materializes on the horizon, and there, amidst the rhythmic ballet of wild horses, you spy Yoongi immersed in his labor. Urging Marshmallow to a thunderous gallop, you charge towards the pen. With an abrupt tug on the reins, the air fills with the gritty harmony of skidding hooves as Marshmallow halts, an abrupt punctuation that seizes Yoongi’s attention. Descending from Marshmallow, you plant your feet on the ground with a flourish, the dust settling around you like a curtain call.

“What’s wrong?” He queries, a flicker of concern lighting up his features, as your uncharacteristic entrance sends ripples of tension through the air. 

“The damn stallion,” you seethe, your breaths punctuated with fury, “he’s run off with Mikrokosmos.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, but without hesitation, he declares, “I’ll help you search for her.” You nod in gratitude as he leads his brown horse out of the pen, and you guide Marshmallow to the stables, anticipation coursing through both of you.

Prepared and determined, you and Yoongi lead your horses by the reins out to the yard, a shared sense of urgency fueling your quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Yoongi gathers the reins in his hand and directs your focus to the task at hand, “We’ll start looking at the Eastern paddock, okay?” Just as the urgency builds, Jimin emerges from his house, adding an unexpected twist to the unfolding events. You shoot him a questioning look as he stands before you, curiosity and apprehension blending in your gaze.

“What are you up to?” Jimin questions, catching both you and Yoongi off guard. The unexpectedness of his inquiry leaves you standing there, dumbfounded, your shared silence reflecting the tension that lingers between you and Jimin.

“The wild stallion snatched Mikrokosmos last night; we’re going to search for her,” Yoongi explains, his voice filled with urgency, his movements swift as he places his foot in the stirrup and gracefully swings his body over the horse’s back. The gravity of the situation hangs heavy, and you can feel the collective determination to retrieve your horse cutting through the morning air.

“I can help,” Jimin offers, his voice carrying a light and airy tone that catches you off guard. You stare at him, momentarily questioning your senses—did he really just say that? The unexpected offer hangs in the air, and you’re left wondering what might be going on in his mind.

Yoongi and you both fixate on him, and Jimin responds with a soft chuckle, the contours of his chest subtly moving beneath his shirt.

“I can assist. That way, Yoongi can focus on his tasks,” he suggests, approaching Yoongi and motioning for him to dismount so they can swap positions. Yoongi glances at you, seeking approval for the change. Meanwhile, you continue to stare blankly at both Yoongi and Jimin. The situation feels oddly surreal—Jimin offering to help you search for your horse, especially considering the tense silence since the heated exchange at the gala. This ride might just turn out to be the most awkward one of your life.

“Sure,” Yoongi concedes, dismounting from the horse. He hands the reins to Jimin, who skillfully collects them in his hands. With a swift motion, Jimin places his boot in the stirrup and swings his body over the horse, mirroring Yoongi’s earlier move.

Silent as a shadow, you remain grounded, words held captive within the walls of your thoughts.

With a subtle tug on the reins, Jimin redirects the horse, casting a teasing glance your way, “Are you coming or what?”

Jimin’s playful remark snaps you back to the present, and without a second thought, you slip your foot into the stirrup, effortlessly swinging your leg over Marshmallow’s back.

You trail behind Jimin, bidding farewell to Yoongi, who lingers with a knowing smile. Silently cursing him for abandoning you in the company of Jimin, you brace for the imminent awkwardness. Despite the uncertainty, the urgency of finding Mikrokosmos eclipses any reservations—you’re grateful for any help that might lead to her return.

Jimin confidently guides his horse, setting the pace as you both return to your ranch. The eastern paddock looms ahead, where Jungkook and Jessi ardently mend the broken fence. Their curious gazes lock onto you, expecting Yoongi but finding Jimin at your side instead.

Venturing deeper into the forest, the towering trees cast a verdant embrace around you. Silence hangs heavy between you and Jimin, a palpable tension that begs to be shattered. It dawns on you that speaking up might be the only way to dispel this awkward atmosphere before it becomes a permanent fixture.

Amidst the rustling leaves and dappled sunlight, you finally muster the courage to break the awkward silence. “I’ve been meaning to say, I’m sincerely sorry about the gala. I hope my words didn’t cross a line with you or upset Deiji too much,” you confess, your gaze sweeping through the foliage in search of any sign of the elusive wild horses.

His laughter dances through the air, a warm melody amid the rustling leaves. “It’s fine. Did it feel good getting off your chest?”

A subtle blush graces your cheeks, and you admit, “It did. I’m still sorry, though. Sorry that your girlfriend had to hear that, and for pointing at her like that.”

You release a soft sigh, reminiscing about the regrettable way you conducted yourself.

He laughs again, the sound echoing like sweet melodies in your ears, yet the mystery behind his continuous laughter leaves you utterly perplexed.

“She did not like it,” he starts, weaving his words with the rustling leaves as you venture into uncharted territory beneath the expansive canopy of a towering, ancient tree.

“I deeply regret my words and actions,” you offer in earnest, the weight of remorse evident in your voice.

“It’s fine. We actually broke up,” his words hang in the air, a revelation that jolts you, and you swivel your head towards him so swiftly you fear a case of emotional whiplash.

Your words tumble out rapidly, laced with uncertainty, as you press him for answers, “You broke up? Why?” The shifting dynamics between you two send your heart racing, and the reins in your sweaty palms seem to tighten with anticipation.

In a hushed tone, he reveals, “She was tired of being compared to you.” 

His voice carries a soft, steady cadence, devoid of anger, as though he’s entrusted you with a profound secret. He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, revealing his slightly crooked teeth. His eyes disappear behind lowered eyelids as he adds, “She isn’t you.”

A suspended moment, as if time itself hesitates, your heart momentarily halts its rhythmic dance within your chest. Breath catches, and for a beat, you’re left in breathless suspension—did he truly utter those words? The weight of his revelation seeps into your weary frame, and a blossoming warmth unfurls within your chest. The air lightens, the sun bestows its gentle touch on your skin, and you find yourself smiling at him, words caught in the surge of emotions.

“I also had a conversation with Yoongi,” he reveals, and you find yourself gaping in astonishment. The horses have settled into a leisurely walk, a welcome reprieve as you grapple with the influx of information, making it nearly impossible to focus on the ride.

“He mentioned the kiss,” he confesses, and you detect a glimmer of pain in his eyes. Yet, it doesn’t weigh as heavily as it once did; there’s a newfound lightness in his demeanor as he continues, “Yoongi explained that he’s gay, and that the kiss was merely a friendly gesture.”

You nod, each word he utters peeling away layers of weight from your shoulders. It’s precisely the message you’ve been struggling to convey all along. However, you hesitated to betray Yoongi’s confidence by revealing it. Yet, confessing to Hoseok about Yoongi’s feelings for him seemed to work wonders, paving the way for their upcoming date.

“That’s what I desperately wanted to convey that day, you know... but you slammed the door shut in my face,” you confess, a tinge of sorrow sweeping over your heart at the memory of the pain etched on Jimin’s face that day. While you comprehend the source of his hurt and anger, the lingering confusion remains about why he refused to engage in conversation or hear your side of the story.

“I’m sorry. I was just so hurt at the time. Later, when I noticed how close you were to Yoongi, I jumped to conclusions and assumed you were dating him,” he chuckles, the sound carrying a tinge of sadness as he reminisces about the past. “Fortunately, he clarified things for me, assuring me that you two are just friends and always have been.”

“That’s right. We’re just best friends. Honestly, he’s like the annoying brother I never asked for,” you chuckle, a weight lifting off your shoulders. Yet, an indescribable sensation begins to bloom within your chest, a mix of warmth and tingles, leaving you intrigued by its unfamiliar presence.

“I’m so sorry. I really should have talked to you and listened. I’m so sorry.” As Jimin utters his apology, his voice echoes with remorse, a melody of regret that resonates within you. It’s a bittersweet symphony, soothing to finally hear, yet you ponder the missed opportunities for dialogue that could have averted the storm unleashed by this stupid mistake and now your recent outburst. The apology, though overdue, forms a bridge between you, and you find solace in the fact that, at last, you stand on the same side of understanding. 

“I had hoped for you to listen back then as well. But, let’s leave the echoes of the past behind, shall we?” Your suggestion carries the weight of anticipation, a sense of hopeful exploration into uncharted territories. He nods in agreement, yet a palpable silence, thick with the unsaid, envelops you both. The journey continues in quietude, but within that stillness, you sense the unspoken words echoing in the lingering gaze of his brown eyes, a silent conversation that paints the canvas of possibility.

As twilight descends and the hours in the saddle accumulate, your fatigue is etched into the soreness of your seat. The weariness must surely weigh on Jimin too, his body silently protesting the prolonged ride. Amidst the encroaching darkness, Mikrokosmos remains elusive, a mystery yet to unfold, and the elusive presence of the wild horses eludes your diligent search.

Frustration settles over you like a heavy cloak, and an audible sigh escapes your lips, carrying the weight of your disappointment. Just as the gloom threatens to deepen, a rebellious rumble emanates from your stomach, capturing Jimin’s attention and coaxing a playful laugh from him.

“Hungry?” His question, a beacon of concern, draws a nod from you, and you respond by absently rubbing your stomach as if coaxing it to silence the persistent growls of hunger.

As the undeniable pangs of hunger echo through your stomach, you admit with a rueful tone, “I forgot to eat before we left,” the regret audible in your voice.

In a gentle yet scolding tone, he remarks, “That’s not good, you know. It’s important to eat.” Leaning towards you, he suggests, “I think we should call it a day and head back. It’s getting late anyway.”

As you nod, a flicker of disappointment crosses your face. The elusive search for Mikrokosmos remains unfulfilled today. Yet, a spark of hope ignites within you as you remind yourself, there’s always tomorrow, right?

“Then you can get something to eat, a good night’s sleep and then I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we can continue the search?” His soft smile and warm, glowing brown eyes captivate you, quickening your heartbeat. With a hopeful nod, you sense something stirring deep within your stomach — a sensation that goes beyond hunger, something akin to the birth of hope.

The rhythmic tapping on your door pulls you from slumber, and you respond with a drowsy yet receptive, “Yes?”

You emit a groan of protest as the door inches open, revealing a fully alert Jimin. Clad in a snug white tee, its slight transparency inadvertently exposing the soft hue of his pink nipples, you chide yourself for letting your gaze linger. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you note his dark blue jeans, strategically torn at the knees, leaving you curious if it’s a deliberate fashion choice or a result of untamed adventures. His hands nonchalantly find refuge in his pockets, drawing your attention to the pronounced veins that traverse his arms, subtly visible in the soft light of dawn.

As you rise from your bed, a sudden awareness floods your mind, recalling the choice of your sleepwear—a camisole paired with shorts that might be deemed too short for comfort. Hastily, you reach for the duvet, intending to conceal a portion of your body, only to inadvertently accentuate the contours of your chest. The fabric presses against your breasts, and you can’t help but notice the subtle shift in his gaze, his eyes lingering on the unintended display of cleavage.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he chuckles, advancing deeper into your room. His gaze sweeps across the array of your personal belongings, lingering on the easel in the corner adorned with a painting bursting with vibrant hues— a stark contrast to your previous, darker works. Despite your eye roll, you pull yourself out of bed, allowing the duvet to cascade from your body. In that moment, you sense his eyes tracing every contour of your nearly naked form.

“Just a minute,” you reply, swiftly retrieving a t-shirt and pants from your closet, tossing them onto the bed. Jimin’s gaze lingers on you, a subtle intensity that sets your hair on fire, the air thick with an indescribable energy. “Mind if I take a shower first?” you ask, breaking the charged silence.

He chuckles, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “No time for that. Besides, you already smell nice.” His playful demeanor adds a spark to the moment, making you smile in spite of the urgency.

A blush tints your cheeks. Did he just say you smell nice? You did take a bath yesterday after dinner, but you’re not entirely convinced you actually smell nice. Nevertheless, he’s spot on about time slipping away – you can’t afford to lose daylight like you did yesterday.

“Fine,” you hiss, the word escaping through a playful smirk. Chuckling softly, you grab your clothes from the bed and dash out of your room, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Returning to your bedroom, you discover Jimin holding a photograph featuring the three of you. His smile reflects the captured moment as you take the frame from his hand. “I found it a few weeks ago. Isn’t it just adorable?” The warmth of nostalgia floods the room, threading through the air as the image triggers shared memories.

A smile graces your face as you gaze at the photograph capturing the innocence of childhood, featuring you, your sister, and Jimin at the tender age of eight. Bright, childish smiles illuminate the image, with chubby cheeks and round faces. You and your sister playfully squish Jimin in the middle, a moment frozen in time that radiates cuteness. Reflecting on it, you marvel at the transformation; once adorable, Jimin now exudes a different allure, an almost dangerous charisma, akin to the allure of sin.

“It was good times,” nostalgia colors his words as a warm smile graces Jimin’s lips. Without a word, he walks past you, hand reaching out to intertwine with yours, a gentle pull guiding you downstairs to the kitchen. In that touch, echoes of good times and cherished memories bridge the gap between past and present.

“Here you go,” Ha-rin offers you a bundle of carefully prepared food, a thoughtful gesture that instantly makes you feel cared for. Simultaneously, Jimin secures water bottles, gearing up for the day’s journey. The barn becomes a hub of activity as his sleek black horse stands poised, laden with sleeping mats and saddlebags filled with provisions. The air buzzes with anticipation as you prepare for the adventure ahead.

“You’re really prepared,” amused by the thorough preparations, you share a light chuckle while heading into the stable to retrieve Marshmallow, your trusted companion for the impending journey.

“Yeah, that way, if we still don’t find her, we can just sleep out there instead of having to ride all the way back and start over again tomorrow.” His practical explanation resonates with you as you prepare Marshmallow, donning him with a bridle and securing the saddle. Anticipating the possibility of an extended search, you fasten saddlebags, graciously accepting the additional supplies from Jimin, ensuring you’re well-equipped for the journey ahead.

His strategic approach resonates, and you nod in agreement, a surge of determination coursing through you as you gear up for the mission to locate Mikrokosmos.

Guiding Marshmallow from the stable into the morning sunlight, you revel in the warmth that has lingered for months. With reins in hand, boots in the stirrups, and a shared determination with Jimin, you swing into the saddle, urging your horses into a brisk trot toward the Eastern paddock.

The silence becomes a tangible presence, weaving an awkward tapestry around you. Armed with the knowledge of Jimin’s recent breakup, a peculiar tension lingers. He’s now within reach, available, and your desire for him simmers beneath the surface. The challenge lies in navigating this uncharted territory, uncertain of how to bridge the gap between longing and action.

After a few hours in the saddle, you take a well-deserved break, replenishing your energy with a quick snack and a sip of water. The brief pause allows you to catch your breath, fortifying yourself before embarking on the ongoing quest to find Mikrokosmos.

Between bites of the delicious sandwiches Ha-rin crafted for you, you cast a concerned glance at Jimin. 

“Are you okay?” Your attention focuses, especially on his leg, as you inquire about his well-being.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures you, as though casually dismissing the likely pain he’s enduring.

“I know that long rides can strain your leg, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard,” you express with concern, your voice softening. The last thing you want is for him to endure any pain because of you.

“It’s okay,” despite his soft smile and dismissal, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s in pain. It reflects in the furrow of his forehead and the way he favors his left leg, dragging his right leg more than usual. Stubborn, you think, as you let him have his way, but deep down, you know he’s masking the discomfort.

As you take a sip of water, you gently probe, “I remember you telling me about your accident, but what was it like for you afterward?”

With a gentle smile, he begins, “As I told you earlier, I underwent surgery after the accident. It lasted for hours, leaving me with numerous scars on my hip. I despise them; they keep reminding me of that day,” his voice resonates with a mix of sadness and lingering anger. “It happened when I was alone, unable to move or feel my legs. My foot was trapped in the stirrup, the horse struggling to rise immediately after the fall.”

Empathy wells up within you as he recounts the harrowing details. It sounds truly dreadful. Reflecting on the first time he mentioned the incident, you realize he held back so many of these distressing details.

As he exhales, a poignant mixture of sadness and defeat tinges his voice. “Finally, the horse got up and ran off, presumably back home. A few hours later, Jungkook found me and took me to the hospital,” he shares, his recollection carrying the weight of a painful memory.

“Learning to walk again was also pretty hard. But I managed,” he confides, a resilient smile lighting up his eyes. In that moment, you find yourself smiling back, realizing the depth of his strength. Despite the pain, he’s willingly embarking on this quest with you—a testament to the extraordinary kindness that defines this man. He is truly too kind for his own good.

“I’m so sorry,” you utter, a genuine ache in your voice, yearning to alleviate even a fraction of the pain etched across his features.

“It’s life, I guess,” he murmurs with a touch of vulnerability, his shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug as he concludes his sandwich, deftly stowing away the remnants into the saddlebags.

“Ready to continue?” He inquires, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. Following suit, you tidy up, brushing away the dirt from your clothes. Grabbing the reins of Marshmallow, you mount him once more. With the sky shifting from orange to purple in the approaching dusk, the urgency propels you to search fervently for Mikrokosmos.

You’re hit with a wave of disappointment as the realization sinks in that Mikrokosmos won’t be found today either. Frustration knots in your stomach, and a heavy sigh escapes, echoing your dejected feelings.

“We will continue tomorrow,” under the star-studded sky, Jimin’s comforting words envelop you like a gentle embrace. The vast expanse of the open land, with trees and mountains on the horizon, hints at the distance you’ve covered—perhaps even farther than the previous day. Tomorrow holds the promise of a new search, a fresh chance to reunite with Mikrokosmos.

“Fine.”

Resigned, you dismount Marshmallow, carefully removing his bridle and saddle, placing them on the ground with a sense of weary determination. Jimin mirrors your actions with his own horse, unfurling sleeping mats that create a makeshift bed beneath the starlit sky. Blankets join the ensemble, and side by side, you both recline, gazing upward. The stars, like distant diamonds, twinkle in the vast canvas of the night sky, creating a breathtaking image of beauty.

As you lay there, surrounded by the gentle rustling of grass and the fragrant whispers of wildflowers, a part of you can’t help but believe that this is the stuff dreams are made of. The soft earth cradles you, a natural mattress beneath the vast expanse of the cosmos, each star above a guardian in the nocturnal symphony orchestrating your descent into slumber.

The night breeze plays a gentle melody around you, and you sense Jimin shifting beside you. Your eyelids flutter open, and you gracefully turn your head to meet his presence in the tranquil darkness.

“You know that brother’s talk…” in the hushed embrace of the nocturnal wilderness, Jimin’s voice resonates like a sacred incantation. He breaks the silence with a low, calm tone, his words weaving through the night’s symphony of your shared breaths, distant crickets, and the flickering dance of fireflies.

His words, like an unexpected gust of wind through the serene night, jolt you awake. Tension grips your body, and a nervous gulp escapes your throat, shattering the fragile cocoon of impending sleep.

His words cut through the tranquil night, each syllable heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. In the dimness, his eyes lock onto yours, revealing a hurt that lingers like a shadow, haunting the depths of his gaze. “It really hurt... seeing you with Jungkook,” he confesses, laying bare the ache that still throbs within him.

As your heart sways with remorse, your hand moves instinctively, bridging the gap between you and Jimin. Gently, your fingers trace the contours of his cheek, a silent apology etched in the tender gesture. “I’m so sorry. Both that it happened and that you had to see it,” your words hang in the night air, a delicate offering of regret that seeks solace in the quiet.

Jimin’s hand intertwines with yours, and his touch becomes a comforting anchor in the obsidian night. “It’s okay. Stuff happens. I just like you so much, it made me really angry,” his words, a vulnerable confession, echoing beneath the starlit canopy. 

“I’m sorry. I really like you too. And I didn’t know he was your brother at that time, I’m sorry.” The apology lingers in the night air as you gravitate closer to Jimin. His breath, a gentle caress, plays on your skin. Proximity tightens the space between you until your noses almost touch. A symphony of rapid heartbeats reverberates in the silence. 

An electric charge courses through you as Jimin cups your cheek, his gaze penetrating into the depths of your soul, intertwining two fates under the starlit embrace.

A subdued moan escapes your lips as his touch fans the flames within, setting ablaze the desires you’ve long suppressed. It’s that magnetic pull, the sensation lingering each time Jimin’s presence envelops you, a denial unraveling at last. The tension snaps, akin to a taut elastic band reaching its limit. Eternity seems to pass as you lock eyes with him, noses grazing. Inevitably, his plush, inviting lips find yours. Your hands eagerly cup his cheeks, drawing him closer, intensifying the kiss—a convergence of longing and surrender, an electric union that transcends mere touch.

His lips, plush and tender, evoke the sensation of cotton candy—irresistible, almost ethereal. 

In this stolen moment, the kiss becomes an endless dance, a rhythmic exchange that could easily stretch into eternity. A dormant ember within you, quiet for far too many moments, now kindles to life. The realization floods your senses, a surge of awareness that travels down to where desire ignites. Your panties dampen, awakening the passion swirling between you and Jimin.

Jimin expertly rolls you over, maintaining the unbroken connection of your lips. As he gracefully assumes the position above, a tantalizing dance ensues. The subtle pressure of his hips against your crotch sends shivers through your being. You can feel his erect cock, concealed beneath denim, pressing fervently against you. In a harmonious rhythm, he grinds down, a symphony of need escaping him, as he moans into your mouth.

You gasp for breath, the air thick with lust, your eyes locking onto Jimin’s, both sets heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, mirroring the intoxication that courses through your veins. It’s a heady sensation, a collision of longing and desire that feels almost surreal but undeniably right. Your fingers find his cheeks once more, a possessive urgency guiding your movements as you draw him down towards you. As your lips meet in a fervent kiss, the hunger between you intensifies, a voracious yearning that’s been building for months. Each brush of your lips against his is a moment suspended in time, where your need is laid bare, and the surreal truth of it all leaves you breathless – a fantasy finally materializing into reality.

Jimin gently pulls away, a glistening strand of saliva lingering between your parted lips like an invisible tether, a tangible testament to the magnetic force pulling you both back. His breath hitches, a raw intensity in his eyes as he utters, “Fuck. I want you so bad.”

He exhales, a tangible wave of frustration emanating from him as he plunges back into another searing kiss. His tongue, a silent plea, prods at the barrier of your lips, and in a breathless agreement, you grant him entry. Tongues entwined, a passionate dance ensues, heightened by the rhythmic grind of your core against his. The ache of desire consumes you, a primal need that has been dormant for what feels like an eternity. It’s a shared hunger, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual longing, as if both of you are starved for each other’s touch.

His hands travel down, tracing the contours of your stomach beneath the fabric of your shirt. A soft, involuntary giggle escapes your lips, betraying the ticklish sensation that dances across your skin. His touch ventures further, slipping beneath the shirt, and you’re met with a surge of anticipation. The warmth of his palms cups your breasts, the delicate barrier of the bra heightening the sensory encounter. A moan escapes into the heated exchange of the kiss, the responsive melody to his skilled touch, as your nipples respond, hardening within the confines of your bra.

You reluctantly part, the air charged with desire, and you confess breathlessly, “I want you so bad too, Jimin.”

Your fingers glide along the contours of his snug shirt, tracing the rhythmic dance of his abdominal muscles beneath the fabric. The aftermath of your prolonged kisses paints his lips a tantalizing shade of red. His tousled, golden locks only add to the captivating disarray of his appearance, a visual symphony that threatens to engulf your senses. Rising with a newfound determination, you assertively push him away, breaking the intoxicating proximity. “I need that shirt off,” you declare, a hunger lingering in your eyes, aching to explore the canvas beneath.

You eagerly tug at his shirt, a silent invitation that he willingly accepts, lifting his arms in a seamless motion to unveil his honey-colored, velvety skin. As your hand grazes over his pectorals, the rhythmic pulse beneath your fingertips resonates with the accelerated beat of his heart—mirroring the anticipation that courses through your own veins. Your gaze traces a tantalizing descent, capturing the sculpted landscape of his face, collarbones, and the inviting expanse of his stomach, where a subtle trail of brown hair beckons you further. The air is charged with desire as your fingers deftly find his belt, unbuckling it, each deliberate motion a step closer to unraveling his dick hiding in his pants.

A throaty moan escapes him, a vulnerable symphony of desire, as you expertly undo his belt. Returning to him, your lips meet in a kiss, the touch soft and tender, like an intimate promise whispered between you two. In the gentle exchange, he tastes like a blend of love and flowers, a heady combination that lingers in the air. Brimming with anticipation, your hands deftly navigate the delicate task of unbuttoning and pulling down his pants, a challenging feat in the confined space of your current sitting position.

Your hand boldly cups his cock, the fabric of his underwear the only barrier between your skin and the pulsating dick beneath. A soft hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure and anticipation, as you sense the subtle twitch, a physical manifestation of the intensity building between you. The desperate yearning within you intensifies, aching for him with every heartbeat, and as you explore the contours of his cock, the undeniable thickness in your grasp fuels the flames of desire, leaving you breathless with need.

Breaking away from the intoxicating exchange of kisses, you lock eyes with his nearly obsidian orbs, the depth of his gaze holding a universe of unspoken desires. 

“Can I touch you, Jimin?” you inquire, the words charged with both vulnerability and a raw, palpable need.

His teeth capture his bottom lip, a silent struggle playing out as he releases a frustrated exhale. Finally, with a resolute nod, “Fuck, yeah.” 

He raises his hips in anticipation, granting you the freedom to skillfully peel away both his pants and underwear, leaving them discarded somewhere behind you in a forgotten tangle. In this suspended moment, you revel in the sight of him, completely exposed in all his naked glory—an embodiment of your deepest, most intimate fantasies. His beauty surpasses even the vivid images painted by your most explicit dreams. With unabashed admiration, your eyes roam over his form, settling on the scars that grace his hips, perilously close to his crotch. A particularly long one commands attention, stretching from the pinnacle of his hip and tracing a courageous journey downward, almost reaching his knee. Your fingers delicately follow the path of this scar, a silent tribute to the tales etched into his skin.

As your touch navigates the landscape of his scars, you witness the subtle interplay of tension and release in his body, a testament to the vulnerability that accompanies such intimate revelations. His cock responds with a telltale twitch, betraying the electric charge that courses through him in response to your every caress. 

Among the prominent, sprawling scar that graces his hip, you notice a constellation of smaller, shorter scars, each telling its own story. With a delicate touch, your fingertips embark on a tender exploration, tracing the intricate map of his history etched into his skin. 

Meanwhile, his eyes remain hooded, a veil of pleasure shrouding them, while his head arches backward, supported by his hands resting behind him. The cadence of his breath is a slow, deliberate rhythm, accentuating the intimate atmosphere that envelops you both. His teeth find refuge in his bottom lip once more, a silent testament to the waves of sensation cascading through him at your every touch.

“My scars are ugly, don’t look at them,” he confesses, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability, as if he bears the weight of shame. The realization hits you like a wave—perhaps no one has ever taken the time to remind him that, even adorned with scars, he is undeniably beautiful. Gazing into his eyes, you speak with a gentle resolve, “You are beautiful, and so are your scars.”

With tender determination, your fingers resume their exploration, tracing the intricate paths of his scars. The touch is a reassurance, a gentle affirmation of his worth, and as your fingertips dance along the imprints of his past, a ripple of shivers courses through him. In response, an involuntary twitch emanates from his cock between his legs.

He dismisses your words with a subtle shake of his head, skepticism clouding his expression, but you’re determined to rewrite the narrative etched into his self-perception. He needs to understand the depth of his beauty and uniqueness. Your fingers resume their tender dance, tracing teasingly along the ridges of his scars, each touch carrying the weight of your conviction. “These scars,” you affirm, “they tell your story, a story of resilience and strength. And, my god, they are beautiful, just like you.” 

The words hang in the air, a testament to your unwavering belief in the profound beauty etched into the very fabric of his being.

Witnessing the softening of his gaze, a solitary tear breaking free from the confines of his eyes, you seize the poignant moment to plunge back into a kiss with his lips—soft and plush, like a velvet haven. It’s a moment that transcends time, and in those stolen seconds, you realize you could lose yourself in the artistry of his lips for an eternity.

Heaving with the weight of shared intimacy, his breaths resonate with depth and intensity. As he withdraws, the shadows of his eyes glisten with unshed tears in the night. With a voice that trembles with sincerity, he utters, “Thank you,” a phrase that echoes with layers of gratitude and vulnerability.

Gazing into his eyes, you observe a vulnerability that renders him utterly exposed, laid bare before you. In the depth of his gaze, a profound mixture of emotions surfaces, the hues of desire and longing mingling with the rich brown of his eyes. Embracing him, you pull him into the sanctuary of a hug, your lips brushing against his ear as you murmur, “I’ll keep telling you forever, because I feel like you need to hear it.”

Gently trailing your hand down the terrain of his stomach, your fingertips navigate the uncharted territory until they encounter his neglected cock. The moment your touch cradles him, a guttural groan, steeped in the heady brew of desire, escapes him, echoing in the charged air around you. Your fingers embark on a careful exploration, appreciating the girth and thickness of his dick, veins almost popping out of the poor thing. The flushed redness of the head and a delicate sheen of precum only intensify the allure. Licking your lips in anticipation, you lower yourself. Your lips encircle the engorged head, and in response, a deep, primal moan reverberates from him, resonating with the harmonious dance between pleasure and need that binds you together.

Reclining amidst the soft embrace of grass and wildflowers, you have somehow trailed off your sleeping mats, but you don’t care. Your tongue embarks on an intricate exploration, tracing a sinuous path along his cock, each lick an artful dance that circles around him with an unspoken promise of ecstasy. You’re drooling, and your saliva runs down your cheeks, down his cock and down to his balls.

His dick fills your mouth with a perfect fullness, a tangible overflow of desire. The parts that don’t fit in your mouth are skillfully tended to by your left hand, ensuring no inch of him is left untouched. His legs, betraying the intensity of the sensations, exhibit a subtle yet enticing twitch as you move rhythmically, a symphony of pleasure in every rise and fall.

Your devoted attention centers on his frenulum, a delicate dance of your tongue that elicits the softest, most melodic moan you’ve ever been privy to. The sound, a harmonious melody that resonates like a sweet lullaby, fuels your determination to continue this enraptured dance, even as your eyes threaten to mist with water. The need for air tugs at the edge of your consciousness, yet the ethereal music of his moans compels you to keep sucking.

The air is punctuated by squelching sounds, an audible testament to the fervor with which you suck him, utilizing every ounce of your skill. His hand, a gentle guide, finds solace in the maze of your hair, fingers intertwining as you diligently navigate the rhythmic ascent and descent along his pulsating dick. Sensing the subtle tension beneath your touch, you discern the hastened cadence of his breath, a telltale sign that he might be close.

You surface from the intoxicating depths of his crotch, parting from his cock to catch a breath of much-needed air. In that fleeting moment, as your eyes lock with his, you’re ensnared by the sinful intensity of his gaze. It’s a look so profoundly wicked, so enticingly feral, that you sense the very essence of your being might either melt into a puddle or evaporate into the charged air. 

Pooling a teasing amount of saliva in your mouth, you audaciously release it onto his dick, eliciting a surprised yet lustful chuckle from him. As your mouth envelops him once more, you revel in the tangible connection, savoring the unique sensation he offers. Yet, the sensation also sparks a cascade of anticipatory thoughts, your mind drifting to what it will feel like with his cock deep inside your pussy, and you feel it clench pathetically around nothing. Oh, god, you’re so wet already, it’s like a waterslide in your panties.

In rhythmic harmony with your measured breaths through flared nostrils, you descend along the full length of his dick. The audible moans that escape him blend with the sensation of his fingers tensing in your hair, creating a symphony of pleasure. Gradually, you sense him responding, pushing up into the warmth of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, each controlled thrust an exquisite dance. You relax your jaw and let him thrust into your warm walls. It’s slow and tender, like he’s very mindful not to hurt you.

In a breathless maneuver, you inhale deeply, creating a vacuum of anticipation as you envelop him in the suction of your mouth. A subtle, resonant hum reverberates against his pulsating dick, a seductive melody that prompts a tantalizing twitch within him. His fingers assertively tug at your hair, commanding a release that you give in to. With a sensation-laden pop, you surface from his cock, leaving an electrifying echo of desire lingering in the charged air.

“It’s so fucking good. But you have to stop. I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he pants, his voice a raw fusion of vulnerability and urgent need. As he leans up, the desperation in his tone intensifies, “I want to come inside you.” 

You might as well be surrendering to the abyss, for the power this man holds over you is staggering. The softness in his eyes is laced with an intoxicating lust, and the sly smirk he graces you with sends an electric current straight to your pussy. The dampness between your thighs becomes an undeniable testament to the effect he has on you, as his mere expression ignites a storm of arousal, leaving you helplessly entrapped in the spell he effortlessly casts.

With a firm yet gentle pull, he elevates you into a seated position, an unspoken desire lingering in the air. Urgently, he tugs at your shirt, mirroring the unveiling you orchestrated for him. As the fabric succumbs to gravity, revealing your form, he takes a moment to appreciate the canvas before him. His fingers trace a tantalizing path from your collarbones, across the curve of your breasts, and down to the waistband of your pants. Eyes locked with yours, he skillfully unzips your trousers, teasingly patting your ass before lifting them and guiding the denim down your legs.

The night air caresses your bare skin, its touch not a chill, but a soothing embrace. Despite the darkness that cloaks the surroundings, the lingering warmth from the day creates an intimate ambiance, allowing the freedom of being naked outside to feel not only acceptable but almost cocooned in a sensual comfort.

“Babe,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping between your open legs, a single finger delicately tracing the contours of your pussy, “You’re soaked.” 

You bite down on your lip, a flutter of lust coursing through you, as his finger skims the exterior of your panties, causing them to uncomfortably adhere to the contours of your folds. The urgency intensifies, a palpable desire radiating from your core, a silent plea echoing in your mind—you need them off, and you need it now.

“No need to silence yourself; it’s just us beneath the open sky,” he gently reminds you. With his reassuring words, you liberate your teeth from the captivity of your lips, allowing the unabashed moans of pleasure to cascade freely from your mouth, blending with the nocturnal symphony surrounding the two of you.

His fingers dance over your clit through the fabric of your panties, coaxing a guttural groan from the depths of your stomach. The subtle tremor of your thighs betrays the exquisite intensity of the sensation, a response that echoes through the sultry night air like a secret shared only between you two.

A smug smirk graces his lips, a silent promise of the pleasures yet to unfold, as his hands maneuver deftly up and behind your back, skillfully releasing the constraints of your bra. It cascades down to your lap, unveiling your liberated tits that eagerly spring forth. His hands, warm and purposeful, eagerly grope the newly revealed treasures, gently massaging your boobs.

Diving in with hunger, he presses kisses atop them, an unhurried descent leading him further down and to the left. His plush lips encircle a pert nipple, initiating a sensory dance that sends ripples of ecstasy through you.

“Fuck,” escapes your lips in a resonant moan, a symphony of pleasure commencing as he avidly sucks at one nipple while his fingers skillfully engage with the other. The sensation is beyond exquisite, a tidal wave of arousal surging through you. A fleeting realization of your panties still sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Yet, the relentless attention he bestows upon your breasts holds you captive, rendering you powerless to do anything but surrender to the intoxicating pleasure.

And take it you do, as his tongue deftly laps at your nipple, each stroke a rhythmic dance that occasionally escalates into a teasing bite, sending electric sparks that illuminate your vision with stars. Simultaneously, his fingers tug at the other nipple, orchestrating a symphony of pleasure that resonates through your body. As his exploration continues, you feel the warmth of his saliva tracing a tantalizing path down your breasts, descending over your stomach like a sensual cascade. The molten trail reaches the brink of your panties, a frustrating barrier to the carnal desire that courses through you.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your left nipple, ascending to your mouth for a kiss that’s both needy and all-consuming, as if he can’t satiate his hunger for you. The fervor in his lips translates into an intense connection, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. 

Descending once again, his focus shifts to the other nipple, where he wraps his lips around it, initiating a dance of sucking and biting that elicits unrestrained moans from deep within you. Simultaneously, his fingers weave an intricate symphony on the previous touched nipple, propelling you into a realm of uncharted pleasure. The crescendo builds, and you moan unabashedly, teetering on the edge of an orgasm, the anticipation of release hanging in the charged air.

He persists in his relentless assault, biting and pulling with an intensity that coils a spring deep within your stomach. As the tension reaches its zenith, the spring snaps, unleashing a torrent of arousal that surges through you, adhering to your panties in a sticky testament to the powerful release. The realization hits like a thunderbolt – you just came without the direct touch on your clit. The sheer amazement washes over you, compounded by the rhythmic pants for air, transforming the aftermath into a heady cocktail of astonishment and unbridled ecstasy.

He relinquishes his hold on your breasts, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as if savoring a delectable feast. With a hungry gaze, he looks at you, and you can almost feel the intensity of his desire – as if he’s contemplating devouring you whole. 

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, a prelude to a ravenous declaration, “I want to taste your pussy too.” The words hang in the air, charged with a primal hunger that echoes the undeniable craving between you.

Your pussy continues to pulsate, a rhythmic echo of the recent orgasm, its clenching sensation persisting even in the absence of direct touch. Biting your lip, you nod your head in silent agreement. The desire intensifies, a relentless ache for the magic of his lips and the dance of his tongue on your pussy.

His fingers trace a tantalizing path to your hips, teasingly tugging at the edge of your panties. With deliberate intent, he pulls them off, a gentle yet purposeful maneuver that leaves your arousal adhering to the fabric, forming a glistening string of liquid in its wake. 

His gaze lowers between your legs, and he licks his lips with a deliberate slowness, an anticipation building with every inch he descends towards the place you ache for his touch. But just before he immerses himself in your pussy, he looks up, locking eyes with you. In that fleeting moment, he bestows upon you the softest look, so angelic and innocent, creating a deceptive contrast to the sinful delights you know he’s about to unleash upon you. 

As the first tantalizing touch of his tongue graces your folds, an instantaneous moan escapes your lips, and a kaleidoscope of stars seems to burst behind your closed eyelids. His tongue skillfully dances across your lips, a deliberate sweep that not only dissipates the lingering echoes of the previous orgasm but also revels in the unique taste of your essence. 

His tongue, a sinful indulgence, possesses a length that seems to explore the depths of your walls with deliberate precision. The unhurried entrance sends shivers through your core, each languid movement a seductive dance that unfurls the layers of pleasure. 

He fervently licks at your folds, savoring every essence, his tongue a relentless tide that laps up the intoxicating cascade of your juices. As you lean back on your arms, the anticipation of a new orgasm steadily builds within the depths of your stomach. Suddenly, a finger makes contact with your clit, and a moan of desire escapes your lips. Panting and gasping, your naked chest rises and falls above him, caught in the rhythm of a primal dance, as he devours you with the hunger of a man starved.

His skillful touch initiates a hypnotic dance, tracing sensuous circles around your clit. 

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m—” you begin to say amidst breathy pants, and suddenly, a new sensation courses down your ass. The realization hits— it’s one of his slickened fingers, probing at the hole there. 

Gradually, he eases his finger inside, and an involuntary clenching reaction coupled with erratic breaths engulf you. Thoughts scatter, the intensity of this entirely new sensation overwhelming your senses. It’s foreign, yet undeniably not unpleasant; in fact, it’s oddly good, a revelation that surprises you. As his finger delves a bit deeper, you feel the subtle stretch, accompanied by a moan that weaves into the midnight air.

“You said I should stick it up my ass. How does it feel with my finger up yours?” he taunts, his voice laced with a provocative edge that sends a shiver down your spine. As you clench around his invading finger, a surge of arousal releases a trickle of liquid from your pussy. The sensation is overwhelming, igniting a primal heat that consumes you entirely. Fuck, why is this so hot?

With deliberate tenderness, he eases his finger into your hole, maintaining a steady rhythm that tantalizingly grazes the threshold of previous depths. The sensation is nothing short of exquisite, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through every fiber of your being. But as quickly as the euphoria engulfs you, he withdraws his finger, leaving you to groan in a poignant emptiness that echoes through the night air. 

He lifts his head, locking eyes with you, his gaze penetrating the depths of your blown-out eyes. “You liked that, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that reverberates with a potent mixture of satisfaction and desire. The intensity of his stare ignites a fire within you, each word laden with the weight of pleasure and unspoken longing.

You bite your lips, a fleeting moment of hesitation passing through your mind as you contemplate the truth. But the honesty between you is palpable, a silent understanding that binds you together in this intimate moment. “I did,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of undeniable desire, a raw admission that lays bare the depths of your longing.

“That’s good to know,” he chuckles, the sound reverberating through the night like a whispered promise. With a hunger that borders on desperation, he kisses you again, his lips consuming yours in a full embrace that tastes of your essence. It’s a kiss that’s wet and sloppy, needy and unapologetic, yet every sensation only serves to deepen the flames between you. And as you savor the taste of his lips against yours, you’re reminded of the intoxicating allure that drew you to him in the first place, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing moment.

He returns to your pussy with a hunger that borders on obsession, his lips eagerly tasting every inch of you while his skilled fingers tease your clit with a maddening precision. His tongue, devilishly good, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, compelling you to arch your back and press your core deeper into his face. The sight of his glistening cheeks, adorned with your essence, ignites a primal urge within you, a visceral desire to consume and be consumed in return. With his head between your legs, he becomes a vision of untamed passion, his devotion to your pleasure evident in every caress and every lingering kiss.

With the skill of a master, he works his fingers over your clit in a mesmerizing dance, tracing circles that send sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins. His touch is both gentle and assertive, at times pulling on your sensitive nub, eliciting a chorus of moans that echo in the heated air around you. Each movement sets your body ablaze with a searing intensity, every sensation heightening your arousal until you feel like you’re consumed by a blazing inferno of desire.

As he continues his relentless assault on your senses, you feel the coil of desire winding tighter and tighter, on the verge of unraveling at any moment. The dual sensation of his sucking at your clit while his finger expertly rubs it pushes you over the edge, and with a primal cry, the coil inside you finally snaps. 

A powerful wave of liquid cascades over his face, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. Gasping for air, your vision momentarily blurs, spots dancing before your eyes as the intensity of the moment washes over you. You feel the liquid trickling down your folds, leaving a trail of evidence on the grass or flowers beneath you.

As Jimin continues to lick and coax you through the euphoric waves of your orgasm, you ride out the intense sensations until you gently tug on his blonde hair, a silent signal that it’s becoming too much to bear. Sensing your need, he obediently returns, his lips meeting yours in a modest kiss that speaks volumes of his reverence for you. 

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his words laced with genuine admiration and a hint of awe, leaving you with a lingering warmth.

For some inexplicable reason, a blush graces your cheeks, a subtle yet undeniable testament to the torrent of emotions swirling within you. It’s a curious juxtaposition, considering the uninhibited pleasures you’ve shared thus far. Yet, amidst the intoxicating haze of desire, there’s a deeper sensation stirring within you—a profound sense of being utterly and unequivocally full, not just of passion, but of an overwhelming and boundless love.

“Can I make love to you?” he asks, his voice a tender whisper that reverberates through the charged air between you. As his eyes search yours, a silent plea etched into their depths, his breath washes over your face, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of him—sweet and musky, a heady blend that envelops you in a cocoon of desire and longing.

“God, yes!” you moan fervently, your voice a breathless plea that echoes in the heated space between you. With an instinctual urgency, you open your legs wider, a silent invitation that beckons him closer, drawing him into the intimate embrace of your pussy with an irresistible pull.

He lays you down gently on a fragrant bed of bluebonnets, their sweet, flowery scent wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, infusing the night air with a delicate fragrance that speaks of love and serenity. As you pant softly, your eyes drink in the sight of Jimin poised above you, a vision of strength and vulnerability intertwined. His scars, a testament to his journey, only add to his allure, while his tender gaze holds you in a spellbinding trance. With deliberate movements, he hovers closer, his hand stroking his dick.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He asks, a note of realization creeping into his voice as he acknowledges the crucial detail he nearly overlooked. 

You shake your head, a sense of disappointment washing over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Despite the nagging concern for safety, your desire burns fiercely, eclipsing rational thought with an unyielding craving for closeness. 

“No, I don’t. I’m on the pill and I’m clean, are you?” You inquire, your voice laced with a mixture of longing and urgency, a silent plea for reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

He chuckles softly, the sound a mixture of amusement and apprehension. “Yeah, I usually always wear protection too, but I really didn’t plan on this happening tonight,” he admits, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “You’re okay without it?” He asks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt, his concern for your well-being evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m good, just fuck me, Jimin,” you pant, your voice trembling with a raw mixture of desire and urgency. With a fervent desperation, you spread your legs even wider, your glistening pussy shimmering in the moonlight, a beacon of temptation that beckons him closer. The sight leaves him licking his lips in unadulterated lust, his gaze fixated on you with a hunger that mirrors your own.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he strokes his dick once more, a silent promise of the pleasure to come. Aligning himself with your eager entrance, he begins to push his cock into your welcoming embrace, each inch a tantalizing reminder of the intimacy you’re about to share.

As he enters you, a surge of sensation washes over you, and you’re struck by the realization that he’s thicker than you anticipated. A fleeting moment of panic flits through your mind as you remember that he didn’t stretch you beforehand, but to your surprise, the slickness of your arousal makes the slide effortless. There’s no discomfort, only a delicious feeling of fullness that leaves you breathless with pleasure.

He reaches the deepest recesses of your being, his balls grazing your folds, and a primal moan escapes your lips as he ignites a firestorm of sensation within you. 

Every inch of him stretches you to your limits, leaving you feeling gloriously full and alive with desire. With each withdrawal, a shiver races down your spine, only to be replaced by an electrifying jolt of pleasure as he thrusts back in. 

The intensity of it all is overwhelming, sending you spiraling into a frenzy of ecstasy that surpasses even your most vivid fantasies. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined, and yet, so much more—so much better than your wildest wettest dreams.

You revel in the sensation of his dick twitching inside your pussy, a primal confirmation of his arousal that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. With each powerful thrust, the simplicity of the missionary position becomes a conduit for profound intimacy, every movement drawing you closer together in a passionate dance of desire. You’re soaking wet, to be honest, you’re dripping. His cock feels like a revelation, igniting flames of ecstasy that consume you wholly, leaving you utterly lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion.

His hands, initially anchored on either side of your hips, move across your trembling form. Each caress leaves a trail of tingling sensations in its wake, electrifying your senses with a fervent urgency. As his fingers glide over your curves, they pause upon the soft swell of your breasts, lingering there with an almost reverent touch. With a gentle tug on your nipple, he elicits a fervent moan of pure pleasure from your lips, each sensation unraveling you further in the throes of unabashed ecstasy.

As he continues to thrust deeply into you, his fingers teasing your sensitive nipple, you find yourself drawn to the raw intensity etched across his features. His expression, a captivating blend of desire and longing, captivates your gaze, his furrowed brow a testament to the depth of his passion. His eyes, wide and dilated with arousal, hold you in their hypnotic gaze, each glance igniting flames of longing within your core. His plush, red lips beckon to you with an irresistible allure, stirring an overwhelming urge to taste him once more, to lose yourself in him.

“Kiss,” you pant, your voice a desperate plea that hangs heavy in the air, and he chuckles softly at your fervent request. Without hesitation, he leans down to meet your lips, his kiss a fiery collision of passion and need, even as he continues to drive his dick into your heated depths with unwavering intensity. 

Each brush of his lips against yours sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

“Fuck, you’re amazing babe,” he groans, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and desire, as he drives himself into you with a fervent urgency tempered by tender affection. Each powerful thrust is a testament to his adoration, his movements a symphony of passion and intimacy that leave you breathless with longing.

“Jimin, I—” you gasp, the words caught in your throat as he delves deeper into your depths, a surge of pleasure coursing through you as he gathers your legs and presses them against his shoulders, driving himself even further into your pussy.

Your gasping, overwhelmed by the depth of sensation as he plunges into you, exploring places you never knew existed, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every fiber of your being. It’s as if he’s reaching parts of you that have long remained dormant, his every movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy cascading through your body, leaving you teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

When he delivers a particularly powerful thrust, you surrender to the overwhelming wave of emotions coursing through you, your heart soaring as you release the words that have been simmering within, “I love you.”

With a husky grunt, he responds, his voice a low rumble filled with an undeniable tenderness, “I know, babe.”

Gazing at him through a veil of desire, your breath ragged with anticipation, you press him for clarity, your voice trembling with curiosity, “What do you mean, you know?”

A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he withdraws completely, leaving you with a sense of emptiness that mirrors the sudden absence of his presence within you. “You told me at the gala,” he explains, his voice carrying a hint of amusement and fond remembrance, casting a glow of warmth over the memory.

Your expression morphs into a puzzled question mark once more, prompting another bout of laughter from him as he teasingly teases at your entrance once more.

“When you told me you hated me, you also said you love me,” he reveals, his voice laced with a mixture of humor and desire, before driving his dick back into you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, your cries of pleasure echoing in the night, mingling with the sounds of nature around you. You’re almost afraid you might startle the horses with all your noises.

“Fuck, I did?” you gasp incredulously, your voice tinged with disbelief and arousal, feeling the powerful grip of your pussy tightening around his cock, as if it’s instinctively pulling him deeper, craving the connection with an intensity that matches your own desire.

“Yeah. It was actually really hot. Do you know how sexy you are when you’re mad?” He leans down, gently pressing your thighs against your stomach, drawing you into an intimate embrace as he lowers his lips to your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I love you too.”

You’re consumed by a surge of sensation, questioning whether he’s grown larger or you’ve become tighter, the intense throbbing and twitching of his dick inside you driving you to the brink of madness. Every nerve in your body is alight, ablaze with desire, leaving you gasping for breath as if on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

As he ascends, his hand resumes its gentle ministrations on your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. The intensity is overwhelming, pushing you to the brink of release once more. Every fiber of your being is electrified, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. You feel like you could come at any moment now.

Despite the exhaustion that blankets your body with the way that he fucks you, you’re enveloped in a whirlwind of love and desire that leaves you feeling utterly spent yet infinitely fulfilled.

“Ahhh, fuck!” You cry out, the sensation of him delving so deep sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through every nerve ending, igniting a kaleidoscope of sensations that leave you seeing stars and unraveling at the seams.

“That’s it, babe. You’re taking me so well,” he pants, his voice thick with desire and need, echoing the frantic rhythm of your own breathless gasps. “I’m almost there. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you moan, elongating the word as if savoring its taste, your voice a symphony of pleasure and desire. Every nerve in your body ignites with a fiery intensity, fueled by the intoxicating sensations Jimin evokes. His touch, his presence, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, a blissful surge that consumes your very being.

As Jimin’s pace intensifies on your clit, perfectly synchronized with the depth of his thrusts, you surrender to the torrent of sensations cascading through your body. 

Every touch, every movement, sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, a culmination of the emotions that have been simmering beneath the surface for months. With each exquisite moment, you release the pent-up tension, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw, unbridled passion between you and Jimin— you simply let go.

“Jimin!” The cry tears from your lips like a primal invocation as you spiral into your third orgasm, a deluge of ecstasy flooding around his throbbing cock. 

You’re left panting, a disheveled portrait of desire, as your core tightens around him, pulsing with each wave of release, coating his dick in a glistening sheen of your arousal.

“Fuck!” His voice is a raw mix of frustration and longing, his body trembling as your insatiable pussy seems to draw him deeper into your depths, culminating in a primal moan of your name as he spills his essence inside you.

You’re both left breathless, your bodies suffused with a warmth that courses through every inch of your skin, igniting a tingling sensation that dances along your nerves. It’s not just the aftermath of passion; it’s a shared ecstasy that leaves you both on the brink of shivering, though not from the chill of the night air.

As you ride out the waves of your climax, he continues to thrust inside you, his warmth flooding your depths, and you revel in the raw intimacy of it all. Even as his dick gradually softens, he remains nestled within you, both of you panting for air.

Droplets of sweat trickle down from his forehead, teasing your breasts with their warm caress. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, he still radiates a captivating allure that leaves you breathless.

You feel the warmth of his semen trickling out of your pussy, tracing a tantalizing path down to your ass, leaving you feeling both sticky and sweaty.

You gently lower your legs from his shoulders, allowing them to find solid ground beside him. Gasping for air, a wide grin spreads across your face, punctuated by playful giggles. Jimin leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that elicits a soft moan from you. Breaking away, he grins, revealing his endearingly crooked teeth—a sight that never fails to warm your heart. Damn, you love this man.

You lose track of time with him nestled on top of you, his warmth enveloping you as he remains inside your pussy. The gentle thud of his beating heart against your chest creates a soothing rhythm, one that seems to sync perfectly with your own. 

In that moment, entwined together, it feels like your souls are dancing to the same beautiful melody.

As he withdraws from you, he gracefully shifts onto his side, beckoning you to join him on his sleeping mat. You comply eagerly, settling yourself beside him, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. With a tender gesture, he draws both blankets over your entwined forms, cocooning you both in a comforting embrace against the night’s chill.

Entwined in each other’s arms, you drift into slumber, lulled by the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby in the stillness of the night. With your head nestled against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment. Your fingertips trace delicate patterns on his pectorals. As you lie there, embraced by the tender embrace of nature, the symphony of the wilderness envelops you, a melodic harmony of chirping crickets and dancing fireflies. Above, the celestial canopy twinkles with a myriad of stars, casting a celestial glow upon your sanctuary, a sanctuary where time stands still and love knows no bounds.

As the first light of dawn paints patterns of gold through the foliage, coaxing you from slumber, you awaken beside Jimin, cocooned in the warmth of his presence. Stretching languidly, you feel the gentle weight of his body beside you, a comforting anchor in the hazy morning. Nestling closer to him, you bury your face into the curve of his chest, savoring the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. With a contented sigh, you greet the new day softly, your voice a whispered melody against the tranquil stillness, “Morning.”

He stirs beneath you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, a sound that resonates deep within your core. His gentle touch traces the curve of your spine, sending shivers cascading down your skin, igniting a familiar heat within you. The memory of last night dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing and tantalizing, as his fingers linger on the curve of your ass, coaxing your body to life with every caress.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” His voice, warm and inviting, rouses you from the haze of sleep, like the first light of dawn piercing through the darkness. You blink away the remnants of dreams, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. His laughter, a melody of morning, dances in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. As he opens his eyes, you find yourself captured by the depth of his gaze, a silent exchange of morning greetings between two souls entwined in the quiet serenity of dawn.

“Amazing,” you exhale the word against his chest, the warmth of your breath mingling with the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Soft kisses pepper his skin, each one a testament to the tenderness between you, yet there’s a playful edge as your teeth graze his flesh, drawing forth a soft chuckle from him, like music to your ears, a sweet symphony of affection.

He moves with a fluid grace, rolling you over and settling above you as the weight of his presence envelops you once more. His lips meet yours in a gentle caress, carrying the essence of dawn itself, a blend of morning flowers and the earthy musk of the forest. You inhale deeply, savoring his scent as it ignites a primal longing within you, tightening your core with desire. With a soft moan, you surrender to his kiss, your hands pulling him closer, as if trying to meld your beings together in a timeless embrace, unable to quench the thirst for his lips.

You sense the subtle twitch of his cock against your crotch. The warmth of his skin against yours reignites the embers of desire, and you become acutely aware of your nakedness, a lingering sensation from your passionate sex last night, that you still feel wet from. The memory of his touch lingers, and your body responds instinctively, still tingling with the echoes of pleasure. As your mind drifts, envisioning how easy it would be for him to slip right into your walls again, a shiver courses through you, your breath catching at the mere thought, while your core instinctively clenches, yearning for his familiar touch.

“Are you okay, babe?” Concern colors Jimin’s voice as he notices the faint furrow of frustration on your brow. 

You offer him a soft smile, your fingertips tracing the contours of his cheeks with affectionate tenderness. “I’m absolutely wonderful, Jimin,” you confess, your voice laced with longing and a hint of playful desire. “I just miss you and I want you inside of me again already.”

“Oh, yeah?” His teasing tone sends a shiver down your spine as he playfully grinds his cock against your drenched pussy. You gasp at the sensation, overwhelmed by the flood of arousal coursing through your veins. How could you still be so wet, so ready for him, even after everything? 

It’s like your body has a mind of its own, craving his touch with an insatiable hunger.

His dick presses against you, throbbing with anticipation, and as he eases his fully erect cock between your slick folds, a rush of pleasure surges through you, igniting every nerve ending. Your moans escape in soft gasps, lost in the bliss of his touch, as you feel the heat of his dick melding perfectly with your own.

Each movement of his cock inside you feels like a divine symphony, a perfect rhythm that resonates through your entire being. With each deep thrust, he fills you so completely, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breasts sway in tandem with his movements, a visual testament to the intense pleasure he’s giving you, each pull and thrust sending you spiraling into euphoria.

As your hands find their way to his back, you grip onto him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed, the intensity of pleasure coursing through you like electricity. Then, as you tilt your head to the side, your eyes catch a glimpse of it— Mikrokosmos.

“Jimin-ah!” You pant urgently, your voice breaking the rhythm of your thrusts. When he catches sight of your startled expression, he halts his movements, his gaze instantly flooded with concern.

“What’s wrong, babe?” His voice carries genuine concern, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“It’s Mikrokosmos!” You exclaim, a mixture of awe and urgency in your voice as you tear your gaze away from Jimin to focus on the majestic sight. Sensing the shift in your demeanor, Jimin withdraws from your folds and joins you, his eyes following your gaze to where your black horse grazes lazily nearby.

You rise to your feet, embarking on a quest for your scattered garments, your fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties, eliciting a frustrated groan. Resolving to not put them on, you swiftly opt for your pants, slipping into them with haste. With determination, you locate your bra and shirt, swiftly adorning yourself in a flurry of movements. Meanwhile, Jimin is engaged in a similar pursuit, his efforts mirroring yours as he hastily dons his own attire. 

Amidst the shared chaos of dressing, your laughter fills the air, a delightful symphony blending with the rustle of fabric and the gentle morning breeze.

As you don your attire with practiced efficiency, you slide your boots on, the leather molding comfortably around your feet. With deliberate steps, you approach Mikrokosmos, the ground yielding softly beneath your weight. Jimin shadows your movements, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the morning serenity. Each stride brings you closer to the majestic creature, your heart echoing the rhythm of hoofbeats as you draw near.

“Come here, girl,” you murmur, your hand extended like an open invitation. Mikrokosmos raises her head, her gaze fixated on you, a mysterious glint dancing in her eyes, elusive yet captivating. 

With measured steps, she saunters toward you, a graceful dance of trust unfolding with each stride. As her velvety muzzle meets your outstretched hand, a surge of warmth envelops you, a sense of belonging washing over your soul. With a gentle whinny, she nuzzles against your palm, a silent affirmation of the bond between kindred spirits. “Good girl,” you whisper, your voice a tender melody amidst the tranquil embrace of nature.

You pivot slowly, no halter, no rope, no nothing, your gaze fixed ahead with quiet determination, “Let’s go home.”

Mikrokosmos follows your lead with unwavering trust, her hoofbeats falling into rhythm with your purposeful strides. Jimin’s eyes reflect admiration as he watches your natural affinity with the majestic creature. Returning to the other horses, you secure a rope around Mikrokosmos’s head, just in case she should get any ideas of leaving again, before tending to your belongings with practiced efficiency.

You saddle up Marshmallow, feeling the familiar comfort of the leather beneath your hands. Leading Mikrokosmos by the rope, you guide her onto the path, her presence beside you a reassuring anchor amidst the vast expanse of wilderness. 

The serendipitous encounter with Mikrokosmos fills you with an indescribable joy, as if destiny itself had intervened to bring you together. With each step, your heart swells with gratitude and happiness, a feeling that courses through your veins like a warm embrace.

As the trail meanders homeward, you turn to Jimin, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Thank you, Jimin,” you whisper, the words carried away on the gentle breeze, a heartfelt acknowledgment of his unwavering support. 

His warm smile washes over you, and you feel a rush of gratitude for his understanding. “No problem at all. I’m just glad to be here and help,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the same tenderness that fills your heart. Drawing closer, you intertwine your fingers with his, the simple act weaving a thread of intimacy between you. In that moment, riding side by side, the world fades away, leaving only the comforting embrace of each other’s presence.

His question catches you off guard, but the warmth in his voice draws you in. “Do you remember your fifth birthday?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes, as if unraveling a cherished memory. His lips, so inviting and tender, curve into a smile, inviting you to journey back to that moment in time with him.

You chuckle softly, because you do remember, the memory flooding back like a cherished melody. You recall the innocence of that day, the laughter shared between you and Jimin as you played hide and seek, weaving tales of fantastical adventures. In that moment, surrounded by the whispers of childhood dreams, you realize the depth of your love with Jimin, sensing that perhaps there’s more to your bond than just friendship. It’s a realization that tugs at the strings of your heart, igniting a spark of hope for something more.

“Do you remember when you told me that guys couldn’t be friends with girls, that you’d get boy-lice or something?” he grins, his voice laced with nostalgia as he squeezes your hand gently. You roll your eyes playfully, the memory sparking a smile on your lips, because yes, you remember that too.

“I know I was insufferable back then,” you confess, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you wave off the memory.

“You weren’t. But you were oblivious to the fact that I had feelings for you back then, weren’t you?” He chuckles again, his laughter like a sweet melody that resonates deep within you, leaving you longing for more.

“I honestly didn’t. I just thought you were being a typical boy. But hey, I was five—how was I supposed to grasp the concept of love at that age?” You laugh lightly, a soft smile playing on your lips as you reminisce about the innocence of childhood.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding a hint of curiosity, “It doesn’t matter now. But I was wondering…”

You find yourself lost in his hazel brown eyes, their warmth enveloping you, as you’re drawn to his captivating smile. With a soft breath, you respond, “Yes?”

With a tender gaze, he lays his heart bare before you, his words echoing with sincerity and vulnerability. “If you want to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to waste anymore time. I love you and I want us to be together,” he asks, his voice tapering off, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. Yet, you offer him solace, intertwining your fingers with his, leaning into his side, and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, affirming your affection without words.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jimin.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[pluckyredhead]

ur post abt the green lantern’s political leanings was so interesting!! can you do one for the bat family? (but only if u wanna!!)

Honestly, I can't, because their politics are so incoherent.

Like, take Bruce. (And again, like with the Lanterns, I'm talking about canon here, not how I wish things were.) On the one hand, you would imagine he's pretty progressive, right? He's almost certainly a single issue voter and that single issue is gun control. He believes in rehabilitating criminals and in fact a lot of Wayne Enterprises hires are formerly incarcerated people. He is an active philanthropist who pours money into schools, orphanages, hospitals, public spaces, and the arts. These are all leftist values!

And yet the modern Batman is also a completely unrestrained violent anarchic-libertarian power fantasy. Bruce has invented his own law, which he enacts and enforces completely arbitrarily, however he feels like doing so. He obeys the laws he wants to obey and ignores the ones he doesn't care about, while insisting he is law-abiding. He tortures people literally constantly and considers it righteous. He uses the profits from his publicly traded company to become a one-man military industrial complex. (The emissions from the fucking Batmobile alone...!) He illegally surveils the entire city and sometimes the entire planet (Brother Eye, anyone?) because he has decided that his moral authority overrides literally anyone's right to privacy, anywhere. He allows his defeated foes to be locked up indefinitely regardless of their mental state in an institution that would make any qualified mental health professional run screaming in the opposite direction. He's sexist. All of these things sit on the right of the political spectrum, but imagine me pointing to the right like Charlie from It's Always Sunny pointing to his murder board.

And none of the Batfamily is any better. Some of them are honestly worse in certain aspects. Dick was a cop. Jason loves guns. Babs and Tim are even more in love with surveillance than Bruce is. Remember when Tim wanted to replace the police with, like, a Bat-army??? BECAUSE I DO.

It's not really "their fault," as much as anything can be a fictional character's fault. It's the result of being written by writers who are, for the most part, consciously trying to write the Bats as good Samaritans, but are also living in a world where we have had our brains warped by all of our blockbusters being funded by the US military, in a medium where badassery is prized above everything else, and so all this really problematic shit spills out onto the comics page without being questioned. It's also kind of a boiling frog situation: i.e. Batman has always had a cool car, so as he got tougher and tougher, of course that car would eventually become a tank, and no one stopped to go "Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck? How is this billionaire driving a tank around helping anyone???" I guess god bless Zack Snyder for inadvertently highlighting how fucking stupid and counterproductive a Batman taken to his worst extremes is.

To be clear, I don't think this is what most writers are trying to do with Batman (some of them are, but fuck those guys). But it's what happens when all you care about is rule of cool, and the more I think about it the more I'm like...shit, maybe Alan Moore was right and superheroes are just stupid.

Anyway in conclusion, comic book writers should consider the ramifications of what they're writing occasionally. But Bruce Wayne probably still votes blue, at least.

[em-dash-press]

8 Tips for Writing Crime Fiction

People love a good whodunit. It’s why there are so many crime fiction subgenres: detective fiction, courtroom fiction, thrillers, cozy mysteries, historical mysteries, and more. 

If you want to try your hand at a story centralized around a crime, you might wonder if you need detective experience or a lifetime in the actual crime world to make a great short story or novel.

Check out these tips to find out what you need to get started.

Tips for Writing Crime Fiction Stories

1. Read Crime Novels or Short Stories

When someone wants to become great at sports, they find a coach. When they want to start a new career path, they go to school or find a mentor.

If you want to write crime fiction and you’ve never tried it before, treat yourself to some new reading material. You can browse the latest crime novels or short story collections to see what readers can’t get enough of. As you read with the intention of studying the work through your writer’s eyes, you’ll learn how to pull a crime story together.

Pay attention to how the authors build tension, introduce new facts and pull characters together through the primary criminal act in the plot. Note whatever interests you or makes you excited to read the next page.

2. Pick Your Conflict

While you can have multiple types of conflict in a successful story, you should pick a primary conflict as your crime fiction plot device. The crime itself could kick off your story and push everything forward, or it could be what makes your story fall apart on purpose.

Will you write an interpersonal detective story or involve the criminals themselves? Maybe your narrative will center on a victim’s loved one who becomes your protagonist. Your primary conflict will shape your plot and help you create the best protagonist to carry your story.

3. Create Your Crime First

It’s not impossible to write a crime story without detailing the crime itself before you start writing—but it’s much easier. It’s especially important if you’re planning to write a novel because there are so many elements that rely on things like:

Who does the crime?

What is the crime?

When does it happen?

Why does it happen?

Where does it happen?

What’s the motivation for doing this crime (if any)?

What are the repercussions of this crime (for all of your involved characters and their world)?

You’ll spin everything out from the crime, so start by picking an illegal event you want to write about. If you need help, read newspaper articles or browse true crime documentary descriptions to make a list of possibilities.

4. Save Your Most Helpful Research Sources

The realism of crime fiction plays a significant role in interesting your readers. You’ll need to research so much when you know what your plot will hold and what crime it involves.

You might spend weeks, months, or even years reading about things like:

How your protagonist’s world works before the crime and how the crime changes it

How DNA profiling does and doesn’t work

How first responders and cops handle crime scenes

How people are treated by the media when they or their loved one are hurt in a crime

How the legal proceedings afterward work for your protagonist

Once you know how the framework of each element works, you can create plot twists by causing slight breaks in the systems. I highly recommend saving pictures, links, and detailed notes in digital documents like a Google Doc or spreadsheet. You can also use the resources listed here to find other ways to visually save your research.

5. Give Your Antagonist a Motivation

Many crimes happen because people plan them to their advantage. A robber steals money because they have overwhelming medical debt. A killer murders someone who hurt them in the past.

The motivations won’t always be morally right, but they have to exist. Make sure your antagonist has one before and after the crime occurs. How does the event change their motivations or goals? That’s essential to know to keep them grounded within their own realm of reasoning.

If you’re writing a crime that wasn’t intentional, there has to be a motivation carrying your antagonist forward in the aftermath. What’s making them make their decisions regarding how they cover up the crime or distance themselves from it?

Tips to Take Care of Yourself While Writing Crime Fiction

1. Check In With Yourself

It’s so easy to bury your emotional well-being while writing a dark story. You might want to finish it on time or get through a particularly gruesome part of the plot, but pushing your emotional state to the side will only lead to burnout or worse.

Check in with your emotions to see what you need throughout your writing process. Sit quietly by yourself and ask what emotions are present. Let them speak above your story’s needs or your other responsibilities. Then see if those emotions have been lingering for the last week or two. Journaling can help with this, but you can also record your thoughts in the Notes app on your phone or a spare piece of paper by your laptop.

You might need to step away from your work for a bit or write a more laid-back story to give your mind a break. Maybe a good cry will release the pent-up emotions from your hours of research into how cruel humans can become.

Writing about darkness doesn’t mean you have to be trapped in that darkness for however long it takes to write the story.

Take care of yourself first. You’re more important than any story.

If your mind ever starts to feel overwhelmed while you’re writing a story with heavy thematic elements or violent events, please get help. I highly recommend the sliding-scale therapy available through OpenPath (sessions can become as little as $30/hour). You can access licensed therapists in your area, arrange in-person or virtual appointments, and make each session fit within your budget.

2. Take Breaks

Pausing your creative writing for the day or even the week could be what your mind needs. Research shows regular breaks make people more productive because they utilize other areas of our minds and help us return with fresh energy.

It’s also important to take breaks for your emotional well-being. You may not feel as sucked into your antagonist’s (or protagonist’s) violent, dehumanized state of mind by walking away from your manuscript. Talk with someone you love, watch your favorite show, or go to that farmer’s market you’re always talking about.

It’s easier not to get caught up in negativity when you retain control over it through things like breaks.

3. Don’t Sweat Your Search History

Cops won’t show up at your door if you’re googling which artery pumps the most blood and how long it would take to bleed out if that artery opened. That’s not how the internet works.

There are very few odds that police will need your search history while trying to solve a crime one day. However, if it makes you uncomfortable, look into a VPN and use incognito mode (if you’re on Chrome. Firefox users can use Private Browsing.).

You can also avoid specific internet searches by watching true crime documentaries on a similar crime or reading books about similar cases. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable, especially if you’re writing a long-form manuscript that could take months or years to complete.

-----

If you’re interested in writing crime fiction, these are a few ways you can get started. Remember, you don’t have to write a perfect first draft. That’s impossible. All you need to do is start creating your world and use tips like these when you need help along the way.

[olderthannetfic]

Jeez, this entire drawn out convo is embarrassing and done to death. BL is romance. It's bound to the same romance tropes as MF and FF, id-driven as many of them are. If you don't like how a male character is written, that just means you don't like the story; move on. A lot of romance and horror both function on the premise of "romanticizing" and "fetishizing" things that wouldn't be desirable in real life. Yes, horror movies do portray murder as something fun for the audience. That's why people like slashers flicks from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. It even became a trend that people would watch the intro of the slasher to see which teenagers are the most annoying, so it's fun when Jason or Freddy or Michael Meyers, or whoever kills them gruesomely. That's why we love the Final Destination films! That's why we like Saw! It's why we like The Evil Dead! It's why we like Wrong Turn! It's why we like Scream! Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Child's Play, Halloween! They're tropey horror slashers with elaborate, gorey murder scenes that become such spectacles of themselves that by the end of the franchises, there's so much blood and viscera that the scenes are parodies of themselves. They're beloved all over the world. And people cheer for the murders in theaters! People love cheering for Freddy Krueger and Michael Meyers, and Jason when they disembowl some 15 year old who was probably just off drinking illegally with their friends. People love cheering for them so much, that there're are crossover films so we can cheer as they fight each other. These are such well-known tropes in horror that they've become cemented in popular culture, so movies like Cabin in the Woods are made. It's popular, extremely so, and I don't know how someone can go 20 years of life and not realize this. Just like how people like reading Twilight wherein Edward basically stalks Bella. Women don't want to be stalked in real life, but they like Edward because it's just a story. No one wants to date a man like Christian Gray in real life, but he's hot in a story. No one wants a guy like Ryouma Ichijou in real life, but it's fun in a tropey BL. The audience is supposed to like him because they want the main couple to get together. If it's not your thing, just don't watch it and move on to something else. The world will keep spinning.

And a lot of people like stories from the antagonists' perspective because it's interesting. This doesn't appear often in things made for children because it's for children, so it has some small responsibility of modeling behavior... because it's for kids. Things for adults don't have all these restrictions because as an adult, you should be able to judge right from wrong in real life, so you can just relax and watch Hannibal Lector abuse and manipulate Will in Hannibal without having an existential crisis about the moral fabric of society decaying. If you can't handle it, you should leave the training wheels on because genre fiction for adults will not always hold you hand--because you're an adult, and you should have common sense to know "murder/sexual assault/stalking/harassment/etc is bad in real life." Children below the ages of 4-5 aren't supposed to watch things like Spongebob for this same reason: they can't tell the difference. If you're an adult, you should be capable of that much, at least.

BL studies is an established academic field that discusses and examines BL across the world in different media forms: manga, manhwa, manhua, anime, donghua, live action, etc. from different countries. Read articles from professionals. Learn about BL and geicomi since apparently it also has to be reiterated that the characters in BL--yes, even the thin, waifs--look like straight men in East Asia. They're ikemen. There are different stereotypes of what queer men look like all over the world, wild concept, I know. The stereotype of what gay men look like in E. Asia are chubby bears, like plumbers, or super ripped men, like the body types typically featured in geicomi, the stories made by men for a male target audience.

Yes, many popular youtubers/breadtubers say convertly puritanical talking points in their videos. Few, if any, actually have media literacy. And few are actually transgressive or nuanced in their discussions of fiction or fandom. If they were, Google wouldn't promote them. You should try reading up more about radfem/TERF theory to recognize these talking points. Everyone who thinks these things isn't walking around around with a neon sign. You should know, since you actually share many of their harmful beliefs, but I doubt you'd call yourself a TERF or a radfem. Read Nancy Friday books like My Secret Garden to learn more about taboo sexual fantasies are how normal they are.

Read BL studies articles to actually learn history, read some Nancy Friday books to get over this weird projection of morality and kink in fantasy, and actually listen when people are correcting you because there's decades if not centuries of research refuting all your "points." No one is saying you have to like these stories for yourself, but you do have to realize the world doesn't revolve around you, and other people will always like different things and that's fine. These stories and discussions have always happened and they're fueled by misogyny and homophobia, as well as a desire for censorship. Read some Oscar Wilde essays too or even more recent BL manga/hwa/etc. BL anime doesn't get produced often because animation is expensive. It's 2023. Why are we pretending that Love Stage is representative of current trends in BL across different countries in different mediums, genres, magazines/publishers since Love Stage came out in the early 2000s?

--

[repurposedmeatlocker]

🔥🔥🔥 abt beavising butthead...share as many hot takes as you want i'd looooove to hear your thoughts and feelings :3

OH BOY OH BOY *cracks knuckles*

Obsession with which character has the "highest moral ground" is tired and unnecessary. Especially for a program like Beavis and Butt-Head. I've noticed a lot in cartoon fandoms there seems to be a focus some people have on which character is "evil and bad" and which is "pure and good". I don't know where this concern stems from, but it doesn't interest or make sense to me. Real people, and therefore fictional characters, are more complex than that. The fact that this argument surrounds young/child characters is even weirder for me, because I find that age is rife with bad behavior. Back to Beavis and Butt-Head though, while I do think a lot of fans are unfairly harsh in their perspective of him. I don't think Beavis is "morally higher" by any standard. They are both horrible teenage boys that find beating the shit out of each other entertaining because there is nothing else to do.

(speaking about the original series here, since I haven't completed the 2011 and 2022 revival yet) While I think the writing got way better and funnier in the later seasons, I kind of miss the "natural edginess" of the earlier "crude era". It has this messiness that I find super endearing. I can really see how the show got popular with teenagers/young adults back in the day since it really did feel like the script was written by some degenerate boys rather than adults trying to figure out how high schoolers act. There is a lot of horrible topics in the earlier season related to intoxication, animal abuse, and general illegal activity. A lot of it is 100% shock value. I'm glad it moved away from that, but also I admire the...grungey realism, I guess.

A lot of older fans complain about Beavis and Butt-Head reacting to clips of TV shows in the 2011 season and Youtube videos in the 2022 revival. I personally love it. I think they should react to everything possible. Some of their best lines come from their impressions of this stuff. I don't care if it is just being used as a way to "promote" that content. The music video reactions are doing the same thing. It is all promotion. Just very creative and based on hating which is inherently more entertaining. On that note, I've also seen the complaint by OG fans going around about how Beavis and Butt-Head feel like they aren't "metal-heads" anymore? Or it is just not as overt in their characters anymore since they don't react to metal music as much as they did in the original run. Personally, I...don't think they are any less metal-heads now than they were before. Maybe they aren't exclusively defined by it like they were in the first episodes. I think the question of "why is there less metal music in the show" has more to do with music culture when the show airs than it does with the actual writing. Which is kind of interesting. Generally, metal and rock doesn't make up popular music spheres the same way it did in the 80s and 90s. There is still rock music, but I don't find a lot of popular stuff being extremely "heavy" starting around the mid 2000s when the 2011 series was airing. If you'll allow me to get deep for a sec. The choices of what Beavis and Butt-Head react to during the show's entire run is a pretty interesting picture of popular US culture, actually. Anyway...I do think they could hit a bit heavier and varied in their music choices in the new season. Have them listen to hyperpop or something. I think they would love 100 gecs.

[cheaceboy]

Dear fandom and LGBTQ community,

(This is about to be a long post. I'm going to put a little divider here but it would mean a lot to me if you read the whole thing.)

It's pride month. I know that means you get all shippy in your fanfics and fanarts. Love that, keep doing it. There's not enough yuri in this world. And I understand that sometimes the queer rep in certain media is too little, so you turn canonically heterosexual characters LGBTQ. Whatever, that happens in real life all the time.

But please, PLEASE leave the aro/ace characters alone. There's already so little aspec rep in media, the last thing we need is for people to take even those characters away.

Yes, some aromantic people have romantic relationships. Yes, some asexual people still have sex. But if you take a character that canonically is aro or ace and shows no signs of attraction in the media, you can't just make them gay. Greysexuals, demiromantics etc. are valid and beautiful and deserve more recognition and representation, but not like this. Not as a way to say "well technically they COULD still fall in love" and then not exploring that aromanticness any further.

Imagine how pissed you would be if someone took a canonically homosexual character and put them in a straight relationship in fanfic with some lousy excuse.

Actually that probably regularly happens. Well, it sucks, doesn't it?

Well anyways, my point is, platonic relationships are fun to explore too! Or even aro/ace/aplatonic could be interesting to write.

Make a story about the rejection that comes with falling in love with someone and then it turns out they're aro/ace, loving someone you know will never love you back. Hell, write a story about a character finding out they're aro/ace when they're already in a relationship. Like, there's so much angst inherent in this sexuality, write about that! Why must you write smut about (what is often) the single character you really shouldn't write smut about.

Jeez this is becoming a long rant. I just want to say a couple more disclaimers to prevent miscommunication here:

I am not against shipping. If they're fictional characters, do whatever you want. But please don't take away representation.

I do not represent the entire aro/ace (or aplatonic) community and am merely an individual. Others might disagree about this topic.

I have seen similar posts to this one, (thanks to my aro or ace mutuals, love you!) which inspired the creation of this post. If you find any similar posts you feel should be linked here then shoot me a dm or ask or something and I'll add it in.

Oh and yes, I'm aromantic. Not asexual (I think?) but definitely aromantic. I hadn't said that on here before, but at this point the closet is made out of glass. So if you've made it this far, thank you for reading my probably illegible ramblings and have a gay 'ol pride!

Sincerely, Cheaceboy

[etincelleart]

Hell yea, it's cool to see another french artist! I'd like to say that I really like your art, it's super nice and soft to see, and your OCs are really cool and interesting!

And I can only say - GOD, I absolutely feel you on being annoyed by fandoms and how toxic they can be, especially when it comes to ships. I have been struggling a lot recently because a ship I enjoy a whole ton has very negative views online and it just hurts me. It's seriously annoying to see that people you never spoke to will go "wow, how dare YOU having fun and enjoying something that I DON'T?!" and start to make assumptions on you based on literally fictional characters you like...

Even tho I'm not familiar with RWBY, I still wish you luck with all of it, and all your personal struggles - if it ever goes too far, know that you can still take a break, not reply to anyone and just focus on taking care! Your well-being should be what matters the most to yourself ❤️

That's super nice of you thank you !! Thank you so much for liking my art and my OCs ! I also took the time to check your work and I love your artstyle and characters as well ! (team baguette ouais ouais o/)

As for fandoms, gosh I regret so much how things can turn so bad and toxic and how people can be so aggressive, I'm sorry you're struggling with that. This whole debate on fiction and ships completely drained me these past few months with the RWBY fandom so I can understand how exhausted that can make you. It's all fine to be uncomfortable about something and to want to say away as far as possible of it, but attacking real people over fictional characters is just insane to me (I'm not talking about illegal stuff, but about stuff people are subjectively not fine with or don't like).

I wish you luck with this as well, I don't know the ship you like but I hope you find peace with all of that ! And thank you for the support, I make sure to take some distance with socials now even if I still post a lot. It helps, I appreciate the advice ❤️

[theyanderespecialist]

(Remake) Base Yandere Valentino Headcanons (Part 1) (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am here with a new chapter and this one is a remake of Valentino and a warning there will be toxic traits!] 

(Disclaimer: VALENTINO IS NOT A GOOD PERSON!!! HE IS A TERRIBLE PERSON AND AN ABUSER!!! It is fine to simp for him IN FICTION!!!! But DO NOT SAY HE IS A GOOD PERSON OR JUSTIFY WHAT HE DOES!!! 

Disclaimer 2: Valentino is not yandere in canon, this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life, he is also a horrible person in canon! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)  

-Remade Base Yandere Headcanons With Valentino Part 1-

.Valentino is the worst, very much terrible, the most disgusting man there is! 

.Though he can be very charming. 

.He is someone that a lot of people could hate fuck. 

.He is obsessed with you, he claims to love you, but his love is more of an ownership and control. 

.He would very much see you as his property. 

.He is possessive, controlling, and demanding. 

.He will use the pheromones in his salvia that he has to drug you into being a good darling. 

.He is going to manipulate you into being his. 

.He does not care if you want him or not, you are his and he owns you. 

.That is all he sees it as. That you are the love of his life, at least to him you are. 

.He would use other drugs to make you obey. 

.Keeping you dependent on them so that you stay in line. 

.He will use physical punishments to keep you in line. 

.He would not hit you like he did Angel Dust, more so he would grab you by the arm or hair. 

.Dragging you to his and your room. 

.Where he will punish you by using his salvia to put you in the mood and fuck the obedience into you. 

.Or spank you if he must. 

.He is not going to be abusive in the way of hitting you and being overall violent persay, but he will be rough with you if he needs to. 

.He is going to gaslight, manipulate, and blackmail you into being his. 

.If he can have his way he is going to get your soul in a marriage contract. 

.He will also most likely share you with Vox. 

.But there is the sort of Air Quotes around "good" side of him. 

.He is very much like an abusive husband in some sense. 

.Where he goes in the cycle of abusive but then loving. 

.He loves to spoil you cause he buys you all the things you could want and you know he will hold them over your head. 

.In his mind if he makes you feel loved with all the items he gets you then you cannot complain about not being allowed out of his tower. 

.You cannot complain about him anything. 

.He would also guilt you with it, How dare you ask to leave the tower when he does all this stuff for you? 

. do you not know how lucky you are to be with him?

.How much money and time did he put into you? You should be grateful. 

.Though there are moments where he can be soft with you, you always are on edge cause one wrong can make him in the mood for sex or can make him pissed off. 

.Having Valentino as a yandere if you do not have the power to stand up against him, is walking on eggshells. 

[This is just part one we will get more onto him later! I hope that you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[muzanswaifu]

Rules & Commission Information

18+

These are the rules for my blog and requests! Below that will be my commission information. If you are interested in taking part in either, please read.

Requests

Requests are currently : CLOSED (any requests sent in will be deleted)

For if and when requests are open - please send an ask or dm with details such as the ship (check my rules to make sure that ship is approved by me) or character you would like the fic to be about, kinks, and important plot points, if necessary. Please specify to me if you'd like a full fic, headcannons, or a bulleted outline of events (if you do not specify, I will make that decision myself based on what I think would be best.) I reserve the right to refuse or ignore any requests I would not like to write.

Rules for Requests and Commissions🔽

All requested fics need to have smut in them, I do not write fluff-centric fiction. If you do not clarify the kinks or type of smut for the fic (Consensual, Dub-con, Non-con, ect) I will, again, make that decision myself based on what I think would be best.

ALLOWED:

MxF, FxF, M/FxGn (specify what body parts the character has)

Fluff, SMUT, angst

Here is a list of characters and fandoms I write for >>> LIST

Canon demon slayer relationships (Iguro x Mitsuri, Tengen x Wives, ect.)

Non-con, dub-con, manipulation, toxic relationships, verbal abuse

Somnophilia, spit kink, breeding kink, size kink, drugging, watersports/piss, a/b/o

Honestly anything as long as it's not listed in the not-allowed list

NOT ALLOWED:

MxM (I'm not very good writing it at present)

Crack kny ships (such as giyuxmitsuri)

Illegal age gaps or young children, all characters must be above the age of 18 or aged-up

Incest, bestiality, gangbangs, tentacles, excessive physical violence and abuse, anything with sh!t, cheating, brutal non-con, ageplay, pegging, or ass-play

Commissions

Commissions: CLOSED (1/1 slots taken)

I will be taking one commission at a time. The time it will take to complete said commission will vary, but it should take around a month or two depending on how busy I am. Rules for commissions are listed above.

Pricing is $10 for every 1,000 words. It is an additional $10 for every additional love interest. You can ask for as many kinks and fetishes as you want (as long as they are in my allowed list), and as much plot as you want, but keep in mind the word limit. Payment is through paypal, and I take the full payment upfront.

1k words = $10

2k words = $20

5k words = $50

10k words = $100

Ik the pricing is kinda expensive lol, I have it as such because I am a busy girl, I put my entire pussy into my writing, and it is just generally difficult for me to write requests. But trust me, if you commission me, I am gonna go hard in the paint for what you ask me. You will be asked many questions about what you want (so prepare for that lol) and I will keep you updated on my progress to make sure you like what I am writing.

Rules For This Blog

(@muzanswifey will have its own set of rules)

No bullying or hate - if you don't like what myself or others are posting or talking about, then leave. If I find out you are making drama over something you can easily ignore, I will block you and notify other writers to avoid you.

Only smut and anime is to be talked about on this blog, I do not want to hear about your personal life, interests, or traumas. This is my blog, not a soap box.

If I find you to be childish or attention-seeking, I reserve the right to block you.

[jessenigma]

My Favorite Continuing Manga Reads of 2023

For the past few years on twitter, I've made threads of some of my favorite manga and light novel reads from the past year. This year, I decided I would move it over to two tumblr posts.

After the cut are some of my favorite titles that I started before 2023 and kept reading this year.

Basara, Yumi Tamura

The best thing Viz did for me this year was create a whole new cheap subscription service full of Shogakukan titles, which meant that I could plow through the last several volumes of Basara all at once. This series thrilled me, broke my heart, and made me so happy. Sarasa is such a good lead, finding the courage to fight for her people while still being a teenage girl who just wants to be happy and loved, and I would love to read more series with leads just like her.

Run Away with Me, Girl, Battan

When the first volume of this came out and Kodansha's marketing compared it to Princess Jellyfish, I thought it was going to be something at least a bit lighthearted - woman reunites with her high school girlfriend, they end up running away to live happily ever after, the end, right? - but as it turns out, it was more like the very good but very depressing series about domestic abuse, Sensei's Pious Lie. While it wasn't as heavy as all that in the end, I was fascinated by the relationship between the two leads and the struggle to deal with baggage left from their teenage years. (And Battan's art is awfully sexy, much appreciated.)

Tales of the Kingdom, Asumiko Nakamura

I am so sad that the English release of Tales of the Kingdom is nearly caught up with Japan, because that means that I have to wait a small eternity for more stories about this fantasy kingdom where all the men have complicated relationships with their brothers. Asumiko Nakamura really goes all out on the clothes for this one and it's just gorgeous. There's another volume set to come out early in 2024 and I will cherish every page.

Kowloon Generic Romance, Jun Mayuzuki

I have been in love with Kowloon Generic Romance ever since the end of the first volume completely recontextualized everything that went on before it, and each new volume fills me with even more delight and questions about what's going on with these characters in this very fictional version of Kowloon Walled City. Mayuzuki's art is also super gorgeous and sexy, and I am so ready for the next volume to set my head spinning even more.

10 Dance, Inouesatoh

Finally! A new volume! This series was on hiatus in Japan for a while, so it was understandable, but I rang in 2022 with the previous volume of my beautiful ballroom dancing Shinyas and wasn't entirely sure I'd get to see them at all in 2023. The events of the latest volume were more than a bit of a surprise (sex? in my very charged but not technically explicit ballroom dancing bl manga?), and now I'm even more eager to see what happens next.

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard (light novel), Nanako Tsujimura

I enjoy the Jeweler Richard novels a little more with each new book and this year brought the best part of the story so far to me. This series is such a thoughtful exploration of its characters, from the leads to the recurring side characters to the one-off clients and friends, and I appreciate how deliberately inclusive it is.

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

It's basically illegal for me to leave Witch Hat Atelier off any yearly list of favorite titles as long as there's new volumes coming out for me to read. With each volume, it feels like we're moving farther and farther away from the bright and shiny new world of magic that Coco first joins, but there's still always this idea that people can and should help others. It isn't necessarily easy, and magic certainly isn't the cure-all, but there's still almost a kind of optimism. I like that, that it's possible to have horrible things happen in a story but there's still light out there.

Ooku, Fumi Yoshinaga

So I finally finished Ooku this year, only 6 years after I first picked it up at the library. Bless Fumi Yoshinaga for being the catalyst for me learning anything about the Tokugawa shogunate and for creating such a fascinating alternate take on history, complete with women leaders who were just as terrible as the original male versions. I can't believe they actually did an anime, however incomplete an adaptation, because I long had that pegged as something that would never ever ever happen with this series.

My Love Mix-Up!, Wataru Hinekure & Aruko

My most favorite cheery gay romcom title also came to an end this year, and going straight for the silliest soap opera trope in the last volume was both perfectly on brand and perfectly suited to the story. I just wish more stories would unabashedly embrace the ridiculous tropes and give me lots of humor alongside the romance.

Lost Lad London, Shima Shinya

Though the conclusion of this series seemed a bit rushed, I really loved how well Shima Shinya captured the feel of a British crime drama all the way through the story's three volumes. I want to see how much they grow with their storytelling in the future, because this was a strong first series.

MADK, Ryo Suzuri

How could my beloved eroguro demon manga end? Ryo Suzuri does such creative work with character design and it's such a shame that I won't get to meet any more cool-looking demons now. But that said, the story really stuck the landing with Makoto's obsession. I can't wait to reread all three volumes so I can fully appreciate just how much changed (and how much didn't change) for him.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

One serious one and a bunch of kind of silly shorter ones.

Anonymous asked:

Hi!  I hope you don't mind me asking this but I had a question about fandom stuff since this is my first time in an active fandom.  Almost every time there's fanworks, mostly fanart, of the TWST first and seconds years in sexual positions/sexualized, there's a lot of people dramatically freaking out because they're "minors/16/17!" and "you're not allowed to do that/it's illegal so stop that!" (Sometimes in all caps too). Are these people common in fandoms with younger casts?  Sorry for sounding anxious, I just keep running into people like this and anti-shippers and they really bring my mood down...

Hi Anon! Sure, I don’t mind talking about fandom stuff.

I think it’s not a matter of titles having younger casts, but a matter of fandoms having younger people in them. There are some shows that aren’t very popular/have fandoms that mostly consist of people that are older than 25, and you’d see less of this type of attitude there. Like, drastically less. I don’t think there are a lot of people complaining about characters of Prince of Tennis being 14-16 year olds, for example.

But if a show is popular with teens or younger people in general, chances are, there are going to be quite a number of antis. For example, SK8 got a big chunk of its popularity on tiktok and boy is it obvious lol

I want to stress that this doesn’t mean that all the anti-shippers are young: this absolutely isn’t the case, and unfortunately a lot of pretty much adult people participate in harassment, write call-outs and do this type of crap in general. Also obviously, not every teenager is an anti (not that it matters to us of course, all of our blogs are 18+ so the majority of teens shouldn’t even be here).

So yeah. I think of it as a subculture, albeit a very aggressive one. There are people who are legitimately uncomfortable with this type of content, but I’m pretty sure the majority of antis just love using their non-existent high moral ground to harass and try to control people and their art. They either don’t understand the magnitude of their actions or don’t care if they hurt real people over fictional minors.

I am very sorry that you stumble upon this type of people and that they make you feel bad. I always say this, but: block everyone. Even if a person is just mildly uncomfortable to you or you don’t like their vibes, block them just so you see less of this type of stuff.

Your art and any art that you enjoy doesn’t hurt anyone as long as people are being responsible about posting and interacting with it. So absolutely don’t feel like you’re doing something wrong just because someone doesn’t understand how fiction works. I hope this type of crap disappears as soon as fandoms become less popular, like they’ve been before things got out of hand. Some people should’ve never been here in the first place – sorry for gate-keeping, but they don’t get it and don’t care about getting it or at least being respectful to others, so why should we be better people.

Anonymous asked:

Idia: Yay, crotch view!

(related to our Lilidia drawing from yesterday hehe)

Lucky boy! Got to see Heavens right before his demise…

Anonymous asked:

What do you think about Neige x Epel?

Replied! Also talked about them a bit in this reply + some other replies that I can’t find…

Anonymous asked:

thoughts on liliaxepel?

Definitely replied before, but I can’t find that reply, so: they’re cute, gotta love two short feisty cuties together; we really liked that one vignette in which Lilia shows Epel that you don’t have to be tall or big to be scary and strong. It teases a very interesting potential dynamic both in a shippy and in a platonic sense: Epel has a lot to learn from Lilia, and it would be fun if they interacted more often.

It isn’t a ship that we’re massively passionate about, but they’re fun together! Could be very hot.

[ssaalexblake]

How would you respond to claims that 13's run feels a bit dodgy by having a cop travel with them?

You know, the other day while generally browsing the internet I happened across somebody complaining about this war movie. They were angry it was glorifying soldiers. Were anti-military themselves in general. You know what I mean. The thing is, though, the literature course I did in school had an entire unit and exam on war literature and I've read the book upon which the movie was based on and it has stuck with me as an incredible critique of war, conscription and the military by portraying those things in fiction. I would never pick it up again, not because it was bad, but because it was rough to 17yo me, but I am happy I've read it and other pieces of literature like it. I am happy I was taught to analyse and contextualise media with a serious subject such as that.

Now, this isn't the exact same thing as this. The BBC would legit never allow their lead children's show to Explicitly portray any acab message, like, ever, lets be true to reality here. But also, I genuinely think there is a fair amount of that puritanical black and white thinking going on here on the riff of Yaz working for the police being an immediate strike against the show because people think that portraying something is automatically lauding it because uh, the content of the story does Not track with the idea they're saying cop work is good work.

I have seen (on this site and many others) people say over and over again the only good cops are either dead or have quit bc they realised it was a crock of shit. In which case, the question becomes;

Did y'all miss the part where Yaz quit?

Yaz is not a cop anymore. Yaz quit. Yaz is portrayed as thinking it's frustrating bc because the helping people thing she was supposed to be doing isn't happening and we're shown this from literally the get go, her very first scene, and from there is only seen as trying A) to get work where she's actually helping somebody and totally failing to get it and B) straight up trying to get out of going to work by actually forging paperwork. S/O to her for that bit of illegality btw. Love that for her. She does not end the series employed by the police. Yaz found an actual way to help people and chose to do That instead.

Yaz's career arc is 'disillusioned teen signs up to be cop, realises it's bullshit and there are actual ways to help people and quits to go do that instead' which is, if i'm not mistaken, what we want actual real life cops to realise about their life choices.

I get it's a tetchy subject bc acab, i agree, and I get and agree and wish that this stuff could be more explicitly portrayed as well bc i'm sick of media or execs being too cowardly to be bold about messaging, but the insinuation that this portrayed the cops as systematically helpful or useful by having Yaz start out as a cop? No. Would I have liked it to be more explicit? Well yes, duh, but I cannot emphasise how that was literally never gonna happen. I can however emphasise how ideas like Yaz, whose main goal is to help, quitting being a cop bc she wasn't helping anybody beamed into impressionable young minds do, in fact, take root though.

Like, having a plucky teen hero character go through an arc of helping people and them Ending a cop to carry on the good work is Vastly different to a plucky teen starting out a cop bc they think that's how they get to help people then quitting bc they realised that's not true. One of these things is pro cop, the other is not.

I also hasten to mention again that there is a genuine conversation here abt the dodgy-ness cops being used in mental health emergencies. I wrote this out about it [Here].

On a personal note on this score, I, much like Sonya have been forced to deal with cops throughout somebody else's mental health emergency when I never should have had to and it fucking sucked. What an unempathetic bunch of rats who clearly haven't even done a google search's worth of research on how to discuss these things, let alone give it the gravity it deserves. That my choices were either cops or somebody dying is a travesty. And maybe this story speaks to me more personally as somebody who has had this experience and wants to throw hands over it still over a decade later, but that lady did not help Yaz, Yaz helped herself after a measly pep talk and the woman obviously never bothered to keep tabs and see if Yaz was okay afterwards either. Ryan helped his mate. Graham spreads good mental health advice that benefits others. The hospital in Syria was dealing in mental heath care by professionals of the time. Cop lady convinced Yaz to go home, succeeded, and Yaz gave her the credit when it was Her who dug herself out of that pit and not anybody else.

Like, genuinely this whole thing sets me off angry. And I could critique the execution if I wanted to but the bottom line is i've not actually seen anything else even go slightly Near where this plot went and I genuinely think it was something that should be said. As I said, a decade later and I still want to throw hands.

So basically like, I get the discomfort, I do, I get not wanting to see it as well, but Yaz grew OUT of this. Not the other way around. Portrayal is not endorsement. I do not personally find this era difficult to parse but people seem either unwilling or unable to do so on literally every theme addressed in it, but I am just back to being that 17yo in an english lit class being taught how to examine things through the vehicle of anti-war stories, ones that people are actually nowadays mad at for glorifying war just because they portray it when this couldn't be farther from the truth, and I cannot help but relate the situations a bit.

I mean, I don't think it's a 10/10 and I would tweak, but I am aware you won't be finding anything as bold as blatant acab on dw in this geopolitical climate and since that's endemic literally everywhere i'm not gonna single out This show for it when at least its trying (watching classic who and the things they just openly say and portray is soooooo eye opening. TV of the 21st century has no spine in general.) But the portrayal of something does not imply that said thing is positive. If real cops ditching the badge on principle is a good thing that we want to continue, I fail to see how fake ones portraying that said same thing is bad.

[zh-lele]

We ridin' (currently under editing)

This is the sound you hear when you ride with your enemies

▪︎Summary: Two young people fall in love despite the rivalry of their racing teams.  The smallest mistakes you make will leave the biggest regrets.

▪︎Pairing: Lee Haechan x female reader

▪︎Genres: Street racing au, romance, angst

▪︎Word count: 11.2k

▪︎Warnings: minor character death and mentions of death, profanity, substance consumption (alcohol and drugs), toxic relationships, suggestive scenes/implied sex, graphic descriptions of a car accident, blood, guns, violence.

Listen to the playlist here. | Haechan's moodboard. | Johnny's moodboard.

A/N: Hey everyone :) I said it'll be out before August 15 and it's here :) I hope you all enjoy it. It's not proofread, though, so apologies for any mistakes. Also I hope you remember this is fiction and I do not romanticize or condone any of the characters' behaviors or ways of being in a relationship. Please read warnings before proceeding. If you enjoy the fic, don't be scared to leave some feedback! It's highly appreciated 💙

0. Subtle mistakes felt like life or death

Unlike every other Sunday morning, the Suhs' garage is closed. Traces of last night's big storm are reflected on the wet pavement and the drops still falling from the trees, hitting the sidewalk. Inside the house, at the back of the garage, everything is dark and messy; the small boxes of chinese take out from last night, now cold, remain untouched on the small table in the living room. The sound of the last drops of rain and the voice of the reporter coming out of the old television cut the air, disturbing the silence between so much implicit chaos.

'And now getting straight to the breaking news, a well-known young man from the illegal street racing community, dead in a car crash that took place last night at 127 Road.'

"Haechan, stop."

"Babe, I'm fucking tired. I gotta show them who they're messing with. Gotta make them respect me!"

"No one wants to mess with you, for fuck's sake. Not right now. It's dangerous!"

'How many more lives should have to be taken for these kids to finally stop their dangerous activities? They're a menace not only to themselves, but to other innocent civilians as well. It's truly heartbreaking.'

"Haechan, slow the fuck down!"

1. Candy paint with windows all black

It was your birthday the night you met Haechan. Ever since you were little, you have been interested in your older brother Johnny's work. But since the street racing scene has always been a bit dangerous, he promised that he would protect you until you came of age, not letting you attend any of the nightly events to which your brother dedicates his life. That came much faster than you expected, however, and that same night you found yourself attending your first competition ever. While you weren't planning on racing a car, the idea was to support one of Johnny's best friends and the team's number one racer, Taeyong, who would be driving to win a car—the winner of the race would take the loser's.

Haechan lost a car that night, that ended up parked in your brother's garage. However, he won your attention and admiration with a few words and an irresistible image in just a couple minutes. Although he was shocked to find out your last name and to see that you chatted with him with such interest and innocence, it didn't take long for his expression of astonishment to change into a flirty, cynical smile. You wouldn't understand such behavior until later, when you talked to your brother once the event ended and after driving Haechan's car—now your brother's team's car—to your new home. You were finally moving in with them too.

"I saw you talking to Haechan earlier", Johnny pointed out.

"Oh, yeah. Did you know he's an engineer? He knows a lot, and he's really funny, too! I think you would like him. He even invited me to next Friday's race and told me I can go with him–

"I don't really want you around him," your brother interrupted you.

"Johnny, I'm an adult now. You literally accepted me here because you said I'm old enough."

"Yeah but like, I didn't take you there to fall for Haechan. He's bad news."

"You don't even know him."

"I do, and I know all his mates," he said, getting out of the car at the same time Taeyong was arriving with his own vehicle—the winner of that night. "They're trouble," Johnny continued. "He's gonna sweet-talk you into doing things you've never done before."

You scoffed, not believing Johnny still wanted to control you even after he himself introduced you to his world, knowing its risks, but more importantly knowing you were doing it to escape from the controlling and toxic environment of your parent's house, the same one he had been lucky enough to get out of years before you. That you were also an adult capable of making your own decisions and facing their consequences was an understatement. "He's not gonna sweet-talk me into anything. I know very well what I want."

He let out an exasperated sigh before talking again. "Arrested twice by the police for drunk driving. Once caught selling drugs. A car accident with his ex-girlfriend a few months ago. And the Lees' garage is just a big mafia in disguise. Weapons and all, my sister," Johnny concluded after entering your house.

"As if you guys don't do all of that shit too," you answered with your head down and a pout on your lips. "I know some things, you know."

"Just promise me you won't fall for him," he asked with a much less demanding tone and a tired expression on his face.

You shook your head no and that was enough for Johnny, who came over to hug you and kiss your head goodnight before heading off to his room.

"He's just worried about you," you heard Taeyong's voice coming from the kitchen where he munched some cereal soaked in milk from a Bob SquarePants bowl.

"I know," you sighed while sitting on the island across from him. With slumped shoulders and undisguised disappointment, you decided to accompany Taeyong and drown your sorrow a little in cereal.

"But that doesn't mean you can't have fun. You just don't have to fall for him."

And Haechan wasn't intimidated by anything or anyone. Growing up watching his family race cars and do dirty business, the boy would get in and out of trouble like he had a master's degree. After seeing you for the first time, he started going to your brother's shop every day, with the excuse that he desperately needed some parts for his latest design, since his personal supplier wasn't doing his job and the Suhs' garage was "the only one with the pieces in the whole city".

However, Haechan wasn't stupid. The boy knew that your brother and especially his Japanese friend did not like him at all, so he avoided visiting the store when they were there. But when your best friend Mark or Taeyong were around, Haechan knew he had a free pass. The fact that the latter two were desperate to sell parts and get as much money as possible to be able to upgrade Taeyong's car helped him perfectly in his plan of seeing you every day he could.

The young boy was really charming. He not only had the good looks but, as your brother had warned you, he also had the smooth talk. It was hard to ignore him and even more so when he was flirting and making you laugh all the time. After a week of hearing the same phrase 'I forgot to buy something yesterday', Mark and Taeyong started ignoring him every time he walked into the store, directly leaving it up to you. They knew he was only there for you, anyway.

"But if he bothers you guys so much, I don't get why you still let him come around and buy things from here?" As soon as Haechan leaves, you ask your friend Mark, who's sitting at the computer behind the shop's counter. 

"But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven."

You patiently wait for Mark to finish reciting the words you too have memorized, after hearing him say them enough times since you two met years ago when he visited Johnny at your house.

"Matthew 5:44," he concludes, turning on his chair and looking at you through his glasses.

"You are such a loser, I can't believe I still consider you my friend," you sigh in response.

"Listen," he started, "I respect Johnny big time, but we really need the money."

You observe Mark's eyes get wider and wider as he opens up to you in a whisper, scared your brother could come back in any second.

"I love Johnny hyung," is all Taeyong adds, sitting at the other end of the counter, without taking his eyes off his Switch. Brief, but honest words.

"And how is this guy Haechan not broke yet?" You ask while checking some duplicates of the tickets that record all the purchases he has made in the week. More than thousands of dollars in just a few days sounding a little suspicious.

"Haechan's rich–"

"He sells drugs–"

Both of them are quick to answer. But either their telepathic abilities to agree have been wearing thin, or Taeyong is too focused on his game to notice that Mark has been trying to avoid the Haechan-talk for a good few minutes already. Mark's heavy sigh and Taeyong's shocked eyes, realizing he screwed up talking too much, are all the information you needed to find out what the truth is behind Haechan having so much money.

"I've always loved you for your honesty, Taeyong," you smile at him and tell him not to worry about it, but he still sends a pouty 'sorry' to your younger friend before getting back into his game. "Johnny actually told me about it, but I didn't believe it was that big of a deal?"

"Yeah, they've been selling for years now."

Mark now lets go an exasperated sigh, clearly annoyed at the subject of talk, but that doesn't stop you from taking advantage of Taeyong's moment of vulnerability. His little virtual animal farm, more important than anything else going on around him. "What do they sell?"

"Whatever shit you need."

Mark is already gone to the back the moment Taeyong answers, and you realize the latter truly has no idea of ​​his annoyance at the moment he starts humming the theme song of Animal Crossing.

"We really are dumb, huh."

Taeyong looks up and waits for you to continue talking while his game loads.

"If we are so desperate for money, why don't we sell too?" You ask, and Taeyong's face lights up at the proposal, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open in amazement like the thought would've never crossed his mind if it wasn't for you.

From the back of the store, however, you hear Mark's scream calling your name. "Don't put any stupid ideas into Taeyong's head!"

—

Outside the night smells like a mixture of burning tires, weed and car perfume. Friday nights are known to be reserved for making quick money, and weeks of hard work boil down to just a couple of minutes of adrenaline rush. Tonight, Taeyong will be racing Johnny's blue BMW 340 against a 2018 Audi s6. The Audi is a heavy car, so Taeyong could take that lead to win tonight if it wasn't for Johnny's car having a turbine failing. In any case, he will be subjecting it to all possible pressure so as not to lose power. Hopefully, your team's star racer will make it to the finish line without damaging the car even more.

Taeyong is one of the nicest people you've ever met. But to others, there isn't an in-between–people either love him, or don't like him at all. You guess it's because he portrays a serious image and almost doesn't smile in public. Yet, when you really know him, you find out he's a softie.

"I love you, Taeyong," you tell him as he squeezes you in his arms, and he moves out to hug the rest of the members before getting into the car.

Simply because anything could happen at any time, you swore you'd never want to regret not telling your friends how much you love them before any of them got in a car. That's how close you got to be over the years, and how much you mean to each other.

"If I die tonight you take my Switch!" Taeyong closes the door after pointing in your direction and you smile in response.

He revs the engine causing a strange blue fire to come out of the exhaust pipe; probably another change Yuta has been working on to impress the girls out there, and to impress Johnny. Beside him, a pink car envelops the crowd in a cloud of thick, suffocating smoke, from which a boy with honey-colored skin emerges. Something about 'stop burning my tires' can be heard through all the noise from the crowd. Him and the boy in the cotton candy car exchange a quick handshake and, as soon as the flagger gives the signal, both cars take off in pursuit of the night's grand cash prize, and the renown and recognition on the streets that comes with the victory.

There's your team and the Lee's racing against each other yet another week. And there's Haechan across the street, with a cigarette between his lips checking you up and down, while you pretend to ignore him, trying to focus on the trajectory of your friend driving the blue car. When your brother's too distracted talking to your friends, though, you take your own time to set your eyes on Haechan and dig into his appearance.

High waisted white jeans matched with a graphic t-shirt of the same color and a thick leather jacket hug his figure. His clavicles are shown very slightly, and his neck is adorned with some metallic chains and pearls, making his smooth skin under the moonlight look more inviting than usual. He's got his hair disheveled and darker than normal. You decide that it's when Haechan has long hair that you find him the most attractive. And you do your best not to stare, but he makes the task too difficult—especially when he deeply looks at you and smiles like he's trying to get you hypnotized.

It was too easy for Haechan to have you eating out of the palm of his hand. Him, a face too angelic to be, supposedly, such a dangerous person. Bad at being bad. You, on the other hand, a soul too pure to fool around with a demon like him. Too good at being good. That contradiction, however, is what must make it so appealing to you.

You blink one time and he's all you see shining under the moonlight. He finishes his cigarette and throws it to the ground, stepping with the toes of his leather boots to turn it off. You close and open your eyes once more, look up searching for his face, but he's already gone at the same time the pink car comes back and stops right in front of you, letting out the high-pitched screech of the brakes. That's when you realize the scene had turned quiet as your gaze met Haechan, then violent when you lost him.

Taeyong makes its comeback two seconds after, which makes your team lose about a thousand and five hundred dollars tonight. That's not the biggest loss, however, since you often win more from the side bets on the cars than from the actual races. From the winner's car comes out a tall, pink-haired boy whose name they shout celebrating–Lee Jeno. Victory doughnuts and music blasting from all the speakers follow right after the end of the race, but none of your friends is in the mood to join the celebration tonight and the usual after hang out. They're quick to get into their respective cars and turn them on, ready to leave. Johnny's pulling on your arm motioning you to go, before you tell him you will be joining him in a second.

Where did Haechan go? You know he doesn't go to your brother's garage on the weekend because he's the one opening it early in the morning, so you need to see him one last time before Monday arrives—but you won't know, anyway, if he's gonna be back until you actually see him cross the shop's doors next week. The bass is heavy against your ears, disorienting your senses a little. The dim street lights fade as you walk away from the crowd but, still, he finds you. His hands surprise you landing for the first time on your waist, trying to stabilize you after colliding with his figure. He's even more stunning up close, shining even where the street lights have completely faded out. It feels like time has stopped, lost in his brown eyes, and you're struggling not to give up right there in his arms. Just a small smile from his lips brings you back to the street, to hear the horns and the heavy bass and to feel the chill of the nocturnal wind on your skin. But how does he do that to you?

In some substances such as iron, cobalt, and nickel, most of the electrons spin in the same direction. This makes the atoms in these substances strongly magnetic. You learned these three types of metal in particular are around the Lee's garage very often through the long talks you have shared in the mornings. Even more in Haechan's hands, as he is one of the car designers and is always experimenting to take their motors to the next level. Nonetheless, that doesn't explain the reason why you have to become so magnetized by Lee Haechan everytime he is around. Maybe it's because the opposing forces of the universe attract. Or maybe, because there is something sacred in loving the enemy and a sinful satisfaction in trying the forbidden, coexisting at the same time.

"I wanted to talk to you," your voice comes out in a whisper, the air finding it hard to come out from your lungs.

"Yeah?" He asks, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shamelessly lingering on your lips making your knees weaken.

You can only nod so far as his hands start barely caressing your sides, more gentle than the summer breeze. "Need to do some business with you."

Your hands travel from his arms to his neck, feeling the skin, and there you squeeze until you entangle your fingers in his long dark hair. A gasp comes out of him when you subtly pull, followed by a chuckle and a shrug until he finds his voice, "Sounds good to me."

Your eyes move rapidly across his face as if you were sleeping and it was a dream, trying to imprint his features perfectly in your memory before you wake up. And your lips are millimeters apart from each other, but you don't kiss since you know you won't be able to stop once he starts, and the both of you need to be back before someone comes and finds you like this. A delicate goodbye kiss on the back of your hand is all you get before Haechan disappears again, leaving you gasping for breath and with butterflies in your stomach.

The car ride back home with your brother is quiet. You try to think it's because he is upset they lost the race, and not because maybe he saw you acting too close with the enemy. Your mind wanders to those eyes pulling you like magnets and you still feel his touch on your skin; too hypersensitive, like he had put some type of drug in your system. All the members go to sleep as soon as they step into the house, and you only hear Johnny speak when he's greeting you goodnight.

But the night still feels too young, and you are far from ready to fall asleep. It doesn't take long after you get into bed, however, until a message from an account you don't follow shows up in your notification bar. It's hard to decipher who this is about at first, the username not helping the case, yet you don't hesitate to reply once you realize.

haechanahceah: hey, r we ridin???

haechanahceah: want me to pick u up?

you: yeah

you: i'll wait for u outside

—

The morning sun is big coming up from behind the horizon, and warming your skin with its intensity at six in the morning.

'All he's gonna do is gas you.'

The night was spent in between car slides, laughs, mundane talks and soft kisses pressed up against the finest leather seats. How did you end up in the backseat? All business talk was long forgotten as soon as you got to taste Haechan's sweet lips for the first time.

"My brother would kill us if he found us like this."

You feel his chest vibrate with his laugh against the side of your head, and his voice reaches your ears as if he's speaking right from his heart.

"That would be such a romantic story. It's like we are the modern Romeo and Juliette."

"Are you like this with every girl? You gonna scare them off." You joke, moving your head to make eye contact with him. A smile takes over your face when you notice he was already looking at you with the same loving eyes.

'He's crazy, my sister. He's like obsessed with danger.'

"I'm a die hard, too passionate." He acknowledges as you lay bare on his chest, his arms keeping you secured as if you could get to dissipate at any point. "I don't scare you, though."

And even after all the warnings from Johnny and disapproving looks from Mark, Haechan is right. He doesn't scare you. On the contrary, every minute you spend with him only makes you wish that you could have the rest of your days together. Maybe watch him wake up to the sun rays peeking from your bedroom window hitting his soft skin, and watch him fall asleep with his head on your lap and your fingers through his hair while trying to finish a rom-com in the living room. To have the sun all to yourself all the time.

His tired eyes still shine like stars even though it's already morning, and he still keeps some of your red lipstick on his lips. A sad cello plays through the stereo of his yellow car. Soon the clock will be hitting seven and you must have returned to the store to avoid suspicions. Still, you allow yourself to close your eyes and fall into him, to bask in his warm presence for a few more seconds before descending back into the real world. For one last moment, it will be just his soft breaths, that sad cello, a growing, forbidden love.

And a whisper in your ear:

"Fucking love you."

2. Bad luck to talk on these rides

The wind caresses Haechan's hair in slow motion while the sky is painted purple and reflected in a gray, neutralizing the yellow color of his car. The road remains empty and quiet and his right hand, when not on the gear stick, has already made its home on your leg since many dates ago. It's strange to think that one day you could get used to the familiarity and domesticity of his presence. To think, for example, that you would no longer have to secretly see each other all the time, or that you could drive around town with the windows rolled down. Perhaps, have dinner together in the living room of your house. However, having to forget about his caresses, his fingers intertwined with yours, his sun-colored eyes, sounds even stranger. At this moment, driving carelessly down to town, it feels like there isn't really a different future in your plans; living a normal young life with Haechan isn't an option, but letting go of each other isn't either.

When he drops you off blocks away from your house, you don't really need to say it. It's implicit everywhere. In the looks, in the smiles, in the ways he takes care of you, in the gentle touch of your fingertips on his skin before you untangle your hands and he lets go of you—momentarily, as he promises he would always come back to you.

You both know you do. And it's hard to forget when the sweet taste of him is still lingering on your lips. A smile plastered on your face like a silly teenager in love.

It's late into the night by the time you make it home and find Johnny in the living room, sitting in the dark all alone, with nothing but the TV lights shining on his face. Behind his back, the table holds the remains of dinner, a bunch of empty beer cans and the end of a couple of joints. In front of him, a VHS tape is being displayed.

Mark is the one recording—you could recognize it by his voice, even when it still was way more high pitched than now. A smile comes across your face as soon as you see Taeyong's round cheeks appearing on screen, and how he tries to hide his drunken state when Mark starts with his interrogation. 'This? This is just some apple juice.' 'That's beer, Taeyong.' Another boy comes into the screen. One you don't know, but Taeyong seems to do, as you can watch how quickly he gets lost in his features, with a lazy smile adorning him. And the other boy, with pretty cat eyes and a snub nose, can only radiate adoration while his eyes are on Taeyong.

You don't know him, but you know that look all too well. Enamored eyes. The same eyes with which you look at the boy from the other side of town, the one with the yellow car that steals your hours of sleep and your heart everyday.

The laughter coming from the young boys echoes in the room. You hear your brother laugh too, but he's not the same as the one sitting in front of the TV right now. He's lost, immersed in the memories while nostalgia floods the whole place.

You watch how your brother is about to jump off the pier when a boy runs up beside him and tries to push him away. They struggle playfully, and the little boy's laughter is so powerful that he stops that violent flood for a moment. The air in the room no longer feels so heavy as his laugh echoes off the walls. Mark turns the camera to the boy's face and you see that bright and characteristic slightly-sided, heart shaped smile. The nostalgia has dissipated for a second.

'Haechan, fuck off.'

'But hyung, you threw me before!'

Then realization hits, feeling as if the water reaches the ceiling of the room, and the pressure is impossible to withstand.

"You were all friends before?"

Johnny snaps his head back to you when he hears your voice and quickly pauses the video, yet he remains quiet, busying himself at a too obvious attempt of avoiding the subject while cleaning the table.

"How come I never knew of them before?" You insist.

"By the time you moved here, we weren't friends anymore. It's been years now since that." His answer is short and reflects a strange tiredness, the kind that bothers you right in the middle of your chest, that stirs up buried feelings and puts you in a bad mood.

But you also need to know.

"What happened to you?"

"They started to handle shit the wrong way."

"That explains nothing."

At that moment Johnny abruptly drops everything he was gathering, looking you in the eye for the first time since you arrived. You know better than to push your brother when he's moody and stoned, but you can't deny that it makes you feel sick on your stomach to know that they've been trying so hard to separate you from a person with whom, apparently, at some point they were close. Good friends, actually. In your head, it doesn't make sense, and it's just another selfish and overprotective act of your brother.

"And you don't care. I know you're seeing him anyway," his tone is too cold in contrast with the summer heat coming from outside, and the old fan does nothing to ease the added heavy atmosphere that has been created in the room. "Why does this matter to you?"

You're stuck in your place, fists clenched and mouth dry. There's an expression of disgust on his face while he looks at you, despite the lack of emotions of the words coming out of him.

"You don't care if I don't like them or if I want to protect you," he continues. "You're running after Haechan, sneaking out at night and coming late smelling like alcohol and cigarettes, acting like I'm too stupid to notice. I'm afraid soon he will be putting you in real danger."

"He wouldn't do that to me," you deny with your head, eyes filled with angry tears reflecting a very upset Johnny in front of you.

He only lets out a scoff before grabbing the last of a joint and putting it between his lips to light it up. The fact that he's doing this right in front of you while talking like that about Haechan just makes you angrier.

"You're so fucking silly," and maybe at this point, Johnny is as angry as you are that he doesn't think if he's being brutally honest or mean.

"I just–" you try taking the words out before the tears start to fall. "I wanted to make money for Taeyong. He told me Haechan is part of a good business–"

"Oh my God," he interrupts you, his tone drenched in disgust, "stop talking, you're just making it worse."

But the tears already started falling. "You don't even care about what I feel?"

Johnny exhales the smoke from his lungs and grabs the remote to turn off the television, leaving you in the dark with the intention of ending the argument for once.

"You know what," he stands at his room's door frame, door handle in hand ready to leave the room, "I'm sorry, I'm just worried about you. You wanna keep fucking around with him, then do. There really isn't much I can do."

The last sentence almost reaches your ears. The silence of the room suddenly interrupted by an overwhelming buzzing and the sound of your sobs. A door opens next to the one your brother just locked himself in. A slim, sleepy figure stands there, but with his arms extended your way and his shoulder ready for you to cry on for the rest of the night until you fall asleep. You know Taeyong is true to your brother and their friendship, yet tonight you are the most grateful to him for being the only one helping you overcome your sorrows.

3. This is the sound you hear when you ride with your enemies

Haechan's closed garage does its best to cancel out any sounds other than his kisses. His heart-shaped lips leave soft traces of affection on your cheeks and your jaw, caressing your neck before planting them again against yours. You know his friends are waiting for him outside, they wouldn't start the main event without him. You also know that, somewhere across the street, your brother is waiting for you too, but instead of asking where you've disappeared to for another night he could be connecting the dots by now. And there is also one last and most important thing you know, and that is that you shouldn't be here, sitting on the hood of your forced-to-be rival's car, with the same one standing between your legs and stealing the air out of your lungs. Still, you've been ignoring for three months now the fact that you shouldn't be seeing Haechan, and it feels too late to go back.

"Like you," he whispers to you, barely getting away from your lips. "Like you so much."

His hands are gently caressing your thighs. Yours keep tracing the soft skin of his face, his nape, until your fingers tangle through his hair and you pull him away. His smile is bright and warm as the sun. His eyes resemble nothing but pure adoration; if yours shine, it's only because the moon reflects the sunlight. He has become a source of thrill and love in your life. The nickname suits him too well.

You can't fall for Haechan. Your brother's words back in the days resonates in your head, arousing an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. I know he will try to get to us through you. Don't fall for any of the shit he could say.

"Why do you do this, though?" You ask the boy in front of you, while fixing his disheveled hair before he will have to go out.

He stares at you with a frown, the tilting of his head to the side indicating he didn't understand the question.

"Racing, I mean. Like, you don't need the money or the fame or anything that comes with this, you know."

Maybe, if Haechan didn't race anymore, there would be no such stupid rivalry between your family and Haechan and his team. Maybe that way you could be together publicly; you wouldn't have to wait for days and days to see him and, when you finally get the chance, always be at risk of being caught by your brother or his friends.

"'Cuz it's in my blood, baby," he answers with a subtle smirk. "Racing is what I am, this is what I'm supposed to do."

His tight grip on both your hands and his deep loving eyes staring into yours, you think are supposed to give you comfort. Yet, unfortunately, they're far from that.

"Hey," he's whispering against your lips once again. When he presses his forehead on yours and closes his eyes, you rush to protect his face in your hands and try to memorize each of the beauty marks that adorn it. "I know what you're thinking about. Don't look so sad." 

The volume of his words is almost inaudible; the multiple voices and the music playing outside the garage suddenly disturbing your senses a little too much, and reminding you that you are not as alone as it feels like.

"I care for you. You know that I'd die for you."

"That's a little too much, don't you think?" You laugh it off this time. You know now how Haechan can get a little too passionate.

"No, I mean it. Like, if Johnny crossed that door right now, found me here wrapped in your arms and decided to beat the shit out of me, I'd still die as a happy man, you know, 'cause I got to be with you."

The mention of your brother only draws a resigned sigh from you, and Haechan stops supplying kisses to your cheeks as quickly as he notices your change in mood. "What's wrong?"

When you see him like this, with his rosy lips plumped by all the kissing, the disheveled hair and wearing his heart on his sleeve being so real with you, you try to think of a single thing why you should just listen to your brother and walk out that door, leaving Haechan behind. But you really can't find any. His eyes are heavily charged with worry before you as his hands move to cup your cheeks, leaving loving touches on your skin and giving you the time to talk.

"It's just that I fought with Johnny. I would actually like it to be the other way around," you look into his lovely eyes and can't help but slightly smile. "You beating the shit out of him for once."

Haechan laughs, rapidly agreeing to your idea and letting you know 'he will take care of it.' A roll of your eyes and a quick peck is all he gets, before you are shoving him from you at the sound of his name being called from outside. The backdoor of the Lee's garage is quickly opened to let enter the boy with the baby pink hair. His eyes are wide and quick traveling from your figure on the hood of Haechan's yellow car, to his hands now back on your legs, to the unbothered expression of the honeyed-skin boy still in front of you. The boy at the door is the first to break the silence.

"Donghyuck, the race is about to start. Come out."

"Will be out in a minute, Jeno."

"They've been waiting for you for a while now–"

Haechan barely acknowledges his words when he's already asking you if you want to ride with him tonight. "It's gonna put you in a good mood again. You're gonna love it, trust me." And there's no escape from his pleading, because Jeno is already gone and Haechan only repeats please, please, please, between kisses on your lips.

"Fine."

He smiles satisfied at your response and disconnects your lips to let you get off the hood. His hand gently grips your hip before motioning you to climb into the passenger seat. "That's my girl."

Once you're in the street, you can finally assign faces to all the loud voices you heard from inside the Lees' garage. There are too many people gathered this Saturday night, even though it's a fun-only race that you know no one is winning anything from. You can't see into the other cars because of their tinted windows, but the bright green paint of the Chevrolet lined up to your right tells you that Haechan will be racing your team tonight. It's a surprise, though, since you thought they wouldn't be risking their pride after last time's defeat of Taeyong. Yuta walks over to the green car to talk to the driver and the window rolls down revealing Mark behind the wheel, which only makes you more nervous. It's one thing to watch them run and quite another to literally run against them, something you've never done before. Not even Johnny has accelerated enough to exceed the speed limits when he's with you. Beyond Mark is a purple car that you don't recognize, but it lines up ready to race too.

On your left, Haechan awaits for the pretty girl with the flag to take position. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly and securely unlike yours, from which you must dry the cold sweat of your nerves on your jeans. His eyes seem lost on the horizon, but you know they are expecting the signal to start the race. Your eyes travel uneasily through his body to his tense jaw, finally setting on his lips. A smile adorns them the moment the girl raises her arms–it's about to start–. But you can't focus on Haechan anymore when your body's inertia pulls you back at the sudden change in speed. Haechan hits the gas quickly, taking the lead down a narrow one-lane street, but Mark is hot on his heels.  As soon as the road opens up again, the green Chevrolet passes Haechan's car with its nose and you start to hear him whining and cursing.

Haechan liked control. He made sure to always know his surroundings, where he was racing and against who; to be aware of the potential, the abilities and the weaknesses of the competitor–that was his first rule. His second rule was looking at every single mirror at least every four to five seconds. He said you have to be able to visualize the whole world through your mirrors, and know what's happening behind you to understand what's gonna happen in front of you. He didn't like losing and he truly hated not being the number one. So when the purple car passes him and he tells you that it's fine, that it's just Yangyang's car–one of his mates–, but he still punches the steering wheel with anger, you are pretty sure it's not fine at all.

"I can still win this," you hear him talk to himself. The speedometer continues to increase after passing 100 kilometers per hour. 110, 120, 130... Haechan passes both cars and you swallow the lump in your throat trying to calm your nerves. He approaches the closed turn they'll all have to take to get back to the starting point, and you notice that he's not going to slow down in the slightest.  Still, you can't afford to close your eyes and run away from the moment. You can't afford to be afraid of Haechan either. Even when everything seems to be going wrong, he has things under control and he would never put you at risk, would he?

"The problem about Haechan is that he thinks he's smarter than everyone else. So, like, I'm riding with him."

The image of Mark being lazy in your bed this morning comes to your mind. With a smoke between his lips is how you finally found out more about their old, ended friendship. "I'm on the passenger seat, man's driving, car's full of bitches and the car in front of us is like, clearly slowing down."

He stopped for a moment to let out a cloud of smoke from his lungs, trying to cope with the frustration those memories still caused him. "He won't even flinch," Mark told you, eyes widening and wearing a pout on his lips like every time he's at the verge, fighting with his thoughts, struggling to process emotions.

"The girls are screaming at him. I am telling him to slow the fuck down 'cause we're gonna crash! And I know he has it under control, we still got a couple meters to make it and he's gonna wait 'til the last second to press the break. But can't he fucking answer me?! It's like he ignores that he has other people in the car, you know what I'm saying?" He finished pretty much out of breath, the frustration making him collect a bunch of tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

"It was always like that with him. It makes me fucking mad how he's an asshole, yet he never really fucks up enough to like, settle down. Man's just out there being a body. That's all. Doesn't care about shit."

Haechan's right hand lifts the parking brake while his left hand turns and holds the steering wheel firmly to take the corner. The sound of the tires skidding across the pavement mixing with the beats coming out of the car's speakers deafens your ears, and you're sure it'll be hard for the other two drivers to get out of the corner clean after all the smoke Haechan has put up with his little show. The maneuver lasts a couple of seconds that feel eternal. When he releases the parking brake and manages to stabilize his yellow car by taking the lead, a smile returns to take over his face.

He gets first place despite having started the race poorly. There is no shortage of shouts and cheers for him when he gets out of the car. Mark's car is the second to arrive and, after a few seconds, arrives the purple car from which a smiling Yangyang gets out and hugs Haechan. After that, everything happens rather quickly. The boy you've been sneaking out with suddenly opens your door and tugs from your arm to get you out. Cheers get replaced with surprised gasps and smiles with gape mouths. And everybody's looking at you, but no one's doing it the way Johnny and Haechan are doing it. While one look is filled with strong indifference that hurts your chest, the other is soft and loving so you seek refuge in it. By the time you're done making out with Haechan in front of everyone and the screams have calmed down, your brother is nowhere to be seen; just a few of his friends remain on the streets with Mark.

Haechan wears a satisfied smirk looking at you before he gets closer to say only for your ears: "We gotta celebrate properly."

One last kiss on your cheek and he distances himself enough to shout, but with his grip still firm on your waist.

"After party is at ours!"

—

"Have you ever smoked before?"

You shake your head no in response.

"Alright, you better do it for the first time with someone you trust," Haechan continues without looking in your eyes, too focused on his hands almost done rolling the joint. "You trust me, right?"

You did not imagine that this would be how you appeared publicly for the first time at the Lee house. It had always been secretly, getting in late into the night when his friends weren't around, and leaving too early in the morning to not get caught. So as soon as you arrived and Haechan dragged you to the door at the end of the hall to get you both locked inside, it felt off. This was the moment you've been waiting for a while now: finally being able to be with the guy you like without having to hide. However, when you finally make it public, the first thing Haechan does is hide you.

His train of thought is hard to follow, even more to understand his actions most of the time.

He looks different tonight. While there is nothing wrong with his looks and his handsome features get accentuated in the yellow bathroom light, there is something odd about his mood. He looks agitated; he talks a lot and doesn't wait for anyone's answers. You might be worried if it wasn't for the fact that when he finishes wetting the silk paper with his tongue and sticking it down, securing the joint, he gives you one of those smiles you love. No teeth showing, only his lips pressed together in a line, slightly curved upwards at the corners, his cute dimples on display and his eyes transforming into two adorable half moons. You want to see adoration behind that smile, you want to see sincerity. You want him to tell you that everything is fine, and that you should just throw the intrusive thoughts out the window.

You just wanted a normal party night feeling like teenagers in love, only to end up locked in the bathroom with him and a bunch of drugs in his hands instead of your heart.

Yet you still like him too much to say no to him.

"Yeah," you find your voice after a moment. "I trust you, Haechan."

That only makes his little smile grow bigger, and he lights the joint.

Things get funnier. The lights get more annoying but you pay no mind to it. Alcohol tastes better than other times you've drank, so you keep drinking. And when you are with Haechan's friends the filled cups just keep going around the circle and you drink a little bit more. You believe you even see Taeyong at the party, pressed up against a corner talking too closely to the guy who Haechan presented to you as Ten—the same one you saw with Taeyong in Johnny's video—, one of the older guys of their group. 

The music gets easier to dance to. Haechan's body has hardly been this close to you before in a place that's not his room or the backseat of his car. You don't even remember when you lit up the second joint, only realizing about it once you're exhaling the smoke into the air. When the living room filled with people gets too hot for Haechan to stand it, he leads you to the bathroom again.

"How would you react," he starts after locking the door, "if you saw me snorting something up my nose?"

The question leaves you speechless. Of course the idea is not pleasant. It's no fun not being in the same state as him, you already know that from other times he has come to get you super high after hanging out with friends. It's no fun being afraid that something bad might happen to the person you care about because you let them. It's no fun that you can't understand why Haechan seems to enjoy it so much. And it's no fun that you fear he might just take advantage of his influence over you—which you recognize he can have sometimes, but you don't get to decide yet if it's a good one, or a more on the bad side one.

His eyes sparkle with excitement asking you. He licks his lips over and over again waiting for your response, until his gaze drops to your lips to steal a long kiss from you.

"So? What you say?" He asks out of breath.

Your head feels dizzy when the oxygen reaches your blood once again, and you have quite a hard time focusing on his words after the kiss, his touch and his eyes always too distracting.

"It's fine. I'm just worried something might happen to you–"

"But it won't," Haechan is quick to interrupt you. "It won't, it won't. Not when I'm with you."

He pecks your lips yet another time but you decide to deepen it, pulling on his hair to bring him closer to you. It's heated and you hope it will make him forget about this other matter you don't get to like. You truly believe it has worked when you feel him struggling with his pants' front pocket, so you back off to see him smirking at you, wallet in hand and too excited for his next move.

Haechan opens his wallet and takes out a small bag with cocaine in it. He dumps some on the surface around the sink and next to where you're sitting, and brings his head closer; you only hear the sound of the thing going up his nose, his hair blocking your view. A few seconds go by while you just watch after Haechan straightens up his back and tries to fight his state, keeping his balance by holding on to the sink until his knuckles turn white. Then, he suddenly seems to recover and is once again smiling and leaving kisses on your mouth at a pace you find hard to follow. He gathers the leftover powder he couldn't inhale onto his index finger and points in your direction, offering it to you. When you shake your head no, motionless with your back to the mirror, he then brings his finger to his mouth to put the leftovers between the lips and the teeth.

"I'll wait for you in the room," Haechan whispers before gathering his things and heading off of the bathroom, leaving you alone.

You think that what just happened shouldn't have affected you so much. Shouldn't have made you worry about your safety. Shouldn't have made you question the kind of people you've been hanging with. It shouldn't have made you think of a hundred different scenarios where Haechan, you, or both come to a bad end, yet it did. But most importantly, you know you shouldn't focus on that right now that you've smoked, or you'll end up tripping in the wrong direction when, in fact, you only came here to have a good time with Haechan. 

You get off the sink and out the bathroom after a while of thinking alone. Outside, the party is still going off strong. The night seems young even though you're sure more than a couple of hours have passed, and in another couple the sun will be coming out again.

"Yo," Mark enters your vision as soon as you start to head to the room where Haechan said he would be waiting for you. Your friend is locking your way and he's got this weird look; his eyes glassy and red, and you can't tell right now if it's because he's been drinking or he's been crying. "How are you? Where you going?"

"Uhhh… Haechan's room."

"I think… you gotta stop seeing Haechan."

You frown upon hearing his statement. "Give me one good reason to stop seeing him and I'll consider it. I'm serious."

"I– I'm–" Mark starts to stutter. "We're just worried about you, dude, that's it."

Deciding you won't waste any more energy on the matter after hearing that same speech over and over again, you opt to just walk past him and to Haechan's room. It's harder than you imagined, though, to dodge Mark and all the people around him to get to the door. The space seems to have been distorted a bit; the distances are longer and the amount of time that has passed between leaving the bathroom and trying to get to the bedroom is questionable. You hope Haechan doesn't think you don't want to be with him anymore.

You are about to turn the doorknob when a hand you know very well positions itself on top of yours to stop you.

"Are you two like, dating?"

"No," you tell the truth. "It's nothing serious," and that's a lie.

"So you don't love him or anything like that," Mark states.

You take his hand off yours and turn the doorknob, ready to enter the room and leave Mark behind.

"No. No, I don't."

—

The music fills your ears as you hear different people talking behind the door, in the hallway.  It's hard trying to understand what they're saying, but you hear them loud and clear.  Your brother Johnny asks for you and you hear Mark tell him you're not around. "That's Jeno's room, dude. Why would she be there?"

Yet you are, and Mark knows it's not Jeno's room but Haechan's, but for some reason he's decided to cover you tonight.

Time passes. You feel Haechan's touch on you, the contact leaving your skin ignited, and you're sure his fingertips could get printed on your waist. When his lips are on you, you only realize how warm he really is, burning hot making you want to rip all of your clothes off. Time stops when he's not kissing you anymore, so you have to check that all that happened just a moment ago wasn't a dream. But it's easier to get lost in his shiny, red eyes as you look for an implied answer, something that could indicate what is happening is real. A different song starts playing the moment he reconnects your lips for another kiss. Time is ticking once again and it's only him, him and him.

Why does it feel so unreal everytime you are connected? What is it about the universe that doesn't want you close together?

Haechan says he doesn't mind waiting for weeks, not if he's seeing you at the end of it. He doesn't mind the backseat of his car instead the comfort of a house, the remote locations, the late-night, last-minute calls that make him drop all his plans, not if he's getting to be with you for at least a couple hours. You still know both of you would want it to be different, a little bit easier.

When you finally connect like polar opposites, when you get together, skin to skin, there's no magnetic field more powerful than the one created by the two of you. Haechan's presence becomes massive like a black hole; it engulfs you. Time stops, you disintegrate in his arms, and you can't understand what kind of laws rule there no matter how hard you try. There is passion, and there is obsession. Donghyuck feels you deep, too deep—in his heart and in every trace of his skin you reach.

"You look for my madness, you have me crazy, baby."

You believe it's the euphoria and the pleasure that make him whisper these kinds of confessions in your ear.

And you're reaching a peak, a kind of high where you block out every noise except the ones produced by Haechan's movements and his incessant praise. His strength disarms and reassembles you over and over again. His passion is so powerful it makes it hard to breathe.

"If one day I die, you will be the one to bury me. You're too much for me."

Suddenly everything is quiet. He's still breathing heavily over you, but he doesn't move anymore. Time, however, is running again, and you make one last effort trying to convince yourself that the warmth blooming in your chest is proof that everything that took place just now, was actually real.

"I love you," you are the one to whisper in his ear this time, tightening your grip afraid you might fall apart if you let go of him. "I'll always love you."

4. Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide

The windshield wipers move from left to right tirelessly to get rid of the raindrops that hit the car without stopping. Outside it's so rainy that Haechan's favorite floral shirt got all soaked up against his skin, just by moving from his front door to the inside of his car parked on the street a couple meters away from his house. Lightning pierce the air and hits your ears like bullets. You don't recap in which moment of the night it started raining. The only thing you know it's that the situation makes you pretty scared; it's dangerous to drive at night under such conditions, but it's even more dangerous to race on a rainy night. The storm and the countless drops of water, however, hadn't been enough to scare Haechan or wash the euphoria that gets over him every time he comes across an empty road and a contender.

'I don't even like driving anymore if I'm not racing' is what he said and worried you a while ago.

"What does he want?" Haechan asks in a low voice when he notices a car lining up to his right at high speed.

It takes you a moment to process the situation, still coming down from your high, yet you recognize your friend's green Chevrolet that Haechan was racing against earlier that night and your stomach hurts. 

The night did not exactly end on good terms. After a while locked up in Haechan's room without hearing Mark or your brother's voices near it, you decided it was the right time to get out and re-join the party.

A fight between a pretty much drunk Taeyong and another guy they called Doyoung–that you learned was Haechan's older friend–was the last thing you wanted to presence. When things got pretty heated up, Mark only grabbed Taeyong and took him outside while the other struggled under the speech of 'I wasn't gonna punch him! I swear!' But Mark was, in reality, as drunk as Taeyong to barely handle the situation.

Tired of them behaving like silly kids who can't solve their problems and be in the same room without wanting to hit each other, you told Haechan to take you home. It was just convenient since Jeno and her girlfriend also wanted to leave and head to her house, but neither of them were in conditions to drive. Haechan was the designated driver for the night, but because he would never let anyone else drive his car.

"That's Mark's car," you speak. "They just probably heading home."

"I think he wants to race."

You can see Haechan speeding up and Mark also doing it to keep up. That reaction throws you off a little bit, since you know that even if your friend is drunk, he's the most prudent person behind the wheel. You know very well that Mark would never agree to a race on a wet road and with alcohol in his system.

"No, I know Mark, he doesn't want to race."

"I know Mark too, you know?" Haechan is quick to respond. "You know we used to be best friends–"

"Yes, I know. But we don't wanna race right now–"

"But this bitch's speedin' up!"

And he's indeed speeding up, what looks like he's trying to surpass Haechan's yellow car. So you unbuckle your seatbelt and roll down the passenger window to stick your head out, knowing you wouldn't be seen through the tinted windows. You yell, shake your hands no, scream there's no chance you'll both race right now but Mark seems to ignore you. The raindrops roll down your face, get into your eyes and mix with the falling tears of fear and desperation.

"Haechan, stop," you demand once you get your head back inside the car.

"Babe," he sighs without looking at you, eyes heavy on the road. "I'm fucking tired. I gotta show them who they're messing with. Gotta make them respect me!"

"No one wants to mess with you, for fuck's sake. Not right now. It's dangerous!"

The sound of lightning striking just a few meters in front of the car mixes with a startled scream from Jeno's girlfriend in the back. Everything turns chaotic real quick.

"Haechan, slow the fuck down!"

But what was probably the dumbest decision of the night hadn't happened until this very moment. Haechan slows down abruptly, but the car's tires don't offer enough friction for the wet road to keep him in his lane.

One meter slip to the right and you're colliding with Mark's car. Haechan keeps his foot on the brake and the car continues to skid to a stop a distance later.

The radio and the raindrops do a mediocre job of setting the scene to music. To your left, Haechan rests his head on the seat's headrest; a cut on his eyebrow that bleeds all the way to his cheek. Nobody makes a sound, but he's the first to break the ice with a laugh that sounds maniac in your ears.

All you can do is scream at him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

The car ends up stopped in the middle of two lanes near the end of route 127. You were really so close to getting to your house, and this is when you remember about your friends in the other car.

Just a couple of yards behind, Mark's car is smashed against the Jersey barriers dividing the road. The green paint on the front has completely chipped and the impact has left it completely dented, shattered it to pieces. You struggle opening your door with shaky hands and a startled breath and you get out of your seat; heartbeat resonating in your ears and making your head dizzy.

Mark comes out of the passenger door running to you, but you can't hear what he's saying. He tries stopping you, yet you shove him off to walk straight to the driver's side and open the door.

There are five stages a person goes through in grief. Denial is the first one.

"Why isn't he coming out?"

You fight Mark who is still trying to get you away from the wrecked car.

"Why isn't he coming out?!"

Taeyong remains motionless, with his head painfully attached to the steering wheel, and his arms fall lifelessly to his sides. The rain coming through the open door drains all the red and drives it down the road.

"I– I called Johnny– an ambulance is coming."

Anger.

"You let him drive," you push Mark slapping his shoulders, suddenly taking your anger out on him. "Why did you let him?!" You scream at him but he doesn't defend himself or try to stop you, immersed in a state of shock without being able to take his eyes off the figure of your dead friend.

A cry of anguish escapes your chest as you stare back at the wrecked car. You clench your fists and pull your hair trying to fight all the rage that accumulates in your body, but the pain is too much to bear. It only makes it worse feeling like you're the only one in the scene who actually cares about your friend when Mark won't drop a single tear and the others won't even get out of Haechan's car.

A couple minutes feel like forever in the rain when you are waiting, until you can make out the colored lights and sirens in the distance.  At the same time and on the other side of the road, Johnny gets out of his car and quickly jumps over the concrete fence to join the scene.

Negotiation.

"Get out of the fucking car." Johnny opens Haechan's door and violently takes him out until he's lying on the ground. Your brother's left hand grips the collar of his shirt tightly and his right fist makes contact with his jaw. From the sound of the hit, you're sure one of them has broken a bone.

"Johnny, stop."

Your brother reaches behind his back and holds out a gun to Haechan's head, who remains struggling from the beat up with his back against the wet pavement. Fear runs down your spine and suddenly you're too aware of the coldness the storm has brought tonight, leaving goosebumps all over your skin and making your body shake.

"You wanted a real reason for me to hate him?" He asks looking at you in the eye, still pointing at Haechan. "You fucking got it."

That only makes you cry even more.

"Leave before I end you," Johnny warns the younger boy. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Haechan stands up ready to get back in his car, but doesn't until he meets your gaze.  Something in his eyes tells you he's still waiting for you to get back in the passenger seat and leave with him. He forever will be difficult to understand.

Sadness.

"Why did you do this?" You ask with a broken voice.

"I'm sorry, baby," Haechan says as your soaked up figure reflects in his eyes that fill with tears. But his lips form a thin line slightly raised at both ends–a wicked smile–. In your head, it doesn't make sense. "This is what I am."

5. 'Til it's time we die

You had read many years ago that on cloudy days one should be able to see their soul. Like the ghosts that keep you up at night and the song lyrics that remind you of all your mistakes, filling you with regret.

Acceptance is the fifth stage one must go through when dealing with grief. Even months after losing Taeyong, after dividing his dreams between you and your friends so you could continue living them for him, you still find it hard to accept that he is no longer with you. They said he was part of all of you now, so you longed to see him like your shadow when the Sun is out.

"Is that his t-shirt?"

You nod and turn to rest your eyes on the naked boy on the bed. The little light of the sunset that sneaks through the clouds enters through the motel window and illuminates his tanned skin making you want to stay there forever, tangled between his arms, his legs and the white sheets.

"It still smells like him."

"Do you really forgive me?" Haechan asks in a whisper and relaxes when he sees you nod 'yes' once more. "And when will you forgive yourself?"

Your brother still blames it all on Haechan. You were mad at Mark for a while for letting Taeyong drive that night, and then you recognized all of you were wrong for getting on the road when none were in the right condition. Mark, anyway, you believe is having the worst time dealing with it because he decided to leave the house shortly after the accident happened, so he's all alone for all you know.

You finish dressing up before getting to Haechan and planting a last kiss on his lips, ready to leave. Taeyong had a forbidden love too. You only found out about it talking to Haechan about him and Ten weeks after he was gone.

"You know I love you, right?"

You smile after hearing him and get up from the creaky bed. Whether it was about wickedness or weakness, it didn't matter anymore. You liked to believe you were living up to Taeyong's dream.

"I'll always love you."

Taglist: @tyongf-sunflower99 @rrnhyuck @sundamariis

[nakitengoku]

oc interview: 💙Vex💙

Shoutout to @mail-me-a-snail for tagging me in this post and also egging me along with getting into Cyberpunk 2077 and subsequently creating Vex 💫

(I don't have a single good photo of Vex so you instead get the Compilation of sillies I've drawn, many featuring Snail's Vance!)

💙 Name?

"Name's Vex, but call me anything you like."

💙 Nickname?

"Some people used to call me V, but that was a while ago."

He used to be called Ghost when he was younger, being able to slip into the background unnoticed at any moment, but he later grew out of that. When he eventually adopted the name V, it was less of a nickname and more of a stage name. It's mostly forgotten now, but some hardcore fans will still recognize and call him V.

💙 Gender?

"Prettyboy 💖"

💙 Star sign?

"Oh, I used to be really into these! If I remember right, My sun and moon are both Libra. Missy could probably tell you more about what that means though."

I decided to take one out of Max's book and use the first time i drew him as his birthday, which if we're going by the absolute first concept, was September 26, 2022. He's changed a Lot since then. Also, reading up on libras with Vex in mind is just 💥

💙 Height?

".....5'8."

He's actually 5'7 and a half.

💙 Orientation?

"Anyone able and willing. Why, you interested?"

If he cared enough about labels, it'd probably be pansexual. But by the end of the day, he doesn't really care what he gets called. As long as he gets what he wants out of it, anything's fine.

💙 Nationality/Ethnicity?

"White."

💙Favorite Fruit?

"Oh man, okay so I've only had it once at an after party forever ago, but it was this round, redish purple thing. When I bit into it, it was a little tart at first, but the inside was such a sweet taste that I was in heaven. By the time I finished and threw the pit away, there were no more left and I nearly cried. I haven't seen it since and I can't remember the name but man. Best organic thing I've ever tasted."

If you give this man a plum, he'd kill someone for you. Which isn't a lot given that that's his job, but still. He'd do it without expecting to be paid in money.

💙 Favorite season?

"Fall, for sure. While I was in Atlanta, they had these parks with trees that would change their colours to these gorgeous shades of reds and oranges. God, kinda makes me wish I could grow something like that here."

I don't actually know the plant life in Nevada or how much the temperature differentiates between the seasons in Night City, but I imagine that what shrubbery they do have there have leaves that are always green or simply non-existent. Vex saw a plant change colour outside of blooming and immediately fell in love with it.

💙 Favorite flower?

"Officially, Lilacs. But between you and me, I'm very partial to forget-me-nots."

He used to be gifted Lilacs all the time during his first career by Jonathan, his producer, but Vex always found himself enjoying the little forget-me-nots that acted as accent flowers than the actual lilacs themselves.

💙 Coffee, tea or Hot chocolate?

"Hot chocolate. Although, I will drink coffee in a pinch."

This man has the biggest sweet tooth. The amount of sugar he puts in his coffee before he chugs it down for the caffeine should be illegal. [I cannot judge bc I am the same way <3]

💙 Average hours of sleep?

'We talking Mean, Median or Mode?"

It varies so much that the actual average ends up being about 6, but um. Do not be fooled into thinking he's actually sleeping 6 hours every night. Think more along the lines of several all-nighters followed by crashing super hard for a day or two.

💙 Dog or cat person?

"Oh, a cat person. I'm just not home enough for a dog."

💙 Dream trip?

"I saw a pamplet once of Crater Lake in Oregon. It was something about the ten deadliest lakes in the world or something, but I'm just into how Blue it is. If I could, I'd visit the rest of those lakes too, but. Eh, I doubt it."

💙 Favorite Fictional Character?

"Hmm, it's a toss up between a side from this really long and old comic from the 2010's and the protagonist from a just as long manga from the 2000's. I think their names were Kanya and Ruffy? It's been 15 years though so don't quote me on that."

It's Kanaya from homestuck and Luffy from One Piece. He likes Kanaya because of her fashion sense and her dealing with the responsibility of her entire species on her shoulders. And he likes Luffy for his optimism and stubbornness. At one point, he imagined finding friends like Luffy did, being surrounded by so much devotion. The reasoning has since faded and he just barely remembers much about them now.

💙 Number of Blankets you sleep with?

"Eight. I like the weight and warmth."

His AC bill is through the fucking roof but he refuses to take a single blanket off, instead insisting on just making the rest of the room freezing. Giving him a weighted blanket wouldn't fix it, but he'd probably go down to five instead of eight.

💙 Random fact?

"When i was really little, my mom used to take me to a church. Don't think it exists any more, but I remember the Stain glass windows, how the light shone through and fell onto her. In normal lighting, I remember her looking pale a sickly, but once a week, with a statue of a half-god watching over us, my mother glowed. She was gorgeous.

"Anyway, I stopped going after she died. For a while it was because I never remembered what day it was, but later it was because I realized I only ever went to see my mom glow."

~~

Thank you for tagging me, Max! This was much longer than what i thought when i was getting into it but I'm still glad I did it.

I can't think of anyone specific who'd want to do this, so if you see this and want to give it a try, please do and tag me! I'd love to see your little blorbos :)