#kkreationsnet

His eyes widen as you approach, the corner of his mouth kicking up at your boldness and you sit on the stool next to him. Handing him the new beer you’d gotten, you take a swig of what’s left of your own before placing it on the counter and running your finger along the rim slowly.

As you expected, the movement catches his eye and he watches with an almost hungry look. While he does so, you take the time to properly look him over now that you’re up close. He looks to be well built from the broadness of his shoulders and the thickness of his biceps, looking delightful from underneath his worn and fraying Queen shirt.

That thought is confirmed when you glance down to his thighs, your eyes widening slightly as you take in the sheer size of them as they’re wrapped in skin tight black jeans, rips on his knees letting you get glimpses of his golden skin while also giving tantalising hints of the muscle that strains the denim.

His dark hair is elegantly swept from his forehead, a slightly wet look that’s popular with guys nowadays causing a few strands to fall away from the rest and you get the urge to reach up and move them away from him. His hairstyle also lets you see his strong brows and the sharp cut of his jaw gives him an unbelievably masculine look that has you clenching your thighs suddenly.

He’s a man who just seems to radiate pure sensuality and sex, causing you to wonder if perhaps this will be the guy you try and take home tonight. You’re pretty certain he knows what he’s doing in bed, or you at least hope that someone who looks at godly as this knows his way around a woman.

His eyes are the only thing that don’t quite match, as once he looks away from your fingers then they suddenly turn from pure seduction into an innocence you’ve never seen in a person before. It’s like he de-ages years in front of you, causing you to smile inadvertently.

“You’re cute.” The words slip from you without you meaning to, but you refuse to feel embarrassed about it because he really does. Even though the rest of his body looks like he could bench press you and not even break a sweat, his eyes tell you that he just wants to be coddled and loved.

You kind of want to do both at the same time, even if that’s completely impractical.

Either way, your attraction to him has only increased and he’s not even spoken a word to you. That takes some special talent, causing you to bite your lip to try and stop the smile as his soft looking lips fall open in surprise at your boldness before he’s letting out a snort of a laugh.

“Wow...you are...something. I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman just walk up to me before in a bar.” He smiles, running his fingers along his lower lip and you grin back at him, resting an elbow on the bar while your chin rests on your hand.

“Yeah, well I don’t normally do it but I couldn’t just sit there when you were here. I know you’ve been checking me out, my friend told me and you’ve not exactly told me to leave so I’m presuming I’ve got a good chance right? You’re pretty hot so I don’t mind the staring and it’s the 21st century so women can pursue men they like too, right?” You test him, raising an eyebrow and waiting for his response.

His eyes widen ever so slightly before his lips split again, revealing a set of white teeth as he reaches for the bottle you’d brought and takes a healthy swig. Tipping the neck towards you, he looks down as he shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh.

“That it is. And you’re right, I totally was. To use your boldness...you were very beautiful out there dancing. Looked like you didn’t care about a thing, it was nice. And I do appreciate this confidence...it’s attractive.” You smirk before leaning back slightly, letting him get a good look over you.

“So...what’s your name and what do you do? You know, the usual spiel.” You ask, letting your bottle dangle from your fingertips lazily. He leans back too, obviously comfortable with you already and it makes you feel good.

“You work quick huh? I would’ve thought that you’d be asking me to take you back already given how bold you’ve already been.” The mystery man teases lightly and you like him even more, unsure as to why you feel such a magnetic attraction to him already.

“Yeah well, if I see something I like then I go for it. No point in wasting time right? But I’ve got your attention, you’ve got mine. I don’t see any reason to rush anything at the moment, the nights still young and I want to find out more about you. Despite my boldness, I don’t just sleep with people whose name I don’t even know.” He gives a nod that you feel is almost approving, causing you to smile in response.

“Jeon Jungkook. I’m a police officer. You?” Oh, suddenly you’re imaging him in the uniform that the Kennedy City police wear and you feel even hotter. Would he be into a roleplay with that? Or would it be too weird?

Either way, you tell him your name and that you’re a psychologist in training. You’d only finished your masters degree a year ago but you still had more qualifications to get before you would finally get to your dream role. It was on the way though, and you were beyond happy that your career path was already getting set in stone.

Jungkook listens to you talk about your job and future aspirations with complete interest, an intense look on his face as he pays attention to your every word. Unlike most guys who feign interest to get into your pants, he genuinely looks like he’s interested in what you’ve got to say and it makes your stomach flutter slightly.

After ten minutes of you rambling on, you suddenly realise that you’ve not really talked about him much and gesture for him to explain why he became a police officer. It’s an easy topic to get into it, and you find it often reveals a lot about people when they talk about why they took on their job. He goes almost bashful though, his cheeks reddening under the crappy bar lighting and you almost coo at how cute he looks.

“There were some guys in my neighbourhood that I kind of looked up to when I was younger. They joined the police and it became a goal of mine too.” Humming lightly, you let your fingers tap on the bar rhythmically.

“Is it actually something you enjoy though? Doing things because of other people doesn’t always work out.” He pauses for a moment before smiling, head nodding slightly before gently taking the bottle out of your hand.

“I love it. Honestly, it’s about being part of something bigger and protecting people. Some people don’t have a lot of hope, so if I can give them at least something then it’s a win for me. Might sound like I’m being stupidly noble.” He looks a little self conscious then, causing you to grin.

“No...it’s nice to hear someone optimistic for once. Someone who doesn’t just do their job because they have to and nothing else.” Jungkook gives a little smile then before looking down at his hands, obviously nervous about something and you watch as he rubs the back of his neck.

“People like that have a point too though. We all gotta survive right?” You’re about to respond when someone suddenly knocks into you harshly, causing you to almost land in Jungkook’s lap. His eyes widen in shock and he looks over at the culprit as you let out an angry yell, beer sloshing over your front from his bottle and causing your shirt to darken.

“Hey! Asshole!” The guy who hit you slurs something out, his eyes looking glazed over while he bounces off someone else in the bar. He’s holding his stomach and you grimace when he suddenly vomits violently onto the floor.

Almost immediately there’s a gap around him as everyone tries to evacuate the splash zone and you push yourself into Jungkook further, grossed out. Looking at him, he’s watching the guy warily before he glances back at you with a raised brow.

“Want to get out of here before we get someone else vomit on us?” You can hear the suggestion in his voice, and you’d laugh at it normally given the incredibly unsexy sight you’d just witnessed. But the darkening look in his eyes has you almost shivering in delight as you nod, letting him take your hand and direct you around the puddle of vomit.

Glancing back, you look at both Taehyung and Chaeyoung who are sat at the bar and watching the drunkard with unhindered delight. Another drunk near them suddenly throws up as well, causing the bar to erupt in a cacophony of yells as the bar security comes through to dispose of the people who’ve evidently had too much to drink.

Catching Chaeyoung’s eye when she looks over, you give her a smile before pointing at Jungkook and giving a thumbs up. She grins in response and nods, letting you know that she’s clocked him in case anything weird happens.

As you leave the bar, you quickly text her his information just to be double sure. He might say he’s a police officer, but he might also be lying and you can never be too sure. Jungkook doesn’t notice though as he focuses on hailing a cab, arm outstretched in an attempt to catch the attention of one of the passing yellow vehicles.

A deep moan to your right causes you to peer around the corner, the alley that leads past the bar dark and yet even with the crappy light you can see the two figures that are stood against one of the walls. The one not against the wall has their head in the other’s neck and you hear another groan while the others hands flex outstretched towards you, causing your cheeks to heat as you turn away and move back to Jungkook.

“Looks like someone else is getting lucky tonight.” You smirk, head gesturing towards the alley as he peers past you. For a moment, you can practically see the indecision in his eyes as he wonders whether or not to break it up but the arrival of a taxi makes up his mind for him.

“Yeah well, I hope it works out as well for them as it does for us.” He grins before opening the door and letting you slide in first. As the car pulls away, you glance back at the alley and notice they seem to be really going at it, slipping down to the floor slowly.

Silently, you cheer them on for their boldness as there’s no way on earth you’d ever do something like that in such a public area.

Although, as you look over at the handsome man next to you with raised brows and run your eyes over his figure once more, you might make an exception for this one.

-

Jungkook’s apartment isn’t too far from the bar and you’re jumpy with anticipation as he leads you through the building, finally coming up to his door which he unlocks with the slightest hesitation. Looking back at you, he gives a nervous smile before shrugging slightly.

“I’m sorry if it’s a little messy, I wasn’t planning on-” You interrupt him by reaching your arms up around his neck as you stand on the tips of your toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He mumbles for a moment incoherently before his arm wraps around your waist, lifting slightly to swing you inside before he kicks the door shut.

Moaning into his mouth at the small show of strength, you let your fingers run through his hair until he’s groaning in response, his hands running down your back until he’s gripping your hips tightly and pressing you against himself.

Already you can feel a slight hardness against your lower stomach, not quite enough to give you a good idea of his size yet but good enough to let you know that you’re probably going to have a good time. Hopefully.

“Christ, your confidence is such a fucking turn on.” He whispers against your lips, rolling his hips against you in a fluid motion that has you panting out loud. Jungkook grins slightly before moving his mouth down your jaw, kissing along the bone before moving down to your sensitive neck and mouthing along the vulnerable skin there.

“I’m not normally like this, I swear.” You gasp out loud, gripping his hair tight as he sucks harshly, the sensation feeling like he has a direction to your pussy as you clench tightly around nothing at the sensation. “God, where’s your bedroom?”

He doesn’t reply to your question, instead just bends down slightly until his hands are gripping at your thighs and pulls. It’s almost as if you weigh nothing to him and it’s beyond sexy, your legs gripping his surprisingly slim waist with ease as he lets his hands move round to your ass, squeezing just enough to make you gasp as he chuckles against your throat.

Jungkook starts to move through his apartment through muscle memory alone, the darkness of the rooms not an issue to him as he lets you fall suddenly. A tiny ‘eep’ leaves your mouth until you’re bouncing on his mattress, the breath knocked from you as you squint when light floods the room from a lamp on his bedside table.

Jungkook is stood next to it, his eyes dark with lust while his pink lips are swollen from your kisses, glistening from his careless mouthing at your neck. He looks like sex incarnate and you let out the tiniest whine as he tugs his shirt over his head, revealing a physique that should be criminal.

Your earlier suspicions are completely correct as the rippling muscle of his abdomen clenches slightly when he unbuttons his jeans, lowering the zip just enough to provide some relief to the erection that’s tenting his pants. A large tattoo covers his left pectoral, the black ink swirling and swooping in an elegant pattern that makes him look all the more attractive.

What is it about tattoos that are sexy sometimes? Especially when paired with even hotter men.

“Jesus christ, you’re fucking hot.” You blurt out, causing him to laugh as his head ducks, the shyness on him even more endearing. He’s literally about to get his dick wet and yet he’s going red when you compliment him on his insanely attractive body.

“So are you.” Snorting, you sit up and tug off your shirt, revealing the black lace bra that you’d put on tonight in the maybe hopes that you’d find someone worthy enough of seeing it. His eyes widen even further at the sight, his pink tongue slipping out to wet his lips further and you feel about 10 feet tall.

“You’ve not seen me yet Jungkook.” You tease him lightly, reaching behind to unhook your bra and letting it fall from your arms in slow movements that have his chest moving harder. His gaze is glued firmly to your breasts, the cool air causing your nipples to peak while his hot look makes them tingle in anticipation.

You have no doubt that his mouth will feel good on you, and you reach out to take his hands and direct them slowly to your chest. He lets out the softest groan as he explores, his touch gentle until you encourage him to be a little harder.

“Come here.” You whisper to him, encouraging him to kneel on the bed as you reach to cup his head, tugging him to you and capturing his lips once more. Mouths clashing almost painfully for a moment, the two of you soon work out a rhythm that has your hips grinding against his as you whine into his mouth.

His fingers play with your chest, stroking along the swell of your breast before they pinch and tug at your nipple almost playfully. You gasp into his mouth as he does so, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth and explore a whole new area as you let him gleefully.

After a few minutes of this, the temperature in the room increasing until you’re almost sweating from his touch that has gone from shy to bold. As he pulls at your nipple once more, you pull away and slip your hands down to your jeans to unbutton them, tugging desperately at the denim.

Jungkook doesn’t move from your mouth as he helps you, shifting his body up and hooking his fingers underneath the band of your jeans and underwear. He finally pulls away from you, kneeling to help you get rid of the tight pants and leave you fully exposed to him.

For a moment, he does nothing but admire your naked body and the sheer admiration in his eyes has you spreading your legs further for him. You’re not normally this bold with a new lover, but the way he looks and touches you makes you feel comfortable with him in a way you don’t normally do.

The appreciation he seem to give as he lets out a shuddering sigh at the sight of the slick wetness between your legs has you wriggling on the bed in anticipation. Eyes flicking up to yours, he maintains a strong eye contact as the palm of his hand slowly runs along the exposed length of your inner thigh until his fingers are gently stroking the edge of your pussy.

You’re so hyper aware of his touch that it has you panting desperately, trying to shift your hips to get his fingers exactly where you want them. It has him smirking slightly as he continues to let his fingers dance away from where you need it every time, a deep chuckle reverberating from his chest and you swear you can feel it against you.

“Do you want something?” He asks innocently, his face as blank as he can try to make it but he can’t hide the slight curve to his lips. You want to curse at him already, point out that this is your first time together and he’s not all that just yet.

But you can’t, because before you even get to say anything he lets two fingers press against your clit and rub in slow, smooth circles. Almost immediately your back is bowing as your head falls back, a moan tugged from your throat as he seems to find the sweet spot on the first touch.

Maybe he is all that.

You don’t get to say anything else though as he continues to stroke at your clit before he lets his fingers slide down, coating them in your wetness and sliding one long finger deep into you. Inner muscles clamp down immediately on the intrusion, the pleasure you feel as he curls that finger against your walls strong and the only thing you can do is let out a pathetic mewl.

Chuckling, he kisses along your thigh before his lips finally meet their goal and he tongues along your pussy slowly, eyes glancing up at you to try and get a gauge on whether he’s doing it right. It’s only through a few slow and delicious strokes of his tongue that he manages to figure out the the spot that makes you pant harder with his tongue and he immediately begins focusing on it with a frightening amount of attention.

Lips sucks and pull while his tongue swirls, licks and plays with your clit, all the while his finger works at your walls insistently until he adds a second in. The stretch is just enough to make you whine, hips bucking against his mouth and you desperately want him inside you properly now.

“Enough, Jungkook enough. Please, just fuck me.” You cry out, pushing at his head as the pleasure in your stomach grows to be too much. Any more and he’ll push you over the edge, letting you free fall into an orgasm that you have no doubt will be delicious.

But you’re not one of those girls who enjoys multiple orgasms so close to each other, and you always prefer an orgasm with proper penetration so you’re desperate for him inside you. He responds immediately, pulling his fingers from you in a slick movement and pushing his jeans and underwear down quickly.

His length bursts free, bouncing slightly in the air and you can already see a bead of clear pre-cum that beads on the tip enticingly. As he shirks off the clothing and reaches over to his nightstand drawer, you grasp his cock in a firm grasp and give him a few strokes that have him panting loudly.

“Fuck, let me put this on.” Jungkook whispers, pushing your hand away to rip open the condom and slide it onto himself. Grasping your wrists in one hand, he presses them above your head when you try and touch him again while he gives you an exasperated look.

His other hand is on his dick, sliding the tip of him along your engorged clit and letting himself roll in the delightful wetness that continually leaks from your pussy until he’s covered in it. Looking at you with a grin, he finally lets the head of him slip into you with an almost painfully slow pace and you let out a guttural whine as he penetrates you.

His fingers weren’t nearly as big as his cock, but you take him easily and enjoy the fullness as his thick length moves into you until he’s finally resting against you, his pubic bone pressed to your clit while his balls lay against your ass. It’s an intimate moment for a few seconds as he hovers over you, his face so close to you that you can feel the hotness of his breath as he takes a few fortifying breaths.

Glancing at you, he raises an eyebrow before shifting his hips slightly to get a better angle and you whimper at the slight movement. “You okay?”

Nodding, you lift up your own hips and your eyes flutter shut as it sends him even deeper, a tingle of pleasure lighting your body up. “Yes, god start moving.”

Letting go of your hands, he nods and rests his elbows on either side of you, his hips beginning to move at a slow and steady pace that has sparks of delight echoing through your body. At the risk of it all sounding a little wish fulfillment, you’re not sure that you’ve ever had a dick that felt as good as his. It’s almost like he’s been built with the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot on every stroke and you marvel at it for a moment.

Meeting Jeon Jungkook in that bar had to be a stroke of fortune, surely.

As you think that, his own strokes start to speed up inside you until you’re practically bouncing upwards with each thrust, breasts jiggling enticingly for him until he dips his head down to catch a nipple between his mouth. The added sensation has you reaching between you both and rubbing at your clit insistently, the wetness from you helping to lubricate the movement as you feel his cock sliding in and out at a good pace.

“Holy fuck.” You pant, your free hand grasping at Jungkook’s back and trying to encourage him in whatever way you can. The overwhelming combination of his dick, sliding inside you at a delightful pace, combined with his insistent mouth on your nipple and your experienced fingers stroking your clit in just the right way has that earlier almost-orgasm roaring back into existence.

Within only minutes you’re almost there, the overwhelming feeling in your gut causing your thighs to tighten around his waist while your toes clench desperately, inner muscles tightening around him until he’s moaning and whining against your chest. You ignore him though, your sole focus purely selfish as you see the end in sight and gibberish falls from your lips as your body finally succumbs.

Convulsions have your pussy almost sucking at Jungkook’s dick greedily, your inner walls so tight that Jungkook almost has to force his way back in as he lets out a deep groan while your hips buck wildly to the point he almost slips out. But you don’t care as your head is thrown back and your mind whites out for a moment, the pleasure so overwhelming and elongated as Jungkook’s thrusts hit all the points inside you that make your orgasm last longer.

Finally, you pull your fingers away from your clit once your body screams in overstimulation while whimpers fall from your lips desperately as your pussy clenches spasmodically around Jungkook as he continues to thrust, the pleasure on your g-spot still enough to make your post-orgasm sex feel really fucking good.

But now it’s Jungkook’s turn not to care as he pushes his head into your neck, soft groans hitting your ears while the sound of his hips slapping against your increases as his pace becomes sloppy and desperate. Your orgasm must have pushed him past his point quicker than he’d expected as he lets out an almost surprised moan when his hips stutter, his body tensing as he orgasms.

You stroke his back through the whole thing, grinning to yourself as you clench around his length that’s still buried inside you to make him feel even better and enjoyed the desperate whine he lets out as you do so.

When he finally pulls out and flops onto the bed by your side, his chest heaving and covered in a slick layer of sweat, you grin at him lazily before letting a hand move to rest on his heaving stomach. Jungkook stays silent for moment before looking over at you with a tired look, eyeing your smile before giving a smile in response.

“That was really good, and I’m not just saying that to inflate your ego.” You gasp out to him, rolling onto your side and watching his profile happily. Maybe it’s the post-sex and orgasm bliss, but he looks even better than he did before.

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh before nodding slowly. “Glad to be of service ma’am.”

Oh wow...yeah okay. You could definitely do something with that you think, as long as he’s ready and willing. Maybe not now, but if he’s willing to in the future. Eyeing him, you grin before moving to cuddle up to him, wondering if he’s one of those guys that likes post-sex cuddles.

Thankfully, it seems like he does and he welcome you with a happy expression, his arm wrapping around you tightly. “So...any chance we can get a round two later?” You’re definitely going to try your lucky here.

He’s silent for a moment before grinning, his eyes closed but his fingers stroke your skin gently. “Give me half an hour, I’ll see what I can do.”

-

“Wake up. Y/N, wake up,” The insistent shaking of your shoulder snaps you from the blissful slumber Jungkook had induced you into the night before. Your mind is reacting just as slow as your thoroughly used body is, thoughts moving sluggishly as you desperately attempt to make some sense of what’s happening. “Get up.”

The words are hissed with a surprising amount of irritation and haste, causing you to frown as you blink rapidly. Darkness outside the open windows cause that frown to deepen even further, wondering why Jungkook was waking you before the sun had even risen.

From the aching in your hips, you were pretty positive that it had only been a few hours since you’d drifted off.

“What?” You slur out, sitting up lazily and letting your head flop forwards for a moment and not even noticing your nakedness. Taking a deep breath, you rub at your eyes before looking up and staring dumbly at the sight of Jungkook.

He’d been very clear last night that was a police officer, but it was another thing entirely to see him in his uniform. Though why he was putting that on at 5:23 in the morning was a mystery to you currently.

You wouldn’t deny though; he looked exceptionally attractive and your thoughts from last night come racing back to the fore, even through your tired mind.

Jungkook is in the process of buttoning up a long sleeved shirt, the black colour blending into the darkness of the corner he’s in and slowly covering up the white undershirt he has on. The pocket over his left breast has his name emblazoned in white, ‘J. JEON’, while the police crest of the Kennedy City Police Department rests on either side of his upper arms.

His black pants remind you of what you see on TV with the SWAT teams, a ridiculous number of pockets on almost every piece of material. The slight sheen to his golden skin in the dim light of his lamp combines with the wet strands of his hair, pushed up off his forehead and signifying he’d obviously taken a shower.

“You need to get dressed. Now. And I mean right now.” Jungkook states, his voice like iron as he moves over and sits on the bed. You slump into his side as he does so, the mattress caving towards him and you smile seductively as you let a hand slide along his thigh.

He ignores it firmly as he pushes his feet into some tactical black boots, bending over to tie up the intricate laces before standing and looking at you imploringly. “You need to get dressed.”

“Wow, this is the harshest way I’ve ever been kicked out. Have you been called in to work or something?” You frown, standing up and heading over to his bathroom. Despite his insistent words, you take your time to relieve yourself and wash your face, cleaning your teeth as best you can with your finger. The clothes you’d brought in were the same jeans as the night before, only this time Jungkook had given you a white shirt to pull on.

It was, understandably, huge and you had to tuck the front into your jeans to stop it looking like a dress. Scanning yourself over, you reach into your purse to tug out a tube of cherry lip balm before applying it and heading out.

Already Jungkook is pushing your shoes at you, causing you to slip your feet into the low Converse and tie them up with a scowl. He was sure being rude, which was a complete change from last night. Had you somehow completely gotten him wrong?

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Jungkook crouched down in front of you and sighed deeply. His head was lowered slightly and a stray piece of hair had escaped from the others, making him look even more charming than usual.

“I’m not being rude here, I swear. I had every intention of letting you sleep and then waking you up later to have some more ridiculously good sex. But I can’t. And you can’t. In fact, you need to get out of the city. Now.” He looks up at you with a serious gaze, wide eyes that had shone with innocence before turning into experienced seduction last night now almost grave.

“What do you mean? Why would I leave the city?” You ask slowly, brows slowly creeping together as you feel unease begin to rumble in your stomach. He sighs heavily and looks down, head shaking slightly before moving to rest a hand against your knee.

“You need to go. Go to Redfield City. Something is happening here. Something that isn’t good.” He stands and gestures for you to follow him to his window and you do so slowly, looking out at the city scape that a police officer should not be able to afford.

Only what was glamorous and beautiful last night, is far more scary now.

You can see fires blazing in the distance, on rooftops and through burst windows. This close to the window, you can peer out and see the cars that speed down the streets below as people run in various directions.

And you can also see the people getting attacked by others, falling to the ground and writhing while the person on top of them does something that you don’t quite understand under the harsh lighting of the street lights. It looks like chaos, and the helicopters that you can see in the distance flying around the city make panic begin to flow through your veins.

“What’s happening Jungkook? What’s going on? Why’s everyone running? Why are they getting attacked?” The questions fall out of your mouth quickly, like bullets from a gun with their staccato nature and Jungkook watches you with a gaze that portrays a sense of calm you suggest he probably isn’t actually feeling.

“I don’t...I don’t know. I just...woke up half an hour ago and saw a ton of calls on my phone. They were from the station and no one answered when I called back. I’ve tried calling my colleagues but...they’re not answering either.” His voice is deep and low, the tone surprisingly soothing as he places his hands on your shoulders before slowing rubbing your arms comfortingly.

“Why do I have to leave? I don’t have a car, Lisa dropped me off at the bar and my car’s back home.” Home, which was currently on the other side of the city. And you weren’t really interested in trying to make your way across it on your own. Not when it looked like that outside.

Jungkook curses and looks out the window, strong brows moving in to cause a few wrinkles and you watch him in the terrible lighting. Maybe a little hysteria was taking hold, but you can’t help but think he looks even more attractive like this with his strong jawline and intense stare.

“Shit. I can’t let you go across the city on your own. I’m not trying to sound like a sexist ass here, but I just genuinely don’t think it’s safe. And I’m pretty positive the public transport isn’t working, so you’d have to walk for at least half an hour right? Probably more?” You nod in response. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening. Fuck. Okay. I’m going to the station so...you can come with me. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on and maybe I can take a patrol car and get you out.”

“Okay...that sounds great but...why do I have to leave? Why can’t I just...stay here or something if it’s dangerous out there?” Jungkook lowers his head before grabbing his phone off the desk, the screen bright as he taps on it.

He brings up a text that states it is from the Kennedy City Police Department and you scan over it quickly, icy dread flooding through your veins. You’ve never in your life read something like this, and you’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to make of it.

‘Dear Citizen of Kennedy City,

This is not an emergency broadcast.

A major biohazard event has occurred in Kennedy City. Please remain inside your residence at all times.

We advise avoidance of anyone who shows potential symptoms of an unknown virus.

Again, this is not an emergency broadcast.

Kennedy City Police Department’

“What? Is this real? What the fuck is this? It says to stay, so why are we going?” Jungkook takes his phone back before sliding it into the pocket on his chest, shrugging slowly before heading out of his bedroom.

You follow him slowly, grabbing your jacket off the back of his couch and slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jungkook goes over to the drawers against the wall next to his television and opens one up, revealing a gun safe. Opening it, he pulls out a thigh holster and secures it to his belt before clipping the rest around his thigh.

The gun is carefully checked over before he’s slotting it into the holster, buttoning it closed before turning to look at you.

“I don’t know. You know as much as me right now. None of this seems to be normal though. In fact...I feel like I’m a film right now or a video game. We’re going, because that text gave me a bad feeling. There’s something happening, and they’re not even trying to evacuate? Something’s going on.” Rushing after him, you follow as he exits his apartment and closes the door behind you, making sure it locks before you’re both moving down the corridor.

The elevator is quiet at the end and you eye it, pressing the button and standing with him. It’s almost eerie how quiet it is in here, and you find yourself moving closer to Jungkook. He’s right in that something doesn’t feel right, as if there’s just something wrong in the air.

“But it’s only been a few hours. How could things go this badly in only a few hours for it to look like that outside? And it’s early morning! Most people are asleep!” You whisper, finding the need to be quiet for some reason. Jungkook shrugs before bringing his empty hands up to further his point.

“I don’t know. One of the texts I got said it’s a biohazard incident and those can spread fast I guess. Look, this was not in any of my training. I mean...it was...but I definitely never had ‘biohazard issue that results in the entire city being on lockdown’. That’s bizarrely specific. And honestly...it’s probably better for us that there isn’t a lot of people out yet because this is a big city with 3 million people in it. That means 3 million people that can become a big issue for us once they wake up. We’re lucky it’s Saturday morning so a lot will sleep in.” He sighs, leaning on one leg to watch the numbers slowly tick upwards.

That is, until you both hear an odd thumping noise coming from behind the closed elevator doors. The reaction in Jungkook is immediate, with him stiffening with tension and slowly moving backwards, one hand reaching out to pull you back with him while the other is pulling his gun out.

“Stay back...I don’t have a good feeling about that.” He says lowly, staring straight at the doors. By the time the elevator reaches your floor, a loud clunking noise echoing through the quiet hallway and the thumping louder than ever, he has both hands holding his gun in a ready position, the safety carefully clicked off.

You shuffle behind him, fear making your limbs feel funny and the strongest urge to run back to his apartment overtaking you.

Slowly, the doors open and you both stare in horror at the sight in front of you. The inner walls of the elevator cab are a deep shade of ruby, the terrible fluorescent lighting making it shine wetly as it slowly drips down.

And on the floor is a man, hovering over a woman.

At first, you think he’s assaulting her and go to move forwards to try and help in outrage. Only Jungkook pushes you back, shaking his head slowly. It’s then that you notice the look of terror on her face, permanently etched in death.

Slowly, the figure turns and you gasp out loud, seeing the way torn flesh drags off his cheek as he pulls a piece of intestine from the dead woman and chews on it slowly. Messy brown hair is splattered dark with blood and you’re sure his clothes would look stylish if it weren’t for the mud and guts splattered all over him.

His eyes are covered with a strange white film while his skin has a horrible pale pallor, almost waxy in consistency, and you get the strangest feeling that he’s not entirely alive himself. The sight of you both distracts him from his meal though.

A deep groan leaves him, the sound sending shivers through your body as your skin pimples almost immediately. It doesn’t sound very human, coming from deep in his throat and he moves in a stiff manner that looks completely unnatural.

Grunts fall from his mouth as he shuffles around, the knees of his denim jeans soaked red and you can’t stop your hand from pressing against your mouth as your stomach rebels immediately at the visceral gore as you notice for the first time that half of his throat has been ripped out.

“Sir...sir please stay there. Please don’t come any closer.” Jungkook’s voice is firm, yet you can hear the slight shaking of his words as he tries to comprehend what he’s looking at. Whimpering, your fingers dig into the softness of his shirt at his back.

“I don’t think he understands you Jungkook. I don’t think he’s even alive.” You whisper, brain screaming at yourself at how ridiculous you sound. But even though your mind is refusing to admit to that possibility, the rational part of you is telling you that it’s true. Because he can’t be alive with half his neck missing, nor with the amount of blood down his front.

“I...no. That’s not possible. This isn’t a film, despite what I said. It’s not...sir. Please stay there.” He says firmly, hands lowering until he’s aiming the gun directly at the strange man. There’s the tiniest quiver as he does so, but you can see that he’s already sighting down the gun firmly.

“I don’t think he cares.”

A higher pitched groan comes from the man’s right and you both watch with alarm as the dead woman twitches before she too begins to rise. And that’s just about the proof Jungkook needs, because half the woman’s intestines are looped on the floor and there is absolutely no way anyone could survive that.

“What the fuck.” Jungkook whispers furiously, booted foot moving back slightly as the man ambles towards you both.

“Jungkook, please. I don’t think he cares and I don’t think he’s going to stop.” Your shaking violently now, eyes wide as you watch the zombies move towards you. Because that’s clearly what they are. Reanimated corpses.

He gives a third warning which goes ignored before swallowing thickly and widening his stance to brace himself. The sound of his gun firing is astonishingly loud in the dead silence of the corridor but his hand barely moves.

It was a direct hit to the head, with the man going down like a sack of lead to the floor. The bullet hole in his forehead is tiny, but you can’t help but gag at the awful sight of the back of his head blown out. There’s no way he’s getting up from that, surely?

“Oh my god.” Jungkook gasps out before he’s firing again at the woman. He doesn’t get a perfect shot this time, the bullet instead going through her cheek and he lets out a strange noise while you turn and vomit in the corridor. A third shot does the trick and she collapses like a house of cards against the wall.

The quiet is even more oppressive now as you wipe at your mouth, hands shaking violently. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he simply stares at them with wide eyes before lowering his quivering hand, finger carefully clicking on the safety before he’s slotting it back into his holster.

“I just killed two people.” He gasps out, stumbling backwards before hitting the wall. There’s a moment where he just rests there before he’s slowly sliding down it.

You move over to him quickly, kneeling before him as you cup his face and get him to look at you. His beautiful brown eyes are full of shock, the size of dinner plates as a sheen of tears slowly takes over and you get the feeling that Jungkook has never fired his gun at someone before.

Shaking your head, you give him a weak smile. “No, no you didn’t. We both saw that. That...that was not a person anymore. That was a zombie. That was a dead person, who got up and started walking again. You didn’t kill anyone. You just put down something that was already dead and should have stayed dead. Jungkook, I’m pretty positive you just saved us.”

He says nothing for a few minutes, simply watching his hands as they tremble.

“Well...I guess we know what that biohazard issue is. Shit. Shit. Fuck.” He whispers, running his hands through his hair before lowering them back with another curse. “We gotta get to the police station. There’s a weapons locker there and I’m pretty sure we’re going to need it. Can you use a gun?”

Nodding slowly, you watch as he gets up and heads back to his apartment. You follow on unsteady legs, standing in the hallway while he goes inside and rummages around in his drawers once more.

When he returns, he clips another holster onto your thigh and hands you a gun.

“Show me how you use it.” He says, handing you a magazine for it as well. Swallowing thickly, you load the gun and unload it as quickly as you can until he’s satisfied and nods. “Okay. You use that if you need to. I’ll try and take care of it, I grabbed some more magazines in there but I don’t keep a lot on me. The station has more. If we can get there.”

The weight on your thigh makes you nervous, but it also provides an odd sense of relief. You have something that will keep you safe, though you frown at it as you follow Jungkook back down. You’ve not used one in years and you’d never had the greatest aim anyway. But somehow, you don’t really care right now.

The both of you avoid the corpse on the floor, noting the way his legs keep the doors from closing properly before heading down the stairwell. It’s thankfully empty here, and the two of you emerge into the entryway carefully.

There’s nothing here, with no sounds happening except for the occasion car engine as a car zooms past the window.

Jungkook moves to the door and opens it slowly, peering out and getting a quick scope of the street before moving back in.

“Okay. There’s a few of them out there, both sides. They don’t look to be moving fast so...if we just walk fast and avoid their hands then we should be alright I think. Keep an eye out for cars, it looks like some people are being dangerous in their attempts to get out. Understandable I guess.” Nodding your head, you follow him out into the street and shudder at the cool morning air.

It’s still dark out, and you know that it won’t be getting light for another hour at least. Which makes you wary as you have no doubt that it means there could be things hiding in dark corners.

Jungkook sets up a quick pace down the street, skipping over to the other side of the road to avoid a pair of zombies as they feast on someone before zipping back over to avoid the same a few metres down. It’s like playing a bizarre game of chicken and you practically glue yourself to him in an effort to not be too much of a pain for him.

It’s horribly silent in the city, especially for somewhere so close to downtown. Normally there would be cars driving by sedately, the horns of impatient drivers who don’t care about sound laws mixing with the chatter of the early birds as they jog or go on their morning walks.

Now, all you can hear is the faint screams of poor people in the distance, competing with the sickening sounds of tearing and crunching coming from the zombies.

The good news is that they appear to be invested in their meals, the sounds of Jungkook and yours shoes muted enough to make you both almost invisible to their dead eyes. It doesn’t stop you from shivering in disgust and horror, nor does it stop the sheen of tears from filling your eyes as you feel a pit of despair forming in your stomach.

Your friends are out there in the city. Lisa, Taehyung, Chaeyoung and Seokjin. There was a chance that they were already dead, and if so then there was an even higher chance that they were like one of these shambling corpses.

Sniffling quietly, you note how Jungkook glances at you quickly before reaching back and taking your hand, squeezing it quickly.

You’re not sure how far you go down the street, just following Jungkook aimlessly in an area of town you’re not familiar with until he suddenly pauses and stares at something. Inching around his body, you take in the sight of the dead police officer as he lays on the ground. He’s quite obviously not getting up, with half his head missing and you reckon someone else has discovered the headshot trick.

“Do you know him?” You ask quietly, recognising that Jungkook might. Though he could be from a different precinct, and the only familiarity is the uniform they both wear.

But Jungkook nods slowly, his mouth pursing as his jaw tightens and the tears in your eyes are reflected in his. “Yeah. I do. Yugyeom. He was in graduating class and my precinct. I’d go on patrol with him sometimes.”

He wipes his tears and quietly makes his way over to his dead friend, pausing slightly to tap at the body with his boot to make sure he doesn’t rise. There’s no response and Jungkook crouches, letting his head drop as his shoulders tense.

“Fucking hell.” He whispers, wiping at his face. Reaching forward, he carefully undoes the thigh holster from Yugyeom’s leg and attaches it to his own thigh, checking the gun over in it before sighing deeply. “Sorry man. I know you’d want me to have it.”

Jungkook takes the radio clipped to Yugyeom’s belt as well, clicking it on and listening to the static on it. His eyes scan the silent street as the noise ricochets off the building’s, frowning at the sight of a few zombies down the road who pause suddenly.

“This is Office Jeon reporting in, badge number 970109. Is anyone responding? Over.” He whispers into the microphone, standing slowly while keeping an eye on the corpses that are standing. You turn and watch down the other end of the street, noting a few more have caught the sound of the static.

He tries once more after getting nothing, frowning deeply when suddenly the radio screeches into life. Wincing, he tries to cover the speaker but the sound is horribly loud.

“Jeon? Jungkook? You’re alive? Holy shit. Dude, everything is fucked. Over.” You want to almost laugh at how the guy on the other end maintains proper radio protocol, despite his obviously not protocol response. “This is Jimin. We’re at the station but it’s fucked here. Hoseok, the Chief and I are leaving. Meet us at the deli down the road, don’t go to the station. I repeat, it is gone. Over.”

Jungkook’s frown gets even deeper as he begins to walk down the street once more, pace faster than before and you jog a little to catch up. The two of you outmanoeuvre the zombies with ease as he clicks the radio back on.

“What do you mean? Why? Why are you leaving? Why aren’t we trying to help people? Over.” The response is almost immediate, as if Officer Park was waiting.

“Because it’s fucked Jeon. Half the station’s on fire and the other half’s dead and trying to eat us. We’ve grabbed what weapons we can and are taking the SWAT van. We’ll wait outside the deli for you, but you’ve got to be fast. We would help, but there’s exactly four of us left of our station now out of 40. We can’t help when the people we’re helping are killing us. Over.” Jungkook’s eyes widen as he looks back at you before sighing.

“Okay. I’m on my way. I’m bringing a civilian with me. We’re both clean, unless this virus is airborne or something. Over.”

“No, you need to get bit to get it we think, or scratched or ingest their blood. If you get bit and die almost immediately, you come back. Headshots kill them permanently. It’s like a really, really fucked up VR game. And I don’t want to play anymore. Get over here quick, you’ve got half an hour then we’re gone. They’re going to close the barrier in two hours. Over.” The radio goes silent after that and you almost whimper as you rush after Jungkook.

“What does he mean they’re going to close the barrier?! What barrier? They can’t do that, most people aren’t even awake yet!” Your voice is surprisingly shrill and high pitched, the fear and panic that’s pulsing hot in your veins taking over and Jungkook winces as the loud groan of a zombie echoes around the empty street.

Lifting a hand, he tries to get you to quieten down but you grasp as the soft sleeve of his black shirt, tugging him to a stop without a care for your surroundings. He looks at you with exasperation, eyes wide while shrugging silently in a ‘what?’ gesture.

“Jungkook! Talk to me! Why aren’t you freaking out like me?” Grasping him tighter, you force him to pay attention to you. It causes him to lose patience, his jaw setting as he grits his teeth before he’s yanking his arm out of your grip and leaning closer, face so close that you imagine you could see his every pore in the light of day.

For now though, you just notice for the first time the splatter of blood on his face and frown. Without even thinking, you reach into your bag to pull out the handkerchief you keep in there and wipe at it, smearing the red on his cheek and wincing.

“Okay, look. I don’t want to be mean here, but you need to stop getting hysterical right now. I have no idea why they’re closing the barrier, I didn’t even know there was a barrier. You know as much as I do. Please try and help me, I’m trying to help keep you alive here and we cannot be wasting time arguing in the streets when we’ve got a bunch of zombies coming towards us and a fucking time limit to get to my colleagues!” Jungkook’s tone is deep and forceful, his eyes dark as they try to press the importance of what he’s telling you.

Swallowing thickly, your hand drops as you suddenly become aware of your surroundings once more. The rumbling groans and spine tingling moans of the undead around you are closer than ever, and when you look in both directions you note how much closer the lumbering corpses are.

Inhaling sharply, you almost choke on your breath as you drop the handkerchief without even thinking, hands shaking violently. Looking back at Jungkook, tears form a sheen on your eyes that makes it harder to see him.

“Jungkook...I’m scared.” The words are simple and quiet, yet your voice trembles on every note and making you sound like a lost little girl.

Almost immediately, he softens and lets out a quiet sigh while his head drops forward, reaching a hand up to push his hair back. “I know. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared too. I mean...fucking hell. But we have to keep it together, okay? Falling apart is going to get us killed, because those things don’t care about us.”

He gestures to the shambling zombies, their arms raised in the air while stiff fingers grasp as nothing as they inch their way closer to you both. Swallowing, you nod slowly before letting go of him and taking a step back.

Before either of you can say or do anything though, the door to an apartment building a few feet away bursts open. The door slams against the wall, sound sharp and loud like a gunshot in the quietness and almost immediately the zombies heads are turning towards their new interest.

Into the street runs three people, their arms pinwheeling as they slam to a stop at the sight of the undead in front of them. Eyes widening, one of the guys lets out a rather pitched shout before stumbling backwards, tripping over the kerb and falling onto the wet street.

“What the fuck are those things?” Another guy yells out, moving back to grab his friend by the arm and tug him up. None of them notice the zombie that had been making its way closer behind them and you step forward with a hand outstretched, warning shout bubbling in your throat.

Jungkook immediately begins moving forward, shouting out for them to watch out but it’s too late.

In almost slow motion, you watch in horror as the zombies pale fingers grasp the woman’s shoulders, digging in a vice like grip and yanking her backwards with inhuman strength. A loud scream leaves her throat as she falls into the zombies chest which soon turns into a pain filled wail as the undead bites down hard on her throat.

Gagging at the sight, you can’t help but watch as blood begins to flow almost immediately from the bite and you really do turn and vomit for the second time that morning when the zombie yanks its head away, a huge chunk of flesh gritted between reddened teeth while the wound immediately begins to spray blood. You don’t need to be a doctor to be able to tell her artery has been hit, and even you know that she’s gone already.

“Jieun!” One of the guys screams out, reaching over to push the zombie away as the girl falls to the floor, gurgling noises leaving her mouth while red slowly begins to drip from the corners of her lips.

The strength of his push forces the zombie to rock backwards, staggering back on dead legs before losing its balance and falling. It doesn’t stay down for long though, and almost immediately begins to crawl towards the fallen Jieun, her friend or boyfriend not paying attention as he wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Baekhyun! Give me your shirt or something!” He shouts out to his friend, but it’s too late and the only warning he has that his friend is soon to join the rapidly paling Jieun when a zombie creeps up on him in his shock. Only, it’s not just one this time and Baekhyun goes down screaming, the zombies piling on top with moans that are filled with lust for the flesh they start to consume.

The guy watches in horror, ruby stained hand pressed to Jieun’s neck as she stops moving and Jungkook begins to move backwards towards you, hand outstretched. “Stay here.”

You go to shout to stop him, wondering what the hell he’s doing but instead you’re left to frantically look around, hoping that a zombie doesn’t decide you look like good bait left on your own. As quietly as you can, you sprint across the road to a shop front and press yourself against the cold metal shutter and try to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.

“Hey man, you need to move now. Come on, come with me. Please.” Jungkook states firmly, pulling his gun out of the holster and thumbing the safety off as he strides towards the group. When he gets within a few feet, he points the barrel at the two zombies feasting on Baekhyun and fires twice, the fragile skulls bursting apart and splattering against the dirty floor as they drop to the ground in silent slumps.

A third shot takes out the last zombie in close proximity; the one who had originally bitten Jieun as it crawled its way towards them. You feel bile rising in your throat once more at the grisly remnants on the floor and wonder if this is going to be your new world of death. Baekhyun is...well you don’t even want to try and describe him.

The extraordinarily loud sound of Jungkook’s gun leaves a startled silence in its wake, but when you glance to either side then you note the slowly increasing number of bodies that begin to make their way down the street, the stench of decay and death the perfume to your fucked up morning. And it’s with a sinking stomach that you realise their numbers are being steadily increased when hapless people run onto the street, running into their horrifically grim deaths.

It’s chaos, and you want to cry and run home to your parents at the sight of everything falling apart so easily.

The guy holding the obviously now dead Jieun shakes his head as tears roll down his face, making it shiny in the fluorescent lighting of the nearby street light. “No...no. This can’t be happening.”

His sobs are heart breaking, each note hitching as he tries hard not to break down completely. Jungkook gets closer to him, gun in one hand and pointed away while his other reaches out comfortingly.

“I know man, I know. It’s fucked. But we need to go. They’re gone, and they’re not going to stay gone. Come with us. I’ll keep you safe We have somewhere to go.” The selfish part of you wants to scream at Jungkook, to get him to come back over to you and get you to safety but you know he wouldn’t be able to leave someone that he could save.

You barely know him, yet you already know that.

“She was going to be my wife. And Baek...he was going to be my best man. Give my speech.” The guy croaks out, sniffling loudly and you grimace as the sound of the undead shuffling ever closer begins to echo around the buildings.

“I get it, and you need to mourn. But you can’t do it now. You need to come with me.” Jungkook pauses for a moment to look over at you, eyes wide and you can practically feel the fear coming off him. The uniform gives him an imposing presence, but there’s no training that can ready you for something like this.

“Jieun! Baby, oh god are you okay?” The guy’s voice suddenly softens and you see Jungkook’s eyes widen before he’s turning back and shouting out, lurching forward before he can stop himself.

You can’t see properly from here, but all you hear is a rasping noise that gurgles horribly before the guy is suddenly screaming. It’s harrowing to hear, the shrill way his voice increases in both decibels and pitch as what you presume to be unbelievable pain takes over as his fiancé bites into his throat harshly.

Jungkook curses when the zombiefied Jieun tugs away and an arterial spray catches him, causing him to spin away. There’s a moment of despair as Jungkook looks at the dying man before glancing at his gun, the low rumble of his voice before he’s running over to you and grabbing your hand.

Without a further word, he elongates his stride into a long and graceful jog and you breathe heavily as you try to keep up. He’s tall, and you don’t think Jungkook realises that for every one stride of his, you’re having to take one and a half.

It’s only after two blocks have gone past, the both of you dodging and ducking between zombies on the streets as they wander aimlessly or chow down on the fresh corpses that litter that road, that he finally stops and tugs you into a small alcove in a building. The sun is starting to rise on the city, and it’s beginning to bring the horrors of the night to life.

When it’s dark, you can’t really see the deep, ruby liquid that’s sprayed all over the windows, walls and floors of the building.

The one saving grace is that it allows you to see potential dangers easier, and Jungkook keeps a careful watch out before bending over with a deep breath.

His hands press on his knees as his ass rests against the wall and you focus on taking in deep breaths for a few seconds, trying to regulate your breathing while noting that you’d probably just run further and faster than you have in years.

“What was that Jungkook? I thought we had to go quickly?” Your voice is whisper soft, the sound barely making it to his ears but you don’t want to get any louder.

The morning has brought society to life, only for it to meet its untimely demise once stepping out of the front door.

Even just those two blocks have let you both see that there are far more zombies flooding through the streets than there had been when you’d both first stepped out, and you have no doubt that it will continue to increase as time goes on. People will either starve inside their homes, or they’ll try and risk it out in the open like you both were.

Both options were dumb, but there was no other choice right now.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment before he stands up straighter, letting his head hit the brick wall with a grimace. You keep an eye out for any zombies that might shamble nearby, noting the presence of a few further down the street as you wait for him to get himself back together.

“I had to try. I couldn’t...I couldn’t just leave him there. That’s not what I took an oath to do. Serve and protect. I said I would serve and protect the citizens of Kennedy City and that’s what I’ll do. Even if it kills me. God...why didn’t he listen to me?” He whispers brokenly, staring down at his hands before recoiling at the drying blood on them.

It’s then that he looks down at his uniform and gags slightly, noting the darkened spots where the man’s blood has hit him and you sigh softly. He’s looking surprisingly dirty to say he’d only put the uniform on around an hour ago, yet you say nothing as he lifts a trembling hand to run through his black locks again.

“He was in shock. None of us expected to wake up to this, and he certainly didn’t expect to watch his love and best friend die in front of him. Nor to get killed by his fiancé when she reanimated. This is real life, not a film or a game. This shit doesn’t happen, except when it does.”

He doesn’t respond to that, shaking his head before he begins to walk down the street once more at a brisk pace. The sound of his boots isn’t particularly loud and you thank everything that you had decided to go casual last night, as heels would definitely attract some unwanted attention right now.

“Why didn’t you shoot him? Like...a mercy kill or something? You know he’s just coming back.” The question is quiet, and not just because of the zombies that could hear and be attracted to you.

He says nothing for a moment, but you note the way his fists clench as he checks out an alleyway before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so as quietly as you can, staying close to him as you both jog down the puddle soaked alley before emerging on the other side cautiously.

“It’s going to sound callous...but I already wasted three bullets then for no reason. We don’t have infinite ammo, and as much as I wanted to make it easy for him...I can’t waste it when it could be used to save someone else.” Jungkook sounds pained as he explains and you understand why.

It must have been a hard decision for a police officer with good morals like him to have to let someone die horrifically like that, particularly when you know that they will just become one of the roaming hordes that are quickly forming around you.

But at the same time, that one bullet might save both your lives.

You follow him quietly after that, letting him take the lead through the streets he’s patrolled and knows so well as he takes quick shortcuts through thankfully empty alleys while directing you around ever busier streets. It’s only when he murmurs that you’re close to the deli he’d been told to go to that you press a hand to his warm back, the material there wet with sweat from the fast pace you’d been taking and no doubt the stress and fear he was feeling.

When he looks back at you momentarily, you thank everything that you’d met him last night.

“Hey...promise me. If I get bit like that...please waste a bullet on me. Please. I know you might not want to but...I don’t want to die like that. And I don’t want to come back like that either.” He stills as he looks at you, face stoic as you both ignore the carnage that’s happening around you.

His golden skin glows even more in the flickering light of a nearby fire, a car set alight from where it had crashed horribly into another two before hitting a store front. You didn’t even think stuff like that could happen in real life, but the black smoke was billowing off it furiously and the blazing flames crackled.

Finally, he nods with a hard swallow. “Okay. I promise.”

-

The van Officer Park had mentioned was indeed parked in front of an empty delicatessen, the windows dark and the lights off. It’s a big black box on wheels with KCPD SWAT emblazoned along the side in white alongside the police crest.

At the sight of it, you watch as Jungkook visibly perks up from down the street. Reaching back, he grasps your hand and begins a fast sprint that takes you the final yards before he’s knocking on the back as quietly as he can.

For a moment, there’s no response and your stomach begins to sink as you wonder if maybe you’ve run out of time. They did say they’d only wait so long before leaving and you had no idea where they’d gone to now.

Even Jungkook looks a little broken, his face falling apart while a deep frown takes over his strong brows as he lets his head fall back with a soft curse.

But then you hear the sound of boots on metal coming from inside the van and you stand back, holding your breath as you grip tightly onto Jungkook’s arm. There’s no zombies in your immediate area, and it feels almost bizarre to finally feel a little less stressed.

The handle to the door opens and you’re greeted by bright light inside the box, the tall figure of a police officer taking up most of the space and you look up with a gaping mouth. Whoever he is, he’s tall enough that he has to bend his head down to fit in comfortably while standing.

Shifting until you’re half hiding behind Jungkook, you literally feel him relax as he lets out a deep sigh of relief. Letting his head fall forward, he moves to climb up into the van before helping you in behind him and closing the door.

It’s cramped inside, and the front section contains a laptop and other electronic equipment. A bench sits along both walls while the upper sections are taken up with racks with guns, though you notice more than a few are missing.

“Chief Kim, where are the others? It’s not been half an hour has it? We booked it over as fast as we could. It’s all fucked Chief, what’s going on? I’ve already seen way too many people die and I haven’t been able to save any of them.” Jungkook’s words are mashed together in his panic, catching over themselves as he slumps down on the bench.

The police chief doesn’t answer, instead sitting down harshly before letting his head fall back. It’s the pained gasps that clue you in that there’s something not right with him, and moving closer you note the darkened patches of his black uniform that glisten in the bright light from overhead.

“Are you okay?” You ask quietly, kneeling down until he has to angle his head down to look at you. His tan skin has an unhealthy pallor to it, with a sheen of sweat and a pained grimace making it more clear that he’s not okay.

“I thought you couldn’t save anyone Jungkook,” He says, voice low and strained as he winces once more. The expression makes deep dimples appear in his cheeks and you have no doubt that he’s probably exceptionally handsome when he’s not in pain and in an apocalyptic scenario. “I’m Chief Kim Namjoon, his boss. And no, I’m not okay.”

Jungkook sits up more alert at that, shuffling forward on the bench as a concerned look takes over his face. “What? What’s wrong?”

Namjoon sighs deeply before rubbing at his face. Shifting, he lifts up his shirt and part of you wants to look away out of courtesy but instead you inhale sharply and half rise, backing up into Jungkook who stands and places an arm in front of you.

The Chief watches with a raised brow before letting out a laugh that’s full of the tension his body holds. “Oh Kook, you sure picked the wrong time to find a nice girl huh?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty rose at that but he can’t stop the concern that takes over as he steps closer and sits next to Namjoon. “Chief...what...when did this happen? Jimin never mentioned anything about it on the radio.”

The cause of the blood on Namjoon’s shirt is the wound on the side of his stomach, a white bandage stained vermillion stark against his golden skin. Tentatively, Jungkook unwraps it before letting out a pained noise as his head falls forward.

Deep in Namjoon’s side is a ragged bite mark. While that would likely be painful under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be life threatening. But these are not normal circumstances.

Both Jungkook and you have already seen clearly that the bite of a zombie can bring back the dead, But it was pretty apparent from his wound that whatever virus or disease was causing people to rise from the dead, also killed them slowly.

The flesh around Namjoon’s wound is swollen and red, blood oozing slowly alongside some form of putrid pus that is tinged with green. Not only that, but the bite itself is dark and every instinct screams that it’s wrong.

“Yeah. I’m fucked. It happened while we were getting out of the station. One of those fuckers got me, bit clean through my damn shirt back there. This was in here but...I’m done for. There was no point in me going with them, so I said I’d stay here and wait for you.”

Jungkook frowns, fingers reaching forward as if to touch the wound only to find his hand being grasped tightly in Namjoon’s own.

“Don’t touch it. It’s infected. You haven’t been bitten right? Or swallowed anything from them?” You both shake your head in the negative and he sighs in relief. “Good. Whatever this is, we’ve figured that it’s passed through blood or saliva. Their bites carry the infection, which as you can see causes you die from even minor ones. We had a few guys at the station go through the night before we realised. Blood does it too. Jackson got a mouthful when we had to blow one their heads off and he was gone three hours later.”

“How did I not know about this? How long has this been happening? This sounds like it’s been going on for longer than just this morning? Christ, I went out last night and everything was fine!” Jungkook’s voice is bordering on hysterical and you lay your hand on his tense shoulders, rubbing at the stiff muscles there as he shivers.

Namjoon’s lips press together as he looks down at his own hands, flexing his fingers before clenching them into fists as he lets out a deep breath. “It was your day off Jungkook. Don’t take it to heart. We had weird shit happening all day yesterday, but it was only around 9 that we realised something bad was going on. Then shit got really fucked in the early hours, and now it’s basically apocalyptic.”

Even you sit down in shock at that, with the knowledge that things have going bad for longer than just this morning.

“Jungkook...those people at the bar who were vomiting. And that couple outside,” You’re suddenly reminded of the couple you’d thought were hooking up. But now that you think about it, it looked far more like some of the horrific scenes you’ve seen this morning. “Oh my god, we were so close to it.”

Jungkook’s face pales as he remembers them before he swears softly, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit, yeah. Damn, I suspected nothing.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you both, his hand waving slowly. “Because you didn’t have anything to suspect. Neither did we until people starting dying on us. And not staying dead.”

“Where did Jimin and Hoseok go?” The question is quiet and meek; Jungkook’s head lowered as his voice is small from an emotion thick throat. Your hand moves to his thigh as you rub at the firm muscle in soothing movements, ignorant of the still wet blood that soaks his fabric.

“Precinct 8’s police station has a helicopter on the roof. Hoseok went up to the roof of the deli to check it was still there with the binoculars; it is. So they went ahead with Detective Yoongi who found us to secure the station hopefully and get the chopper started. You can use that radio to contact them, they’ve got in-ear pieces so it won’t get heard on their end. I’ll go with you so far, I won’t be a huge amount of use but I can at least help you get there in one piece.” He points at the tiny counter where a radio lays.

Jungkook grabs it and slots it onto his belt, placing the other one he’d gotten on the desk before standing and moving over to a tiny closet. Inside is a bunch of body armour and you watch as he begins to take them out and strap them to himself, elbow and knee protectors along with a body protector emblazoned with KCPD on the front.

His cheeks aren’t as soft as they were this morning, when he’d looked at you with worry, but are instead sharp and angular to match the rest of his face. Sweat and blood soak his hair and make it darker, the strands almost looking oily in the harsh lighting of the van while dirt, blood and grime mar his arresting visage.

Moving over to him, you help him in the best ways you can in silence as Namjoon continues to speak. It’s only when he takes hold of your hands gently and gives them a reassuring squeeze that you realise they’re shaking, and immediately your eyes well up as your lips quiver pathetically.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna keep you safe, and so is Namjoon, right?” Jungkook looks at his chief with a raised brow, the expression making him look even more handsome and you’d admire him more if your heart wasn’t racing. You look over to where Namjoon pauses, a hand running through his blonde hair to stain it red before he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. We’ll get you out.” He gives you a strained smile that cause his dimples to deepen even further. You’d be more comforted if it wasn’t for the fact that Namjoon looked in even more pain than before. His skin has an unhealthy pallor to it now, and a terrible voice in the back of your mind asks if it’s even a good idea to have him come with you.

He could be dangerous.

But then you notice the way Jungkook’s hands tighten on yours even more and it’s not in a way meant to comfort you. No, this is a way that says he needs the comfort this time. Frowning, you look up at his face to see a mixture of emotions portrayed as he looks at Namjoon.

There’s fear and frustration, which you expect in a situation like this when his chief and the city around you is in the process of dying. But there’s also an agony that seems a whole lot more personal in his eyes as they go glassy, his hands letting go of yours to finish securing his body protection.

“Do they have enough ammunition?” He asks, tone oddly muted as he slips the magazine from his gun and grabs a box of ammunition, quietly clicking them in place until it’s full. There’s silence in the van for a moment, only the sound of groaning undead as they shuffle by outside and the click as he slots the magazine back into place and loads a round in.

Namjoon watches him, eyes glassy for an entirely different reason and you sigh deeply at the yellow that’s slowly beginning to creep into his eyes. A slow breath leaves the older man, and you note with a wince the slight rasp to the sound.

“Yeah. Yoongi had brought a ton with him and Jimin was stocked up. Hoseok took the rifle but...he won’t use that until he has to. Take a combat knife too...noise attracts them and it’s quieter. They’re not fast and you’ve got more protection than most. You take one as well, and put some protection on. There’s another set in there. Won’t fit well but...it’s something.” He nods at the storage locker before glancing back at you.

Nodding quietly, you stand and open the door to find another set of body protection. You begin taking it out and Jungkook helps you to put it on, tightening the straps around your arms and legs before maneuvering you into the chest armour. It feels like you’re becoming a turtle, but the protection makes your heart rest a little easier.

“Do we have any duct tape?” You ask idly, causing them both to look at you with confusion before Namjoon nods at a box underneath your seat. Rooting through it, you find two rolls of black duct tape and gesture to Jungkook for him to hold out his arms.

“If we tape our arms up, then it’ll give us more protection in the areas the armour doesn’t cover. You ever manage to bite through duct tape? And even if they do, it should give us enough time to have gotten away. Can’t hurt anyway.” Namjoon’s brows rise while the corner of his mouth kicks up in an amusement before he glances at Jungkook.

“I like her. Picked a good one ‘Kook. Keep her alive.” Jungkook snorts as he watches you closely, his chapped lips parted slightly as he breathes evenly while his eyes take on a little more of the starry look they’d had last night.

“Wasn’t my intention last night to find a survivalist but...I’m glad.” He looks back over at Namjoon and gets that forlorn look again, like he’s suddenly a little lost boy. Licking your lips, you decide to broach the question. There’s no harm in asking at least.

Finishing up one arm, you start on the other before taking a deep breath. “Do you two...know each other outside of work? Because...and I know I’m putting my nose where it likely doesn’t belong here but...Jungkook seems more upset about you than I’d expect.”

Neither speak for a moment, before Jungkook tenses up and looks away, jaw sharp as he grinds his teeth and swallows thickly. Namjoon watches with a look of sadness before he reaches over and places his hand just above the knee pad on Jungkook’s thigh, squeezing.

“Yeah. Jungkook...we lived on the same street when we were kids. I’m ten years older but...Kookie here always followed me around. Fascinated with me. He was cute and polite so I didn’t say anything, particularly as you always listened to my ramblings about books even though you didn’t like reading. When I joined the force...he swore he would too. And he did.” Jungkook’s make a rather suspicious noise and you watch as he wipes at something, though you can’t see and your heart swells for him.

This was obviously what he’d meant when he’d said he’d joined the force because of some guys in his neighbourhood last night. It’s bittersweet that you’ve actually met one of them now, because this scenario isn’t something you’d ever want to meet someone in.

“Hey...Jungkook?” Namjoon says insistently, his voice calm and warm. He’s watching the younger man with a lot of affection and when Jungkook turns to look at him, you see pride in there too. It makes your eyes water and you blink rapidly to stop yourself from crying.

“You did good. I swear, you did really good. You’re a great police officer and I am so proud of you. Hell, you’re the only one of us to actually manage to save someone tonight. And I am going to do everything I can to make sure you get out of this city, I swear.” Jungkook’s head drops and you see his lips pucker as he tries to stop the tears that have welled in his eyes.

Automatically your hand is moving to soothe his back, rubbing in slow motions while you murmur to him in what you hope is a comforting tone. He seems to respond well, leaning into your touch as he wipes at your eyes.

“Can’t we get you to a hospital? Or you could fly out with us, we can get you out and get you help. Namjoon, this doesn’t have to-” He’s cut off by Namjoon shaking his head vehemently.

“No. No, you are getting out. I’m being a liability anyway just going with you because I’ll slow you down. But I can help you get out. Even if it’s only half the way there. You need to get out of this city Jungkook, this place is dead. It just doesn’t realise it yet. There’s no need for you to die here too.”

Almost instantly Jungkook is frowning and shaking his head. “What about the people here? The survivors? We can’t leave them here to die! Is the army coming in? What’s going on? I swore to protect, and running away isn’t protecting people.”

“Officer Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon begins, heaving himself forward until his elbows are resting on his knees and he’s wincing with the effort and pain. Almost immediately you’re moving to the open first aid kit on the bench next to him to search through what’s left. “You are protecting someone. She needs protection, and she needs to get out of the city. You are going with her.”

“But-”

“Jungkook, please. Listen to me. Do you know what I got told before we left the station? They told all the chief’s to evacuate out of the city as long as we weren’t infected. They know what this is, whatever it is. And they’re not letting it get out. The higher up’s? The people in charge? They’re already gone. The people left...they don’t care. They’re dead, whether it’s from the zombies outside or whatever the fuck they’re gonna do to clean this up. And they told me to send my officers out there to make sure people don’t leave. That’s not protecting. That’s murdering. So I’ll be damned if my officers die just to make sure they erase all the evidence. So you get out of here with her, you get out with the others and you never come back. Pretend you weren’t working. Anything. Just survive.” Namjoon looks deadly serious, causing Jungkook to swallow.

“Namjoon...we can’t just leave the people here. I’d never forgive myself.” He says weakly, but you can hear the defeat in it already. And you’re quick on the uptake, you know what’s going on here even if Jungkook isn’t willing to look it in the eye.

“Jungkook...I’ve seen enough shows and movies to know where this is going. A virus that brings people back from the dead doesn’t just occur in nature. This is something that somebody did, and it got out. If we don’t get on that helicopter...I don’t think we’re getting out. Ever.” Both of them go quiet as they take in your words before Namjoon nods.

“She’s right. It sounds totally ridiculous and far fetched but...we’re in the middle of a zombie outbreak. I think someone was doing something, and given the hush hush nature of my higher ups? This is never going to get out. Kennedy City is going to be the city that died overnight. They’ll find an excuse. It’s what they do right?”

Jungkook lets out a disbelieving nod and stands up, running his gloves hands through his hair and leaving it looking a little wild. It matches the look in his wide eyes as he shakes his head multiple times. “This is fucking crazy. Are we seriously suggesting that the government is going to eradicate a whole fucking city?”

Neither you nor Namjoon speak and he just stares you both before slumping back down. “Fuck. Fuck. Shit.”

“We need to get going. They should have got to the station by now and will be prepping the chopper. If all goes well, they’ll have cleared out the station and it’ll be a clear run for you to the top. Jungkook...get fully stocked. Whatever you need, just grab.” Jungkook doesn’t move, his face almost petulant before he nods and stands back up.

The locker he moves to this time must be a weapons locker, as he pulls out a shotgun that looks like the kind they use on TV in SWAT missions. Which makes sense, given you’re in a SWAT van and all.

“I thought we needed to be quiet?” You say quietly, pointing to the shotgun as Jungkook loads it before stuffing more shells into the pockets on a utility belt he’d clipped on. A few more go into one that he clips around your own waist and you feel it become heavier slowly as he adds more, along with a few medical items.

“We do. Ideally,” Jungkook straps a knife holster to your free thigh before slotting a lethal looking knife into it. The idea of you using a knife makes your stomach churn, but you know that you can’t feel like that now. It’s just not practical. “But we have to be realistic. I’m a good shot but there’s more of them now and there’ll be even more than when we got here. Shotguns are loud, but they’re great at short range. It’s a last resort though, it’ll attract everything in a five block radius to us.”

Namjoon nods before heaving himself into a standing position, taking a shotgun that Jungkook hands him. Looking you over, he raises a brow before offering it to you. “Do you want it? Shouldn’t really be doing this but...I don’t like the idea of you being unarmed.”

Immediately you’re shaking your head and pushing it back to Namjoon. “No, no god no. I’d probably kill one of you by accident. I’ll...I’ll be good. I have these.” You pat the knife and gun Jungkook had given you nervously, giving him a tiny smile and he sighs with a nod.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to use anything. Come on, we gotta get going. I’ll check it’s clear to leave then call you both out.” You both nod at him as he moves over to the doors stiffly, leaning an ear to them before slowly opening them. After a moment of tense silence, he slips outside and the door rests ajar.

Jungkook moves closer to you and rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, giving you a strained smile. “We’re gonna do it okay? We’re gonna get out of here. I swear. You definitely get the award for most interesting date though.”

Laughing, perhaps a little higher pitched than you would have liked but nerves are getting the better of you, you elbowing his armour teasingly. “Is this a date? Because this is the worst date I’ve ever been on. Just so you know.”

“At least it’s unique. Will never happen again. To anybody.” The humour is dark between you both, and you feel like the graveyard humour is probably to distract yourselves from the shit storm outside.

There’s nothing for a few seconds before a tapping on the door lets you both know that it’s time to go. Jungkook moves past you to take point before he looks back at you, eyes scanning over your already tired form.

Leaning forward, he presses the lightest kiss to your lips before moving back. “I’m really sorry. About all of this. I’m just...sorry.”

You nod in response before pushing at him to leave, swallowing thickly when he turns away and exits the van. It takes you a few seconds to have some deep breaths to build up your confidence before you follow him out of the door and into hell.

-

The road outside had been momentarily clear, and the three of you had taken the opportunity to jog down the cracked sidewalk as quickly as Namjoon was able to to take advantage of the small window you’d been given. It was horrifically silent on the street, and you shivered in the cool air as every sense told you that it was wrong.

A city shouldn’t be quiet like this, it’s an unnatural state of being.

And yet in the distance, you can hear the rev’s of engines and the distant screams of people who are losing their lives. Losing a battle they didn’t even realise they’d have to make when they woke up this morning.

Watching the hunched over figure of Chief Kim Namjoon carefully, you keep a good pace behind him with Jungkook takes up the rear. It’s something you never thought you’d be doing, and you feel both safe yet in danger between the two experienced police officers.

“How far is it to this station?” You ask quietly, your voice floating gently on a breeze that brings the smell of death and decay already. It turns your stomach and you have to battle between swallowing the urge to vomit with the need to breathe evenly as you move along. There’s no time for vomiting, not now.

“It’s six blocks away, we’ll take a left just up ahead and cut through the park. Otherwise we gotta go all the way round.” Namjoon’s voice is strained and filled with pain, causing you to reach out a hand to rest against his broad back in what you hope is a comforting movement. Even if you don’t know him that well, catastrophe’s like this tend to make good friends of strangers.

You don’t respond further to him, just look back at Jungkook who gives you an inquisitive brow. Giving a quick nod and tense smile, you answer his unspoken question if you’re okay and wonder how on earth your one night stand had developed into someone who’s facial expressions you can read so easily. It’s amazing how humans work sometimes.

It’s only when Namjoon pauses at the entrance to the park that you pause in place, eyes scanning the area around you rapidly. There’s a few undead shambling down the road away from you, too interested in the people running in the distance who are making more than enough noise to pay attention to you guys.

Jungkook is pushing at your back, trying to get you to enter the leafy green space in the middle of the Southside of the city but you push back insistently. Frowning, he leans down to you and gestures with his hands as to what’s wrong.

You wonder for a moment why he’s not speaking but you then hear the stomach churning sound of bone crunching and peer around him. A closed new stand is a few metres away, its shutters down and graffiti artfully painted along the side.

Only the ground behind it is stained red, the liquid almost glinting in the morning light and you then notice the feet that lay in the middle. One foot is bare, revealing a sock with a hole on the big toe and a strangely calm part of your brain notices the splattered shoe lying just past the body.

There’s no need for Jungkook to say anything, and you frown in desperation as you spot the building you’d been looking for. Taking his arm, you drag him a little further down the street and watch as Namjoon looks at you both with frustrated confusion before following slowly.

Though he can’t be complaining too much as he leans against the iron railings heavily, letting out a deep exhalation that’s laced with an agony you can’t see.

“What are you doing? We need to get through the park and fuck knows what’s in there. We don’t have enough time to go around it.” He’s right, even if the idea of going through the park where there are dark areas and plenty of places to hide makes your stomach twist.

But still, you can’t not try. “Jungkook...that building is where my best friend lives. Taehyung, you remember him from last night? Please. He might still be in there. If we can save him too…”

Jungkook looks at you with a pained face before looking at Namjoon, who is already shaking his head negatively. “No...no we do not have time for this. Nor do we know what’s going on in there. Everyone could be dead already! This is dumb. Don’t be led by your dick.”

You make a quiet noise of protest and Namjoon’s face contorts in apology. But Jungkook is already eyeing the building calculatively, looking at the door which remains closed. You know the code to get in, but Namjoon is right. Neither of you know what’s going on in there.

“Do not do this! Either of you! Horror film 101. Don’t split up! Don’t go into the creepy buildings when you don’t know the layout. Don’t risk yourselves to save one person. It’s not worth it!” Namjoon hisses but Jungkook is already moving, crossing over the street and coming up to the black door.

“What’s the code? I’ll go in, on my own. It’ll be easier and safer that way. You stay with the Chief, he’ll protect you. Both of you, stay here and keep the exit clear. Watch for any zombies and make sure to get the fuck out of here if you have to. I’ll meet you at the station if we do get split up.” He says firmly, resting a hand on your shoulder before looking at Namjoon.

The older man stares unhappily at Jungkook before cursing quietly. “If I order you not to go?”

“What are you going to do? Arrest me? Shoot me? We don’t have time for that. You know I’m going in there Chief, and you know damn well that I’ll be coming out too. Hopefully in one piece and unbitten, but I’ll be coming out. I swear it. If it’s too hot in there, then I’ll come out. I promise.” Namjoon is cursing up the quietest storm you’ve ever heard before he suddenly presses a finger into Jungkook’s chest, pushing hard enough to make him move back slightly.

“You’re an idiot. A fucking idiot, you know that? What if you die in there? Hmm? What then? I’m already dying. How am I going to get her to the fucking station without you here? Will you just think? For a second?” Jungkook’s expression falters for a moment and you press a hand to the body armour that protects his stomach, distracting both men.

“If anything happens to Jungkook, then it’s on me. I accept that. You don’t have to go in there, as much as I want Tae to be alive...I don’t want to risk you for it. But I don’t want to go without having at least tried. We’ve seen so many die this morning already and people who died despite us trying. Surely we can save at least one right?” Namjoon stares at you for a moment, his face paler than it had been when you’d first met him before he swerves and staggers off a few feet to collapse against the wall, sliding down it slowly.

“Fine. Go. Be the hero. We’ll be out here. You have five minutes. I say five minutes because I think that’s how long it’ll take before these streets are full with the fucking undead trying to kill us. So be quick. And you better bring her best friend out and make this all worth it.” Jungkook nods quietly before looking at you, his expression grave.

Dipping down, he presses a kiss to your cheek before giving an awkward smile. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

You type in the number for the door and tell Jungkook the number for Taehyung’s door as well, frowning slightly as you watch him slip inside. “Promises never work in the films.” You mutter to yourself, causing Namjoon to snort quietly.

“Yeah well. You’re the only girl here. You’re guaranteed to survive by the laws of horror. One nubile young lady always survives to tell the tale.” You eye him for a moment, noting to yourself that he’s pretty grumpy when hurting and irritated before sliding into a crouch next to him. The two of you are silent for a minute or so, simply watching either side of the road and keeping a close eye on any of the undead who look like they may get too close.

“I’m sorry you got bit.” The words are quiet, a soft whisper against the horrific soundtrack of a city dying around you both. He lets out a quiet grunt, his long legs resting in front of him as he lets out a deep and bone weary sigh.

“Why? It’s not your fault. Unless you’re the reason this shitshow is happening. And I doubt that. Shit happens right?” Despite his bravado, you can hear the worry and fear behind his voice. You know as well as he does now that he won’t be around much longer. Or at least, he won’t be in control of his body much longer.

It must be so frightening, and you take his hand suddenly in your own in a movement of comfort.

Namjoon looks at you with wide eyes, brow creasing in confusion as he looks from your hand to your face and back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re brave. I hope you know that. And I hope you know that if we make it out of here...then I won’t forget you. Or what you’ve done for me. And we don’t know if Jungkook will make it, but if he does then I know he won’t forget you either. I may not know him very much...but even I can see that he idolises you beyond just being his boss.” The muscles in his throat work visibly as he swallows, a sheen of tears forming over his eyes before he ducks his head down.

His free hand runs through his hair once again, the strands looking paler in the morning light and the red stains even more vivid. He squeezes your hand in gratitude before looking back up with a soft smile, the dimples in his face making him look beautiful.

“Look after him, yeah? He’s a good guy. I don’t know if you’d want anything with him after...all this. But if you do, then you’ll never do better than Jeon Jungkook. He’ll do right by you. He’s honourable and probably one of the few good ones out there. So if you get together after all this shit...look after him and treat him well. He’ll do that same for you.” You bite your lip at that, the flesh quivering as you turn from him to gaze around the streets.

It’s a little busier than it had been before, the undead walking ever closer while a few survivors dart between the streets. The occasional scream or guttural cry lets you know that some of them don’t quite make it, and your heart hurts at having to do this. You should have just woken up casually with Jungkook, maybe had breakfast in bed. Maybe had a bit more sex before parting, the promise of more on both your lips.

“I don’t think now is the right time to talk about that.” You mumble, taking your hand back and letting them drop between your crouched legs. Namjoon laughs softly and nods, crooking one leg as he eyes the alley nearby to make sure nothing comes out.

“Maybe not. But in case you hadn’t noticed...I won’t get to give you advice soon. And if the rest of the guys don’t make it out, then he has no friends left. And if his family doesn’t make it out, then he has no one but you. He was an annoying kid when we were younger, always following us around and trying to get in on the action. I regret being harsh on him sometimes, but I don’t regret meeting him.” He reaches a hand out to rest on your forearm, gripping the duct tape that winds around your sleeve tightly.

“He’s my little brother, okay? Those guys who are going to that station...they’re my brothers too. But he’s special, to all of us. We’ll get you out...because we want to get him out. And he’ll never go without you now, he’s too loyal. I’m proud of him. You make sure to tell him that later, okay? I’m so proud of him and everything he’s done, and I know he can do more. He just has to survive.” You want to cry now, not sure when you’d suddenly become embroiled in a deep web of relationships forged over years of loyalty and friendship.

But you nod all the same, wiping at your eyes with a clean bit of sleeve that you can reach.

“I’ll tell him.”

Anything else you’re about to say is interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, causing you to bolt upright while Namjoon lets out a soft groan as he manages to pull himself up. You help him up, holding onto one arm while you wait with bated breath for whatever comes through the door.

The first thing you see is Jungkook’s tall frame, his waist looking thin even in his protector but he looks pretty clean and you don’t see any blood. Immediate relief washes through your body as your eyes scan him greedily, taking in the dark uniform he’s wearing and the messy hair that gleams in the low sun.

The next thing you noticed is the man he’s dragging with him forcefully, a black shirt hidden underneath a dark grey hoodie while dark red sweats adorn his legs. It’s quite possibly the worst you’ve ever seen your best friend look because there’s zero sense of fashion going on here. Hell, he’s even wearing a pair of normal Adidas trainers that you didn’t even know he owned, but the relief you’d felt at seeing Jungkook triples as you start to cry.

“TaeTae!” You cry out softly, running over and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. He’s being loud, louder than he should be, as he bitches and complains at Jungkook loudly before noticing you in front of him. It throws him off, and he hugs you back before blinking down at you blearily.

You don’t even need to ask to know that Taehyung is probably still hungover, given the bags under his eyes, and that he was asleep as he stares at you narrowly. His face looks slightly puffy and red, a pillow crease still evident on his cheek and you feel almost jealous at how at ease he looks.

“Y/N...what are you doing here? Wait, you’re really here? He said you were. Why the fuck am I being woken up by a god damn police officer in my own bedroom at this time in the morning? It’s fucking Saturday!” He yells out in anger, arm swinging wildly for Jungkook.

The furious frown that Namjoon is wearing, combined with the weary look on Jungkook’s face has you frantically trying to get Taehyung to calm down. A quick glance around tells you that his loudness has attracted the attention of the zombies, and they’re already beginning to shamble their way over towards you until you can already hear their groans.

“Taehyung! Shut up! For gods sake, please. Just listen to me. God, I’m so glad you’re okay but you have to listen. This is gonna sound ridiculous, but I’m being serious. There’s some kind of infection in the city and people are dying and they’re coming back. Zombies, Tae. Zombies that want to eat you.” You turn him to point at the oncoming undead, his incredulous expression falling as his golden complexion pales.

“You’re joking right? Like...this isn’t serious. It’s some really fucking elaborate plan you’ve done. Zombies aren’t real, and they’re certainly not going round killing peopl-” His words are cut off when a door further down the street suddenly slams open, the young woman who runs out attracting the attention of the zombies who all turn towards her.

She takes one look at them and stumbles backwards, breath catching at the blood that stains their clothes and features along with whatever grotesque injuries they have. It’s only seconds however before she’s screaming loudly, her shrieks piercing and causing you to cringe as she practically falls over herself in an effort to get past them.

Her hastily thrown on shoes are her downfall though, an untied lace bringing her down hard onto her knees on the road surface and her cry of pain can be heard even from here. Jungkook’s hand on your back pushes you forward towards the park and you begin to jog over to the other side, Namjoon practically dragging a Taehyung who’s staring in shock.

Shock that turns to horror when the zombie closes to the girl practically falls on her, his mouth missing her neck but landing on her shoulder harshly. Her screams fill with pain as he bites down hard, vivid red staining her white shirt rapidly before another falls to his knees next to her and grabs at an arm.

It’s over far too slowly for your comfort, her screams of agony echoing around the buildings and you catch sight of people behind windows looking in shock. You can only hope that they get out and are safe, but given what you know is coming then you know their times up too.

“Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy fuck! Oh my god! What the fuck! That wasn’t real right? That’s not real, please tell me that’s not real!” Taehyung babbles, letting himself be dragged into the park before Namjoon slaps a hand over his mouth. His honey blonde hair, fluffy from whatever shower he’d taken before falling into bed is going wild and the whites of his eyes are visible even in the shade of the trees as you all run through the area.

The girls screams had distracted the zombies from you, but it’d also meant that whatever was in the park had been directed over to your direction as well. Whatever mental freak out Taehyung is having, which is totally justifiable, has to be stopped as Jungkook has you all crouching behind a wooden bench.

Just ahead of you, the paved path joins up at a little central area with plenty of other paths, an elegant water fountain in the centre made of a stone that had once been white but was now grey with age and pollution. In the very middle of this is an elegant woman, dancing in a Greek style outfit with fans creating an intricate position in her hands.

From the end of each fan, water falls back into the fountain in a graceful arch. You didn’t often come around this way, but you remember coming here on occasion with Taehyung when you’d both grabbed hotdogs or something from the nearby convenience store. It had always been a pretty fountain, tranquil and relaxing.

It’s a portent of doom now, with the aged stone darkened with red smears while the water has an unpleasant pink tinge to it. You don’t even want to look inside to see what’s in there now, but you bet it’s not coins like normal.

Not that you’d have a chance though, as all around the fountain are the corpses of people who’d tried to make it through the park. Around each one is a group of zombies, all pulling at pieces and chewing with disgusting slurping and crunching noises that has Taehyung gagging quietly.

“Shit...I can’t see what’s past them and we need to go straight through.” Jungkook whispers, shifting closer before letting his head fall against the bench. You chew your lip while Taehyung shuffles closer to you, confusion and fear written all over him.

“Well...can’t we just creep around the edges here? I mean...I know we can’t see but they can’t see us right? And as long as they’re all busy...doing that and we’re quiet then we should be okay?” Jungkook peers as best as he can, carefully creeping along the wet grass a bit more before he’s coming back and shaking his head.

“I can’t see through the trees well enough...it’s not light enough yet. But I can hear more in there...they’re in the trees too. All it takes is for one of us to not pay enough attention and then we’re caught. We make any noise, they come. They might not seem too threatening one on one but I sure as hell don’t want to get caught by a whole group of them.” Namjoon nods, a finger tracing over his lips slowly before he sighs.

“So we need to distract them right? Get them all going in one direction?” Jungkook is nodding idly, his gaze still trying to work out what he’s got to deal with but you can see the calculative look in the police chief’s face.

Immediately you’re shaking your head. “No...no. You’re not doing that. We can get around them right? Even if we get out of the park and go back around again?” You plead, grasping his arm tightly and tugging slightly. Namjoon just gives you a sad smile before Jungkook is frowning, slowly realising. Taehyung just looks confused.

“I said that I’d get you both there as far as I could. We aren’t getting past these, not without attracting them. The last thing you want is a horde of these following you out of the park, especially as you don’t know what’s on the other side.” Jungkook shakes his head, outrage written all over him.

“No! No we can do this. We can! What happened to not splitting up? What are you gonna do when you have all these chasing your ass?” He spits out quietly, fury and fear combining. You let your hand run along his back, aware that he probably can’t feel it but it feels like the right thing to do.

Namjoon smiles and shrugs before lifting his hand, revealing dark red that wets his skin from where he’d been holding his stomach. “I don’t have much longer Kook, I can feel it. I don’t really feel like I even have the energy to run if necessary, and this stopped hurting half an hour ago. Now it just feels numb...which I don’t think is good. My arm feels numb too, and...well.”

He turns his hand over and you all see the darkened veins that trace along the back, prominent against his paled skin. Swallowing, you realise what that means. His infection is probably in the end stages, and it’s only then that you realise you can see darkened veins creeping up his neck too.

Namjoon doesn’t have long anyway.

“I’d rather die helping you all to escape...especially as now you’ve saved two people whereas I couldn’t save any. Let me do this Jungkook. Let me do my duty. To the people of this city,” He gestures to you both. “And to my little brother who I swore I’d protect.”

Jungkook’s lip quivers violently and he wipes at his tears, uncaring that they’re following as he shakes his head childishly. “No...no we can help you. We can. Please don’t do this Namjoon, please chief. Please.”

Namjoon moves closer to the younger man, resting both hands on the ground by Jungkook’s thighs and smiling so beautifully at him. “Hey...you’re gonna do fine. You’re gonna get out of here, and you’re going to save these two. I know you will, I have faith in you. Let me save you. If I’m going to die..then I want it to for a reason and not just because the damn infection took me.”

“But...Joonie…” The despair in Jungkook’s voice is heartbreaking, his tone so soft and meek. Namjoon looks at you and nods with a gentle smile, leading you to wrap your arms around Jungkook’s shoulders and hug tightly.

“You’ll be good. I swear. Take care of each other, please. Don’t make this worthless yeah? Give me a few minutes till they’re all gone, then go. Get to Station 8 and get the fuck out of here, please.” You nod, fully aware that Jungkook is not listening properly right now and you can see Taehyung nodding solemnly as well.

It must be terrifying to wake up in this world and watch someone sacrifice themselves when you barely know them. Not that you know Namjoon much more, but you know him enough already to feel unbelievable sadness at his loss.

“Joonie…” Jungkook pleads again but Namjoon darts away, staggering slightly as he stands and you frown.

“Get behind that in case any of them come from the trees. I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire. Remember...wait till most of them are gone.” He says before smiling. You practically drag Jungkook further back against the bench until you’re mostly hidden by the overgrown bush that sits behind it.

A quiet sob leaves Jungkook as he watches his oldest friend, his mentor, his elder brother and his boss walk out onto the path quickly. The shotgun he’d been carrying is cocked, the sound echoing and almost painfully loud.

It wouldn’t matter though, as Namjoon shouts out loud to attract the attention of the undead. “Hey, ugly fuckers. Yeah you...look over here. Nice...warm meat. Come on...follow me!” He yells out, walking closer until the groans of the zombies get louder as they begin to rise.

Already, you can see shadows walking through the trees and you chew your lip, hoping this works.

Namjoon raises the shotgun and fires at the nearest zombie, blowing its head off in a grotesque scene that has Taehyung finally throwing up as quietly as he can. But the noise doesn’t matter as the chief fires again, the sound blasting and covering up any other noise.

“Come on fuckers!” With that, Namjoon half jogs, half staggers down one of the paths away from the one you need. It’s with agonisingly slow movements that the zombies begin to follow him, their groans loud with need and hunger as they move away from you.

It’s terrifying as some come through the trees, only metres away from where you hide but they’re so focused on the sounds coming from the police chief that they don’t even notice. The shotgun fires a few more times, encouraging them to keep following the noise that signifies there’s life until after a few minutes, there’s only a few stragglers left behind.

You hug Jungkook tightly the whole time, his clean gloves pressed to his eyes as he sobs softly at the sound of one of the most important people in his life sacrificing himself. His body shakes and you stroke through his hair gently, whispering soft words of comfort and reassurance to him as you keep watch.

Your strong and proud police officer breaks down as quietly as he can in the middle of a zombie outbreak until you tap at his chest lightly. “Jungkook...sweetheart...I know it hurts but we need to go. We need to go now, it’s pretty clear and we’ve got a straight shot. Let’s go while we can.”

He doesn’t move for a full minute, his eyes blank as he stares into nothing while tears continue to fall. You almost worry that he’s not going to move, that he’s going to lay here until a zombie trips over him and he meets the end.

But he finally gets to his knees, resting his hands on his thighs for a moment before he stands and looks in the direction you need to go in. His face sours slightly before he gestures to you both listlessly.

“Come on...let’s get the fuck out of here.” You frown and grab hold of Taehyung’s hand, following closely behind the police officer who practically stamps his way onto the path and past the fountain. Sure enough, you don’t take a look inside but Taehyung gags at whatever’s in there and you applaud your decision.

The sounds of Namjoon and the zombies have almost disappeared and it’s almost eerie how silent it’s become once again, none of you caring all that much for the few stragglers that have noticed your existence. There’s not enough to worry about and they’re moving too slow to be a worry.

But you are worried about Jungkook, whose face is almost like stone as he leads you through the park with an experience that makes you wonder if maybe he’s patrolled here before.

Taehyung squeezes your hand, looking at you with concern and you give a strained smile back before shrugging. He swallows and looks at Jungkook, his eyes tracing over the white K.C.P.D that’s emblazoned along the back of his protector.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whispers quietly, eyes scanning your surroundings and you feel almost proud at how quickly he’s adapted. Your best friend has always been smart, and you’re thankful that he’s here with you. “For erm, for Namjoon. I wish…”

Jungkook pauses and shakes his head, giving Taehyung a tired look as the corners of his lips quirk slightly. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Namjoon...the chief was dead the moment he got bit. I at least got to...see him before…” He trails off, swallowing thickly and turns back to continue his brisk pace.

You go to comfort him, rushing forward to reach out when all three of you pause at the sound of one gunshot that ricochets through the quietness. Birds shriek and abandon the trees around you, causing you to cringe slightly as you look in the direction it had come from.

The direction Namjoon had gone in.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened, one gunshot from a handgun from a man who was already dying. You wouldn’t want to turn into one of them either.

It makes Jungkook choke though, a shaking hand pressing to his mouth as he stifled a sob and you rush to him. Running your hands over his arms, you coo softly as he drops his head to your shoulder and takes a moment to grieve for what he’s just lost.

“It’s okay Jungkook, it’s okay to grieve and mourn. But we need to go, we need to go now and make sure that he didn’t die in vain. Okay? We need to go.” You whisper to him, cupping his face until he’s looking at you through tears and nodding slowly.

“Yeah...yeah okay. We...we’ll go.”

-

Namjoon's distraction must have been loud enough to warrant the rest of the zombies on the other side of the park following in his direction too, as when you all exit carefully you're met with an almost empty street. A few that had been more interested in their food are focused on the corpses that are laid around, too broken to rise and Jungkook carefully leads you around them them all.

A glance down the street lets you see a mass of zombies all facing away from you, the sheer number causing you to swallow with nerves as you grip onto Taehyung's hand tighter.

The man in question gives you a tight smile, the unhappiness of the whole events written all over his face and you wish you could console him. You wish that you could make things better, go back to the night before and somehow stop all this happening.

"You've got really great taste, you know that?" He whispers to you before nodding his head ahead of you both. Jungkook's broad back is noticeable against the grim emptiness of the street and you give a small smile, shrugging your shoulders slightly. "We're in the middle of a freaking zombie outbreak and you managed to sleep with a noble police officer. Unreal."

"Yeah, one who was willing to come find your ass and risk his life to save you. So don't do anything dumb okay? Please, for the love of god. We all need to be smart now." Taehyung eyes you for a moment, a little winded from the brisk pace Jungkook has set up but he doesn't complain.

Instead he just nods in acknowledgement before looking back at the quiet police officer. His silence makes you worry, and you wonder for a moment if you would have cared for him this much if you'd never slept with him last night. Or if he'd care this much for you.

Still, his obvious grief makes you drag Taehyung a little closer to him until you can grasp at the tape wrapped around his arms. Jungkook pauses for a small moment before eyeing you quietly, a question written in his eyes that you can understand already.

Nothing like a life threatening situation to get close to someone.

"Are you okay?" You whisper softly, your voice as quiet as you can get it. Not that it matters right now, as most of the horde are down the other end of the street. But none of you know what lies ahead and no one wants to be the reason that someone else gets killed.

He gives a brief nod before letting out a sigh, holding his handgun in front of him while he checks it over. You know as well as he does that he doesn't need to, that he already knows that weapon inside and out.

But it's a defence mechanism, a coping mechanism that will let him distract himself if only for a few seconds and so you allow it.

"No. But I won't be until we're out of here. I'm getting you both out, I swear." He sounds firm, and you know that Jungkook will either do what he says or he'll die trying.

You really wish he wouldn't, but that's something you have no choice in.

"Are Namjoon's...parents here?" You pause halfway through speaking, suddenly remembering the police chief's words to you about Jungkook. Your own family are hundreds of miles away, safe in Valentine City while Taehyung's own are down in Weskerville. They're safe, but Jungkook's are right here in Kennedy City.

He doesn't let on about the emotional agony he's likely suffering though, just gives a weak smile and nods his head. "Yeah. We both grew up in Burton, it's a suburb just on the outskirts of Kennedy. It's...it's in the city limits."

The choke of his throat lets you know that he's probably finally realising that his family is in trouble. It must be even worse with the knowledge that you could help them if you were there, but even you know that Burton is twenty minutes away by taxi on a good day. And there's no public transport running right now evidently, so buses and the subway were out too.

"Did...I mean...do either of you know how this started? I mean, you're a police officer right? You should know something at least." Taehyung asks, his deep voice almost feathersoft as he keeps it quiet.

You all round a corner and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of an almost empty street. Thank goodness that people were probably still sleeping. Either that, or they were adhering to the emergency protocol that was likely blasting on phones, television and more telling them to stay indoors.

It's what you'd do if you needed a population to stay indoors to prevent the infection from getting out even further, or causing mass panic.

"We don't know Tae, no one does. Namjoon told us that it's a virus and it can spread by blood, bites or scratches even. So...don't get hurt and don't ingest anything. Please." His eyes widen in horror.

"It's probably a bioweapon of some kind. I can't think of any other reason as to why you'd want to create something as fucked as this unless you're wanting to use it as a weapon against someone. Although why they let it out here is beyond me. We have no major pharmaceutical companies or military here in Kennedy. It's just...civilians and businesses." Jungkook sounds desperate, leaving you both for a moment to jog across the road and check out a corner to see what's beyond it.

You huddle with Taehyung in front of a shop front, the metal shutters covered in graffiti from long ago and a smear of dark red blood sliding along the bottom. The stain carries on to the floor, and it's with a gulp that you notice the handprints and bootprints that eventually stand up and move off.

Some things didn't stay dead when they'd been attacked here. Some of them got back up and carried on walking.

"It's fucked Tae, it's so fucked. We're going to a police station where the rest of Jungkook's station has gone to secure it. There's a helicopter there and we're getting out on it. Namjoon told us...they're going to do something to the city. Something that'll wipe it and this virus from the map." You wish that Taehyung looked surprised, outraged like you had.

Instead he just looked bleak, shrugging before nodding.

"Makes sense right?" You stare at him with wide eyes.

"What do you mean makes sense? The government's going to cover this up! That's not right Tae!" You hiss at him, pointing angrily around the blood and gore soaked street and to the small huddle of zombies a few hundred feet away that gorge themselves on a corpse.

Further down the street, you see more survivors darting their way across the road in quick and steady movements. There's people living here, uninfected people who could live and get out. People who haven't even left their homes yet.

Thousands of people who could survive, if the government would just try.

"Think about it. Think about it logically. You've got this virus that you can't control right? And it's hugely infectious, just cleaning this street is a biohazard that could result in an infection. Do you really want that getting out? Infecting more people in the world? How many people will try to save a loved one when they've been bitten, unwilling to kill them because they're still a person? These aren't people anymore. And if this got out, if people across the world found out about this? It's be a global pandemic, it's be chaos and fear. People accusing people, murdering people because they just think someone's infected. So you stop it like you do a weed, you burn out the root and you destroy any evidence." You always hated that Taehyung was logical about stuff, but it had done him well in his political advisor status for the up and coming politicians of the city.

Right now though, it made your stomach turn because he was right. You didn't like what the government was going to do, but how do you stop something like Kennedy City happening to the world?

"They're going to get away with it. Whoever did this." Taehyung laughs quietly and nods, a wry smile on his lips.

"Yeah, they are. Because in real life that's how it goes. I feel like this was a testing ground, to see what it would do. Maybe it did exactly what they wanted, or maybe they realised it was too much. Either way, they won't get caught. Whoever this is has too much money and influence to get caught." You grit your teeth angrily, hands balling into fists as you scowl at the floor.

"For once, I'd like this shitty film scenario to actually turn out in our favour and the bad guys lose." Taehyung's arm wraps around your shoulders and he hugs you to him tightly, giving you a quiet smile.

"Hey, maybe they killed themselves letting this virus out. Or maybe they got killed by one of their creations. Karma is a bitch remember." Yeah, you hope it is. And you hope it takes down the fuckers who did this.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you frown, suddenly remembering something you’d wanted to ask him earlier. “Do you know where Chaeyoung went last night? She didn’t go home with you evidently?”

Taehyung shakes his head, looking the street with a sigh. “No, after you left the bar got a little crazy so we left. Went to a few other places but at the last one some asshole guy tried to get it on with her and when she tried to push him away, he bit her. Asshole. She called Seokjin and he took her to hospital as it was bleed-...oh.”

He trails off with sudden realisation as you both realise that it wasn’t just an asshole guy last night. Almost immediately you look at each other with tears in your eyes, mourning the loss of your other best friend. Because she’d undoubtedly been infected, and you have no doubt that the hospital would be on of the worst places to be. Seokjin was probably gone too.

“Shit, oh shit.” Taehyung whispers but neither of you get chance to say anything else.

Jungkook jogs over to you both and gives you a grim look, sighing deeply as he stands next to you. Automatically your hand moves to his arm, stroking gently even if he can't actually feel it. It seems to comfort him though as he gives you a slight smile before he frowns at your tears.

You shake your head, letting him know not to question it and he doesn’t, instead just wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you tight into him for a moment.

“Good news first...the station is two blocks up the street and within sight.” You nod seriously, holding your breath as he lets out his own once more. “Bad news? We had it lucky until now. That street...it’s fucked. I think people were trying to get to the police station and there’s just cars everywhere...and zombies. A lot...of zombies.”

Taking your hands from him, you start to wring them nervously as your stomach feels like it’s almost buzzing in anxiety. “Like...more than the park?”

Jungkook watches you for a moment before nodding grimly. “Way more. I don’t...I don’t know if we can make it through them all if I’m honest. It’s not just a matter of being fast...it’s about not being seen or not being caught. And I don’t know if I can get you through that...so I have an idea and you’re probably not going to like it.”

Frowning, you glance over at Taehyung to see him shrug at you with a confused face. Whatever’s going through the police officers mind, you hope it’s something tactical that will keep all three of you alive.

Because you’re not sure how affected Jungkook is by Namjoon’s death, and the last thing you want is him doing some kind of suicide run.

And unfortunately, to say you barely know the man, it seems that you’re right.

“I’m gonna like do like Namjoon did...I’m gonna draw them away from the station and take their attention. You and Taehyung go straight there. It should be easy for you both if you stick to the buildings. I’ll do a loop and come back around the back of them to meet up with you both then we can head in.” Immediately you’re shaking your head.

“No...no Jungkook. You said yourself to Namjoon...no splitting up. We have no need to split up, not now. We can...distract some other way right? I mean, you took a shit load of stuff from that SWAT van, you’ve got something right? Explosives or something? They have those to get through doors right?” Jungkook frowns at you, before a thoughtful expression comes on his face.

“I have smoke grenades but I doubt they’ll do anything. We don’t keep explosives in the van shockingly enough and they obviously didn’t have time to stock it properly. I don’t...I mean...it’s not gonna do anything.” He sighs quietly.

You eye the radio on him and look at the corner, chewing your lip. “No...but your friends are in the station right? Where I’m going to assume they have something like that, yeah? Maybe they could help us out?”

Taehyung nods with a smile that starts to grow before his hands are raising in excitement. “Yeah! If they can get something together, then they could cause a distraction on the other side of the station...get all of them to go there and then the ways mostly clear for us right? We just need to get them moving enough that they won’t notice us.”

“I don’t...maybe? I’ll try.” Jungkook glances around to check that the street is fairly clear before speaking into his radio. “Is anyone here? This is Officer Jeon, we’re down the street. Did any of you make it into Station 8?”

There’s silence for a few moments before the radio crackles, spine tinglingly loud in the quiet of the dead city and you all look around in worry. “Jeon...it’s Park. We’re here, we got in. It’s not...perfect in here but we’ve mostly cleared it out. I don’t know how you’ll get in though…we attracted a little attention on the way in and we’re on the verge of being swarmed. We’ve got the copter ready to go so if you can make it through, over.”

Jungkook looks conflicted before resting the radio against his head and speaking again in a low tone. “Yeah, we’re two blocks in the direction of Romero Park. It’s pretty empty here. We erm...Chief’s gone. So it’s me and two civilians. I don’t have enough firepower to get us through and my civilians won’t let me try to lead the zombies away. Do you...have something there that you can use to make a distraction, maybe around the back of the station so they’ll all get distracted and head down the block or something? Explosives? Over.”

“Aw shit...fuck. Namjoon...I’m sorry Jungkook. I know you were close. We don’t have any explosives on us, and there’s nothing in the weapon’s locker here-” Abruptly Officer Park stops talking and you faintly overhear another voice before a third gets involved. Park asks something out of earshot of the radio before coming back. “Okay, Yoongi says that the back is pretty empty but it’s also fenced off from the rest of the station. We could get the zombies to follow us around the back and herd them in there. Hoseok found some confiscated fireworks early, so we can use those to keep their attention and let you guys slip through. It’s not gonna get them all to come to us, but it should be enough. Over.”

The sheer look of hope on all of your faces would probably be comical to someone else in another time, but you feel like hugging both men tightly. It’s a small window of hope, but it’s better than what you’d had.

“Hey, it’s better than what I was thinking. If you guys can set that up and let us know when to go then we’ll try and get there as fast as possible. Someone’s going to need to be at the front door to let us in. Over.” Jungkook gives a small smile to the both of you and your heart swells in appreciation of him, trying so hard to save you.

“Yoongi will go distract them, I’ll be at the door for you. Be quick. Park out.” You smile at them before grabbing one of their hands each, swinging them with excitement.

“It’s a chance, a good chance! If this works out then we’ll be out of here finally!” Jungkook gives you a tight lipped smile while Taehyung equally looks bleak, causing you to frown at them both as nerves swirl through you.

“Yeah...a chance. It’s a chance for everything to fuck up too. Yoongi’s going to have be good, and we’re going to have to hope everything goes right. We don’t get do-overs in these kinds of situations.” It sobers you all as Jungkook says it, and you lower your head as your arms hug your stomach tightly.

Without saying a word, Jungkook pulls you closer and wraps you in a tight hug. It feels a little awkward with the armour between your chests, but you still appreciate his attempt to soothe your worries and you hug him back just as tightly.

“I’m going to go keep watch until we get the go ahead, you need to get ready yeah?” He whispers before pressing a kiss to your forehead and nodding at Taehyung. You watch him walk off before Taehyung steps up next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“He’s a good guy, and he obviously likes you. Even in the middle of a zombie outbreak. I hope you both make it, if only to at least try something.” His deep voice is just as comforting and you wrap your arms tightly around his waist.

“Thanks, but feelings generated in a life or death situation usually don’t last. I think I’ll just settle for us all getting out of here alive right now.” You whisper softly, pressing yourself into him and inhaling the familiar scent of Taehyung as you hug tightly. He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps vigilant watch while his hand strokes at your back slowly.

“Guys, come on. I think they’re getting ready.” Jungkook whisper shouts to you, causing you both to jog over to where he stands and peer around the corner. It’s the first time that you’ve seen what lies ahead, and it makes you swallow heavily at the sight of so many undead.

They’re practically swarming the street, most walking aimlessly and bumping off each other, cars and walls. The sound isn’t too loud from here, but you have no doubt that there’s likely sounds that will make your stomach turn and you don’t even want to imagine the stench of hundreds of dead people.

Jungkook is right though, there’s no way that you could get through them all. That would have been a true death sentence.

For a few moments, you wonder if maybe his fellow police officers have backed out. But then you notice the zombies furthest away are suddenly moving towards some noise you can’t hear. Looking to Jungkook, he grabs your hand before pulling out his handgun once again and nodding for you both to follow him.

“Jeon? Jeon go, go now. You’ll have stragglers but it should be fine. Knock three times. Over.” You presume it’s Office Park on the radio again but you don’t have time to consider properly as Jungkook has you both half jogging down the road.

The zombies, which you’re pretty sure would be called in a horde in a film or television show, were now all walking down one of the side streets along the side of what you presumed was the police station. True to their word, there were stragglers though that either hadn’t heard the noise or were simply uninterested.

The road was ridiculous, just like Jungkook had told you. Cars were strewn all over the place, even on the sidewalks as people had made desperate attempts to reach the police. Police vehicles had their lights still flashing, blue and red highlighting closed stores and broken windows, while a few cars smoked quietly from where they’d been rammed into others.

“Guys be careful, there’s broken glass all over the floor and who knows whose blood that is.” You whisper to them both, noting the nod Jungkook gives from the front while Taehyung acknowledges with a quiet murmur.

It almost works perfectly as you move down the building in quick and steady strides, the sound of your footsteps almost quiet against the sidewalk until you come up to a van which had mounted the side haphazardly. The three of you are taken by surprise when a zombie suddenly lurches forward from behind it, groaning loudly with his arms outstretched to you while his broken and bloody fingers flex in a constant grabbing motion.

“Oh shit!” Taehyung shouts out loud, immediately attracting the attention of any zombies who hadn’t been lured by the appealing sounds coming from the back of the station. Jungkook himself is taken by surprise and falls backwards against the building, his hands coming up quickly and the sharp rapport of his gun firing echoes around the street.

The zombies head explodes in a gruesome fashion, splattering blood all over the dirty white van and Taehyung starts to breathe alarmingly fast. Grabbing his arm, you look at him in concern as his golden skin pales while Jungkook curses out loud.

“We need to go, now. Really bad. I think we just fucked things up.” He grabs the two of you and yanks you forward, trying to pull you both as fast as he possibly can past the broken cars.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Taehyung mumbles, his hand on his stomach as he tries to keep up. You whisper consolations to him as you try to keep him going while waving to Jungkook, telling him to focus on the looming danger ahead.

Part of the horde has become attracted to the sound of Jungkook firing, letting them realise that there’s something just as tasty on this side of the road too. Some of them are already peeling off, beginning to move towards you and joining with those who had never moved towards the station in the first place.

Jungkook has holstered his handgun while on the move and pulls his shotgun free, cocking it before he fires on one that gets a little too close to him. The noise is almost deafeningly loud and you flinch slightly, stumbling at the roar of the gun as it goes off. Taehyung’s hands on your back steady you and the three of you weave through the cars desperately.

You can see the police station now, the KCPD logo big and bold against the front along the logo of the police department. Station 8 is written underneath and you’d feel a sense of relief at it, if it wasn’t for the blood and corpses that litter the front. People who’d tried and failed.

Though there’s some consolation, in that they were obviously too damaged enough to come back to life. Unless they were zombies that had been taken out by the police.

“Ah, shit!” You curse, too distracted by the front of the station to notice that Jungkook had gotten just far enough to leave a gap. A zombie shambles it’s way inbetween, it’s lower jaw missing and leaving a horrific, gaping mess that drips blood, drool and more. Gurgling erupts from its throat and you throw yourself out of the way, knocking into Taehyung who falls to the floor with a curse.

“Tae!” His name falls from your lips but he waves you away, pushing himself back up with a wince. Jungkook is already looking back with wide eyes but before he can do anything, the zombie’s head suddenly explodes into a disgusting spray of blood and brain matter.

Flinching, you quickly check to make sure none got on you before looking down at the zombie with shock. It’s head is almost non-existent and a sharp crack suddenly reaches your ears. Before you can even focus, Jungkook is grabbing your wrist and pushing you forwards with a grunt while Taehyung follows close behind.

“What the fuck?” You gasp out, fumbling to pull out your own gun and thumbing the safety off like Jungkook had shown you. Taehyung eyes bulge slightly at the sight of the gun in your hands but he’s shut up when you thrust the other into his hands.

You know he’s never fired a gun in his life but this is one of those situations where it’s better to at least have it, so you just hope he has the guts to pull the trigger if necessary. And so will you.

“Hoseok,” Jungkook gets out, panting as he fires again and lets you lead through the cars to the front gates of the station. Another astoundingly loud crack whips through the street and a zombie that had been approaching you is taken out, a perfect headshot causing it to fall to the floor. “He’s the station’s SWAT sniper. Guess he had to use that rifle Namjoon mentioned.”

If you get to meet this man, you’re certainly going to shake his hand to thank him for saving your life with his exceptional aim. But for the moment, you just focus on the trouble ahead of you. The station is so close and you’re passing the street that the zombies had been corralled down, the bodies already turning in confusion towards the gunfire coming from you guys.

And then fireworks start from the back. They’re loud, almost unbearably loud against the silence of the city and you cringe slightly at the sound of them.

Jungkook swears behind you. “Shit, this was actually a terrible idea. That’s gonna draw everything with a ten block radius to us.”

“Well it doesn’t matter right now, because none of them are paying any attention to us.” Taehyung says, his voice at a completely normal level as he pants slightly before pointing at the zombies around you.

He’s right, and you note with fascination for a moment that every zombie has suddenly stopped and almost seems to be staring at nothing. It’s almost like the loudness of the fireworks has overloaded what limited senses they have and they’re stunned into nothing.

“Fucking move then!” Jungkook snarls, shoving your shoulder hard. You’d be annoyed at him for being so blunt, but you understand his frustration and worry. Once the fireworks have stopped, then there’s nothing to stop them all coming at you and the station. Six people against hundreds, probably thousands, is not a good ratio.

The three of you practically sprint to the station, hopping over the hoods of cars before running up the stairs. Silence falls as Jungkook slams his hand against the door in three booming knocks, the sound ringing out as the fireworks stop. There’s a moment of nothing, before the groaning and snarling starts again.

Turning, you watch with wide eyes as the zombies all begin to move towards the station with determined steps, no matter how staggering. They know there’s fresh meat in here now, and the numbers are already beginning to swell as undead begin to add to the numbers from down side streets where they had been hiding.

You hope to god that helicopter works, otherwise none of you are leaving this building.

“Fuck sake, Officer Park!” Jungkook is hitting the door again in desperation, the three of you swallowing nerves as it remains suspiciously quiet on the other side of the door. What if he isn’t going to open the door? What if there’s a zombie in there that they didn’t clear out? What if he’s gone? “Jimin!”

A few seconds of silence truly test your nerves, eyes widening as you raise your gun to the zombies that are already beginning to spill into the small courtyard and begin firing indiscriminately. You’re certainly not a good shot, but you’re pleased to at least take out one or two in the rounds that you fire.

Taehyung is doing the same as Jungkook is cursing up a storm next to you, firing his shotgun repeatedly until all three guns are clicking on empty. You almost want to cry as Jungkook pulls out his handgun, ready to make a final stand to try and save you all.

It’s then that you hear the sound of chains clanking from behind the door before it creaks open finally, a blonde head of hair with dark roots peering through the door with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Shit, get in, get in!” He curses through full lips that even at a quick glance you can see are dry and chapped. No doubt he’s not getting enough to drink in this whole stupid situation and the stress is likely causing him to chew the hell out of them.

“Fucking hell Park! What the hell was that?!” Jungkook roars in anger as you run inside, helping the shorter and slighter officer to push the door closed and lock it again. Almost immediately it vibrates as zombies begin to push at it, shaking ominously until you’re swallowing.

That door won’t hold, you just know it. The boards across the windows probably won’t hold either, and you curse the fact a police station doesn’t have barred windows.

Officer Park Jimin is covered in blood, his uniform stained even darker than the black of Jungkook’s while red streaks through his hair. His face is clean though, and so are his hands but you still look him over quickly.

A shotgun is in his hands, almost hugged to his chest and the protector that covers his torso as he lets out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We have to go, we have to go now. This station isn’t secured anymore, there’s still some in here. I got caught on my way here once I’d helped Yoongi. We need to get to the roof.”

Jungkook almost immediately steps back and looks the officer over. Jimin sighs and holds his arms out before spinning around to let you all get a good look at his body. “I wasn’t bit, but I have no ammo left. It’s all up on the roof with Hoseok.”

“We’ve got some magazines spare but I’m out of shotgun ammo, used it out there.” Jungkook says, reaching over to you and taking your gun and a magazine from one of the holsters he’d attached to you earlier in the morning. Jimin thanks him and begins to lead you all through the reception area, red smears all along the walls and the desk while paper and debris are all over the room.

“You know Jeon, this was a really bad fucking idea. Everything’s going to be coming to us now.” Jimin curses quietly, moving through the station with quick and easy strides that make you wonder if perhaps he was stationed here at some point. You’d ask, but you’re not sure he wants a new person asking him questions right now.

“Yeah well, it got us in here. We just need to get out now.” The rooms you pass are dark, the lights out while some are boarded up. You don’t even want to know what’s in them, but you’re given an idea when you all step over various bodies of fallen police officers and general civilians.

Some were visible zombies whereas some obviously met their maker much earlier.

As you all reach a set of stairs near the back of the station, a sudden load groan is met with a crack from the front where you’d just come from. All four of you freeze and look back through the empty corridor towards the entrance and a soft ‘fuck’ comes from Taehyung as the first zombies begin to walk through.

The door had failed, like you’d thought.

“Oh shit.” Jimin says simply, his tone curiously blank. A sudden slam from your right causes you all to jump while Jungkook and Jimin are immediately raising their weapons, ready to fire until a loud yell causes them to stop.

“Not me you idiots!” A lean man with dark hair shouts at them, face wrinkled together in frustration as he jogs over to you all. The name on his body armour reads ‘Y. Min’, and you guess this is the Yoongi everyone has mentioned.

He must be pretty brave, to put himself on the line like he did to distract the main bunch.

“We need to go, we need to go right now.” He says quickly, pushing at you all towards the stairs. You start to climb without complaint, giving him a brief smile as Taehyung does the same. Jimin and Jungkook are a little slower though, looking at him in confusion.

“We have no back door anymore and there is a whole fucking horde coming through to us.” Jungkook lets out a groan before gesturing to the corridor with an exhausted expression.

“Great, they can meet up with their undead friends there.” Yoongi looks over and takes them in before his shoulders fall and he curses.

“Fuck. I should have gone to Costa Rica when my parents asked.” He whispers quietly before looking at Jimin and pointing up the stairs. “Go, get the copter going right now. We’ll follow, but we have to try and at least hold them off till you’re ready to fly. Tell Hoseok to be ready in case anything happens.”

Jimin nods quickly and sprints up the stairs, disappearing quickly while you look at them both. You’re all still moving, but not nearly as fast as you’d like to think you should. “Shouldn’t we go too?” You ask meekly, looking at Taehyung and grasping his hand in reassurance.

Jungkook looks at you and sighs. “The copter is probably fuelled and ready, but it won’t turn on immediately. Jimin is gonna need a few minutes to get it all ready for us to go. These things are slow one on one, but I think we’ve all seen that as a group they overwhelm quickly. If we don’t hold them off, then they’ll get onto the roof and overwhelm us.”

You didn’t think they were that fast, but a quick glance down the staircase lets you see that there’s already some that have begun the climb. It’s only then that you notice the loudness that surrounds you, so alien in comparison to the eerie silence you’d experienced over the last few hours.

It’s filled with the groans, moans and grunts of the undead. Shivers cause the hair on your skin to rise as you hear it, and you wonder if anyone in the city realised that their death would sound like this.

A shotgun blast roars over the zombies and you watch as a few fall back down the stairs. It holds them off for a few moments before those behind simply climb over the top and carry on towards you all. Yoongi fires again while Jungkook begins to fire his own gun, taking out individual zombies and destroying the kneecaps on others.

Those who can’t walk try to crawl up the stairs, but they manage to knock over a few more to create almost a weird zombie roadblock.

Looking at you, Jungkook waves at you. “Keep going up, just get to the top floor! The roof door is the last one, it’s metal. You need to get there, give me your magazines.”

You fumble with them before handing them over to his hands shaking as he quickly shoves them into pockets and changes the magazine in his own gun. Another insistent look has Taehyung and you scurrying up the stairs. The building doesn’t look tall from the outside, but when you’re being chased by zombies it’s suddenly the Burj Khalifa.

Thankfully, the staircase seems to have been well cleared out before and you both manage to avoid the bodies that litter the area. “Come on, Tae, we’re almost there.” You gasp out until you’re both faced with a metal door at the very end.

Bursting through it, you come face to face with a gun and let out a little squeak. The man behind it has a blank look on his face, his eyes hard and his dark hair carelessly swept away from his face. Almost immediately your hands come up with Taehyung lets out a noise behind you as well.

As soon as he registers that you’re human and not a zombie though, his eyes warm up immediately and he lowers the gun before letting out a breath. You’re guessing this is Hoseok, the final member of Jungkook’s station. The white letters of his surname, Jung, are almost invisible beneath the blood.

Slung around his shoulder is a ridiculously long gun, its barrel almost reaching the floor while you see a large scope on it as well. A useless weapon in close combat, you have no doubt, but lethal at range from what you’d seen.

The helicopter is already running at this point, the blades swirling around rapidly while you spot Jimin inside with a helmet on his head. Hoseok leans towards you, his hair whipping around from the wind generated by the helicopter before he points behind you.

“Where are they?”

“They’re coming up the staircase. There’s zombies, they’re coming.” You pant out, chest hurting from the flights of stairs you’d climbed to reach them. Hoseok nods firmly before moving past you and looking down the stairs. Almost immediately he begins firing, causing you to swallow while you push Taehyung towards the helicopter.

“Get in, get in it.” He grabs at you, causing you to smile as you watch him before following him. The noise of the blades and engine is almost deafening inside but Jimin smiles at you both before pointing at the headsets that are hooked up onto the ceiling.

Taehyung and you both belt yourselves in before placing the headsets on your ears and giving relieved smiles to each other.

“Are they almost here?” Jimin asks, pressing switches at the front and constantly looking back at the roof door. You nod before saying it out loud, your own eyes watching desperately for Jungkook.

The dark figure of Hoseok comes barreling out of the door, sprinting towards the helicopter where he throws his rifle onto the floor beside you before swinging himself into the co-pilot seat. You presume that he also knows how to fly or something, as he pulls a helmet onto his own head and begins to press switches on his side and technical talk starts filtering through the speakers on your ears.

Finally, you see Jungkook come out and turn around, waiting for Yoongi. The sound of the helicopter means you can only see them talking, but there looks to be an argument between them both as Jungkook begins gesturing wildly towards the helicopter and back at the staircase.

Yoongi is pointing towards the helicopter repeatedly, his face stern while Jungkook’s gets more pleading, his hands held out in prostration. He’s begging for something, and you don’t know what.

Taehyung looks at you, his brows raised in confusion and you simply shrug. You have no idea what’s going on. It’s only when Yoongi suddenly reaches out and pushes Jungkook harshly, almost knocking him over that you realise.

Almost immediately, Yoongi disappears behind the door and it slams shut. The four of you curse inside the helicopter before Jungkook is back up and banging on the door. There’s no handle from this side and your hand is on your mouth in horror as you watch him hit it and yell loudly before his head finally drops to the metal, shoulders shaking.

There’s nothing said by anyone for a few moments before Jungkook turns around and jogs over to the helicopter, his eyes suspiciously red.

“What the fuck? What did he do?” Hoseok shouts through the headsets, causing you to wince from the sheer loudness of it but you can hear the panic in his voice. Jimin joins in, causing Jungkook to stop them both with a sharp slide of his hand as he slides the helicopter door shut.

“Fly Jimin. While we can.” You frown as Jimin does nothing before he turns back around, the helicopter jerking before it begins to climb into the air. He’s speaking into the radio to some control centre, giving his police badge number and lying that there’s Namjoon on board with you all.

Looking at Jungkook, you reach over and take his his hand before squeezing. He looks at you despondently, tears starting to fall from eyes as he sniffs into the microphone.

“What happened? Why did he do that?” Your voice is soft and gentle, and the sight of the buildings getting smaller must encourage Jungkook to feel safe as he coughs slightly.

“The door...to the roof is a push bar right? Well you can’t lock it from our side, so if we’d both left then they would have got through. We could have ended up all gone and it all going to shit. But there’s a deadbolt on the inside. Yoongi stayed behind to lock the door so they couldn’t get up, at least not immediately.” His lip trembles and he looks out the window quickly, leaving you all to sit in stunned silence.

“Idiot. Brave idiot.” Hoseok whispers, his voice suspiciously thick but none of you question it. You can’t question it, because you fully understand.

Looking at Jungkook, you just stroke his thigh quietly while holding his hand, letting him know that you’re there. Meeting him last night was probably the most fortuitous thing you’d ever done and you were beyond thankful to the two men who had given up their lives so that you would be saved.

Smiling slightly, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand. “Namjoon told me to tell you that he was proud of you. And you did it, like he said you would. You got us out. Thank you.”

His lip trembles violently before he’s crying silently, tugging his gloves off to wipe at his eyes with unstained hands. You don’t say anymore, simply look out the window and watch a city that’s dying slowly. From this far up, it almost looks like normal if you ignore the fires blazing in some areas.

Quietly, you send a wish that the people in the city will get out safe. Or that they at least won’t suffer too much.

>

But- That’s when Chanyeol was his closest friend, even more than Jongdae. Back then, he wasn’t the worthless bastard who belonged to a family of gangster, people believed he could’ve done well. Baekhyun could handle anyone. There’s so many guys you could choose, Baekhyun would’ve accepted better - or, at least, he likes to think he would. Just not Chanyeol, it’s been enough to pretend Chanyeol’s nothing a classmate and now he has to see you with him, being happy as he wishes he could make you.

Baekhyun tried before, he tried convincing himself to stop this relationship or whatever anyone would call it. Whatever you call it. He sincerely thought it’d be better for you to find someone who could make you happy without having to walk hidden in shadows and corners here and there, but, he knows, he’s too selfish. Maybe as much as you’re being, maybe more because this isn’t him just accepting what you want, this is him not being able to say no because he just can’t let go.

The sound of the keys and the wooden door opening calls Baekhyun attention and he turns his head to see Chanyeol walking in the old house he moved from, the house the six boys use to cause trouble before being called for lunch or dinner, being called out to sit down and study first before playing outside. Chanyeol’s eyes find his, staring from inside the car, somehow and he stops right before going in the house.

Baekhyn can almost see the wheels turning in Chanyeol’s head, but he can’t get himself to do anything about it. He could always simply drive away. Finally, he sees Chanyeol sighing heavily and pulling the door closed.

‘Please, don’t.’ Baekhyun thinks to himself, feeling his body tensing, ‘Just pretend you didn’t see me.’ , Baekhyun pleads, hands clenching on the steering wheel, ‘Just go home and ignore me, Why are you such a-’ 

“What a dumb bastard!” Baekhyun grumply murmurs to himself as he sees Chanyeol approaching him directly.

Baekhyun sighs once again and forces himself off his Baby . Chanyeol’s still in his school uniform, hands stuck in the front pockets of his jacket, he looks nothing but what a high-achieving high schooler would look. ‘The bastard is even good looking and charming’, Baekhyun thinks to himself with a hidden laughter, ‘He suits her’, he adds bitterly to himself soon after.

“It’s been a while.” Chanyeol says awkwardly when he stops. Baekhyun hums and nods positively as he leans on his car.

Baekhyun sees Chanyeol gathering breath, as if he’d say something, but then he just exhales at once, looking away and hisses to himself.

“What?” Baekhyun asks, crooking his head to the side and Chanyeol looks back at him.

“Nothing” Chanyeol replies at first and there’s a pause and Baekhyun allows it because Chanyeol seems to have words stuck in his throat, whatever they are. He’d like to hear it, “Just-”

‘Ah~ There they are-’ Baekyun thinks to himself as Chanyeol starts.

“When-” Chanyeol exhales again in frustration and takes a step closer, hesitantly, “You know, when I got back and saw you in class I thought, ‘well, maybe we could be friends again’ . But, if I tried to get any closer you just disappeared, everyday. You just disappeared from the classroom.”

Baekhyun would keep this secret that’s now dear to him as much as it was back then. He disappeared to meet you, he was always so eager to embrace you. Still is.

“All you do is using Mr. Kim’s fame as a gangster to push people away?”

“This time it’s true, though” Baekhyun says simply.

“Oh, so- You couldn’t even say hello. Just once?”

“What for? Because we played together when we were kids?” Baekhyun scoffs, shaking his head, “All it’d do is earn you a bad reputation and side-glares for talking to me”, Baekhyun says calmly, “As soon as they heard we used to be close you’d go from top student to gangster minion like this! ” Baekhyun snaps his fingers.

“Oh, I see” Chanyeol laughs to himself, “And here I thought we could still be friends. I’m just that stupid”

“You are.”

Chanyeol hums in reply and takes another step closer and now they’re way too close, so Baekhyun chuckles.

“What’s wrong with the distance we had a moment ago.” Baekhyun mocks, “You miss me so much that you need to take a better look?” He says playfully, mannering his head as if to give Chanyeol a better angle to take a picture, “You’re talking to me now. Is that anything you’d like to say?”

“Yes” Chanyeol replies readily, “There were some things I wanted to tell you. I wanted us to talk about many things, but now- Now! There’s just one thing that I need to ask.”

“What is it?” Baekhyun asked even though he could tell his old friend’s eyes what would it be, so he ready himself to how the question would come along.

“Y/n” Chanyeol started, not knowing how else to do so and licks his lips, uncertain of how to go on, “About Y/n. Actually, this is backwards-”, Chanyeol says the second part more to himself than to Baekhyun and the later waits, “You made a mess in school today. I heard them saying you could get kicked out and we’re almost graduating. So why? Why did you do all of that for Y/n? What’s so wrong about Y/n and I being a couple? Why can’t it be true? Do you like her?”

The words just poured out of Chanyeol’s lips and by the end his eyes prickled with hidden tears, he just didn’t want to have this conversation in the first place. When someone rushed to him to say what was going on he rushed to see what really was it about, then he heard Baekhyun and the desperation, and anger in his friend’s voice pained him somehow in more than one way. He still can’t understand, he can’t grasp, but he knows he didn’t like the fact that Baekhyun just couldn’t like you as someone started gossiping. 

Chanyeol’s last question lingers in the air, tasting bitter on his own tongue as he runs out of breath to speak anymore. Chanyeol likes you- a lot , it’s different than any other times he liked anyone else and he doesn’t want to face anyone who seems willing to have you too. He’s not sure if he’s a coward, maybe he’s unsure of himself. Should he tell you how much he likes you already, the two of you seemed to be moving slowly, you seem to enjoy doing so, but maybe he should pick up a certain pace. Baekhyun isn’t someone to just take things slow, that much Chanyeol’s certain.

Baekhyun stops himself from frowning or exposing how he can read Chanyeol’s thoughts in his expression. Chanyeol just doesn’t change, as he thought. Pulling himself away from the car, Baekhyun straightens his body only making all the more obvious how small he is compared to Chanyeol, thankfully he’s standing on a slightly higher side of the hill. Which is almost nothing, but at least something . Like what you give him.

Once again Baekhyun considers just saying it all. Taking you for himself and get this over with. He’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe, so what’s the matter. It’s just a matter of seconds when a movie goes before his eyes where he can take you with him and everything will work out like a miraculous magic trick. He can do anything as long as you’re there, so why not?

“Yes” Baekhyun replies and Chanyeol breathe is caught in his throat, “I like Y/n”, Baekhyun adds, watching Chanyeol hiccups and step back, much to his pleasure.

Should he say it all now, then. When Chanyeol looks like lost, hurt puppy, eyes wandering everywhere but him.

“I think I should have her instead of you” Baekhyun says boldly, watching Chanyeol look at him with wide eyes, “I got a bastard in my family instead of you. Mr. Kim married my mom instead of yours, so… I got the weak end of the rope on that, so- Just think of Y/n as compensation.” Bekhyun tries sounding as emotionless as he can while Chanyeol watches him in disbelief, “She’ll be the good thing you own me. We’ll be even then”

“Baekhyun, you-” Chanyeol is cut by his own breathless state and as soon as he recoverse he chuckles pathetically, “Who do you think you are to demand to have a person as compensation? You’re just some high schooler! Are you crazy?”

“Some high-schooler” Baekhyun mocks with a sick grin prying his lips, before laughing loudly to himself. Chanyeol looks around, startled and sees a few lights in the neighborhood light up.

“Are you crazy? It’s late! You're gonna wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Why? Afraid to be seen with a gangster?”Baekhyun asks, “Look closely, Yeol! At us! You and me.” Baekhyun mentions to Chanyeol and then his own self, pulling on Chanyeol’s uniform, before tugging on his long coat, the clothes fit him, but they are way too unfitting for a kid his age and Baekhyun knows it well, “ You’re the high-schooler here. I’m a real gangster. Mr. Kim- Ah, no! Dad is giving me a lot of confidence lately, there’s nothing I can’t do~”

“So?” Chanyeol asks, trying to look at Baekhyun’s eyes, “You wanna treat Y/n like Mr. Kim treats the people he used to play around with before discarding like trash? Is that it?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Baekhyun insists, “I like Y/n.” He says more clearly this time, “If you don’t have the confidence, then just let me have what I deserve.”

Baekhyun pulled the car’s door open and hopped inside. He couldn’t say it afterall, that’s all Baekhyun could think as he watched Chanyeol become smaller as he drove away. It’s better this way, he thinks. Chanyeol watched him drive by with a heavy heart. If only the year just ended and you and him could take off to college right away. Away from Baekhyun.

“Come on.” You wave the dildo – yes, that’s right, dildo – in your hand at him like a greeting, and get up quickly from the bed when he looks like he’s going to actually bolt out of here. “Yoongi!”

“I don’t – I don’t fucking need that!” He rasps out, unwilling to look at the toy, “C’mon, Y/N, you already know that it’s – that it’s only when I have my heats…”

His voice has trailed off into a whisper by this point, and the smile on your face drops because you know exactly why.

“Hey.” You toss the dildo away from you, onto the bed, “I get it, okay? It’s a little weird thinking about all this stuff now.”

“I never had to before.” Yoongi affirms reluctantly, dropping his bag on the floor at your prompting and stepping into your embrace. His arms wind around your waist, tugging you close, and you can’t resist the urge to press your head to his warm chest, listen to the soothing thump of his heart. “With the pills and all. And, I don’t know, Y/N, this just seems… too much, too fast.”

“Yoongi, it’s been more than a year.” You remind him with a soft sigh, “You know I don’t really care about the whole ‘dominant-in-bed’ thing – in fact, I love it when you’re in charge!”

“You do, do you?” You can’t possibly be imagining the smirk in his voice, and you let out a tiny squeak when his hands find your ass and give it a quick squeeze. “Would you like me to show you just how I can take charge?”

“No!” You protest, even as Yoongi takes your lips with his, soft and smooth with the slightest hint of pressure – just the way you like it – and licks his way into your mouth, sucking out the air from your lungs so easily—like it’s all his in the first place. Your mind screams ‘yes’ the entire time, of course, but no, you have a mission you absolutely need to stick to.

You manage to break away enough to say, “Yoongi, c’mon, you know I— mmpf!”

“Shh, less talking.” He murmurs, voice low and husky as your trip over your bed frame, back hitting the mattress with unsurprising familiarity, “Don’t you want me too, baby?”

“Yes, I do, but –” You can’t speak again, head swimming as he takes your cheeks in his hands—with that soft, warm grip that makes you just want to close your eyes and give in—before your eyes snap open and you push him away. “Yoongi! Stop.”

He freezes at that, still half-straddling your lap, and falls back so you can sit up. You sigh when you realize he isn’t looking at you.

“Yoongi, we both know you’re more than capable—” You flush at how wrecked you sound, and just from making out. Yoongi doesn’t even try to hide his smug smile, the rude man he is. “You’re, uh, more than capable of f-fucking me silly, but… I want you to be comfortable with who you are.”

“And, what, fucking myself in the ass would do that?” Yoongi scoffs, and your face begins to heat up in anger – at the fact that he’s being so obtuse – and embarrassment at his crude wording. “Newsflash: it won’t.”

“That’s not what I mean!” You slam your hand down into the mattress with a pathetic sounding thump, and don’t even care, “And you don’t know that, okay? You don’t. The only time you let yourself even come close to being vulnerable is during your heats, and that’s only because you have no choice!”

There’s only silence after that. Yoongi looks appropriately cowed, and you feel appropriately terrible for shoving it in his face like that. But you don’t have a choice either. He needs to… he needs to move on, now.

“I… I don’t like that I can’t make you feel comfortable enough to even try.” You admit softly, with a sigh, and that gets his attention, making him inhale sharply and turn to you, eyes wide.

“Y/N…” His voice tapers off, uncertain. You don’t move, don’t look at him because you’re not going to cry about this, damn it.

“Yoongi, I only even found out you were an Omega because you were – you were nearly molested by an Alpha.” Your voice shakes, brittle, as you drop your blurry gaze to the floor, “I want us to be able to tell each other things and be honest to ourselves as well.”

“I know.” Yoongi finally exhales, after a beat, and his hand comes to gently cup your face, tilt it ever-so-slightly so you can look at the glimmer in his pretty, dark eyes. “I’m not… used to it, okay? You’d think I would be, after a damn year, but…”

He shakes his head.

“Being an Omega… it makes you vulnerable, okay? And that’s not a bad thing, not with someone who you love and loves you back, but…” His voice breaks, and you remain silent, taking the hand on your cheek in your own in silent support. “I – I never had someone who could love me like that. Nor did my brother.”

“Yoongi—”

“I know you love me, I do.” He looks earnestly at you, and now that his asshole-façade-defense-mechanism has been shed off, you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s just hard to remember that sometimes – and it’s my own fault, okay? Not yours. This is just a… a big step.”

“Okay.” You breathe out shakily, swallowing the protests that want to tumble out because he’s right – you really wouldn’t understand. You’ve been a Beta your whole life – you’ve never faced the same problems as him, and vice versa – and things are going to be different for you and him, whether you like it or not.

“Just… give me some time, okay?” He smiles weakly at you, and that tugs at your heartstrings all too easily. Like it – like he – always does.

Your features soften, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, of course.” You bite your lip uncertainly, “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to push you.”

“It’s alright, okay?” He reassures you, pecking your neck lightly, “I know you didn’t, but you’ve actually got a point, I just. Just… give me a little time, okay?”

“Alright. Yeah, I can do that.” You nod, and that’s that.

  It takes a little over a week for Yoongi to bring it up again.

You’ve fully been expecting him to take… say, at least a couple of months before approaching you about this again, which is why it’s startling when he lets it all out in the middle of cooking dinner.

“So,” He says, as he drains the pasta for you, “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and… you’re right.”

You pause in heating the saucepan, chancing a glance at your boyfriend. “You know it feels great to hear that I’m right – I always am – but what, exactly, are we talking about?”

“You know…” Yoongi’s cheeks are the lightest shade of pink and, when you look closer, you see his fingers trembling finely.

This is a cause for concern.

“Babe…” You say hesitantly, leaving the stove to make your way to the sink, slowly extricating the colander from his white-knuckled grip. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He says quickly, face blanking—and that most definitely means something is wrong. Your worry only rises, “And I was talking about the thing we… uh, we discussed last week?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, and a large gust of air escapes your lungs when you finally realize what he’s talking about.

“Oh...” You breathe out softly, and your chest loosens up slightly when you see some of the tension bleed out of him with just that one simple word. “You – you mean…?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi confirms, with a strained smile, and you beam at him excitedly.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!” You don’t stop yourself from hugging him, warming inside when his arms wind around your waist out of reflex, “I can’t – okay, okay, let’s just – let’s just finish up making dinner and we can sort everything out.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Yoongi says quietly, and cracks the tiniest smile when your grin stretches wider. “I’ll see you in the bedroom?”

“Yeah, sounds good!” You’re already back at work, adding the pasta to the heated sauce, stirring excitedly, “I’ll see you in a few!”

The pasta can’t be done quickly enough, and you jig your leg nervously as you wait for what seems like ages before finally – finally – turning off the stove and walking as normally as you can to the bedroom.

Yoongi’s already sitting up against the headboard, the brightness of his tablet casting a glow on the sharp contours of his face. In the darkness of the room, that’s a view you can really appreciate.

“Hey.” You say quietly, catching his attention; almost immediately, he’s setting down the tablet and reaching over to flick on the table lamp.

“Hey yourself.” He says, equally muted, before letting a wry smile take over his lips, “I take it you know what we’re doing?”

“I hope so.” You affirm, and the uncertainty in your voice has him frowning instead.

“Y/N…” He mutters lowly, giving you a Look.

“I thought about it in detail!” You assure him hurriedly, “It’s just… I’ve never actually done any of this either, you know.”

“I know.” Yoongi sighs, shoulders sagging, “I guess I’m just nervous.”

His eyes sweep over you, zeroing in on the familiar dildo you managed to procure on the way, and his mouth tightens.

“I’m not sure if I can go that far yet…” He hints tersely, and you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, setting the toy down on the edge of the bed as you crawl over to him.

“Of course not.” You murmur, crawling towards him as he obligingly spreads his legs to make room for you to settle between them. On your knees like this, you’re the slightest bit taller than him, and he looks up at you with those eyes – the smoldering, burning eyes – that he knows turn your legs to jelly, and his lips parted like he’s waiting for you to just swoop in and kiss him.

And you do.

It’s so easy for him to take control of the kiss like this, hands pressing into your hips as he tugs you close, practically splaying you against his chest as you lose the height advantage. His teeth nip insistently at your bottom lip until your mouth obligingly parts for him; and it doesn’t take long for him to absolutely ravage you, tongue tasting you until you don’t know where you end and Yoongi begins.

It’s a little scary, even now, how quickly Yoongi can just assume dominance so easily, so perfectly – like he’s made for it. No wonder everyone has always mistaken him for an Alpha—you included.

Sometimes, Nature’s quite fickle.

When you finally part for breath you see, through lidded eyes, a string of saliva still connecting your lips—but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care, pushing forward to claim your lips once more, hands sliding up your shirt as he strokes your heated flesh with his blistering fingers, claiming it all with just a touch. You’re lightheaded, by this point, and you push him back with the palm of your hand braced against his firm chest.

“H-Hold up.” You say firmly when he tries to move anyway, and he obligingly holds himself back—but just barely. You can literally see the strain on his face, and it makes you bite back a smile. “Not – not that I don’t love having you snog the daylights out of me—I do, thanks—but it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

Yoongi will deny it for the next hundred years, but he very nearly pouts at that.

“I don’t like that suggestion.” He answers, hands dropping – your skin feels cold, all too sudden – from your hips, “I quite like this.”

“Well, so do I, but that’s not the point.” You soothingly stroke down his shoulder, feeling his warmth through his flimsy t-shirt, “I want to focus on you right now, alright?”

“…Okay.” Yoongi mutters with a sigh, breathing sharply through his nose. “Go ahead.”

You barely suppress the urge to smile at his petulant tone, and press a chaste kiss to his cheek instead.

“I won’t use the dildo tonight.” You promise him, squeezing his shoulders lightly in comfort, “I just want you to be comfortable with the idea first.”

“Okay.” Yoongi repeats, though his tone sounds considerably lighter this time.

“Okay!” You smile now, pressing your lips together again. It’s much less intense this time, but no less enjoyable; Yoongi’s mouth moves lazily against your own as you lick intermittently at his lips, happy when his hands settle at your waist again.

You pull back slightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek again and trailing your lips downwards, tasting the salt on his neck as his breath hitches, and he stiffens slightly.

“Y/N…” He breathes out when you scrape your teeth dangerously close to where his scent glands are, “W-What—?”

You pull back enough to look him in the eye, proud of being responsible for his pinked cheeks.

“Do you trust me?” You ask him seriously, and he bites his lip and nods. “Then, all I ask is that you continue to.”

“I can do – ah – that.” Yoongi agrees shakily as you get to work once again, his eyes eyelashes fluttering prettily when you look up at him for confirmation that you’re doing this right, “Oh my fucking god, don’t—”

His voice breaks off, but you’re not worried, knowing from the way his fingers dig into your shoulder that he likes this. That he likes the way you suck at where his scent glands are, likes the way you make him turn nearly boneless in your embrace, likes the rush he gets with every slow drag of your tongue over the skin of his neck.

“You like that?” You can’t help but tease gently, breath nearly stolen from you when you see how relaxed Yoongi looks, his eyes dilated to the point that they’re nearly entirely black.

“Mm, yeah.” He responds languidly to your kiss this time, all sense of urgency gone as he slumps against the headboard. “S’good.”

It’s amazing just how kissing his neck makes him like this. You idly wonder what’ll happen if you bite him there instead.

Your mouth finds the pulse point of his neck again, and bites down hard – the way his does when he’s fucking into you, hand braced against your hip as he slides in nice and easy and—

You’re sidetracking.

Yoongi lets out the loudest sound you’ve ever heard him make, a choked sob barely restrained in his heaving chest as his trembling fingers slacken their grip on your shoulders. His head falls back, mouth dropping open when you lick over the bite with rough swipes of your tongue. When you sit back, you decide he looks absolutely perfect like this, all open and pretty for you.

“You’re feeling good, right?” You don’t wait for a verbal answer as you hurriedly tug your shirt off, helping him with his pants when he struggles, pleasure-addled brain making him slower than usual.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands again, you kiss him again – only briefly, this time – and pull away to unhook your bra and toss it aside. Even half-lucid, Yoongi’s eyes fixate on your breasts, and you smile at him, feeling strangely confident, and raise your eyebrows.

“You want?” You ask simply, thumb swiping lovingly over the jut of his cheek as he stares, “I don’t mind, babe.”

“Then I’ll take it.” He says quickly, words still the slightest bit slurred. His head tips forward like it’s been waiting to this whole time, and his mouth quickly envelops your pebbling nipple and—oh god, you groan, head tipping back at the warmth, the area between your legs beginning to tingle as the heat spreads outwards from the very center of your chest where—

Where Yoongi’s mouth is.

His hand comes up to play with your other breast, no prompting required, and you pant harshly as he lazily decimates ever possible defense you’ve got with a skilled tongue, and nimble fingers.

“Y-Yoongi,” You gasp out, hand cupping his neck as he scrapes his teeth lightly over your nipple because you don’t know what else to do, “H-Hold on, Yoongi—”

“No.” He says stoutly, but listens to you anyway, head tilting back so he can look at you, eyes glazed in want.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” You shake your head with a small smile, the sensation between your legs growing nearly unbearable with every ticking second.

“Neither can I, fuck.” Yoongi admits, and a low groan escapes his lips when your thumb presses against the very visible hickey you’ve left, “Y/N, w-wait a minute—”

“No.” You say smugly, “We’re playing by my rules now.”

You push him down, though it doesn’t really take much, since Yoongi’s going willingly, and straddle his lap, legs trembling when you feel the head of his cock press tantalizingly against your folds.

“Fuck, Y/N, get on with it already!” He demands, having quickly changed his tune – and you can’t have that, can you?

“I will, so shut it.” You retort simply, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his firm chest, enjoying the way the protest no doubt building in the back of his throat dies instantly. He lets out a little gasp instead when you take him into your hand, rubbing gently at the budding pre-cum at his tip and holding some of it up on your thumb to inspect it.

He lets out a much louder groan when you let your tongue flick to taste it, the salty tang hitting you ever so slightly. But you’re not interested in that, no; you’re much more invested in cataloguing Yoongi’s every reaction to what you’re doing.

Heat prickles under your flesh at the way his eyes – still so dark, always so dark – take in your every movement, trailing almost languorously over your naked body in a manner that screams of want.

“God, you – you never change, do you?” You finally let yourself sink down on his length, not wanting to hear his response, “Always – ah – always having to keep control, one way or another, because you just can’t live without it.

“Well, tough luck.” You continue, hands pinning Yoongi down by the shoulders as you lift yourself off his cock and slide back down to overwhelming fullness and fuck, it feels so good, fuck. “I-I get to decide when you get to cum this time, don’t I?”

“Mhm,” He bares his throat out of nothing but pure instinct as you press insistent kisses to it, hips twitching as you rock filthily over his cock, “It’s… I… fuck, d-don’t stop, god.”

“That’s the plan, baby.” You grind downward in response, teasingly using the same exact words he uses when he’s the one wrecking you. “Just let me make you feel good today.”

“Fuck off.” He lets out, though there’s no bite to it—just an undercurrent of desperation and a chorus of pleasepleaseplease that he’ll never let you hear. “I just – fuck, I just n-need to cum—”

“And you will.” You promise, feeling yourself get close as you practically bounce in his lap, the cooling spit rubbed over your nipples giving a pleasant contrast to your heated flesh. Your hole throbs, and you tighten unconsciously around him, making him stutter out a half-curse, burying his hands into the sheets as his head lolls to the side. “After me.”

You lose track of time, focusing only on fucking yourself on Yoongi’s cock, using him – in the lewdest way possible – for your own pleasure and fuck, fuck, fuck it feels so good, the stretch of his cock as he fills you up the way no one else can, the burn of that stretch and it makes you feel so fucking special when you see how Yoongi’s falling apart beneath you, eyes nearly welling up with tears from holding himself back.

“Y-You’re gonna fucking kill me, just – just cum already, please!” Yoongi eventually moans out, hips snapping up like they can’t stop and—

That does it for you, a strangled cry breaking free as you nearly collapse against Yoongi’s chest; there’s a pleasant buzz flooding your veins, and your nerves tingle nonstop as you tremble, shake from the force of your release.

It feels so good.

“P-Please, Y/N…” Yoongi pants as you kiss him sloppily – and his knees jerk when your hands slide under him to fondle his ass the tiniest bit. “Fuck, fuck!”

“C’mon,” You murmur, nearly tired out, flicking a nipple – you know that’s one of his weakest points – and receiving your answer in the form of a long, drawn out moan, “You can come for me now, babe, c’mon.”

His chest heaves with exertion, frame shuddering as he tries to hold himself back from flipping you over like he usually does; his fingers dig bruisingly into your hips as he thrusts up once, twice—

And you’re immediately filled with warmth, cum spraying your hole a pretty shade of white as Yoongi pants tiredly into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, cheeks wet. You can’t move for a good few minutes – but that’s okay, because neither can he – until you finally muster up the energy to wipe at his cheeks.

“Did… did I hurt you?” You question hesitantly, the pleasant buzz from before slowly fading from your system, “I-I’m sorry if I did, Yoongi, I didn’t mean to…”

“S-Shut up,” He pants out, falling back and drawing his arm up to shield his eyes, “It was… it was good, I just… need a minute.”

Oh. Oh. You bite back a smile when you realize Yoongi’s actually admitted to liking it. That’s… that’s a major relief, actually; you don’t know what you would’ve done, if he hadn’t enjoyed it.

“I should probably get something to wipe us off, right?” You murmur tiredly, letting yourself fall forward so that you’re braced against his chest, rising and falling in time with his breaths. “M’too tired though…”

“That’s fine.” You see Yoongi’s fingers rubbing at his neck, where your mark is, and can’t hold back the smile this time.

“You liked it?” You guess unnecessarily, just to see Yoongi’s cheeks flush.

“…Maybe.” He admits reluctantly, “It’s just… my scent glands are really sensitive, I guess.”

“Everyone who has them feels that way.” You remind him, nuzzling his neck as your arms wind around him properly, “It’s okay, babe.”

“Are you – seriously falling asleep?” His credibility is immediately shot down when he cracks out a tiny yawn as well. “Alright, never mind.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, letting it lull you both to a pleasant rest. It’s quiet and warm and perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

…except for one little thing.

“So does this mean we can use the dildo next time?”

“Y/N!”

The once thriving kingdom of riches, the Kingdom of Nordendall, has long been forgotten in the depths of history, decades ago when laughter and joy could still be heard in warm sun-basked air under the reign of a king, an era distant from The Abandoned―neither forgotten nor loathed, for his name is only forbidden to be spoken of; and despite your Lord’s demands, the people loved the past king and the past king loved his people. Even the passing of a century has not kept the dwindling elders from reminiscing of the days when flowers blossomed by the paths of green and fields sprout abundant grains, enough to last for the winter, and children cried―not from starving or living, but for what babes do in the comforts of the milky hands of their mother.

But alas, with the death of the king came a lurking night dawning upon the commons. And unbeknownst to them, the following century opposes the last akin to the stark contrast between white and black. People no longer have the time nor hope to fantasize in legends of an outside heir claiming rights to oust the cruel, albeit rightful, off the throne―no, people believe in the Gods, the proclamation of the priests who chant “the Gods have forsaken us, condemned us, to a century of darkness, for it is what we deserve; believe in the Gods, remember He whom we had forgotten, and trust in the divine rights of our King, and the long night shall end.”

…and yet it never does, not when Namjoon, the Bastard of Nordendall, remains dormant in the shadows of his chamber.

The wagon rocks roughly along the rugged, unpaved dirt. Paths of bronze, parched fields surround the mount trotting on by. The air stenches of what was once freshly watered greens and now remains of months old mud where pesky flies infest year round. You can hear, even see, children―stripped of all flesh and meat until all that is left is their very bones―crying about as they scurry to the embrace of their mother. And like their little doves, skin covered in patches of wounds and mud, women whisper sweet nothings into their ears; grins turn to frowns, sniffles turn to silence, each and every commoner of a bystander heeling in a cascade to the ground as you ride on by.

Stand, the words stay trapped in the knot of your throat and pressed lips; if it were not for the man, the rightful heir to the throne, sitting in the carriage behind you, you would have been long off the wagon and requesting the people to stand instead of heel. And despite your Lord, and once friends since childhood, Jaebum, offering you a seat by his side in the spacious carriage, you prefer sitting out here with your back on the wagon and your body facing the ends of the trailer, watching the marks of your path being engraved into the parched dirt, even if it means facing the roll of his eyes and the tick of his temper. 

Contrary to most high-borns, you take pleasure in seeing your people eye to eye, if they are to heel, praise, and beg for help, the least you can do is acknowledge their presence, their existence, and their requests of which you have no power in solving―and Jaebum despises that very trait of yours.

No one in the Castles of Nordendall treat the commoners in such a method like yours. Unlike those of your Lord’s immediate family, who are born and raised with such virtues since the very first time their eyes fluttered open to the sights of their mothers, squires, maids, and knights sympathize with the people and your reasonings for doing what they claim to be “careless” actions, but none are willing to take the extra step like you do. 

There is no point, they state, there is nothing you can do to improve the lives of the people, for that lies in the hands of the Lord. The only benefit your actions will raise is, quite ironically, the fury of the people for your lack of dignity. 

How dare you face them each and every day, nodding at their presence and their poor condition, yet fail to change a single thing when the next day, week, even year arrives? The only reason you could do it without repercussions from vexing the Lord is because he favors you.

But that simply is not the complete truth. Jaebum may have spared your head once or twice, but he knows you and your soft spots like the back of your hand.  Nothing comes without consequences. No, not under his rule, especially because of your illegitimate status as a highborn.

“M’lady!” a woman cries out to snap you out of your daze, and before you know it, an elderly woman and, presumably, her little girl are chasing after your wagon. Each limp in their scampering cuts into your already scarred state, your heart aching as you pity the two. “Please―please, could you spare a change or two!”

In the midst of their cries, the woman nearly trips on the rags of her torn skirt. A gasp escapes your lips as you hastily scramble towards the edge of your wagon to grab a hold of the woman’s rough, patchy hands, “oh dear, please, please be careful!” 

And yet, she refuses to let go. 

Tears stream down her reddened, dirt stained cheeks, and she bawls along with her child as the two run hand in hand. You helplessly glance around at the townspeople whom stand there watching, clueless as to what to do.  Seeing the chances of aid are slim to none, you attempt to unlatch her cold fingers from your own blessed warmth and plead, “please! I will gladly hand you all my change, but two coins is not worth risking your life for!”

The wagon begins to rattle, swaying side to side even more drastically as it came to a stop when the coachman up ahead catches onto the ordeal between you and the ladies. Quickly reaching into the pockets you had rebelliously sewn into your own pale and stained ivory gown, you unfold her lanky hands to offer the remaining of your five coins. Her eyes light up along with her child’s, both staring at the gold in awe as if they had never seen such delicacies and only heard of such things in tales. Grateful, or more accurately, astonished, smiles creep onto the corners of their lips, stretching from ear to ear as a few gasps and choked whimpers escape their lips before new waterworks flow from them.

“T-Thank you, m’lady,” the woman cries out, a strand of her silver hair falling before her creased forehead and glimmering dull, gray eyes. She buries the gold into her pockets and takes your hands into hers, “I have been begging, pleading, on my knees each and every day, m’lady, but no one would spare even a glimpse my way. N-No one cared for me like you did, I-I can not thank you enough, m-m’lady.” 

Somehow through all her sobs, you’re able to comprehend her enough to nod with a pressed smile. The elder hastily nudges her daughter, “hurry and thank her, dear, we can finally have dinner for the first time in months because of this fine, young woman.”

“Mother, is she the Queen you told me about last night?” the golden haired child glares at you before leaning in to whisper a bit too loudly into her mother's ears. The mother cinches her brows and quickly scorns her child, for the Queen had passed away years ago. Clearing up the misconception, the child glances bashfully between you and the ground before mumbling, “thank you… m’lady.”

Your heart flutters at her sheepish smile, the child grasping and hiding in her mother's arms at the mere thought of supper. Reaching out to stroke her cheeks filled with more than plentiful red cuts for a child, you grin and shake your head, “I am not a lady, and I most certainly am not a Queen. But if the Gods ever do bless me with such an opportunity, I will do everything in me to make sure children like you retire to bed with a full stomach every night. It is the least I can do.”

The child giggles at your promise, her two front teeth just growing in and her gummy smile melting your heart. But not everything goes as smoothly as you wish, no, not in this Kingdom. A rustle comes from behind as you hear the familiar sharp edged tone of his hollering, “why are we stopping? Did I tell you to stop?”

“N-No,” the coachman stammers, “but Lady Y/L/N seemed to be having trouble—”

“ —well, did I tell you to stop?”

Your eyes shoot open and your heart nearly stops. You can not let Jaebum catch you pitying, much less helping, the commoners. Gently pushing the woman and her girl away, you whisper harshly under your breath, “hurry, leave before the Prince sees you. Hurry!” 

The girl glances back over her shoulder, her doe-like eyes bringing out the soft side of you, the worstly feared part of you which has always endangered your survival. Your heart hammers against your chest, and your pulse hastens as you shoo her away with a wave of your hand. “Go on—”

“May I ask what this is, Lady Y/L/N?”

Your body turns stiff, and your blood runs cold. With one gulp, your heart nearly stops, but not before giving you a final blow against the chest to knock all air out of your lungs.

Turning around in your seat, you find Jaebum staring at you, void of expression; but you know just exactly what is going on in that twisted head of his. He never speaks to you formally. First and foremost, you are of lower status than him, the Prince. Second, he never preferred to do so, as you two had grown up as friends, along with his step brother, Namjoon, since the age of seven. And third, Jaebum does not ask—he demands. His blatant sarcasm and the bite at the end of his words are enough to tell you of the deep waters you are in.

“I was just speaking with them, my Lord,” you blurt, making sure to address him formally as a way to appease his temper.

“Mm, wasting your time with these flies like you always do,” he hums, quirking a brow and turning to face the two petrified ladies. “What really happened between you three? Or are you going to lie to your Prince's face, too?” The woman glances at you, eyes wide and begging for help when Jaebum sighs loudly and spits, “I demanded you to tell me the truth! Or do you want me to cut your tongue and have you unable to ever speak again? Because the pleasure is all mine.”

“We begged for coins!” you and the mother stare wide eyed at the girl, one out of worry and another out of scorn. But the girl continues, “forgive me… m’lord. My mother and I have been starving for weeks now! We only asked for a couple of coins!”

No, no, no, you curse internally. 

The girl is foolish enough to believe in the good of the world, foolish enough to believe goodness and justice even exists in this Kingdom and in the Prince of all people. But it isn’t like you can’t sympathize, for you, too, had once believed in such helpless hopes as a young girl… that is, before you came to know of the harsh reality. Coming to realize the truth was the backbone of your very survival, and unfortunately for the girl, she was one step too late.

“You think your little coins are more important than my time? You think I care if you starve and your mother rots to death enough to stop me on my way home?” Jaebum scoffs, his snickers cracking like thunder into the thick air as the townspeople stand by in silence. “Tie them up.”

“W-what? I beg your pardon, m’lord, but what have we done wrong?!” the woman popped eyes dart to the Prince who had already turned his back on the helpless. 

Your heart nearly stops when she takes a step forward only to trip and come tumbling back to the dirt, and yet she still scrambles after the Prince on all fours before hoarsely crying out, “we would never dare to stop your Grace! At least… at least spare my daughter…” she coughs and wheezes and croaks with her curled hands reaching out for the mercy of the Prince, “please, she’s got nothing to do with none of this! She’s only seven, your Grace!”

Seven—that was when the high Lords had taken you and your mother in.

“My Lord,” you quickly interject, taking large strides in desperate need to stop what you had caused. “I mean not to threaten you of your orders, but the two ladies truly have nothing to do with it. I—”

—slap.

A few gasps fill the now silenced air.

Face red and burning, hands cupping where his hands must remain imprinted in drained colors of your blood flushed cheeks, shock registering and stiffened body affixed in the midst of your step, and the next thing you know, you’re peering up and glaring at him through the curtains of your stray hair.

“You,” he articulates, lips curling and finger pointing in disdain. His narrowed eyes darken until all you can see are the piercing black orbs absent of soul. “Get the bloody hell out of my face. I hate how high and mighty you make yourself out to be, merciful of the weak and all. What? You think you're better than me? The Prince?”

Your brows cinch in the tension of his stare, “pardon me, my Lord, but that is the least of my intentions—”

—he takes a step forward to close the distance between the two of you and whispers into your ears, “I'm not just any lord, Y/N. We may be childhood friends, but I'm your future King. Question me again and I'll have your head decapitated and buried with your dead mother.”

His curt words strike a nerve in you, and all you can do is stand in shock and fear. Jaebum smirks, scoffing at the lack of a reaction—a confirmation of his victory—before turning his back on you and striding off to wave his hand without another glance back.

“Lock them up.”

The woman and her girl are tied up and thrown to the back of the wagon but not without screaming and pleading cries. The fallen, soft edges of the soldier's eyes tell you neither does he agree with the Prince's orders, but it is the fear for his life that drives the soul within him pouring out from those brown irises since long ago. You, on the other hand, are forced to tread closely behind.

The smack of his iron-like, merciless hands still sting your cheeks, and all you can do is hang your head low and eyes glued to the ground in shame. You know the two ladies, particularly the girl, desired to comfort you, but the words don't come, for the both of you know they're in far worse danger than you as mere commoners amongst millions.

And it isn't like you have the heart to look in the petrified looks in their eyes. You're crumbling under sheer embarrassment. The Prince had just punished you in front of thousands of people, the people whom you only wanted to see eye to eye, to honor, and to acknowledge of all their sufferings decided upon whose family they had the fortune or misfortune of extending its family tree.

And yet, with the simple raise of a hand, you had been silenced. Maybe your methods really are as useless as Namjoon had forewarned you.

The wooden, dozen meters high drawbridge lowers and descends upon you from the divine skies. The wagon continues tottering  across the bridge, over the waters of the moat surrounding the castle's towering walls, and in the midst of your daze, you find yourself within the first layer of the stronghold.

“Please, Your Grace, I beg of you!” the woman bellows from the depths of her throat, each ounce of her desperation and last minute hope pouring into her cries.

Hesitantly lifting your gaze, you find the girl bawling on the floor, grasping at Jaebum’s feet before crawling back to you, “help us! I beg of you, m’lady! I'll—I’ll call you Your Grace, just please help mother and I!”

You gulp, the walls of your dry, constricted throat grazing against one another to invoke a turmoil within your stomach until you nearly throw up, because all you can do is helplessly stare down at her.

Her already sullen face falls at your still lips before stuttering, “you said you'd be the Queen, right? You promised me, didn't you? You told me children would no longer starve to death at night!”

The girl looks so desperate—a look you've seen before—that you know she sees death right at her front door.

But that doesn't faze you.

Rather, it’s the fact that you're so unfazed that shocks you enough to send chills down your spine. Since when did you become immune to the cries of children and the pleas of Mothers? Since when did the poor and the need to even see your people eye to eye become a daily occurrence, a necessity to get by? Is it your selfish need to assure yourself of your fallen morals? Did you use these two poor ladies as a method to cope with your guilt in your unwillingness to truly help those in need?

Armed Knights grab ahold of the girl's arms at both sides, roughly hauling her across the dirt and mud along with another unit holding her mother. The two painfully scream and cry at you, the Knights, and the Prince, but no one responds.

“Tsk, what a hindrance to the Prince's time. Worthless I tell you,” he scoffs, glaring at the dwindling silhouettes of the pitiful prisoners as they grew further in distance. Darting his eyes at you, your breath gets caught in the knot of your throat. “Any more protests from you, Lady Y/L/N?”

You part your lips, trying to formulate words to defend their lives, and yet nothing leaves. The subconscious mind in you knows you'd be beheaded for speaking out against the rightful heir, and that small difference is what makes you useless in the face of the fight for justice.

“Didn't think so,” the Prince scoffs, turning his back on you to strike into the towering wooden gates to his citadel. “Good, the last thing a Prince needs is another stupid, helpless girl begging for mercy.”

And without another word, he leaves you unattended as the gates shut behind him and all you can hear in the silence of the thin air is the rustling of grass and the restless winds from the storm soon to come.

“What happened?”

The beholder of the soothing, dark and velvety voice—the only voice capable of garnering your attention at thus point—place his hands to your left shoulder, a sensation of warmth radiating from his body and into your own cold one.

Looking up to your right, you find Namjoon peering down at you in concern—eyebrows furrowed, tan skin glowing, and brown orbs as welcoming and chocolate warm as they can get. A broken laugh, one of disbelief, tumbles from your crooked lips as you avert your eyes back to the ground in shame, “Jaebum’s infuriated with me. Nothing quite new… except this time, it's… it's completely my fault.”

Namjoon lets your words sit in silence as he chooses his words carefully, “...and may I ask what you did to anger him?”

Your lips quiver when you recall the roots of this chaos, timidly glancing down at the ground where his leather brown boots stands before you. Clearing your throat, you’re just barely able to squeak, “...I gave my change to a mother and girl.”

Tension fills the air until Namjoon lets out a loud sigh, “I told you not to do that in front of Jaebum.”

“I know, I know, but they were starving, Joon,” your voice cracks and Namjoon winces. Grasping onto his left arm, you pull him in and close the remaining distance. His arms remain limp in your hold as you lift your head to find his eyes searching for something within you, narrowed and firm, warm and indecipherable. “You have to do something, Joon. Please. The poor girl’s only seven.”

“And what can I do?” he mutters, eyes shifting to the small square of dirt laid beneath and between the two of you.

“...you can stop him.”

“And who am I to question the Prince? I can’t do that and not expect him to cut off my head,” he exasperates.

“But you can,” you emphasize, leaning to the left in a successful attempt to capture his lowered gaze. “You’re the King’s advisor. You’re the Prince’s brother—”

“ —I’m a bastard,” he sharply refutes.

“Yes, and you’re still his brother by blood,” you firmly state. “Unless you go off and get yourself killed before he gets to you, you’re going to be helping him rule Nordendall. You craft war tactics, you monitor the flow of currency within this damned Kingdom. You are our strategist, so you matter just as much as Jaebum. You are just as responsible as he is for the start of this forsaken century, this stupid curse, the accusations I’d like to deny that we’ve abandoned our people. Even if you’re a bastard.”

His eyes dart to yours in silence, and as hard as he attempts to suppress his emotions behind the six-years-developed mask of his, you know there’s much more to him than ignorantly turning a blind eye to matters like this; it’s in the way he sighs and looks off into the distance searching for the hundreds of lives lost in his unmoving hands, the way the spot between his brows crease in frustration as he teeters between death and stalemate, the way he grits his teeth and protrudes his jaw that you know it’s taking everything in him not to jump in and help and prevent you from doing so too. 

He cares, but for the sake of survival and what he deems as inevitable, he creates this facade of the opposite.

“You know what?” you scoff. “You’re a coward. It’s as simple as that.”

That’s the difference between him and you.

“Easy for you to say,” he equivocates, taking a step away to bow and excuse himself without further explanation. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Specks of dust fly in the path of blinding sunrays peeking through the rusted cell bars as the only sign of light in the dark, constricted room. Through the thin, freezing, and musty air, every slight rustling of motion echoes through the cold, bare concrete floors, colorless and pale gray voids lining up from floor to wall to ceiling. The cell reeks of stale excretion, piss and spilt wine soaking stacks of hay where prisoners lie, and all sorts of rodents scampering across the floor and throughout the 24 hours of night.

Fortune remains on your side, for you stand on one side of the bars, and the two dregs of the Prince’s crawl on the other.

“First of all,” you quickly say, gulping when you make your presence known and step out from the shadows of the entrance. Frizz in the mother’s upright gray hairs catch your attention, all hope stripped from her sunken, rawboned face as her eyes glaze to watch her next doom; it only makes it all the more painful to notice the quick aversion of her fallen expression, the despair in her eyes replaced by a glimpse of delight… even if you’re the reason she’s fallen to the pit bottom yet again. And when the child lifts her head in the lap of her mother, tucking the stray, unkempt golden hair of hers which dull with dirt and hidden blacks of the castle, your voice cracks, “I’m… I’m so sorry. T-This is all my fault…”

Silence ensues.

You don’t want her to forgive you. No, that would be the most shameful response you could receive. Scold, scream, threaten, condemn, anything would be better than the silence she’s giving you now. But lies, lies you tell yourself year after year, they’re never enough to keep you satisfied; because when you feel your heart holding onto every second which ticks by, your ear waiting and begging to pick up on something, you know you’re just as terrible as the rest of the corrupted kingdom.

Please tell me it’s okay. Please tell me it’s not my fault.

And as if hearing the pleas through the windows of your soul, your glimmering eyes, she responds. But the second of hesitation in her proceeding words tell you it’s one of reluctance.

“It’s alright, it’s not your fault. So please don’t cry, or they’ll hear, m’dear,” she says, her words soft and flat and slurred and visibly jaded.

Or they’ll hear you, dear.

They pierce right through your chest and cut your pride—pride as a highborn, when you had never meant to be one in the first place, pride you didn’t even know existed—blown into pieces you must collect, repair, and put on a fixed facade to keep your vulnerability hidden from those who want to trample on it most in this corrupted kingdom. Nobles, elites, and men like mice who creep along every corner of the castle, looking for every nooks and crannies to prod at for self power, those are the men you have always feared of being made a victim of the most. Women, children, and lower-borns, were of your least concern; that is, until today.

Because to her, you’re just another peasant born beside her in the dirt bottom of the ladder. In her eyes, you’re already someone too insignificant to be of any help for them now.

“I… I-I promise,” you croak. Voice cracking in sync with your lowly hung head, a swift motion of the back of your hand to wipe the sparingly few fallen tears. “I promise I’ll help you get out of here. I swear it by your God and mine.”

The woman watches you in silence, losing herself in a trance—as if to admire and reminisce for the days when she was just a little, helpless girl who foolishly presumed she could take on the whole world like you—and blinking those days away with a crooked smile.

“My lovely dove,” she begins on a raspy note with pressed lips, “never in my fifty years living in this… hell, of a kingdom… never have I ever given up on the Lords. No, not the ones we’re forced to bow to and lick the bottom of their boots each time they pass by.” The elder scoffs and shakes her head before glancing up at the ceiling which drips mud to the wrinkles of her forehead, “no, I’m talking about the ones from above. I served my one and only Lord. I obeyed, prayed, and believed some day he would truly save us all.”

Then she turns to face you—everything stripped from her gray eyes.

“But no…” the woman shakes her head, “no, no, m’dear, God is nowhere near us tonight. Not in the outskirts, not in the fields, not in the town, not in the chapel, and most certainly not in this citadel.”

A chill shivers its way down your spine—petrifying you with her curt confessions; the woman sprawled before you bears little to no resemblance to the pitiful woman running after your wagon, dirt-stained and desperate to live. But now, all that fills her eyes a thirst for an end. It’s like a new entity had been betrothed in her very conscience, and as immoral as it is of you to acknowledge, this isn’t the first time you’ve witnessed such a sick phenomenon nor are you the least bit surprised…

...because after all, everyone changes in the wake of death.

“Mama…” the girl croaks, tugging at her mother’s tattered skirt.

The mother pats her little girl’s hair, weaving her bony fingers through the tangles of her golden locks for one last time before placing a gentle, chaste kiss to her temple, “shh, my love, mama will sort this out with big sister over here, alright?”

“Does she need medication…?” you hesitate to ask, but your guilt and sympathy compels you to do otherwise.

Tugging at one corner of her lips, a nearly inaudible scoff intermixes with her sigh as she ignores your question and proceeds, peering up at you from below where you can see her purple dark circles, “why do you think I so desperately ran after you, a helpless human being, when, supposedly, the Lord should have helped me see through my struggles?”

Her stare pierces through you and stuns you until all you can do is cinch your brows and gulp in response.

“It’s because I grew impatient,” she reveals and scoffs. “I never believed in Gods in the first place. I could hardly even believe in humanity, so why in bloody hell should I trust in something I’ve never seen nor could hardly entrust when His supposed creation had turned out to be like this?”

Her stroking fingers come to a stop, resting her palm to cup her daughter’s sweaty cheeks which resemble symptoms of hayfever, and she gulps when she continues. “I only became the useless mother—thing—that I am because I was desperate. Those pesky priests you see marching out and about in town, chiming those stupid old cowbells, chanting those pretentious verses as if we haven’t memorized them by now, those scums convinced me I had done wrong for being a nonbeliever. While I hoped for someone outside of this ‘royal,’” she spits at the floor, “bloodline to reverse the chaos of Nordendall, essentially, they told me to stop believing in the people.”

Her words strike you as the utter truth—first a light jab at the corruption of the line of heirs, next, a punch at the preachers sent out by the King to induce obedience in a hoax of order. Then, with one final blow, she spits remarks which ring true to your heart; never trust anyone but yourself, a lesson you’ve learnt when your mother was murdered behind these very walls.

“Can you believe it? A King who doesn’t believe in his own people? A King who instills horror and distrust amongst their people?” the woman exasperates, eyes wide and wary of each and every one of your flinches. “My illiterate mother told me Nordendall was once a Kingdom of Honor. It’s hard to believe, bloody hell, it was hard enough for me to believe when I was a gullible, sweet little girl like you, but something tells me it must be true. Maybe it’s the thirst for power, or maybe it’s the bloodline of heirs gone sour and long due for a change, but you understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” the words barely strangle its way out from your knotted throat.

The woman scoffs and leans forward, the creases of her forehead and the spot between her brows marking her years of wisdom when she whispers hoarsely, “you can pretend you’re one of them, m’dear, but I know one of us when I see one. Now, I see scared little girl. Shifty eyes, barely able to look me in the eyes and screaming for an answer, an answer only she can find herself, effortless apologies, rehearsed but begging for a purpose, trembling, wavering virtues against what her morals tell her to do and what the walls of this citadel compels her to do. She’s just like me when I was younger, but as an old woman well beyond the years of this worn capsule, my eyes no longer deceive me when they tell me she’s ready for a change.”

Constriction of your entire body causes you to gag when the dry walls of your throat grind against one another.

Her glare hardens as she peers straight into you, never daring to look away from even a supposedly highborn lady—but maybe that’s because she knows who you truly are.

With the exception of Namjoon, she seems to be the only one who hasn’t forgotten your abandoned identity, despite the dozen years of training you had endured to disguise yourself as one of them.

And the fact that someone sees through you with such ease, as if you’re transparent and your attempts to cover up are fruitless, it all scares you.

“I—”

—a door creaks open just as your lips part only to delay with a quivering fright. The mother and her child’s eyes dart across and straight to the heavy wooden door where a petrifyingly built, stern-faced bodyguard stands towering on the other side and a contrastingly gentle, empathetic man of soft features akin to princes of fairytales enters the room.

“Namjoon?” you ask, whirling around to face him as he strides past you. Turning around, you frown in concern over the haste of his movements, something you’ve come to notice as a sign for things gone wrong. “What’re you doing here?”

“To do exactly what you asked for,” he simply quips.

“...you talked to Jaebum?”

Namjoon reaches into the depths of his pockets, clutching to something tiny enough to fit within his knuckles and squatting down to meet the mother eye-to-eye, sighing, “I did.”

“...and?”

Besides the trembling shivers and heavy breathing being exchanged between the mother and Namjoon, respectively, the silence is as thin and deafening as ever; anticipation sifts through the cold air, and impatience grows for each one of your breaths presenting itself in puffs of fog before you. Namjoon’s short, curt answers had always ticked you the wrong way. He’s never been one to answer you fully, not because it’s burdening for him to go out of his way in doing so, but because he knows it’s merely a leading question, for you’ve always been the most quick-witted person around in these castles, or at least second to him. Your instincts tell you, however, that in reality, he’s just too scared to face his shortcomings aloud. Unlike you, the thing he fears most is confronting reality.

“What do you think? This is Jaebum we’re talking about,” Namjoon finally answers, huffing and leaning over to squeeze his hand between the steel bars holding the woman hostage.

Ears picking up the sound of glass softly toppling into her rough hands, you frown before pacing over to find the mother wide-eyed and staring down at two small, one-inch sized tubes lying in between the blisters of her palm. Jet black liquid fills the glasses, and when you gulp, you can nearly feel the acid burning your throat into fiery heat and eating you from inside-out; there’s no denying what forbidden substance had just been handed to her.

The unknowing mother glances up from her lap where the child stirs in her sleep, irises shaking and lips barely quivering when she speaks, “what is this…?”

Unwillingly, a loud sigh escapes your lips as you grab onto Namjoon’s arm and force him to face you, “Namjoon, this isn’t the right way to—”

“—then what do you suggest?” his voice thunders across the echoing room, and you jump in shock over the rage evident in the downturn of his lips. Yanking away from you, he turns back to the woman and lowers his voice with a recomposed, illegible expression. With lidded eyes and rough whispers, he warns, “it’s poison, nightshade to be precise.”

The woman winces at the newfound fact, “pardon me, m’lord, but are you telling me to poison myself to death?”

“I’m telling you to only use it as your last resort,” he refutes, pointing a finger back at you, “in case this one messes up and we can’t help you any further.”

The mother frowns and glances at her child, stroking her hair one more time through the crease between her brows and her forehead before cracking out in broken words, “I see.”

“I apologize for the hell hole that is this citadel. I swear it on my life’s behalf that Y/N and I will do our very best to get you out of here as safe as possible. In fact, it pains me to present you such reckless tactics, but,” he lowers his voice, “this is the best way to go under my brother’s watch. I made sure it won’t hurt the least bit, I promise—”

“—Joon, I need to talk to you,” you stiffly say through gritted teeth, clearing your throat when he simply stares at you in silence and waits for your response. “Alone.”

Turning towards the mother and her daugher, you duck your head low and apologize profusely once more, “I promise I’ll put this all to an end. I swear it on all the Gods here and above.”

Eyes lock for a mere second, her stare piercing straight into you, as if she could read your very thoughts and fears, before you hastily break away to storm out of the room where Namjoon utters a low, formal, “pardon me,” and obediently follows close behind.

Her words echo in your head, almost as if it had somehow molded into your own half-conscience demanding what you’ve wanted but told yourself otherwise all along.

“She’s ready for change.”

Once the heavy door slams closed behind you, a boom echoing through the freezing halls and snapping you out of your reverie, you tackle him with all your might.

“What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking the best course of action,” he replies, dark eyes firmly following you as you pace in place.

“Telling someone to kill themselves is not the best course of action,” you retort.

“Yeah? Is getting someone captured under the hands of Jaebum a better option? Is it not so wise of me to have a backup plan in case things go awry just like last time?” Namjoon refutes with a scoff. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N? Remember when Jaebum caught you going behind his back to feed the poor, and even as the two of you begged on your knees for mercy, he still burnt the poor man to death? Do his screams no longer haunt you at night? Do you sleep well in your chambers now that you’ve forgotten and go on your self-proposed acts of kindness? Or are you too blinded by this pride of supposedly facing reality to remember?”

You bite your tongue so hard, attempting to suppress yourself from erupting in anger, that you can taste the metallic odor of blood filling the roof of your mouth.

“No, I haven’t forgotten. I never will. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise,” you carefully say through gritted teeth. “I’m just saying that perhaps this isn’t the best way to go about it. Handing them nightshade is essentially telling them we’re throwing in the towel without even trying in the first place, but maybe you’re too busy running away from the real shithole of a castle your family made to change things for once—”

“—they’re not my family,” he cuts in.

“They are,” you declare under your breath, taking one step forward until your chest brushes against his and your eyes peers straight up from under his, “and for as long as you refuse to oppose your family’s ways, you’ll still be just another illegitimate bastard hiding under his father’s name.”

All hell breaks loose in the lenses of his eyes, flames scorching and churning in turmoil as his jaws jut out and his teeth clench in a barely successful attempt at taming the fire. Contrary to  back then when you two were just kids and only naturally an argument would always end up in a fist fight, now you can truly observe how he’s blossomed into a grown man. As the King and heir’s advisor, Namjoon could suppress himself of such emotions—emotions you wish he had kept, akin to how you had kept origins of your own identity as your lowborn mother’s daughter, for they were what made you love him over his brother.

“Then what are you?” he lowly states, edges of his words tipping on the brink of threatening fury. “Are you a commoner or are you a highborn? Ever since the noblemen scavenged through this entire kingdom to find your mother, taking her and her child into the other side of the castle walls in repayment for treating the prince’s pox, have you forgotten your roots? Have you lied to yourself and somehow tricked yourself into believing you’re one of them—”

“—I’m not one of them,” you raise your voice. “I’m not a highborn and I’m not a princess and I never will be. I’ve seen the terrors this damned castle has casted upon my true home. You can please Jaebum all you want, go about it the easy way and sacrifice the lives of the poor without putting your own life on the line. I’ll fight it. I’ll fight reality like a soldier—head on.”

Namjoon darkly chuckles, voice low and raspy as he leans in to whisper into your ear, “the way I see it, Princess, you’ve gotten it all confused. Maybe you’re the dreamer dressed like a warrior, and I’m a warrior dressed like a dreamer.”

“I beg your pardon?” you scoff, pushing against his chest until he stumbles backwards to easily regain his footing. Your ears turn beat red when you recall the brush of his plump, warm lips against your earlobes. You should be angry, taken aback, offended, and you are, but he had grown to be much more charismatic through the years you have known him, and that change has somehow grasped onto your fluctuating emotions regarding someone you had once only seen as an older brother.

“Hopefully this won’t be our last argument after tonight… and I mean it in the good way,” Namjoon takes a step back, throwing a victorious smirk at you before turning around to retreat to his chambers without another look over his shoulder. “Overthink, pace around, sleep soundly, do whatever you do best. Now that we’re man and woman and can no longer share a bed, I don’t know how you best confront reality, if you have at all. Farewell for now, your Grace—”

“—Y/N,” you correct, “we may be older, but it doesn’t change who we are to each other.”

Namjoon snorts, cocking a brow along with the corner of his lush lips. “Then will you call me big brother once again?”

“W-What?” you frown, biting at the insides of your mouth to fight the blood flowing to your cheeks. It’s been years since you’ve called him brother, for the death of your mother, the one who had suggested it in the first place, gives you nil reasons to. “No.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you can’t. I’m a bastard after all,” the man presses his lips into a thin upcurve and bows. “Then, goodnight, your Grace.”

A scoff is all that manages to leave your lips. With the empty halls and the pattering, heavy footsteps of guards decked in plate armors coming around the corner, you stand there pondering over his last remark.

Slumber is an impossibility to you as the evening burrows deep into the night; restless, you pace by the door outside the cells holding your accountabilities within, bargaining the guards with a cup of hot stew and cold bread from last night for their silence and distributing the leftovers to the withering woman and her grateful child.

She is ready for change.

Change. Change. Change.

Change the hierarchy, change the system.

Chants echo in your oversaturated mind and threaten to drift you to sleep, sure to hurl you into deep, dangerous waters with Jaebum; nonetheless, your impending doom comes sooner than calculated.

Step, his heels tap againsts the stone paving of the stairs spiraling underground.

Step, it echoes in the tunnel, step, it crescendos with each tap of his feet and with each beat of your heart, another delayed step… silence.  

“What are you doing here?”

“Jae—my Lord,” your neck cranes to enable your eyes to peer upward at the silhouette hovering above you. You hasten to your feet, line of sight glued to your feet as you curtsy to greet the Prince, his chest just a few inches from yours.

“You can quit the titles here when we’re alone,” he scoffs in amusement, lips cracking into a lopsided grin. “Just call me Jaebum like you used to when we were children.”

“...I am afraid I can not—I dare not,” your head hangs low and your chin reverberates in the vibrations of your pumping heart, “...unless it is your absolute wish, my Lord.”

“Jaebum. Must I demand you to do everything now?” you can just hear him rolling his eyes by the tone of his voice. “Or do you want to call me brother? Like how you call our dear brother, Joon?”

Head still ducked low, your lips quiver in the chills of the prison, even if it feels like time has just retracted years from the present. It’s almost as if you’re standing in the fields before the boy his father and your mother had forced you to call brother.

You can smell the freshly watered soil, the pollen-filled air, the feathers of dandelions brushing across your cheeks in the endless wind.

And as always, you answer him with silence.

“Of course, you only ever listen to Joon anyways,” he spits. “Quit acting like a damn sheep and stand upright and look me in the eye.”

Slowly and hesitantly, you oblige, but only out of fear.

“Why are you here?” he asks—no, demands an answer. Jaebum’s eyes, narrow yet sharp and fierce akin to that of an eagle, like that of his father’s but much less forgiving, they nearly burn you to stake with sheer fury as his gaze locks you from above.

“I…” your mind goes blank, for you can sense the calculations through the black windows to his soul. It’s impossible for him not to see through you. “I was just checking to make sure the mother and her child are alright.”

“I believe the words you mean ‘are still alive,’” he nods his head, lowering his eyes and quirking a brow. “You think I would have them killed behind your back like last time? And that’s all you did. Check for their livelihoods?”

“...yes.”

“Hm,” Jaebum scoffs and retracts himself from you; his warmth abandoning you in the cold night air, and yet his departure leaving you all the much warmer. He begins pacing with hands locked behind his back, “about today… I don’t appreciate what you did, and by that, I mean you’re really testing me my patience these days.”

“My sincere apology,” you meekly answer, eyes casting to the cracks between the stone pavings of the ground, “I swear to all Gods here and above I will never act against your orders again.”

“...and,” the Prince halts in the midst of his tracks, the golden eyelet clicking with the matching metallic trims of the laces on his boots along with the sway of black cloak in the wind, but it would only take a child to detect the shift in atmosphere, even with his back turned on you, “...you can start now, by telling me the truth regarding your whereabouts here.”

Every breath becomes a struggle, for each intake of spine-chilling air drags you through the rutted dirt and closer to teetering over the edge of a cliff. Scared to breathe, jarred to live, Jaebum has always been embroidered by such qualities some deem fit for a ruler, others proclaim fit for a tyrant.

“Jaebum, I swear—”

—the meek voice fails to escape through the labyrinth of your throat.

Should you lie and be caught by the Prince himself, the light of day would soon become a ephemeral memory of the past.

Sifting through the pockets of his silky black trousers hidden by the lavish black and golden trouser above, the whip of a pocket knife slicing through the air echoes and it only takes you a split second to register Jaebum pivot to storm three large strides towards you until, finally, he’s breathing your air and you’re breathing his. Sharp and rapid, his breaths hiss, seething of broken impatience, but his eyes burn with fire, and when they meet your quivering gaze just an inch away, it’s as if he’s peering deep into the depths of your soul—too deep to retract from the grips of his hands digging into your shoulders and pulling you in.

Your heart beats—pounds—against your chest and you’re overflowing with adrenaline-filled blood from chest and outwards, yet the terror stricken and bestowed upon you by the mere glimpse of his glare freezes you from running; needless to say, you can hardly breathe.

“...don’t you dare answer me,” he articulates each word through his breath, teeth gritted and jaws clenched.

The blade in his aloft hand rests in the corner of your lips, grazing just enough as your merciful gaze alternates between the wicked grin of power on his face and the warm trickle of blood flowing down your cheeks and along your jawline. Flames set ablaze on the torches hung along each cell of the prison hall illuminate one side of the Prince’s facial features as the other descends into the shadow, highlighting the glimmering fury thriving in his glowing eyes egged by your winces.

“I can practically smell the past wherever I go, Y/N. The air practically reeks of Namjoon,” he scowls, the scrunch of his nose short-lived before he cuts deeper into your stinging skin. “You’re not very smart, are you, Y/N? What happened to my Father’s best apprentice? I listened to Father. So heed my words when I say I have men scattered throughout this entire castle and lurking in every corner of each chamber—including yours—don’t take my warning for granted,” he utters, the iniquitous smirk of his eliciting a cautious gulp from you as he leans in to whisper, “consider this a favor—” his hands apply pressure against the blade and into the very last tissue between your outer and inner cheeks, “—for if you ever utter or even whisper another lie to me, the Prince, again, I’ll have your tongue cut and fed to the poor you so adore. You hear me?”

The satisfaction of your soft yelps play like a harp’s melody to his ears, and it isn’t difficult to observe that your pain—along with that of thousands of his own people—are what feeds his ego, coursing corrosive power through his veins and bloodshot eyes, but heroic actions are much easier said than done.

Hot streams of tears are rolling down your cheeks and intermixing with your viscous blood, the pain is all too scarring to bear alone, but the dreary look in the woman and her child’s eyes far exceed this temporary moment of weakness; you tell yourself you’ll endure it for the sake of your people, the people of Nordendall of which your mother had practically spilled her entire life and her life itself to protecting, but the nails digging deep into the numb palms of your pale fists plea for you to bend the knee—even if it’s momentary.

The Prince chuckles darkly at the bob of your head which can hardly classify as a nod, “good girl,” his blade drops to the floor, clinking and echoing in the hall, but the now emptied hand and enigma of mischief smeared across his smug grin tell you it isn’t over quiet yet. Taking a few steps back, Jaebum scoffs at what he must have seen as the pathetic look on your face as your hands immediately grasp at the sleeves of your dirtied dress to cover the gape on your cheeks. “I’ve never seen you look so weak, Y/N,” he chuckles, turning his back on you to head towards the flight of stairs. “You were always father’s favorite. Joon was his second, of course. I just couldn’t catch up on studies and I disappointed when it came to archery, but look who’s out on top now?”

“Your father loved you…” you mumble, eyes flickering to glare at Jaebum’s narrowed ones which beckon for you—dare for you—to speak again. “He wouldn’t want you doing this. He loved his people, he loved Nordendall, you should be out there, not here. Please let the woman and her child go, I beg you—”

“—quit your blubbering!” his bellows crescendo from the depth of his throat to the stone walls of the hall and castle beyond. “And perhaps, you should quit chatting with that doofus Joon, too. My advisor just doesn’t know when to shut his trap and it seems like the useless dreams of his has infected you, too.”

Your mouth is snapped shut, but your gaze hardens amidst the stare exchanged between you and him.

Finally, he scoffs, whirling around, cloak floating two feet aloft in his sway, and strolling out of the hall of cells. “If I knew you were like this before, maybe I wouldn’t have been so infatuated. Nordendall doesn’t want nor need a Queen like you.”

Clomps and clinks of his boots echoes and vibrates against the stone flooring, until gradually descending into the void and all that you hear is the deafening silence filled with your thoughts.

The floor remains cold when your body immediately collapses at the split second when the coast was clear. Pitiful whimpers cascade from your pressed lips attempting to suppress the cries of pain and fear, completely futile. Every muscle scrunches tight, eyes squeezed shut and arms wrapped protectively around yourself.

It’s shameful, really, because none of this—none of the wounds nor threats—are equivalent to anything you have faced before. Jaebum has done worse and you have bled worse. It’s the timing and guilt which really plagues your conscience. While the flutters of Namjoon’s simple proximity has long dissipated from within, the thoughts of him, his whereabouts, and his identity still remain.

Perhaps, Namjoon is right in his own way; because everything you do never entails for the fairytale ending you so desire.

Is he the warrior, and you, the dreamer? Are you just pretending to be what you want to be and accusing Namjoon of being what you fear to be? No, you know what you are. You refuse to be regarded as one of the countless nobles, blinded by riches and tempted by greed. You’ve seen, experienced, and helped the less fortunate. Reality is what you live, breathe, and battle every day and night since you’ve entered this castle.

But you have to admit, the bastard truly does have a way with words; and while you refuse to accept any speck of truth in his proclamation, you do commend his insight, for it keeps you up late at night and etches into your mind for decades to come.

...and your cries for aid, assurance, wit, and courage befall ears of no one but yours tonight in the prosperous young night.

“Guards! Bring them in!”

At the break of dawn you stand in what Jaebum had turned from his father's adored reception hall for his weekly fests and dances into a courtroom for the injustice, to be more precise, a slaughterhouse to lock away his own secrets already running rampant in the form of rumors throughout the kingdom. Dry eyes burning from lack of sleep, you climb the steps to join the Prince's advisor, Namjoon, beside the throne. Scanning from one end of the vastly empty room to the other, guards of dozens line each wall where stained glass transmits sunlight upon the stone paving, as if to cast God’s judgement upon the sinners.

But as you and the people of Nordendall have begun to wonder, are the Gods really watching?

“Good Heaven,” Namjoon gasps, leaning into your side to hiss under his breath beside your ear, “what happened to your cheek?”

“Nothing important,” you utter without budging an inch, staring straight forward as two men decked in iron armor roughly toss the woman and the young girl across the floor countless meters before the throne.

Perhaps it is your imagination, but the silver locks of what send to be both the mother and her child glisten in the sunlight. The cuts streaked across every bit of bare skin and dirt which cover their skirts along with their wounds entail for a horrific infection, as your mother would've told you. Oddly yet, the stray, fizzed locks threading their gazes cast upon the ground before the Prince's feet shine of not hope, but vengeance.

It’s as if they arm a trump card; and standing next to the very man whose decision has repulsed you incessantly allows you to craft a wild guess.

“It quite evidently isn't nothing,” the boy beside you frowns with concern, eyes glued to the bandages across half of your head, sure to leave scars.

“Jaebum found me last night in the cells—”

“—in the cells, Y/N?” Namjoon does a double take. “Why in bloody hell were you still there? Actually, no, you don’t need to answer that. I already know and—”

“—hearing me say it will just anger you all the more?” you finish his sentence and scoff. “Then I'll say it again because you need to hear it. I stayed vigilant to provide our people with the food and water they need.”

The silence which follows as the boy stares at you in frustration evokes thoughts from the both of you, wondering just how you have managed in this world for as long as you have.

“...I… I swear I'll break his hand the next time he lays a finger on you.”

Your line of sight trails from the woman and the daughter, both of which are begging and crying in their knees, to find its victim on the boy beside you.

“Silence!” the Prince's demand bellows throughout the chamber and shocks even the guards themselves, but the air dead of even a whisper or whimper serves proof of the royalty's authority.

Frowning, Namjoon cranes his neck to glimpse at you as you stare straight through him and mutter through barely parted lips.

“No,” you confess, “you won't.”

“Begging for food, begging for water, begging for wealth, delaying the Prince's journey home, infesting the Prince and Lady Y/L/N with your filthy hands,” the spokesman of the trial takes a deep breath before lowering the lengthy scroll, “do you plead guilty to these crimes?”

The mother’s gaze darts to you as she inaudibly mouths, “...no, I do not.”

The boy beside you flinches, and so do you, for you nearly jump forward to cover for the mother if it weren't for the man as he clears his throat to reaffirm his shaken composure.

“I repeat, do you plead guilty to these crimes in exchange for punishment of a more forgiving sin.”

Being a maverick yourself amongst the Royal, you could already predict the answer she would utter next; and yet, you find yourself muttering otherwise.

“Yes, yes, say yes,” your chants trail when you find Namjoon uttering, “I swear on my life I will talk Jaebum out of it.”

The woman lowers her head before ushering for her daughter to do the same, hair falling along with gravity and their will. Meekly, a pair of voices crack, “...yes, we plead guilty.”

…and your heart drops.

Huh? What is this? Ideally, you should be beyond relieved, for their lives have been spared, yet in reality, the maverick in you cries of isolation; but who are you to proclaim whose lives are to plea for and how dare you to even subconsciously do so?

How could you fight for Kingdom Nordendall like this?

The man almost seems relieved, gripping the scroll and clearing his throat once again. “Thenceforth, we call upon all the Gods here and above to bestow mercy upon these sinners with a forgiving sentence of—”

“—of rotting the rest of their lives in prison!”

Silence. Shock. Disgust.

They all run through the eyes of the witnesses which wander to the Prince slouching in his throne. The accused wearily lift their gaze, ready to plead guilty a second time.

“It was a joke,” Jaebum darkly chuckles and you can hear the room release a collective sigh. “...instead, as per my beloved Lady Y/L/N’s request, I will acknowledge your pleads.”

The concern striking the frown on your lips and Namjoon’s foretells the capability of the ruler more than anything, but the ecstatic bliss exuding from the eyes of the accused are ephemeral.

“...with the choice of being flayed alive, skin by skin, muscle by muscle, or being burnt at the stake alive.”

“My Lord,” Namjoon quickly interjects, stepping toward the throne until the Prince raises a hand for him to halt; and he does. “My Lord, as your advisor, I strongly advise you not to be so rash. What if word escapes the castle and spreads across the kingdom?”

“If they do, then it'll be your fault or Lady Y/L/N’s. At least they'll fear me, and fear brings more power,” Jaebum rebukes without a glance at the desperate advisor before crossing his legs and casting his cruelty upon his people, “so? What will your choice be, my young doves?”

Mind scrambling for a solution, your eyes panic between the spoilt ruler and the woman and her child who glare at the man with mouths agape in disgust.

For people so frail and threatened, they really don't seem all that afraid; instead, they're simply beautiful and you admire them… but that only scares you all the more, particularly when you catch the woman and her child reaching their hands into the waist of their skirt.

The nightshade.

“No!” you quickly exclaim and lunge forward when you notice Jaebum narrowing his eyes and leaning forward, confused with his preys.

“Y/N! Step back!” you hear Namjoon call from behind until his hand grabs into your right arm to yank you back.

Helpless, you cry out to the ladies, but instead of watching them swallow the nightshade whole, the women begin mumbles which crescendo into roaring chants with fists to their side. Endless zephyrs somehow find its way into the castle, sweeping the people's hair, attire, and awareness into the air until everything shatters. Wind resembling that of typhoon demolish the stained glass on all walls, scattering them across the floor and welcoming the brewing thunder and lightning outside where gray cloud lurk above the castle.

With emerald rays of light materializing beneath the two and shining through the cracks of the floor, locks of hair aloft and eyes shut in deep concentration, you and everyone in the room come to an epiphany just as Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“...witches.”

“Hear us, Gods of the Underground and Above,” the witches chant and the ground quakes as everyone yelps and you grab ahold of Namjoon’s arm to sturdy your feet, “we, of Guild Crescentia, lay curse upon those who have done us wrong in exchange for our livelihoods. Let Hell be set loose on the lands of Nordendall, and let its ruler, Prince Jaebum, suffer a grotesque, painful death by the hands of whom he admires most and by the guidance of whom he fears most—”

“—what are you doing?!” Jaebum explodes, jumping up and kicking his throne. “Kill the wretched witches!”

“Wait, wait…” your voice trails off into trembles as you step forward and nearly collapse to the ground in the split second Namjoon, too, loses grip of both his hold on you and sanity.

Nordendall hasn't witnessed the world of witchcraft in nearly a century since a King had persecuted all forms of magic out of the kingdom, if you recall correctly from the books you read as a child; so to say witchery is largely forbidden and severely hazardous and feared upon is an understatement.

This entire moment is a nightmare come true for everyone in the room, but how could you think of the helpless women you had helped just last night like so?

Grabbing ahold of the witches by hesitant soldiers of a dozen, hairs tugged and arms yanked until bare shoulders are revealed underneath the ripped seams of their dress, the mother stares straight into your eyes, as do you to her, along with Namjoon’s.

It irks you that this fond yet reprimanding look in her eyes remind you of your mother; in fact, it's as if your own mother is truly there in flesh and blood to speak to you.

“I'm afraid it has come to this. I thank you, Bastard of Nordendall and Lady of Nordendall for your hospitality and efforts,” the woman proclaims loud and clear.

“Kill them!” Jaebum hollers. “Or I will have you all killed!”

The guards hesitate, egging one another on in vain and merely tugging at the witches’ locks of hair, clearly too terrified to inch closer to the wicked.

“...but the efforts are not enough,” the little girl manages to declare through whimpers. “Only you two can save Nordendall now.”

“What do you mean…” you step forward and abandon Namjoon’s side, cinching your brows and mumbling. “How can we—”

“—our time is up, my Lady. I apologize but we won't be needing this,” the mother continues with a weak lift of a grin before the mother and her daughter holler one last time. One pair of eyes shooting death glares at the Prince, the other motherly pair peers into the deepest of your soul. “Farewell and we wish you fortune on your endeavors.”

The moment of serenity falls short when her eyes dilate, pupils expanding until all is white and pitch black liquid like that of ink stains the white. It's a horrifying sight for a horrifying scene, and the sudden collapse of their bodies onto the now still floor and thin, silent air doesn't help your shortness of breath nor your near heart attack.

And just like that, the people fall and the tyrant rises once again to the negligence of the nightshade rolling on the ground from the loosened grips of the woman and her daughter—something only you and Namjoon notice.

“All of you!” the Prince screeches, face turning red from the sheer anger boiling within his royal blood. “Pick those traitor of witches off my ground and burn them at the stake where everyone in the kingdom can see and get out of my sight before I behead you all!”

Namjoon exchanges looks of distress with you as everyone shuffles to abide by the Prince's orders with their head down. You know exactly what runs through his mind, aside from the countless historical figures, dates, and facts he had so voluntarily absorbed as a young child attempting to gain footing in a place he didn't belong.

Was it all true? The curse? The witches? Is witchcraft indeed materialized by real incidents and fantasized by fairytales? And what did she mean only you and Namjoon could help after the disaster you had bestowed upon then with your help?

So engrossed in thoughts, neither you nor Namjoon notice Jaebum marching toward you with the most wretched of scowls plastered across his face.

“You two, stop standing there, pick up your jaws off the floor, and attend the execution tonight by the stake,” his hands dig into both Namjoon and your shoulders as he leans in to mutter, “and if you don't think I haven't figured it was you two sneaking behind my back to hand nightshade to the two beasts, then it’s your turn to plea guilty next, and as far as I know, neither of you are capable of magic.”

Gulp—the both of you freeze in place until the trudging footsteps of Jaebum’s fade into the silence of the completely evacuated room where scarlet blood and black liquid intermix in the center of what you can now see as an alchemy symbol circling the room with a star within.

“Why in bloody hell did you try and step in their alchemy circle?” Namjoon blurts and narrows his eyes at you.

“I didn't know what that was, in fact, I couldn't even see it until now. I apologize for neglecting my studies, Lord Kim,” you rebuke, rolling your eyes before forcefully pushing him back with a hand. “And why didn't you step in to help them?”

“I—I couldn't help them!” he scoffs in disbelief. “They're witches, Y/N, they don't need help, the only one who would need help would be me if I were to be plagued by their curse!”

“Well, maybe if you talked Jaebum out of it instead of just handing someone poison and calling it a day, perhaps if you showed sympathy or effort for once, none of this would've happened!”

“Yeah?” he cocks a brow. “And tell me what kind of help you so elegantly provided, because according to Jaebum, it was your request that led him to his stupid bargain.”

“Well—” struggling to find a rebuttal, you scoff and cross your arms “—this isn't just a curse on Jaebum. It's a curse on all of Nordendall, including us.”

Brows furrowed and lips downturned, Namjoon utters, “and like they prophesied, I will save the people—inside out.”

A scoff finds its way through your lungs and you shake your head with lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line before stating the last declaration you come to speak to Namjoon in the next months.

“Fine by me,” you confess, “because I will save my people outside in.”

Incessant tragedy bedevils Nordendall for the next three months; crops fall prey to pests unprecedented and undocumented in the kingdom’s history, diseases pervade the lands completely grazed and burnt by farmer’s desperate measures to restock food supplies, the scorching sun burns with fury and surpasses degrees Nordendall has never seen before, and as a kingdom bolstering primarily on agriculture booms, this curse spells for an impending worldwide crisis.

Nordendall has been your home since the earliest days you can recall, but from the accounts of your late mother, the kingdom has always struggled in the medical field, despite unknowingly sowing countless flora renowned for its healing properties; it wasn’t until your mother, whose home resides in a church specializing in the research of medicine, far beyond the boundaries of Nordendall and unclaimed by the Lords in surrounding areas, that the illness plaguing the Prince was cured. Now, with crops burnt by wildfire and medical chiefs throughout the entire kingdom has been hoarded to treat Jaebum and the return of his pox, the cries of the people echo throughout the long night by your bedside.

“The Prince has arrived! Lower the gates!”

The holler pierce the castle walls and you can hear the drawbridge lowering with the creaking of wood and squeaking of wheels being spun by huffing guardsmen tugging on ropes. You can just imagine dozens of horsemen trotting in place outside the gates, one being the Prince himself with that triumphant smirk of his after another successful hunt. Jaebum’s time outside the castle walls have grown exponentially in the last month, bringing back game meat from the wild—still halfway between life and death as it flinches every few seconds to splatter blood across the floor.

Reasonings behind his ventures unknown, you haven’t been sitting deep in your chambers akin to the likes of Namjoon; instead, a bow, arrow, and dagger have become your closest companion.

Imagine Jaebum, you shut your eyes and repeat the words, Jaebum is standing right there with his heart aligning with the bullseye—you just need to pin him down.

Eyelids fluttering open, the silhouette of your greatest nemesis stands clearly before the wooden target, just forty meters ahead of you.

Shoot.

The arrow whizzes past your bow, string rebounding by the profound force, and slices the air into two thin halves so precisely that you can practically hear the cuts, until, finally, it smacks dead straight into your target… bullseye.

“What has gotten into you, smiling alone here like that?”

Your moment of sheer satisfaction is as fleeting as always when the sight of Jaebum trotting into the field atop his favored mount of a white horse is spotted.

“Hm? My Lady?” he swiftly unmounts to the ground and strides over to the target to stare at your arrow—just a foot from the gritting of his jaws. Whirling around, he cocks his head and sneers, “it’s just a lucky shot. What’s there to be so excited about?”

As if you could shoot as well as I do—but you keep that to yourself, for the scar left beside your lips from that fateful night serve as a dire reminder of your maverick tendencies.

“What…?” he cinches his brows with a sneer, taking slow, steady strides from the target and toward you, eyes shifting between you and the dirt. “You think your archery exceeds mine? Just like back in the day when father trained us?” His steps finally reach you, his eyes peering down at you just a foot away. “...you think you can take me down with your own hands?”

“...I was just practicing to prepare if any crisis was to occur.”

“You know what?” Jaebum takes a step back, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger until your hardened gaze meets his own amused one. “I am rather impressed by your diligence, your skills. It really is the least you could do as my future Queen.”

“Royalty does not run in my blood,” you say through gritted teeth, “so I am afraid I can not wed to you, my Lord.”

The Prince’s chuckles intermix with his scoffs, eyes averting to the side before returning to you, “you know I love it when you defy me like that.”

Gulp, your heart races to such a profound pace that you can barely keep up with your heaving breaths, especially when he leans in dangerously close—lips just grazing yours…

...and before you could stop yourself, you find yourself hastily taking several steps back and a rush of panic overtakes your state of mind.

“You…” Jaebum scoffs in disbelief, mouth gaping into a grin etched by a newfound challenge. He strides forward to replace the steps taken back, but you find yourself scrambling toward the castle wall behind you. “You really took me seriously, didn’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry,” your breaths come out in loud huffs—one, interrupted by Jaebum’s aloft hand and a hard smack to your cheeks which sting amidst the warm evening air. Yelping, you nibble on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from whimpering in terror, “I am sorry, Jae—”

“—and now you call me by my name,” Jaebum’s snickers are cut short and replaced by a low mutter when his eyes lower to find you subconsciously gripping onto your bow and quiver. “You dare raise your weapon before a Prince?”

The fury sparks into wildfire and you can see it in his hardened, empty gaze just how serious things have taken for a turn. It’s either fight back and die an inevitable death by thousands of guards or endure just one more hardship before begging for your life.

Neither the warrior nor dreamer within you holds an adequate, prompt answer, for the shuffling of hasty footsteps across the castle halls and into the dirt of the field distract you from doing so.

“Jaebum.”

Namjoon’s voice resonates beside you for the first time since what has now been written down in history as The  Cursed Trial; oddly enough, it’s also one of the rare moments you’ve witnessed him openly interrupting the Prince whom he so fears.

“What. do. you. want?” Jaebum groans, threatening eyes flinching when they avert to find the taller, broader stature of a man looming before him—a moment of cowardice you’ve come to notice from the first day Jaebum realized his illegitimate brother was more equipped for battle than him. Nevertheless, he masks it with a spit to the ground. “And it’s ‘my Lord.’ Fix it before you lose a tongue.”

“I have urgent information to deliver, my Lord,” Namjoon calmly corrects himself. “It’s confidential, my Lord, so may we further discuss this inside?”

“You better swear it’s dire or I will have your tongue cut off,” his eyes shut for a hot second before fluttering open with smothered flames. Throwing death glares between you and Namjoon, Jaebum finally sighs and retracts himself from you and the wall. “Today marks an important day in history for Nordendall, I mustn't dirty myself with such trifling matters.”

“What exactly do you mean…” you frown, quickly adding, “my Lord?”

“Gather in the courtroom at the strike of dusk,” the Prince’s cloak suspends in the air as he turns his back on you and heads into the castle, hunting boots clicking along the stone floor. With his last stern words, he disappears. “Don’t be late.”

Thereby, leaving you and Namjoon alone in the fields where you had once trained together in the nostalgic memories of the past float about.

The stagnant silence evokes a couple of shuffles in place from you.

“...do you really have something important to deliver?” you hesitantly ask, eyes trailing along the dirt, his leather brown boots, and up his black trousers and tunic to find Namjoon’s gaze which meets yours.

“...no, I do not. It was an excuse,” he lowly utters—an excuse for what, he leaves out in consideration for your mental state.

“Thank you,” you mumble under your breath, “for saving me.”

Your childhood friend chuckles, “I only helped you, not saved. You’re strong enough to save yourself and both you and I know that.” Lifting his gaze, he peers straight into you with benevolence pooled in his warm eyes beneath stray strands of chocolate locks. “Your safety is my utmost priority.”

Gulp—why do you feel the flutters in your stomach that you do?

“W-What are you going to do, then…?” you find yourself glancing warily over your shoulder at the dungeon of pitch black where the Prince had left. “Jaebum might be in a better mood than usual today, but I don’t think he’s willing to give second chances just yet.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he finally coos after kicking a few rocks buried in the dirt in silence with his eyes glued to the floor.

A chortle leaves your lips at his actions resembling the kid you’ve always known.

“Don’t you always?”

A dreadful, lengthy silence ensues, because to your surprise, the frown deeply etched into his forehead and lips tell you whatever Jaebum has in store for the evening has even Namjoon distressed.

“Well, the Prince has to heed his own advisor’s advice, correct?”

Namjoon’s theory, however, concludes for the worst.

“But, my Lord,” Namjoon beckons desperately, taking a step forward toward the throne up the steps but never more, “it would be to irrational for us to invade outside kingdoms—reckless, really, the kingdoms are much more prepared and supplied—”

“—you dare question my abilities, Lord Kim?”

“No—I-I am simply stating Kingdom Nordendall is facing a crisis at this very moment. We lack supplies, medical chiefs, weapons, food, water, the list goes on, my Lord, I would strongly advise against waging wars with our neighbors.”

The room falls silent enough for one another to overhear the other’s breaths from across the room. It’s as if everyone is waiting, begging for the Prince to withdraw his avaricious ventures.

“You have to consider your people, my Lord,” the words slip before you could stop yourself and Namjoon shoots a scornful glare at you, but, like you always do, you proceed, “your people are dying like fleas out there because they lack the medical help they need. The aqueducts are infested with pests Nordendall has never learned to deal with before. Water and food, both necessities for each and every one of our lives, are spoilt beyond recognition. Take a look at your own people before you conquer others—”

“—silence!” the Prince’s voice booms across the vacant chamber. “Do you not remember the last time you intervened with my plans, Lady Y/L/N? And where did that get us? This curse is your fault and your fault alone!”

“My Lord,” Namjoon steps in cautiously, darting a death glare at you, “I assure you Lady Y/L/N meant nothing more than good—”

“—I will not hear another word from the both of you,” Jaebum spits, finger pointing accusingly at you two in opposing sides of the room. Jaw gritting and fists clenching, you can tell it takes every ounce of willpower in him not to budge an inch from his throne—and for whatever reason, you’re unsure of. “I am tired of seeing you sick fools backing each other up only for us to fall into the doom the kingdom now faces. I’ve given countless pardons, but heed my words when I warn you: if you speak out against me one more time,” he casts threatening stares between you two and you notice Namjoon’s fallen gaze, “I will have you nailed to and burnt at the stake alive to join the wretched witches’ ashes. You hear me?”

“Yes,” Namjoon lowers his head and takes a step back, “my Lord.”

Jaebum’s attention diverges toward your direction, “and you?”

Nails digging into the palm of your fist, you bite your tongue from spilling further trouble and force yourself to bow in surrender.

The cries of the mother and her child still reverberate in your ears to the point of deaf, but perhaps deaf would be a merciful end to the sleepless nights you now suffer in a castle above thousands of corpses.

“Yes,” you mutter, “my Lord.”

The entire room watches the ordeal, evidently too petrified to speak on your behalf. Truthfully, it isn’t a scene unfamiliar to you nor the advisor.

“Good,” the Prince crosses his legs and reclines into his golden throne, “then we will set sail for the Black Sea in a week’s time. Court is dismissed.”

And it’s as if time is spun into a spur, for the silhouettes of sheepish men and meek women with their heads low and lips sewed shut all become a blur as they cross paths with you to retire to their chambers, but all the while, when your eyes meet his and your concerns intermingle with the man across the room, the both of you know the upcoming days will be a time dragged of dread, repent, and opportunities for a coup d’etat.

Long were the nights when liquor sank in your buds so sweet yet so bitter like the river of the late dusk flooding through open windows in his chamber—struck, by moonlust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” the man befriended since childhood asks, frowning with a suppressed, bashful grin from across the small wooden desk.

A chuckle descends from your lips like the puff of breath making its mark in the cold night air, “like what?”

“Like… like I’m the most interesting to look at; the moon is over there, you know,” his hands lift to cover the cracked smile of his paired with the pair of circular indentations on his cheeks. Eyes dropping from your intent, rather amused gaze, Namjoon casts a newfound attention to said celestial figure on your right, out the window propped to the side where the incoming spring breeze brushes through his brown locks and yours. Finally, he mumbles sheepishly, “so… stop staring at me like that.”

But even so, the warning entails for little caution as your eyes proceed with the investigation, knowing fully well just how burnt his cheeks must be; because, quite frankly, you just can’t help it.

The boy you had first met and laid eyes upon after walking through the intimidating gates of the castle, hidden behind the protective skirts of your mother only to peek at the welcoming albeit curious mien of an equally outland boy several feet behind the King and Prince, the boy has matured leaps and bounds from such times. Now, he holds his head just an inch higher than the disdained child you had once known; his shoulders are broader, his arms are firmer, and his intellect has expanded far wider than any noble in the kingdom. His skin, both and tan and silky akin to that of honey, glows flawlessly under the illumination of the moonlight, picking up every glimmer of his skin rich in stardust.

Wiser than ever, his weaknesses still remain the same. Cowardly, surely reasoned with occasional rationality, but as Jaebum’s father liked to say, you fit Namjoon just perfectly. Irrational yet brave, cowardly yet wise, he had always been the water to tame your fire. Tonight, however, with the cries of his people in the distance, the curse of the witches whispering in his ears, and the doomed future of his kingdom soon to come by the hands of his own, flames within his eyes roar throughout the silence of the night.  

The man, no longer a boy, has yet again inevitably and irrevocably enraptured you through and through.

The tingles of your hair grazing across your collarbones paired with the odd flutters that come with the melodies of your friend’s raspy yet childlike low giggles allows an epiphany to dawn upon you: with danger comes the realization of inner wants, and in your case, comes the bloom of a long awaited romance.

“What?” you repeat, cackling. “I’m just… in shock over how much has changed. It’s hard not to reminisce over the days when we were still prancing around in the fields, when I beat you every day in training…”

“Alright,” Namjoon chuckles before shooting a knowing look at you, “but how about all those history exams you failed and I passed?”

“I came in second though,” you coo, head held high.

“Right,” he shakes his head, gaze shifting to the wooden top of his chamber’s desk as he downs another shot of golden liquor, “Jaebum never really cared for the history of this kingdom, but look at him now… changing history with a single wag of his finger. Ridiculous, really.”

Silence befalls your lips when you notice the distress in his frown.

Sighing, you lean in to grab another drink of your own to further bury the panging guilt of impending disaster. “It’s been nearly a year since I last visited your chamber for a late night drink like this. I’ve missed it,” you confess, taking a sip as your eyes flicker to find his own gaze glued to the forest beyond his window, “but as much as I would love to cherish moments like these, you and I both know what I’m here for and what you’ve invited me in for. The people of Nordendall and I, the whole castle, are waiting for your solution as the King’s advisor—”

“I’ve failed, Y/N. I’ve failed already,” Namjoon shakes his head, gaze hardening, “I don’t deserve that title anymore. You have to create a solution now.”

“No, Joon,” you furrow your brows in disbelief, “you have the experience, the intellect, the brain to save us and get us out of this mess. I can’t do it. No one would listen to an outsider like me, especially without my mother.”

“...and no one would listen to a bastard like me.”

“You are the King’s son, Joon. His blood flows in you,” you nibble on your bottom lip to prevent your frustration from lashing out, especially as he refuses to look you in the eye, “you know what? Condemn me to Hell if the Gods so wish, but if having a monster like Jaebum rule our people is what’s divine, what’s right, then I would do everything in my power to change that. Who cares if you’re the rightful heir to the throne? Only the person nominated by the people deserve a spot on the throne, and you have my vote.”

“You’re a sweetheart, Y/N, truly, from childhood to now, you’ve been my closest friend and companion in this damned home of mine,” Namjoon heaves a sigh as his gaze wanders to his surroundings, glazing across the stone pavings of his chamber hidden deep within the castle. “But it absolutely breaks me to say there isn’t a bone in me with a clue on what to do next. Jaebum won’t listen, regardless of how many times I advise him against his reckless actions… it’s as if he’s treating the curse as a challenge against his authority. The people are too weak and terrified to oppose the Prince.”

“The possibility of an overthrow isn’t completely out the window,” you frown and Namjoon immediately hushes you before you lower your voice to a near whisper, “if I’m not wrong, Nordendall has undergone a coup d’etat centuries ago, even in times of distress like ours.”

“But they had a unified cause, a leader to guide them, Y/N,” his hands tangle to meet his upper lip as he leans into the table, “and they don’t have a leader.”

“Did you ignore everything I just said? You can be a leader, Joon.”

“In that case, then, you, too, can be a leader; but do you consider yourself a leader?”

You? A leader? It isn’t something you directly opposed of before, you’ve even accepted it as your fate in times when your irrationality peaked, but leading a coup d’etat meant more responsibility than ever. Overthrowing the Prince, the rightful King, would be treason, and sentencing thousands of lives under your possibly incompetent guidance is more than anyone can bear upon their shoulders.

“Even if a miracle happens and I, a bastard, somehow becomes that leader,” Namjoon breaks the silence, speaking under his breath to avoid possible spies of Jaebum’s lurking throughout the castle, “there still lacks a cause and I can’t figure a similar motive to rile the people without further endangering their lives unnecessarily.”

Voice meek and spirits in shatters, you can tell the burden of guilt will be the cause of his death, if it not be Jaebum; and as pressing as the state of matters is, the discussion has come to a dead end. Left with little to work on and a pair of hopeless souls belonging to two outsiders of Nordendall, your heart begins searching for aids to repair the man beholding your greatest hopes.

“Well, no more of this matter,” you carefully scoot your chair back with a sigh, “I’ll figure something out tomorrow night, and if not, then the next.”

“And if not, then?” Namjoon arches a brow as you stand.

“Then the next,” you press a soft smile, “I’ll keep trudging along until the very last second. Isn’t that how I always survived the King’s exams as a little girl alongside two boys?”

“You're right,” he chuckles at the nostalgic recollection, gaze flickering for a second to the table before peering up at you with softened eyes and lips stripped of bliss. “Leaving so soon?”

“Well,” the dewy look of those unchanged wide, circular eyes of his elicit a hushed laugh from you as your trek drags the hems of your lengthy gown across the cold floor to meet the winds of the world, your world, floors beneath you, “I suppose I can spare some time for a pup like you.”

Even from the windowside where moonlight floods through to cast shadows upon the floor beside his bed, the muffled chortles of what you can clearly imagine to come from the suppressed grin of his hiding behind those broad rough hands of his garners a smile of your own. His weary gaze holds your own for a hot minute, the silence in the air running stagnant as you find the toxins in your blood pulling you in and out of conscience and the haze in your eyes worsening by the second.

Finally, shuffling to his feet, you begin to admire those elegant, long strides of his, enabled by incessant growth spurts throughout the years, gliding across the floor with ease; enraptured by his every movement, your mind fails to register his presence before you. Chest just an inch from yours, Namjoon bends the knee to wrap his firm arms beneath your knees and back, swiftly lifting you off the floor along with a gasp of your lungs and the sway of the wind before gently returning you to the force of gravity, resting upon the sill of the castle walls popped of stones to craft a tunnel for cool breeze or an alternate view of the world beyond the chambers.

A classic architectural design requested by a man like Namjoon.

One foot hanging on each side of the sill, one outside the castle walls looming above the seemingly miniscule fields below and the other inside the castle walls just a foot above the floor of Namjoon’s room, the chilly winds on your right half of the body sooth the growing heat of the liquor coursing through your veins.

“It doesn’t matter how many times I remind you to be careful around Jaebum, huh?” Namjoon presses a reluctant curve of the lips before uncapping a palm-sized wooden capsule and swiping a familiar mint gel from within and onto his ring finger to gently dab onto your cheeks. If it weren’t for the stings of heat upon the surface of your skin with each touch of his warm fingertips against your chilled cheeks, you would have long forgotten the slam of Jaebum’s hand across your face just earlier this evening in the training fields. Wide, circular eyes focused on the imprints of Jaebum’s hand on your cheeks, Namjoon fails to notice your watchful gaze. “What are we supposed to do with that temper of yours, hm?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” you defend yourself with a frown, gaze wavering when Namjoon’s flickers to meet yours momentarily. “I-I was just practicing. He approached me—”

“—approached?” the boy inquires, freezing in place but eyes too riddled with guilt to meet yours; and for a split second, the fury buried deep in his orbs take you by surprise. Gulping, you nod, and a few seconds of silence passes until he mutters underneath his breath, “...do you want me to warn him from doing so again?”

“Warn him?” you scoff, but the gravity of his earnest stare casting upon yours hushes you to a nervous chuckle. “You can’t warn the Prince anything; even as his advisor, he still won’t listen.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

Turning your head from the forest beyond the castle, you find his gaze settled on you—unwavering.

“I mean it when I say I don’t ever want another man nor woman to lay a single finger on you again.”

His coos echo along the waves of breeze, sending tingles down your spine as stray locks of hair graze across your cheeks which now frosts from the effects of the ointment. The intent gaze of his strips you bare of the walls you had so deliberately constructed for survival, as if peering into the windows of your soul and there isn’t a thing you can do to look away.

“...it’s fine. I need you alive if I were to ever need need a drinking partner again,” you mumble, quickly switching topics. “How did you know to use this…? The ointment, I mean, and how did you get it?”

“As the King’s advisor, my knowledge spans across all sorts of fields that might aid the King in his irrational conquests,” he sets aside the medicine between you and him on the sill and finally lifts his line of sight to meet yours with a grin. “Plus, your mother taught me a thing or two back in the day and that includes acquiring the materials I needed to form—not get—my own medicine. She wanted me to help you in case you ever forgot her life lessons, not that you needed my help nor—God forbid—Jaebum’s, of course.”

“Oh,” a bittersweet wave of nostalgia courses through you at the thought of your mother, and you can’t help but smile, “I can’t believe she thought I would forget her lessons.”

A silence of understated acknowledgement fills the thin air, the both of you exchanging snuck glances struck by failure when the other mirrored the gesture followed by a fit of bashful laughter.

There must be something about the moon, the dusk air, or perhaps the alcohol in your system, for the spark when you lock eyes with your childhood friend is the closest you would ever come to magic… and it’s all too enchanting.

“I apologize if I’m oversharing, but, you know,” Namjoon muses, gaze never leaving yours, “you, sitting there under the moonlight and looking at me as if no one understood us like we understood each other, the memories I had tried to bury of my first love all come flooding to me.”

“Oh?” your brow arches inquisitively. “When did this happen and how was I not aware?”

Your friend chuckles at the sudden piqued interest, head lowering along with his cheeky smile paired by the circular indents of his cheeks. “You weren’t aware because it happened when the entire kingdom—no, when you, her only beloved child—were mourning for your mother’s death. I was in shock, really. Your mother treated me like her own son, and I never knew how that felt because not even my father looked at me like he looked at Jaebum. Your mother was the closest thing I felt to being me, to being someone else other than the Bastard of Nordendall.”

“I’m…” the words fail to come to you, instead, you reach for the warmth of his hands by the sill. “I’m sorry. I should have paid closer attention.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. You lost your mother, Y/N,” he softly laughs at the absurdity of your worries. “It’s funny, really, because the only person who noticed happened to be Jaebum.”

“Jaebum? He noticed and understood how you were feeling? I’m sorry but I’m finding that hard to believe.”

“Precisely what I thought,” Namjoon chortles, pausing as he nibbles on his bottom lip to muster the courage to proceed. “But… he introduced me to a girl one night, someone seas away from Nordendall, claiming I needed… ‘services’... to distract me from all the pain.”

The change in atmosphere makes you shuffle in your seat in discomfort; because when he mentions ‘services,’ you have a feeling you know exactly where Jaebum had found the girl in the first place: a brothel.

Is this a side of Namjoon you really want to know? Could he not stay the innocent boy you knew and loved? The answer is clear to you, for neither of you had retained the purity of childhood. Long shed and left behind, innocence comes to you with difficulty.

“...and it did help, immensely. And I’m so ridden with guilt for forgetting your mother so quickly, but Jaebum was right. It did help, even if it worsened my condition shortly after,” his voice cracks and he shakes his head in denial. “After that magical night, I invited her to my chambers and we made love—no, it wasn’t even love—I was head over heels in lust.” Namjoon’s breath quivers and you can see the wavers in the puffs of gray which cascade from his lips. “I thought it was love, I thought it was real, I thought she loved me… but she didn’t.”

His rush of words come to an abrupt halt; brows cinching as you frown, your hand squeezes his in reminder that his story would be heard whenever he wanted it to be heard.

“Turns out,” he takes a deep breath and nods in acknowledgement and gratitude of your gesture before returning his own squeeze of the hand, “Jaebum had instructed her to accept my advances all along. Actually…”

Gradually, his head turns to peer down at the ground far beneath from the window.

“...he ordered her to murder me with her own two hands, and she did, she tried,” he gulps, “by this window right here.”

Eyes widening from his newfound history, your eyes hesitantly follow his own line of sight, trailing down his gray tunic, across the window sill, and miles along the castle walls until, finally, plopping onto the ground where blood must have splattered from whomever drops from such heights.

“It was another night I thought would be just as memorable as the previous, and it was… just not in the way I had hoped. I was in the midst of discarding my clothing when she—” he intakes a sharp breath of air “—tried to push me out this window. I tried to stop her, to reason with her and ask her why she was doing this, but she kept thrashing around.”

“That’s…” you struggle, shaking your head, “unbelievable. What happened to her, then?”

It takes him a second to answer.

“She slipped and plummeted to the earth herself,” Namjoon utters, teeth gritting and jaws clenching in the painful remembrance. “I didn’t kill her, but Jaebum mocked me so for years after, and to be honest, it sure feels like I did.”

You can hear her screams in the depth of his eyes.

You can practically see her; arms flailing, mouth gaping and screaming, throat gasping, locks of long black hair succumbing to the force of the free-fall, and body collapsing against the cold field below where crimson blood stains the golden wheat in pools of tragedy—eyes dilated with white and incomprehensible mutters escaping her twitching body.

The alcohol in your system blurs your vision all the more.

“I hated her for a few months, a part of me still does,” his words drag along like travelers lost on a year-long trek, “but I think the fact that I still thought of her every night for a year only added to the fuel.”

“Is… that why you were so afraid to disobey Jaebum?”

No answer; but the avoidance of his eyes from your intent gaze is enough of one.

“That’s absolutely horrendous, Joon. I’m so sorry,” you scoot forward to wrap your arms securely around him and pull him into a warm embrace, “I should’ve paid more attention. I’m sorry.”

Namjoon shakes his head in the crook of your shoulder and mumbles, despite being muffled by the surface of your skin, “I should be the one who’s sorry. I won’t ever stop being sorry. I forgot your mother because of some silly fling. She won’t ever forgive me—”

“—shh, Joon,” you hush, stroking through his dry, rough locks and placing a chaste kiss to his temple to soften his cries, “she would forgive you. I know my mother better than anyone and I know she would.”

Face hidden in your shoulder, you can’t exactly see the smile but you most certainly can feel the laughs of disbelief rumbling from his chest to yours.

And after a long minute of silence, he finally breaks—

“I don’t ever want to lose you like I lost her.”

—and something in your stomach is left in flutters.

“Are you saying I’m your first love?” you feign a scoff, despite the cheeky grin spreading across your lips. “Or do you dare to imply I’m just her replacement?”

“No, how could you ever think that?” Namjoon places his hands on both your shoulders to push away, frowning, “I mean, how could you ever think you're just a replacement, not the former question. You're not her. You didn't use me. And you certainly didn't try to kill me.”

“...yet.”

“Yes, yet,” he chortles at your remark until silence befalls him and the waver in his gaze settles into resilience. He speaks with newfound confidence. “I grew up with you, Y/N. Nordendall became our home, it is our home. I don't ever want to lose anyone by the hands of Jaebum again. I love Nordendall and I will save my kingdom somehow.”

Namjoon pauses, hands slipping to clutch yours, engulfing you in warmth.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Ah, is this the resolution you've been waiting for all this time?

“Okay,” you say, lips pressing into a lopsided grin in an attempt to suppress the euphoria bubbling within you as you lay your head onto his chest and his heart begins to beat with yours. “And I love you, too, Joon. Let's save Nordendall together.”

If it weren't for Namjoon’s arms protectively wrapping you closer into his chest, your body would have long plunged out the window under the sway of your intoxicated state, but Namjoon wasn't an erred man prone to repeat mistakes.

“How are you not even a bit dazed?”

“Unlike someone, I only drank a shot. I'm a part of the King's Council and a pivotal meeting will be held tomorrow, so I have to drink responsibly,” his low chuckle resonates across your temples. “It's alright. You can lay against me for as long as you need. Now sleep, my love.”

“Have you ever drank with another woman besides me?” you lift your head to meet his gaze which peers down at you.

“Me?” he quirks a brow. “Did you doze off during my story or…? Although I can't say I've met any woman who drinks as much as you. I think father wouldn't call you very ladylike. I don't think you sitting here with your legs spread on the sill before a man is very ladylike either.”

“To hell with a lady's etiquette,” you roll your eyes and return to laying your head against his chest, comfortable and snug.

Namjoon smile softly at the sight of his lady in his warm embrace, stroking your hair in long, rhythmic pats.

“Agreed,” his chuckles travel the dusk’s horizon, “and to hell with a bastard's etiquette.”

Sunrise comes earlier than anticipated; birds chirp on what you predict to be the window sill to your left, your arms and legs stretching out the stress and fatigue embedded within your muscles when, suddenly, a loud yell screeches across the room and the birds scramble into the wind.

“Wake up, Y/N! Wake up!”

The familiar timbre of the voice mumbling sweet nothings into your ear from dusk to dawn jolts you awake.

Body springing upright from the mattress, your heart convulses in sheer terror at the hefty, well statured man charging his way up with an axe raised aloft between his hands. With a heavy huff, the man thrusts his all into the force of the axe as it cuts through the heavy air; to his dismay and your relief, however, the years of training in the fields prove to be a lifesaver when your body instinctively rolls to the side, eye wide and mouth gaping with a yelp just as the axe strikes the mattress, tearing the sheets in half with one swift motion.

“Y/N! Move!” Namjoon instructs before tackling the man from behind. “Grab his axe!”

Chest heaving and oxygen knocked out of your lungs, your legs lurch forward and off the bed as both your arms grab for the wooden handle the perpetrator struggles to hold onto with the weight of a fully grown and much better fed man pulling him back by an elbow hooked to his neck.

What comes next is a power struggle.

Toppled by the momentum of his weight and superior strength, you find yourself swinging him along in a circle, tugging and huffing in the utmost effort to keep yourself from being swept with your feet planted on the ground and your heels pushing forward; judging from his lack of a counteract and his sunken cheeks aside from his brawn lower body, you can tell the man resides from the countryside where children were taught the ways of agriculture rather than war. So in quick thinking, your eyes hastily observe his steps in the game of tug of war.

One step forward, and once you push forward with all your might, he takes two steps back before lunging from the back of his heels to propel his axe forward—repeat.

Once the sequence is etched into your head, it’s almost as if you can predict his next move; for the second his heels reach the ground in preparation to rebound, you swiftly retract your hands from the axe’s handle and dive to the side. Your body tumbles forward from the force, rolling over your right shoulder as you’ve always practiced in drills, but not without interjections from the vibrations of his axe smashing straight into the stone flooring.

With the weapon stuck into the thin cracks of the ground—the man giving it a couple fruitless vigorous tugs—Namjoon springs into action, swinging in a semicircle to add momentum to his proceeding booting to the man’s stomach. The unnamed man crashes to the floor, a wheeze of air intermixing with his grunts.

The entirety of your being freezes on the ground, head looking back over your shoulder at the man, as if to decipher where he had come from and what he had come for, when Namjoon grabs ahold of your hand to yank you onto your feet and scramble toward the door; but before your feet stumbles across the room for Namjoon to slam the wooden plank closed and hastily lock the man inside his own chambers behind you two, his hollars resonates for each and every resident of Nordendall in the castle

“Even if I don’t catch you wicked, entitled royalties, they will. Nordendall will never forget!”

Instinctively, your arms wrap around Namjoon’s. You can hear and feel the racing pulse of your heartbeats, struggling to catch your breath by the sudden intrusion. Eyes wide open, ears intent, and mentally wide awake, you lean in to whisper in hushed tones, “what on bloody hell is happening? Who was he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I woke when I heard people bellowing downstairs just minutes before that man broke into our room,” Namjoon lays a hand upon yours which clutch at his left arm as he guides the both of you, cautiously and quietly, down the halls absent of windows and, thereby, sunlight.

Heart convulsing with each step of yours, the chatters and muffled albeit heavy footsteps crescendo into a blurred chaos as you make your way through the hall akin to slowly uncapping a bottle full of mayhem yet to be heard by the universe. Light begins to shed what little of your sights, finally illuminating the flight of spiral stairs below you from every corner of the castle stained glass…

...and the sight below elicits an audible gasp of horror from you both.

Reasoned by the incessant crowds of those resembling the man from before flooding every inch of the expansive stairs and floors beneath you, wielded with poorly crafted wooden shields and blacksmith hammers to fend off the castle guards, the men and women bellow cries of war, woes of pain, and whimpers of death from those struck by steel lances precisely every two seconds—their cries and the clash of their weapons are all that rings in your ears.

You can hear the opening gape of their wounds as the imported weapons from the best blacksmiths outside the kingdom tears the thin cloths of the people and pierces straight through the delicate pores of their skin, a loud squelch and groan following shortly after. You can see dozens and dozens, soon to be hundreds, dying right before your eyes like fleas by the hands of the royalties you serve.

Chaos has infiltrated every nook and cranny of the castle; and alas, the cursed fate of Nordendall has inevitably arrived.

“It's an ambush,” Namjoon meekly utters under his breath, but neither of you dare to remove your sights from the Hell on Earth below. “Word of Jaebum’s plans must have gotten out.”

Speaking of the devil, the tyrant himself stands all too boldly in all black and gold. Perhaps it's his open stature which attracts perpetrators toward him like magnets, or perhaps it's the lavish attire of his which spells their target of a royalty, yet neither are enough to spare the lives of those within his vicinity. Like the tragedy of uncontrolled plagues, the people collapse to the floor in cries of agony with slashes across their chest and blood streaming down the stairs along with the drips of their flesh along the blades of the Prince's sword. Marching up the flight of steps toward you and Namjoon, lips cracked into a crooked smile and eyes glimmered with amusement of a game brought indoors, it's as if flames circled the monster and those within his radius succumbed to mother nature's fight for the fittest.

“Jaebum—”

“—a minute, my dove,” the tyrant muses, turning to swiftly swipe his blades across the neck of an elderly attacking from behind before whirling around to return his attention to you. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me—”

“—what in bloody hell are you doing? And who are they? Why don't you capture them or hold them hostage until we find a better way to sort this out?!” you scream with every ounce in you, throat sore and lungs collapsed, yet you're nearly drowned by the chaos ensuing in the background.

“Oh, my sweet dove,” Jaebum laughs a mocking one, “you don't know your own people? What kind of Queen would you be if you can't even recognize the people of Nordendall.”

“P–People of Nordendall?”

When you look over your shoulder to find Namjoon's hardened gaze too scared to look you in the eye, your heart drops.

“Why are they here…?” you clear your throat as the rush of fury crashes through your scrambled mind. “Why are you killing our own people as if they're flies?! Stop this stupidity right now!”

“It's either kill or be killed, my Lady,” the Prince shrugs with a smirk. “You cowards pick one before they chop your heads off and hang it out for the whole kingdom to see.”

“I…” proper words fail you at this very moment.

“Did you not close the gates? Surround them? Strip them of weapons?” you can feel the heat exuding from Namjoon’s remarks made through gritted teeth. “There are plenty of tactics you could have used to avoid hundred of deaths!”

“Oops, as you can tell my dear advisor, it's too late to try and reason things out now. Makes for a fun day out in the field, does it not?” the tyrant bursts into a fit of laughter, but never failing to notice the widening of your eyes when another man sneaks his way up the stairs before charging at Jaebum only to run into the unsheathed blades placed strategically backwards. Grasping the golden handle and pulling out the familiar favorite hunting equipment of his, Jaebum sheaths his bloodied sword without a single glance back at his victim who collapses onto the floor, cold. “That makes my count seventy,” the wild man cackles, eyes flickering toward you, “so, what will it be?”

“I am not killing my own people,” Namjoon firmly proclaims, grabbing your quivering hands in his own warm trembling ones and whirling around to turn your back on the bloodfest and storm your way up the spiral of stairs and deeper into the castle.

The last thing you see in the midst of a distressed glance over your shoulder send at your people is the grotesque smirk of the Prince’s face half casted by the divine sun and half casted by its shadows, crooked and amused, as if mocking you for the answer you chose yet he already knew.

“Joon, we have to save them,” you beg but the advisor shakes he head firmly.

“No, Jaebum’s right. We can't do anything to reason with them now. Too many lives have been lost. Their drive is stronger than ever, and us jumping in would only add fuel to the fire,” Namjoon squeezes your hand, eyes and head forward to check the coast as you alternate between peering up at his broad shoulders and peering down at the vastly vacant, endless flight of stairs behind you descending into the light of hell. “We’ll be the ones crying for help if we joined, especially if we don't want to harm…”

“Joon…?” arching a brow at the trailing of his voice, you turn your line of sight around until your eyes meet the very reasons behind his unsettling silence straight ahead.

“...anyone.”

Steps above, a rather lanky man unbefitting of battle looms before you with shaking hands wielding a bronze shield and iron dagger along with buckling knees.

“Careful, boy,” Namjoon warns, cautiously stepping forward with an arm to hold you back and another to distant his heart from the only blade in sight. “We don't want to fight. We just want to help, I swear. Put down your weapon—”

“T-This is for my mama and papa,” the boy stammers, waving the dagger loosely before him as if to prove his threat. “Today, I die for Nordendall!”

And before you could interject vocally, the boy charges toward you two down the stairs at full speed.

Unarmed, Namjoon stands there bewildered but before you protectively, nonetheless; but unlike him, you've spent your entire life out in the training fields as he was forced to bury his nose in books. Instinctively, your hand yanks him backwards, never-minding his loud yelp of a “whoa” followed by clumsy footsteps tumbling down the steps behind you, and your body immediately ducks to your left to avoid the short range of the right-handed boy striking to your right. Next comes his left arm, your eyes darting to your next target that is his left elbow, for before he can even lift his dagger with his right, your leg swings to elicit a painful snap and crack of his outer socket now possibly bent 190 degrees.

Shrieking in pain, his grip loosens and you swiftly grab the shield from him to defend yourself from the blade he strikes from his right next. Like every young adult facing their first battle, the boy descends into panic mode. He thrashes incessantly and hopelessly at you until, alas, you lower the shield for a split second, its bottom grazing the ground, before propelling its upper edge against the tip of his dagger just as he strikes down, sending the weapon flying in the air and out of his inferior grip.

The dagger’s twirls in the suspended air high above the both of you rings in your ear only to land comfortably in the rightful beholder’s hands.

“I promise I won't hurt you,” the words come with wariness as every glimpse of hope dissipates from the boy's very being. He nearly collapses to the floor when you take a cautious step forward. “There are hundreds of soldiers much less merciful than I. This is no place for anyone, much less a boy. I strongly advise you to flee before anyone finds you here.”

The boy gulps, eyes widened and petrified, and nods in choppy motions.

“Okay,” you manage to say under your heaving breaths, glancing around for your next move, completely at loss.

Namjoon steps in with a squeeze of your left shoulder to convey a job well done. “How did you enter here, boy? Show me the way.”

Shuffling to his feet, the boy hastily ushers you down the hall and to the side on the left where a rope dangled from a hook on the window frame and out until the opposing end touched the floor.

“Tsk, either Jaebum set this up himself or he ordered someone else to do the work for him. This is all a game between the privileged and the handicapped for him,” Namjoon scoffs in disbelief before digging his hands into his pockets. Dropping tinkling coins into the boy’s pocket, he gently pushes the boy forward. “Run, boy, and make haste. Find a doctor and use the spare change to get your elbow fixed.”

A pang of guilt stings your chest.

“I'm sorry,” you blurt as the boy struggles to climb down with only one completely working arm. “Please take care of yourself and your mother and father. I swear on the God's here and above that I will do everything in my power to save Nordendall.”

Heart spilled, his blunt response paired with an equivocal blank look of his baffles you for nights to come.

“But mama said there are no Gods.”

“What…?” your brows cinch in remembrance of the mother and daughter sworn to witchery. “Do our people truly believe that—”

“ —Y/N, we have to go,” Namjoon presses, gripping onto your hand and whirling you around to hastily trek through the halls and up the stairs once again. In one last attempt to bid the boy luck, you whip your head around only to find an empty window where the fast approaching dusk blows through in scorching breezes.

“Joon, that's Jaebum’s room,” you frown as his hands fumble with the doorknob until it plops open under his surprising skills in picklock. “We can't enter. If he finds out, we're dead—”

“—we have no choice,” Namjoon deadpans, eyes hardening at you as the both of you nod in acknowledgment and swiftly hustle through the small slit of the doorway before slamming it closed behind you two and letting out a loud sigh. Namjoon immediately begins pacing as he heads for the window beside the Prince’s lavish golden bed frame and sheets. “This is the safest and hardest chamber to find. We won't have to fight anyone here. We'll stay here until I find some plan to get us, all of us, including Nordendall, out of this mess.”

Despite the constant reassurance Namjoon attempts to provide you both, something about the weary void in your pairs of eyes tell you the night is still young and the impending war is just the brim of the brewing waters. This is just the calm before the storm.

As for you, however, worries plague you in fields differing from the King's advisor.

Because, somehow along the way in a fracture of time you never knew could exist, you had forgotten the faces of your own people of Nordendall—and that very thought corrupts your very force of identity.

Dusk comes much later than expected. Hours and hours passed by as you curled into a ball and Namjoon sat by the window on the lookout, but nothing you two did—rocking on your heels or digging nails into your palms—were capable of drowning the incessant cries of those in warfare; and yet, neither of you dared to cover your ears or sleep the day away, because those were the cries of your people and your kingdom, not turning a blind eye to the long awaited chaos below is the least you could do in respect of lost lives.

Sun sets alas, the shrieks of the fallen dwindling along with the glory of day and you can finally hear and feel your own breath without trembling in panic. Chirps of the survivors, crickets and birds alike, now replace the silence traveling throughout the castle, as if tragedy was a term foreign to the young night.

“Joon…?” you finally utter after staring at the full moon looming out the window and over the sky, time passing by for God knows how many hours. “Did you recognize them? Our people,” your voice cracks, “I mean.”

And when he turns around, moon casting light upon the stoic look on his honey tan skin, and reluctantly nods, you find yourself crestfallen.

“So, it’s just me,” the words come out in chokes, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as you suppress any impending tears. “I just thought… I didn’t even consider it… I didn’t ever think that our own people would attack us, I didn’t think it was possible, so I didn’t even look them properly in the eye—” you pause “—did I ever look them in the eye? I’m the biggest hypocrite there is for accusing you of neglecting your people when I’ve been neglecting them myself. You’re right, I’m not a hero, a warrior, I just dream—”

“—Y/N, stop it. You’ve always looked out for Nordendall,” Namjoon firmly assures you, eyes peering down at yours which stay glued to the ground. “It was just a spur of the moment. I was trained my whole life as the advisor to prepare for moments like these. The people were hungry, they were desperate, and the Prince refused to do anything, to even show his face in town. It wasn’t a question of if this would happen but when it would happen; for you, someone who has always risked her own life for her people, however, I can’t fathom how shocked you must be.”

“...I still should have known.”

“I was completely unprepared despite being an advisor, so I guess that makes us two; two cowards hiding high above the castle and away from our own people… what kind of royals are we?” Namjoon scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You take a quick breath but fail to formulate a response when he continues to spill his concerns, his heart, his everything for the first time.

“Jaebum ordered for the castle to be entirely cleaned, for the corpses to be burnt before the people. He’s out there with his men,  piling the dead across the land like some sort of exotic explosives. All evidence of today’s tragedy has been washed and will soon be wiped from our minds, like always. Zero survivors, Y/N, zero,” his fists clench until they turn white.

The boy takes a deep breath and sighs, turning his back on you to peer out the window and up at the moon. “I’m sick and tired of the useless bloodshed. I’ve realized after this entire riot, Nordendall will surely fall under my brother’s hands, and I haven’t saved a single life while staying by his side. I have to do something different no matter what.”

“Different...?” your brows cinch in confusion, stumbling from sore knees when you stand to your feet. Slowly, you approach him from across the room, but he remains distant. “What exactly do you mean…?”

“Y/N, I plan to flee this castle and rally as many people as I can to fight against Jaebum’s army,” Namjoon affirms, never flinching a single inch when you reach his side with an evident frown plastered across your features. “I have to. I have to save our kingdom.”

“Rally...? Are you serious, Joon?” you struggle to speak over the deafening pounds of your heart. “Half of Nordendall died today. I don’t know how many are capable of fighting if they’re even willing to fight. Why don’t you bring some of Jaebum’s soldiers? I’m sure some disagree with his—”

“—I can’t be so sure who to trust. The only person I fully trust in this castle is you, Y/N. This is our best bet. This is the highest Nordendall’s population will ever be if we don’t do anything to stop his reign. Right when Jaebum and his men return to the castle, that’s the safest time for me to escape. My absence will delay his plans to invade outside kingdoms, and within that time, I’ll garner as many men, women, anyone willing to fight for a common cause as I can,” the words flow in clutters as his mind scrambles for any possible piece of the puzzle, “I’ll teach them how to properly craft weapons, how to attack and when to attack in battle, I’ll teach them everything I can, as fast as I can—”

“—no, Joon,” you hush him gently, reaching for his cold hands to squeeze in the warmth of yours; inquisitively, he turns to face you with an arched brow to meet your pressed grin. “I’ll teach them all of that. You rally the people under your title as the rightful King, and I’ll help you with the aftermath.”

“What?” he furrows his brows and profusely shakes his head. “No, I can’t make you fight a near lost cause. You have to at least stay here and try to rationalize with the Prince.”

“Joon, I’m far more skilled in battle than you, remember?” you chortle and lightly tug at his hands. “And you want me to stay with Jaebum, really? I’m better off with you in any circumstance than with him. C’mon, this is our battle, this is Nordendall’s battle. Let me fight with you.”

After a stagnant silence filled with tension and contemplation, the man finally nods in defeat.

“Okay, you’re right. I can’t win a battle without you by my side,” Namjoon utters, eyes trailing up the ground and along the tatters of what used to resemble your gown, edges visibly softening when he finds your reassuring gaze as he leans in to place a prolonged kiss between your brows. Forehead leaning against yours and gaze peering into the other just inches away, the man tucks a stray lock of hair behind your right ear before exhaling a shaky breath. “Let’s move to your chambers and scale down the walls at dawn when they return, alright?”

“Alright,” you breathe and reach for his cold, trembling hands which cup your cheeks. “...are you scared, Joon?”

The King’s advisor takes a moment to consider his answer.

Does he tell you the truth? Or does he conceal the fear plastered across his every feature in an fruitless attempt to prevent his own emotions from plaguing you?

And until he speaks his mind, you wait with bated breath.

“...petrified. I’m so stricken with terror that even you can tell, huh?” Namjoon chortles under his breath. “What if they don’t see me as a leader, not to mention someone fit to rule when all I’ve been doing is hide behind my title? I’m a bastard, Y/N, but even when given the chance to rise, I tremble like a child unbefitting to lead. What kind of a man, am I?”

“Oh, Joon,” your hands gently retract his from your cheeks as you swiftly lean in to graze your lips across his own plush, quivering ones, the warmth of your touch visibly soothing the tension in his body. 

The power and effect of which your every move has on the man before you sends electricity bolting throughout your system and adrenaline rushing through your veins. Suddenly, the weariness of years and years of labor and distress begins to fade when excitement replaces the constriction of something deep within your stomach; and it takes everything in you not to grin. 

“They will listen to you. They have no choice. You’re their last hope. I will make them listen to my man, because my man is more of one than any other coward who turns their back on you.”

His lips part but his efforts to speak dissipate when your lips are pushed against his. Dewy, warm, and lush, everything about how you fit him like his missing puzzle piece felt just right, as if your entire childhood was waiting on this very day.

Pulling back, you can't help but giggle.

Eyelids flutter shut.

Another kiss…

Eyelids flutter open with nervous chuckles filling the room.

Again, you meet him halfway with a momentary lock of the lips...

... and another.

The sparks in your entire system proceed for minutes to come and eventually the both of you can practically feel the other smiling amidst the motion in pure bliss.

Something about the growing heat in your core pushes you onward.

“Here,” you utter in puffs of breaths when you pull back, out of breath, “I’ll even prove it to you.”

Your hands trail from his cheeks and the nape of his neck where you had subconsciously placed them down his sturdy broad shoulders, fingers tracing along the center of his chest and his abdomen, until finally hooking onto the band of his trousers where a bulge from underneath struggles to break free. Squatting, your throbbing lips are just inches away from his protrusion.

“Y–Y/N,” your name comes out in stutters as Namjoon watches you from above with eager eyes. “What are you doing?”

“You know exactly what I'm doing, King's advisor,” you smirk, gradually pulling his trousers down to enable his bright red erection to spring free and rebound from the happy trail of his stomach. “...and if you don't, then just watch and learn.”

A sigh of relief cascades from his parted lips as soon as his heated manhood is soothed by the touch of the night breeze. Bubbles of white liquid flow from its tip and trickles down the shaft, glimmering in the light of the silver moon. Mouth salivating, you gulp before placing one hand on his thighs and another on his base, his burning warmth cooled by your bare hands. A throaty groan of sheer satisfaction escapes his lips as he stumbles back to clutch at the window sill behind him, head throwing back and eyes slamming shut after seconds and seconds of torture—watching you every so slowly approach him, gaze never leaving his dark lustful ones—until your tongue finally flicks across his slit.

“Agh,” he grunts, body shaking and chest heaving.

You can't help but chuckle at his powerless state under no one else's touch but yours. “You have no idea how pleasured you look from down here. Tell me, did she ever make you feel this good?”

Namjoon struggles to answer when you run your tongue flat against his muscles and fingertips tracing along his protruding purple veins. Finally, your arms grip at his thighs to help you up onto your feet as he watches you with an intensive gaze, as if to demand an answer for your departure; leaning in, lips just grazing his and breath filled with the aroma of him—salty yet bittersweet—you crack a smile.

“Tell me, Joon,” you whisper and he trembles, “you're the experienced one here. Did she ever make you feel this good?”

Namjoon gulps, hard, “n–no, I mean she did do this, but it never felt—God, it never felt this divine.”

“And…” you drag, each and every second visibly irking him and his twitching erection. “...why's that?”

“You want praise, don't you?” Namjoon scoffs and you're just about to return to your job when his hand hooks behind your neck to roughly pull you in. His hunger for your touch exudes from the impatient tugging of his hands pushing you closer to him, his bulge probing at your thigh where your own liquids had leaked to and his lips latching onto yours as he takes a deep waft and snarls.

“She never made me feel even a bit as great as you do, and you barely even touched me. She never loved me,” he utters into your ear as his teeth nibble your neck before swirling his tongue at the bruise sure to form in an hour or two. His words edge you on until you can physically feel the throbbing in your core as juice begins to flow through your slits. “Even looking at you on your knees for me is enough to get me off, so what kind of question is that, love?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you quickly lean away only to chortle at the slight groan which leaves his lips when they lurch forward in a vain attempt to capture yours once again.

“As always, you sure have a way with words,” you coo and lower yourself to your knees, fingertips gently tapping his shaft lubricated by his own liquid and sending visible vibrations across his spine. Eyes still locked with his darkened ones, your peripherals catch the sight of foam oozing from his tip. “You've earned my respect, Lord Kim.”

Mouth finally meeting his heat, the surprising size of his manhood fills you more than you had anticipated and you quickly discover the pressure of sucking or even hollowing your cheeks elicit an erotic groan from the back of his throat; thus, you do so, sinking in and out as your head bobs and your eyes peer up to watch him struggle between lulling his head back in pleasure and glimpsing at you in both adoration and desire.

Subconsciously, you find yourself rubbing your thighs to create as much friction in your lower lips seeping of thick liquids, especially when he grabs a fistful of your hair which only edges you and the flutters in your core further as you let out a whimper—sending jitters across his system and releasing a lewd moan. Each sound you make, the sight of you holding him in, and the slips of your mouth, tongue, and fingers squelching with his own solution evidently hardens his already twitching rod on the brink of a cliff as he releases another grunt with gritted teeth and flexed abdomens.

His hands ride along with the bobs of your head, pushing and tugging at your hair when the tip begins grazing the back of your throat and you gag with short desperate breaths; your instincts tell you to retract and compose yourself once again, but the sheer pleasure gushing from his squeezed eyes and gaped mouth struggling to even utter a word until a dragged out groan fills the room urges you on. Bolstering your confidence, you're just about to proceed when his hands gently push you away and your lips release his shaft with a pop.

“Wait, Joon—”

“—no, Y/N. As crazy as it makes me, I don't want you hurting yourself for me,” he shakes his head, but before you can protest, he leans forward to wrap his hands secure onto your waist to pull you up into his lap, each leg on one side as you straddle him. “This is already a dream come true for me. This is enough.”

Gulping the last drops of his insides, you nod with a pressed, reassured grin; truly, you've never felt so loved by anyone besides your mother. With Namjoon, you know you can trust him with your all.

The lengthy skirt of your gown finally comes to use as it formulates friction between his crotch and yours. One error, however, are the extra fabrics which separate your heated nub desperate for attention from his firm erection. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and had burying into the crook of his neck, the two of you sigh and huff in both exhilaration and labor as you continuously roll your hips against his to hit the center of your nerves before retracting and lowering yourself once again to repeat.

“God,” he curses, hands gripping at your waist, “everything you do is so enticing.”

But all you can respond with are incessant sighs and lewd moans masked in hums from the unbearable pleasure speaking like waves from between your thighs. Yet, just before you reach your high, a loud string of grunts bellow from the back of his throat, his hips halting from meeting yours halfway, and a squirt of liquid seeping through the fabrics of your skirt between your crotch—just enough to meet the wets of your own sex.

“Ugh, I can't believe how amazing that felt, how you felt,” he groans in deep sighs, hands limp and falling to his sides as his back collapses to the side of the window. Pressing a reluctant grin, you shrug your own disappointment, figuring you would get your chance with him again when things progressed to the next stage, but his hardened gaze which flicker to meet yours tell you he has other plans in mind. “...Y/N.”

You quirk a brow, “hm—”

—suddenly, his hands grip your waist and the world turns upside down momentarily. Whirling around, you somehow find your position switched with Namjoon’s, sitting comfortably in the corner of the window sill where the night air cooled the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead which leans against yours. Standing, his shaft is certainly less elated than it had been before, but judging by the rush of red following to his tan foreskin and his knees which buckle each time he flinches in the sheer ecstasy of towering over you in his hands, you know things would change soon enough.

“...it's your turn, baby girl,” he murmurs before latching his lips to your neck and you squeal.

“Wait,” you fail to pull yourself away from his hands which hikes your skirt to grip at your bare thighs as he showers your neck, shoulders, and collarbones with incessant kisses. A whimper made in an attempt to hide a moan leaves your lips and your core squelches with new pools of liquid. “I don't think I can hold it any longer. Let's just skip this and get you in me now, hm?”

Instead of replying, however, the man quickly shreds the bodice of your gown in half to reveal your bosom and bare stomach, the night air and exposure of it all somehow edging you and your flaming core onwards.

“Sure you can. If I can, then you can,” Namjoon continues down your chest to meet your bosom, tongue flicking and swirling around your hardened nub as the other is fondled by his rough hands. Chills travel down your spine, for his touch on your sensitive areas intermixes with the cool breeze following through the window propped wide open behind you. “I know you can.”

Switching to the other, his tongue and lips go to work as his thumb presses against your previous nub now dripping with his own marks of territory. The insane pleasure instinctively closes your legs along with your entrance now exposed to the air, but his knees keep you propped wide open, beckoning for your patience.

Kisses flowing down your chest and along your stomach, his eyes finally meet with the inevitable problem of your skirt. Groaning impatiently, his hands grip at the end of his tears where your skirt starts, ready to rip when you place a hand to stop him.

“Wait, we can't,” you breathe, nearly whimpering when he swipes a finger beneath your underwear to delve slightly into your folds. Quickly, you hold a hand to your mouth. “People will see us out the window. We're lucky if they haven't even heard us.”

Your remark elicits the roll of his eye's before—rip—the rest of your dress is cut in half and plops to the floor, the warmth of your body completely relying on your core and the proximity of his touch.

“You should have thought of that before you teased me,” Namjoon sinks to his knees, eyes locked to your dripping sex and tongue slipping through his lips in enticement. “No one can see us from here, the Prince's chamber was built especially with that intent.” His hands grab yours to retract yourself from your lips only to place them on the blood rushed nub of your core, sending euphoric waves down your legs. “And no one will hear us, Jaebum ordered all of his remaining men and servants to join his trek; so you can scream and whimper all you want, because that's all I plan to make you do the entire night until sunrise.”

And with that, the shove of his lengthy digits slipping into your dampened folds with ease, your head is sent back lulling, profanities escaping from your gaping lips as your entire body shudders and your hands are forced to grip onto the sill for support. The warmth of his tongue which dives into you, deeper and deeper, inch by inch, is nothing compared to the scorch of the spot between your thighs just begging for something more, something rougher than the touch of his lips; pleads answered, Namjoon’s hands stop you from working on yourself with one hand pushing your right leg apart from your left, where the thick locks of his sends tingles throughout your left thigh, and his other hand rubbing circles into your bundles of throbbing nerves.

The laps of his tongue embroidered by the rough bumps of his taste buds soon return you to your previous edge, and it doesn’t take very much more than his throaty grunt that sends you tipping over the cliff into pure ecstasy; your eyes roll back, your mouth gapes and your jaw protrudes but words fail to slip from you other than lewd whimpers, your vision fades to black and static is all you hear in your eardrums until all you can feel is the pulsating sensation of your sex which dispatch incessant waves of tingles throughout your stomach and thighs.

Slurping the last drops of your dripping folds, only to soon be replaced by further coats of your thick juice, the oversensitivity has you tightly enclosing his face between your thighs; the fading strength of your numbed muscles prove inferior to his own when his hands securely grip your legs to part them once again as he rises to return the lock of his lips to yours.

Bland, slightly salty with the aroma of dampened chlorine, yet all the more sweet when licked off the slobbered mess of his mouth and chin and sucked from the length of his two fingers, you sigh in satisfaction at the taste of your own liquids; and to be truthful, it isn’t the taste that sends tingles to your heat preparing for a second round, but rather the promiscuous act of pleasuring yourself with your childhood friend cooped away in the highest chambers and hidden from the rest of the world.

The thought of your own fantasies coming to life has your hand lurching for the nape of his neck and tangling with his locks to roughly pull him in, forehead to forehead and lips to lips, you hiss, “now let’s skip this child’s play and get you in me, hm?” The unexpected stroke of your hands to his completely erect rod takes him aback, evident by his fluttered eyelids and shaky breaths and grunts. “You’ve clearly been begging for me this whole time, after all.”

The wanton remarks have Namjoon smirking, a cracked scoff following his grunts as he stands to his feet, hands yanking you forward as well until the cold of your chest is replaced by the warmth of his own along with the heat of his throbbing problem rubbing against your stomach.

“You’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” he murmurs; but before you could speak your own rebuttals, a yelp slips from your lips and into his as his hands roughly grab below your two thighs to lift you into the air and you instinctively wrap your arms and legs around his neck and hips. Sighing, his lips continue to silence the lascivious moans intermixing with your loud inhales and exhales of breath as he takes one large stride until your back slams against the cold stone walls of the castle—that is, with the exception of the small of your back where Namjoon had so deliberately wrapped the warmth of his hands around to keep your entire from shivering in the unexpected cold.

But the rough surprise of his motions only edge you on further.

Impatiently, your hips begin rolling in desperate pleas to adequately soothe the throbs of your genital, which only results in an even more profound burn to your core which flutter with uncontrollable sparks; the spills of grunts and moans now fill the room along with the drips of your liquid smothering his length, until finally, his desires take over and neither you nor he could resist any longer.

Hands under your thighs, he lifts you aloft, your folds leaking onto his lathered rod just inches away as he slowly slips into your entrance.

“Heaven’s sake,” he groans, fingers digging into your thighs as yours dig into his shoulders; a loud yelp and grunt follows shortly after when he slams you against the wall to sink the rest of him into you. “God, you’re so tight even after all of our preparations.”

Your folds take him in quite well, despite the newfound pressure of his thickness filling the pools of your insides. Really, it isn’t the feeling of pressure or fullness that elicits a dragged sigh of pleasure from you, it’s the thought and knowledge of him, pulsating in you and each of his racing beats is the result of your utter control on his sanity.

Simply, you drove him crazy, as he does to you—that’s the subliminal sensation of the sensual moment.

“I don’t see how any woman could’ve turned a blind eye to a man like you, after feeling this, after feeling you,” you coo, leaning your weight onto him as your teeth nibble his right earlobe and grinning when you feel his member twitching in you—completely still. Whispering sweet nothings into his ear, he trembles, “I can’t believe some other woman made you a man before I could.”

Out of the blue, you feel yourself drifting in air for a split second before he slams himself into you once again, the pressure and motion finally creating the friction you needed all along.

“I was never a man and I won’t ever be until I save my Kingdom, but tonight,” he pauses, two fingers tracing along your legs to coat a trail of his, yours, both of your liquids onto your skin, “tonight is my closest to feeling like one.”

His lips smash yours as he begins picking up speed, hips rolling and stomach grinding along with yours to hit the nub above your folds to increase the pleasure tenfold. Your back slams against the wall relentlessly, but the force between his thrusts and the wall spills strings of curses into his mouth, tongue tangling with his, teeth clattering, and pools of liquid easing the already slippery motions from below.

And when the lewd slaps of skin to skin and squelching sexes fill your ears to lift your senses into clouds, you give into the bounce of your body against his; a drawl of whimpers cascade from your swollen lips which lace with the grunts of fervent pleasure that tumble from the back of his throat.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop; the oversensitivity of your heated core in response to his sloppy yet rapid rocking, hips snapping with all his might and force, pushes you into overdrive—and finally, you can see stars.

Head rolling back and eyes fluttering shut, flames trail across your core to your stomach and into the course of your veins.

It isn’t until the warmth of his seeds spilling into your overfilled insides and dripping down your bottom, your legs and his, and onto the floor that awakens you with weariness in spite of the dying hunger for more.

“This might as well be our first and only night together, alone,” he murmurs amidst sighs, carefully setting you onto the ground and holding onto your waist when your knees buckle before placing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “don’t expect to be getting any sleep.”

Slowly, you nod, following his guidance; a step back and another, crossing the stream of silver flooding through the window until the back of your knees meet a cold metallic bed frame and your body falls beneath his and into the mattress.

The bounce of the golden sheets waft your surroundings with the unpleasant reminder of him—the wicked smile of the Prince flashing before your eyes; but when you come to conscience to find the familiar silhouette of Namjoon under the sky filled with stars and moonlight, your heart settles into peace once again.

Your lover holds you right and treats you right, showering you with affectionate kisses down your neck and chest and every inch of your bare skin as your hands run beneath his shirt, his only remaining clothing, to pull it over his head; fingers trickling along his toned shoulders and back, your eyes peer up at his eyes which lock with yours before relishing the sight of his bare naked self looming above.

Both of you completely and voluntarily vulnerable to the other.

That’s the beauty of love.

Heat begins to recollect between your thighs which rub against each other, smothering yourself and the sheets with your silky liquids as Namjoon’s lips lurch forward to suck your neck once again. More than ready for a second round, you spread your legs wide to enable him to adjust and position his length until he quickly and easily slips into you once again.

Wasting no time to pace himself, his powerful thrusts set a momentum as your bodies bounce in the flow of the springs beneath you and with each deep breath of yours comes the foreign ecstasy of carrying out the most intimate acts of lust in a place completely forbidden. The smell of the Prince and the thought of escaping from his discovery of your little antics augments to your fantasy, even if the repercussions of it becoming reality would be dire—but the haze of lust is enough for you to forget.

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”

The sudden remark strikes a pound akin to that of a hammer against your chest.

Namjoon pauses all movements, leaning back and scowling with furrowed brows. “As much as it gets me going, I don’t want you thinking of any other man but me.” Hastily, his arms wrap around your body to bring you up into his chest as he scoots off the bed and shuffles to grab your clothes and his, never bothering to pull out of you; wrapping the torn fabric around his back and yours, you can’t help but giggle at him as he burrows his head into your neck and inhales deeply, “absolutely alluring. I prefer the scent of my lady much more. Let’s head back to your chamber.”

And so he does with the slightest bob of your head, lips smashing into yours and groans persisting throughout the empty castle. You continue to roll your hips, hitting him at every angle yet to be soon discovered and clearly too impatient to wait for when he’s less distracted with climbing down the flight of stairs. His whimpers and frustrated grunts echo through the halls, knees buckling each time you grind only to clutch onto him with his locks in your hair as you sigh in sheer bliss.

Twirling and shuffling, sometimes making a detour to slam you against the castle walls and desperately put in a few rough thrusts and cursing you for teasing him before lifting you only to continue his way back to your chambers, until, at long last, the door to your room is kicked wide open and he throws you onto your bed.

Shutting the door behind him and striding his way toward you, darkened eyes full of lust, desire, and anticipation for punishment, he straddles your body between his legs and leans forward, arms supporting his weight by each side of your head and lips just inches above yours as his stray strands of hair descend to graze across your forehead.

“How daring of you to tease me like that.”

“...so what?” you snicker at the arch of his brow. “Men like you would never dare to punish—”

“—your punishment,” he murmurs, interrupting you with his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, “as incurred: making love under the moon for the rest of the night.”

The gaze in his star-cluttered eyes of galaxies hold you to his promise when he glitters in the moonlight and you know, to him, you do, too.

Dawn of a new day looms across the grey murky skies filled with puffs threatening rain; and while the rest of the kingdom prepares for the long days of spring placed in slumber and replaced by winter, you and your mate remain restless.

“Do you have everything you need?” Namjoon utters under his breath, careful not to attract the attention of Jaebum or any of his returning guards as you nod. “Okay, then let’s start preparing the rope—”

—his words come to an abrupt hiss of the breath when something slams against the doors of your chamber.

Heart painfully pumping waves of adrenaline from the aggressive kicks threatening to burst in at any moment, your eyes meet Namjoon’s own alarmed ones before he grabs your bag with his and tosses it under your bed, hidden from plain sight; and just as your lover stands upright once again, breath huffing and puffing, your door collapses to the floor along with its hinges.

There, stands Jaebum and his men.

“Good morning, dove—ah, Namjoon,” the Prince chirps in the feign of a pleasant surprise. He cocks his head, hands wrapped behind his back and long, slow strides invading your chamber. A crack of his smug grin sends shivers down your spine, “so, what is he doing so early here in your room?”

“Just checking in on her,” Namjoon firmly interjects before you could say anything. “I heard her yells last night; she was having nightmares from yesterday’s event.”

“Hm, and were you two also in my chambers last night?” the tyrant smirks, beckoning for one of his three guards to step forward with familiar gold sheets in his hands.

Flashbacks of the intimacy you had shared with Namjoon last night burn in the back of your mind at the sight of the sheets you had just laid upon and clutched so tightly in the haze of moonlight and lust. Blood immediately rushes to your heated cheeks.

The Prince takes another large stride toward your lover. “Because my sheets reek of you two. Is there something going on between you two that I, as the Prince, should know? Have you forgotten the woman I had introduced to you before? And after murdering her with your bare hands, now you’re targeting an orphan?”

Your eyes dart to Namjoon in concern when he fails to suppress the evident wrath tangling his facial features, lips twitching into a scowl and stare burning with rage.

“Do not call Y/N that—”

“—oh, you’re right. She’s mine. How dare you lay with a lady belonging to the Prince,” he snarls with a half-grin, taking one final step to mutter into Namjoon’s ear. “You’re a scum, you always have been, you know that? Disgusting.”

“Jaebum,” Namjoon’s voice booms as he explodes, your arm clutching his but failing to pull him back. “You killed thousands of our own people. Father would never approve—”

“—oh, but… Father’s dead, is he not?” Jaebum tilts his head with a wicked cackle, looking straight into the flames of his brother’s death glare before turning his back on you two and gesturing for his men to take care of the rest. “Guards, lock my beloved brother up and prepare him for public execution in three days. We’ll use him as the scapegoat for yesterday’s slaughters.”

“What—Joon!” your arm latches onto Namjoon, tugging and wailing against the rough yanks of the men until eventually succumbing to the force of their pull and collapsing to the ground.

“Oh, and as for you, my dove,” Jaebum chimes through Namjoon’s grunts, whirling around to relish the sight of his brother struggling and thrashing about, “while your little lover boy here awaits his death, plans are in my progress to arrange your marriage with Lords outside this kingdom more tolerant of your behavior, have to sell you when you're worth the most, of course. Until then—” his iniquitous smirk bewitches you in utter terror “—sleep well.”

Torn from your hands and dragged across the ground in ruffled hair and clothes, Namjoon’s silent gaze meets yours in the void of hope—neither of you needing words to hear the other, as if his exact messages are conveyed to you through a meer look alone; as Namjoon has taught you several times over, where hope is lost, it can still be gained.

As soon as the pattering footsteps and heavy tugging of a man’s limp body across the floor fade into the distance down the hall, your body springs into action; because while Namjoon’s role in the plan has been forcibly stripped from your grasps, you become the sole hope to rally people of all kind in every corner of Nordendall.

Rope tied and tossed out the window, your hands and feet swiftly descend from your chambers, stories above ground and hours until your body is capable of absorbing the impact of hopping into the rugged dirt of the fields. The day was still young, even under the murky skies above, so you find yourself scurrying away deep into town with haste, mumbling curses in hopes of casting ill upon Jaebum before it comes to beheading him yourself in an all out bloodbath.

Accompanying Jaebum on his wagon for purposes of leisure and hunts prove their worth after all when the landscape of the kingdom comes to you like second nature. Travel by foot may be laborious, but you knew the land like the back of your hand, the ins and outs, every alleyway, every town and it’s most populated center of attraction; thereby, it doesn’t take many hours until midday arrives and your trek reaches an end.

“I promise I will return these as soon as I’m done with this announcement,” you blurt to an elderly woman running her own store along with rows and rows of others out in the open market before grabbing her pots and pans and dashing to the center intersection where all roads constructed of hay meet as one. Wasting no time, you begin banging the pots on the other in a rowdy albeit fruitful attempt to garner the attention of passersby. “Hear ye, hear ye! I plea for you all take a mere minute of your time to listen! This is for the future of Nordendall!”

“Is that not Lady Y/L/N?”

“What is she doing here?”

“A royalty? Here? After yesterday’s bloodshed?”

“How dare she show her face in town after killing our people?”

The whispers of the town sting you and your confidence to stand on the raised stage, but the dire consequences remain and so does your persistence.

“To address the latest tragedies of our Kingdom, I give my sincere condolences,” you hesitate, gulping when you catch the sight of a fatherless girl muffling her cries into her mother's skirt, “... none of you deserve this, and I never would have dreamt for a world where your children would starve and live their days without their parents—but now is the time to change that.”

The people simply stare at you with disdain nearly slipping from the tip of their tongues.

“The Prince has plans to embark in a week to conquer kingdoms beyond The Black Sea, and after refusing to settle an armistice with the people of Nordendall, there isn't a single doubt our kingdom would fall to such selfish ambitions—” the silence amongst the disturbed looks on their faces is unsettling “—and Lord Kim has strongly advised against his plans only to have him thrown in the cells and executed in day's time. Lord Kim has done his part, now we do ours!”

“And why should we help traitors?” a father of two steps forward, the untamed locks and messy stubble of his portraying days of sleep deprivation. He clears his throat to holler the words of his kingdom, “why should we help the privileged who slaughtered their own people without even batting an eye at our struggles? And what about Abigail and her daughter your Prince had burnt at the stake just months ago?!”

“We tried to help them, we tried to help them all. Lord Kim and I wanted to help, but by the time we were aware of the commotion, everything was already too late to turn back. I swear to you,” the desperation seeps into your voice. “Lord Kim and I never killed or spilled the blood of anyone in Nordendall! We even helped a little boy flee, for he was completely traumatized by battle. I swear to the old Gods—”

“—the Gods won’t help you here, m’Lady, they haven’t helped a single one of us thus far,” the man speaks for his people who nod in approval at his words. “And how can we trust you in that you’re telling the truth? I don’t doubt your claim, there wasn’t a thing you could do to tarnish the Nordendall’s spirit once we start a fight. But how do we know if you truly helped our people and disengaged from the battlefield?”

“I—” you frown “—there’s no way I can prove it to you other than by promise; Lord Kim was with me and he could attest to it, but the Prince has him apprehended!”

“Then there ain’t no one to attest to your claims, is there?” the man shakes his head, dismissing you with a wave and turning his back on you; your heart completely shatters, crestfallen at the last string of hope stripped right from your palms. “You’re wasting your time here, m’Lady. Return to your castle or flee to another kingdom if you want to survive—”

“—actually,” all eyes flicker to a familiar boy in the crowd as he steps forward and gulps nervously; golden haired and embroidered by freckles, the quivering of his lips recollect the memories you had of the very boy you had escorted in the midst of fleeing to Jaebum’s chamber. “I can attest to her claims.”

A lift in the pit of your stomach revives your spirit at the sight of the boy.

“Daniel! What are you doing?” a woman, presumably his mother, fruitlessly reprimands and yanks at his arm.

“It’s true, mama,” he whirls around to face the crowd before raising his voice, “this lady and her man helped me escape the castle even when I tried to kill them!”

The mother frowns, eyes flickering to yours which don’t dare to budge an inch, “is that true, m’lady? You and Lord Kim helped save my son after running off to battle against my words?”

Gulping, you hesitantly nod.

“And so what?” the man scorns, clearing his throat. “What do you propose we should do?”

“We fight,” you assert, “with better arms and proper training, we still have a glimpse of hope.”

The man scoffs, chuckling in disbelief as the rest of the crowd remain silent, “m’lady, yesterday’s battle proved to us that we have zero chances against the Prince and his army.”

“That’s only because you lacked unification,” you emphasize and the crowd alternates wary glances between you and him. “I saw your lines and I don’t think I’m wrong when I say you never appointed a leader, am I?”

“Well, no—but who can be our leader now? Some of our best fighters died in the battle, we don’t have anyone to appoint now.”

Taking a deep breath, you boldly proclaim, “...there’s Lord Kim.”

“Lord Kim?”

“The bastard?”

“I thought he couldn’t fight.”

“Has he ever trained with the Prince or the King?”

The bursts of whispers in the crowd had erred when you find your nails digging deep into your palm with fury. “Yes, Lord Kim may be a bastard, but the King’s blood still runs through him. He has always been taught to fight alongside the Prince and I and he is more knowledgeable than any man, woman, or child standing here! He may not be the divine ruler we traditionally look for, but he is our rightful leader!”

The people exchange wary glances, hesitant to speak as if fully knowing the validity in your argument.

“Fair enough,” the man crosses his arms and paces across the field, “but with all this talk, where exactly is Lord Kim? Because as you’ve said, he’s locked away and incapable to guide us.”

“We’ll have to get him out first before we fight the Prince’s army.”

“And… who’s going to help us until then?”

The answer comes to you like second nature. You were born for this very moment; in fact, you’ve been waiting for this for countless years beyond the castle walls.

“I’ll be your leader.”

A loud gasp follows, even as you hold your head high and stare straight into the man’s unamused glare. “You’re saying you can fight? Even better than I? I apologize for my lack of courtesy, m’Lady, but I find it hard to believe—”

“—I can fight,” you bite your tongue from spewing curses, “I may be a lady, but I’m just as capable as any men or women here. I’ll even accept challenges if you so wish, but I highly discourage you from inflicting further injuries.”

The audacity in your self assertive proclamation ticks the man and his ego, evident when he unsheathes his sword halfway only to halt when the boy interjects once again.

“M’lady can fight,” he blurts, eyes widening and flickering across the inquisitive crowd. “I’ve seen her with my own two eyes. She disarmed me without a single weapon of her own. She’s far quicker, lighter, and skilled than any swordsman in town!”

“Daniel,” his mother hisses, “get back here.”

“I trust her with my life!” he boldly proclaims and a chill travels down your spine, tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t have a life if no one steps up soon anyways, none of us will. M’Lady is our best bet, I swear it on my life!”

The crowd that has now expanded across all paths, left, right, across, and before your stage, nearly all the representatives of every household in Nordendall has arrived like the town hall meetings you’ve witnessed several times over while gathering supplies with your mother. Silence hushes the people, hesitance and fear from the loss of their loved ones preventing them from speaking their truths.

“...for those who are with me, who will fight for the survival of our kingdom,” your voice trails as you cautiously raise your fist in the air and hollar, “for Nordendall!”

The first to follow is the boy.

“For Nordendall!”

Another pump in the air and his friends join in.

“For Nordendall!”

All the children and young adults amass to the front of the stage to bellow with you.

“For Nordendall!”

And when waterworks stream from your eyes and flutters of hope fill your convulsing chest, you can’t believe your ears or eyes; for every man, woman, and child has gathered around from every corner of the kingdom to chant the declarations generations and centuries would finally come to hear.

“For Nordendall.”

Dusks becomes dawn and dawn flows into dusk; the cycle persists with the force of gravity, for time was unforgiving and dwindling with each hour of your hustle. It doesn’t occur to you just how quickly the days have flown within the blink of an eye, because to be frank, you simply didn’t have the time to even stop and think.

After a restless night of tossing and turning, all hopes for sleep are lost as you venture outside your tent to refine your shots in archery; and now, you finally find yourself standing before the execution stand, hidden behind a hood in a crowd of cloaks. Murky grey clouds loom in the skies, threatening rain and persistent wind; but as you’ve come to realize after years of reading and listening to tales of the legendary, rarely does the battlefield come with anything but gloom.

You thought you had prepared yourself to withhold your emotions of dread, you thought you were ready, but when the guards drags Namjoon, tattered, bruised, dirtied, and cut along his bare face, arms, and legs under his tee and shorts, you nearly choke on your own muffled sobs. Hair tousled and lidded eyes void of hope, searching the crowd for his lover, he finds his head dangling low before the wooden execution block.

“...disobeying the Prince’s orders, scheming against the welfare of Nordendall, murdering the people of Nordendall, Lord Kim is guilty as charged,” the noble reads aloud from a scroll, wearily looking back over his shoulder and at Jaebum, seated on the throne so carefully moved from the courtroom; the Prince only sneers at him to continue, and so he does, hesitantly, even under the burn of every man, woman, and warrior’s eyes in the field. “Under the mercy of Prince Im, Lord Kim has been subjected to a more honorable method to depart his duties as the King’s advisor by beheading.”

Head lifting one last time, Namjoon desperately searches the crowd; eyes scanning through each and every witness before him, his gaze finally locks with the flames burning in your stare. His lips part, but words fail him in an occasion as rare as a blue moon; so he watches, proud yet petrified for the stomps of your footsteps marching toward the front of the crowd and right up against the execution stage.

“...without further prolonging,” the nobleman takes a deep breath and sighs, “the execution shall pro—”

“—Im Jaebum!”

Your voice echoes in the wind.

“Oh? If it isn’t my little dove who scurried from the castles in fright,” the Prince muses, leaning forward in his throne to catch a closer look at you and your lowered hood to fully reveal your identity. “What is it? Are you back here to beg me to spare your lover boy’s life? Or are you here to beg me to take you in again?”

“Neither,” you speak through gritted teeth, death glares piercing his frown and the wary looks of his guards. Staring straight into every man’s eyes, you utter each word with profound resilience, articulation, and courage surely not to be misinterpreted for centuries to come. “Lord Kim and I will not die by your hands tonight, and neither will the people of Nordendall. Tonight,” you unsheathe your sword, allowing it to ring into the thin air of the wind and pointing it straight at the Prince, “we declare you the illegitimate heir to the throne—” your sword averts to each of the guards who stumble backwards along with your piercing gaze “—and for those who are willing to fight against years of injustice, murder, and turning a blind eye to the well-being of his people for his own selfish demands, we welcome you; but for those who scramble yet again, heed my words when I say this will never be an ‘again.’”

The soldiers gulp a visible heap of fear, reluctant to disobey the Prince by switching to a side seemingly already ready to lose.

“None of you?” you scoff. “So be it, cowards.”

“And what are you going to do, Y/N? Fight us all on your own?” Jaebum cackles, crossing his legs. “You’re a great fighter, I’ll admit that, but this is plain idiocy—”

“—all those who fight for justice, fight with Nordendall,” you raise your sword into the sky as every witness behind you begins discarding their cloaks to reveal their weapons and armory, the fierce cries in their eyes and hardened gaze where cuts and blood stain their skin elicits an audible gasp from the guards. Furrowing his brows, Jaebum finally realizes the danger of his situation when he stands to his feet, ready to yell—but you yell first, sheathing your sword and reaching for your bow and arrow slung over your back. One eye shut and the other aiming, you proclaim, “this is for the future of Nordendall.”

“Kill him! Kill the damn boy!” Jaebum bellows.

The guards immediately spring into action, one guard raising his steel shield to protect the Prince as the other holds the axe in preparation to behead Namjoon whose eyes are only on you. Swiftly, your aim switches from the Prince’s head to the neck of the executor, bow gliding in a straight line and arrow releasing to hit the bullseye—blood seeping through the slit where armor failed to cover the space between his head and shoulders. The axe drops to the ground along with the man, the silence overbearing.

“Charge!”

Namjoon’s orders are heard throughout the kingdom, echoing into the roars which ensue as everyone lunges forward with swords, axes, daggers, and bows brought out in all its worth. A war to be remembered by generations to come begins when everyone starts the fight for glory, the unsheathing of swords ringing in the air, the clean cut of weapons across flesh following after, the whirls of air spiraling under the force of arrows, painful cries of woes drop along with dozens of fallen warriors every few seconds—everything is absolute mayhem and Hell had been set loose.

Springing into action, your feet scurry through the untamed wheats and weeds of the grass to throw your left arm and leg over the stage’s ledge in order to pull the rest of your body over. Hastily gathering to your feet, your hands grab for the axe the guard had dropped earlier, completely under the watch of Namjoon, and demolish the chains between the shackles of his hands on ankles on the board and ground.

“Behind you,” Namjoon warns sternly, nodding his head at shuffling footsteps coming from behind; but just as you’re about to whirl around, evidently slowed by the weight of the axe, Namjoon yanks the axe from your hands and smacks the helmet of the man into unconsciousness. Squatting to quickly discard the man of his armor, he looks over his shoulder to gaze at you in complete wonder, “how did you recruit so many of them…?”

“I’ll tell you the story later,” you mutter, slinging your bow over your shoulder and gripping onto your sword. “For now, suit up and fight. I’ll cover you.”

Namjoon nods, obliging to your orders as he pulls the hefty steel plates over his own shabby clothing. Armored men charge at you from all directions, and while you’re capable of fending off half of those who step into your circle’s vicinity with your trusted daggers which you had switched to for increased stealth, the rest of the men were taken care of by your own people charging in with warcries.

“Not the helmet,” you manage to huff when catching sight of the soldier’s removed helmet in your peripherals, “none of us have helms, they’ll mistaken you for Jaebum’s men.”

“You should head to the outer fields,” Namjoon stands to his feet, advising you as he grips the wooden handle of his axe tightly. “Archery is your strongest suit and a bow and arrow are meant to be far-ranged.”

“Right, then take this,” you toss your sword at him, forcing his axe to drop to the side. He arches a brow at you. “Swordsmanship is the only craft you exceed more than Jaebum in—”

—roughly pushed aside, you look over your shoulder to find Namjoon striking the guard before him with a swift lunge, jabbing the point of his blade into his belly. A whimper dragged into a groan collapses to the ground along with the man before Namjoon twirls the sword in his fingers by its bronze handle.

“I trust you’ll take better care of yourself, then, my Lady,” his smirk is quickly replaced by a soft, pressed and lopsided grin. “I’ll see you on the other side, Y/N.”

And with that, a simple nod and fist to his chest, you whirl around, the neat braids of your stray hair tucked away and whipping across to your other shoulder before your small paces turn to strides and into sprints across the sparse battlefield for a safer position.

People on opposing sides, helmed and unhelmed, drop to the floor like flies, groans and screams drowning in the air flooded by clashing weaponry and war cries; and as much as it tugs at your heartstrings to witness the death of so many right before your eyes, the endless stream of soldiers who challenge you to a fight between his sword and your daggers occupy you from doing so. Nonetheless, nothing can drown their cries into the background like white static—you want to hear them and acknowledge their honorable efforts, because soon, even you might succumb to the tidal waves of war.

Finally scouting an area where blobs of crowds dwindle and all you can spot are at most battles of three scattered across the fields splotted by the golden, green fields and oak trees swaying in the wind. Jaebum was nowhere to be found, which was unsurprising for he was the key to this battle, but with several men tracking your trails, your instincts tell you him and his orders are not too far away.

Another armed man starts trotting toward you on a horse evidently stolen from the castle, for most of the horses have already fallen by superior arrows and swords on foot, and while you raise your bow and arrow with one eye shut and the other open to aim, the man hastily unmounts the saddle with both arms raised.

“I fight for you, my Lady!” he bellows and you cautiously lower your bow—but not before taking note of the soldier in the reflection of his widened eyes, whirling around to shoot the man behind you. “I-I swear he was not my ally. I didn’t mean to ambush you—”

“—remove your helmet,” you nod at him, “and you’re in.”

Several of the Prince’s men come to you throughout the fight, pleading for your forgiveness and begging for your help; a part of you wonders whether they were truly repenting for their decisions or if somehow the battle tides had turned in favor of Nordendall, but soldiers were what you needed and you were willing to put anything on the line to win.

Having endured several cuts of arrows whizzing by and blades just barely grazing your cheeks or carving your palms before succumbing to the edges of your own weapons, the lethargy of war begins to take a toll on you. The strength you need to persist, despite the cries of your own dying people, the endurance you need to both defend and attack, the alertness to stay on your toes for hours and hours that fly past you yet never seem to end; and despite the heroic cries of Namjoon’s which echo throughout the fields at just the right time, never ceasing to replenish the spirit of his people, eventually, there isn’t any way to adequately express your exhaustion after days and nights of labor.

It’s as if everything you’re doing has gone to autopilot, and soon, you find your caution fading when the lack of speed in your wavering aim and the soon-to-be emptied quiver puts you in the center of a circle of soldiers closing you in from every side of your surrounding.

The men continue to enclose you, step by step, some lacking shields and others raising the steel or even wooden planks before them protectively; for those you could shoot, you did, but nothing stopped the endless stream of soldiers who stepped in to fill the emptied spot. Working at your most, your fastest, a semicircle is the most you could do to put a dent to their formation which spells for your death.

Alas, your quiver remains empty of bolts.

Slinging your bow over your shoulder and swinging the two daggers into your hands, you take a deep breath and exhale in preparation for the pain that would soon follow. Even while death is not an option, as you have promised to meet Namjoon at the end of the day, the thought of dropping cold and dead becomes all the more daunting with each of their steps.

Shutting your eyes for a brief second, you exhale—”

“—for Nordendall!”

A pair of hollars echo in the distance, and when your eyes flutter open, you find two familiar men each charging in and around the circle with the mount of horses. One being a recruit from the Prince’s army and the other being the man who had argued with you in the rally, the circle of soldiers fall  like dominoes under the unexpected ambush and lack of preparation for an attack from their backs.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” the soldier asks.

“...yes,” you answer after seconds of confusion over the spur of events, “my greatest gratitude.”

“Judging by a rough count of unhelmed versus helmed from the hill above,” the man gruffs, horse trotting in place, “it looks like we have the upper hand now. The battle is soon to end if we play our cards right.”

This is the key turning point of the battle.

“Where’s Lord Kim?” you inquire, eyes darting around the battlefield splattered in blood and spotted by fallen soldiers; swords, arrows, and shields lay stuck in the dirt. Across the entire field of hills, you spot the tall stature of your man’s silhouette painted in black by the sunset far off in the distance. Eyes squinting, blinded by the sun’s rays, your hand raises to provide shade to your dirt and blood smeared face. Next to Namjoon, to your utter astonishment, is another familiar silhouette belonging to that of Jaebum’s. Your heart strikes against your chest with a dire need to stand there by their sides for whatever reason. Mumbling in a daze, eyes glued to the men who fought on opposite sides of the hill, you pat the saddle of the soldier’s horse, “...I apologize, but let me borrow him for now. It’s an urgent matter.”

Quickly obliging to your orders, the man unmounts; while you haven’t ridden a horse in years since Nordendall fell low in supplies and horses became animals to be dealt with care, the skills return to you without a second of hesitation. Foot on a stirrup, you lift yourself off the ground as your right swings over the mount with ease—not even a second in and you’re traveling at speeds tenfold of your previous treks.

The people of Nordendall cover you from any soldiers who encroach or archers who plan ambush, enabling you to ride swiftly across the fields and into the sunset without further nuisances. Body aloft and leaning over as it bobs along to the trots of the horse, the musty warm air of the impending dusk weaves through the lethargy you hadn’t even noticed until now that adorned your face. Dry eyes stinging from sleep deprivation, still, the flood of the sunlight you could visibly see in your peripherals in the form of rays can’t deter you from spotting Namjoon storming across the field with rage toward the mocking smirks of his brother.

Beautifully crisp and refined is how you would describe Namjoon’s swordsmanship at this moment. Handle twirling and tossing in the air only to be latched firmly in his opposing hand, the sword follows his every command; his eyes never budged from Jaebum’s, his footsteps never strayed from his path straight ahead, but the slashes and swipes of his sword as they cut through the air and his incoming opponents are exquisitely precise.

Breath taken, you find yourself at loss for words.

Namjoon has never been so skilled in battle, but no one would have believed you or your memories of his father scolding him for lacking in the battlefield department at this moment. To you and anyone watching him now, Namjoon could be the greatest general in Nordendall—both an experienced advisor and skilled swordsman.

It only took him the tide of tragedy to rise up to his potential.

Moment short-lived, the last batch of a dozen soldiers charge their way to Namjoon, forcing him to rip his piercing gaze from Jaebum’s and confronting the challenges head on; and while the men prove of no competition to his present swordsmanship, the time delay knocks him off his usual caution when Jaebum grips his sword and begins marching his way down the hill with eyes determined to slay his kinship once and for all.

Panicking, you hop off your horse, collapsing to the ground but scrambling to your feet to pluck one of the many arrows stuck to the dirt, and when you rush to stand upright, blood rushes from your head down and sends you into a haze. Raising your bow and aiming, hands and arms trembling as they pull the string and hold the bow aloft under the tremors of your exhausted muscles, you pay no mind to the fuzz of your vision.

You’ve practiced this several times before, you can do it even with your eyes closed.

To your panic, Namjoon strikes his last blow on the remaining soldier before him without a hint of acknowledgement of the man right behind him; but before the Prince could lower his sword to slice straight through the neck of his brother, your arrow whizzes straight through the air and across the field to jab into his hand and pin him to the tree beside him.

Both their glances dart at you in bewilderment as you storm forward, bending over as you grab another arrows before raising, aiming, and shooting another straight into the Prince’s remaining free hand prior to his removal of your first shot.

“Jaebum, just surrender now,” Namjoon demands once you reach his side. “We’ve clearly won, even your own men whose lives you so carelessly tossed aside has remained loyal to Nordendall. Father has always taught us to surrender for the sake of our people with our head high, so do it now.”

“Father this, Father that,” the Prince rolls his eyes, head lulling as his winces of pain gradually become wicked snickers and escalates into thunderous cackles echoing across the fields akin to a man absent of sanity. “If you love Father so much,” his eyes dart to Namjoon’s with distaste, “why don’t you join him in Hell?!”

His fingers curl into a fist to clutch the bolts, a loud hollar bellowing from the back of his throat as he releases the pin of his hands with sheer force—the arrows plucked from the tree but pierced entirely through his flesh. With a loud gruff, the Prince yanks the arrows out of his palms, blood splattering everywhere as he grabs his sword and charges at Namjoon.

Grip weak, however, it doesn’t take Namjoon much effort to dodge to the side and knock the sword out of his hands with a simple tip of his own blade. Weapon stripped, Jaebum huffs, wiping the dirt from his chin, “why don’t we settle this the old way, huh? Joon? Before Father died and left us to fend for ourselves alone!”

His brother obliges, tossing the sword aside and charging in like the old days where the two brothers had fought after a long day of scowls and snide remarks in training field just as the King turned a blind eye on their antics. They tumble and tumble, staining their bare skin with dirt and blood of the other; punches are thrown every second, grunts and painful pipes of wind being knocked out of their lungs as they tossed the other only to straddle them once again and release the anger of many years into the face of his brother.

If Namjoon hadn’t listened to his brother’s pleas, the battle between brothers would have been long over—but that isn’t the type of man Namjoon has grown to become. Honorable in every aspect, he fights under the same conditions and under the same stakes as the boy he had always disdained with his every being, and yet, he can’t seem to finish his murderous brother.

“Why don’t you kill me, Joon?!” Jaebum finally releases his remaining strength into his screams. “Just kill me like you’ve always wanted to! I see it in your eyes, I see it in all of your eyes! Just end this bloody nightmare and get it over with—”

‘—Jae,” his brother interjects, grabbing at his shoulders and shaking him on the ground as he straddled and pinned him down. Dirt and mud drip from both of their hair and face, blood seeping through their chapped lips and bruises blackening their eye sockets, but that doesn’t mask the sincerity Namjoon shares for his last remaining kinship. “Father never taught you to be so pitiful like this. He taught you to love, to honor, to respect—” his voice cracks into a cry and Jaebum winces at the drop of his brother’s tears splashing into his bloodied, swollen cheeks “—so why are we here? Why are you like this?!”

“You talk too much, like always,” Jaebum grumbles, head turning to the side and eyeing you wearily—all you can do is gulp. “Father died because he was assassinated.”

The word comes to all of your surprises.

Namjoon cinches his brows in utter confusion, “...assassinated…? I thought he—”

“—no, he was assassinated. I never told you because I knew you would be too traumatized and I didn’t want to hear you and your stupid sense of justice,” Jaebum swallows painfully, the tears welling in his eyes. “Father died because he was weak, because he was too merciful of his people and nobody feared him. You can’t please everyone, someone is bound to be left in the dust and those people disdained him enough to risk their own lives for their people—” he chuckles “—to save their own people, the thought amuses me every time.”

“...you should’ve told me,” Namjoon frowns at the revelation, “still, that doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done.”

“No, but fear helped me a great deal, did it not? If it weren’t for those wretched witches and you two,” he glares at you and turns his head to shoot one at Namjoon, “I wouldn’t be in this pitiful situation, so quit looking at me like that and just kill me.”

“I can’t kill you,” the Prince’s brother shakes his head, “you’re my brother. Father would be—”

“—Father already is disappointed in me. I hear him every night,” his voice cracks as his lips press into a thin line in a vain attempt to suppress his cries, “I’ve done wrong, I did my best to protect myself, and I still struggle to fathom a different path if I could redo it all again. Fear was what I did best and I thrived.” His head turns to snap his weary gaze at his brother. “Now send me off so I can hear the rest of his scolding.”

“Namjoon,” you grumble after contemplation, fury boiling in your blood as you storm forward to knock Namjoon off of your target. Gripping his collar, you pull his limp body aloft, “Jaebum, you’ve killed so many for absolutely zero reasons and that’s all you have to say—” you grab the pocket knife you had kept in your pockets for the past months, pressing the blade into the corner of his  lips “—do you not remember cutting this into my lips as I whimpered in pain? Do you not remember this scar you gave me? You don’t have anything to say to me or the thousands of families you’ve killed?!”

Jaebum struggles to lift his head against the pull of gravity, a smirk spreading across his lips, “you sure are making Hell wait awfully long for me.”

“Fuck off,” you toss the blade to the side as Namjoon catches it midair and watches you roll off to the side, completely exhausted. “Just die and atone for your sins in Hell.”

“Jaebum…” Namjoon grips the dagger until his palms go white, getting to his knees and holding the blade aloft, “do you have anything left to say?”

After prolonged silence, the Prince finally utters.

“Take care of Nordendall. Rule like Father told us to,” he turns his head until his eyes face the gray skies, “we’ll see how long you last. Until then, farewell brother.”

With a deep breath, Namjoon sighs.

The cut is clean and painless.

“Farewell, brother.”

You don’t notice it until now, but the field had long fallen into silence. The chirps of birds and crickets are completely absent, even in the last minutes of sunset; but the footsteps shuffling from your left and right, from all corners of the battlefield, from those completely tattered, exhausted, bloodied, and injured, now fill the stagnant air.

And when Namjoon rises to the ground slowly and laboriously, offering you a hand which you take, the rest of the men and women, warriors and dreamers alike, bend their knee to the ground.

Cheers erupt throughout the fields, whistles, hollars, yells, and bawls roar and echo into the distant hills, fracturing time and marking its place in history with the chants striking pride into your chest.

“Long live Nordendall!”

The following months become taxing days and nights of rehabilitation over the historical events; but after long visits in the medical ward, where you occasionally monitor, despite being a patient yourself, the gaping wounds across his and your bare skin begin to heal—but admittedly, the scars of the past prove to be a boundary far beyond any medicine or operation.

With time, however, something tells you that things will get better.

Because with time, Nordendall has overseen countless changes to the ladders of the previous social hierarchy; the execution stand has been cleaned and renovated into a stage for all those to utilize and enjoy on nights of festivals or celebrations for no particular reason except for survival.

Instead of the execution board, where the soon-to-be crowned King had once stood, a silver throne crafted by the melted silver and steel of all the blades used in what is now known as the Battle of Brothers, stands towering before the people—a message to remind those who enter the kingdom that those who rule their people are not the royalties but the brave and just.

And as the people have all unanimously voted last week, the Bastard of Nordendall is befitting of such a role.

Sitting in his throne, Namjoon shifts uncomfortably, sipping at his glass of red wine and glancing at you nervously. You smile, knowing Nordendall is now in good hands, but what you don’t expect is the mischievous smile plastering across his own lips.

“Bring in the throne and crown, please,” Namjoon calls to his men who happily oblige, carrying another throne identical to his and another golden crown that fit snugly on his head. Gradually, the man makes his way down the stage and toward you, hand grabbing yours and dragging you up to the throne before raising both his and your hands high into the air. “Everyone, here is your Grace, the Queen of Nordendall!”

Eyes widening and heart panicking, your eyes dart between the cheering crowd and the King who just smiles at you expectantly. It isn’t what you ever wanted, certainly, but if the people wanted you on that throne to guide them into a far brighter future, then it is only your duty to follow up.

So when people beckon their mothers for nighttime stories of heroic men and women, this is the tale that will be told for centuries to come where two outsiders became the very center of the thriving kingdom in which the Lady of Nordendall had broken the Bastard of Nordendall and his etiquette.

Thats right, its been nine years since you started working as a therapist. You've always had an affinity to listening to other peoples concerns and to look at the problem objectively without it affecting you. Its funny though that you ended up in this profession. The past you was.. wild, especially during college. Don't get it wrong it wasn't that you were out partying all time but you and your group of friends were up to no good.

Your family was very poor when your mother was still alive. She loved gambling and spending her money on alcohol to the point where you had no food left at home. Which meant that fourteen years old you had to work, at a strip club as waitress. Not the best place for a minor to be considering the leeching looks the people sometimes threw at you but fortunately one of the security guys always looked out for you. until one day a sleazy looking man gave you his business card saying that he was looking for someone who'd be able to deliver stuff for him. Of course you were weary but the promise of a paycheck that was three times higher than the one you were already earning was too good of an opportunity to let it slip past you.

And thats basically how you became a drug dealer and how you met your friends who were either also working for your ex boss or working for his friend who often had his folks deliver drugs to your boss. Of course that slowed down the moment you became a senior. You started studying and participating in class more, the pressure of finding a socially accepted job after college weighing on your shoulder like a huge rock. You and some of your friends completely stopped dealing when graduation was nearing and your boss thankfully let you go but offered that the there would be always a spot open for you if you ever needed it.

Shaking your head you chuckle slightly and turn back to the computer. You've met countless types of people but no one ever has introduced themselves as satan. You're intrigued in finding out what type of person your client is going to be.

Shutting off the laptop you stand up from the table, take your jacket and put it on. Flickering off the lights you turn around and give your office a last glance before you exit out of the room. Walking down the pristine hallway towards where the reception you fumble with your car keys lost in your thoughts. Arriving at the entrance you see Secretary Kim sitting behind the computer typing something at a fast speed. Walking up to the reception table you knock on the dark hard wood a few times ‘’I'm clocking off’’

Secretary Kim looks up from the computer and nods curtly, the glasses sitting low on his nose bridge, before immersing himself in whatever he was doing before and you let out a small sigh

‘’don’t stay too long’’  you warn him and leave the office.

Standing in front of the elevator you hum a quiet tune waiting for the doors to open. A few seconds later a quiet ping indicates that the elevator has arrived at your level and the doors open. Surprised you see a tall man wearing a black coat with a book in his hand

‘’Ah good evening Y/n’’ The man greets you as you walk into the elevator, dimples poking out of his cheeks.

‘’Its already night Namjoon’’ you greet back with a small chuckle.

Namjoon works at the dental praxis that is one floor above you so you constantly run into each other. He's playful man who most of the times has a mischievous glint in his eyes yet from what you've seen is very serious about his job. Another thing is he's quite popular, even amongst your own coworker alongside with secretary Kim. But with those looks who wouldn't be, tan skin with deep dimples and voice, beautiful thick hair and legs so long they belong on a runway. Plus he got the brains too, he's what you call a total package, anyone would be drooling for him.

Namjoon reaches over and presses the button ‘’since its only 07:55pm its still evening’’

‘’Semantics’’ you reply with an eye roll and namjoon just chuckles. A comfortable hush falls over the both of you and you take out your phone. Your'e so immersed in looking at your schedule that you dont notice that the doors have opened. Namjoon nudges you and you snap out of it, bashfully you tuck your phone back into your pocket and walks towards  the building's entrance.

‘’See you Y/n’’ Namjoon turns around smiles, his eyes turn into crescents.

‘’Bye’’ you wave and you both part ways. Taking your scarf out of the purse, you wrap it around your neck before tugging the jacket closer to your body. Winter has finally settled and you're overjoyed. You love November, you love how the city smells of cinnamon and mulled wine. How around every corner you can hear people already singing Christmas carols and how everyone just looks so happy.

Besides Christmas you love winter nights, specifically nights where you wake up at three in the morning to pee and you look outside to find freshly fallen snow. The snow making the environment look brighter and slightly alienating, kind of as if you live in a picture. Yet for whatever reasons that sight makes your bed seem more comfortable and warm.

Scurrying across the parking lot you take out your keys and unlock the vehicle. Quickly you get into it and slam the door behind you. Throwing your purse on the passenger seat you plug your phone in, scroll through Spotify till you find your playlist and press play. A smooth melody with a deep bass vibrates through the car as you're backing out of the parking spot and you quietly hum along.

The only thing about winter you don’t really like is driving on the iced street. Along with the lingering paranoia that any car could lose control and crash into yours.

Thats a bad habit of yours, imagining the worst possible outcomes of any situation. You could be walking down the stairs and suddenly you'll think about how you could fall down, hit your head and die instantly cause your neck snapped. So most of your rides are filled with anxiety and extreme caution.

Sighing slightly you shake your head before focusing back on the road.

⤑ ⤑ ⤑ ⤑

Unlocking the door you enter you home, take off your shoes off. Walking down the hallway into the living room you throw your jacket onto the gray couch and grab the remote control. Turning on the tv you continue to walk into the kitchen.

Your kitchen is pretty nice though, black tiles decorating the wall along with white and gray cabinets. As a matter of fact you decorated your place only with monochrome colors, to the point where even your dishes match the look you're going for. The plants that are widespread throughout the apartment finishes the look with a splash of green color.

To be honest, you've been meaning to change the color scheme but you're either are too lazy or too busy to do so. Maybe its cause you've gotten older but often times the colors make you feel alienating, kind of the same feeling you get when you enter an apple store. Future-esque but not homely or welcoming.

Opening the refrigerator you groan at the sight, slamming the fridge shut you notice the post on note. ''buy groceries!''  it says in bright red cursive letters. Great, whats the point of using post on notes when you don't even see them cause apparently now you're blind.

Grimacing your reach over to the house phone hanging on the wall corner that separates the kitchen and living room, and dial the pizzeria's number. The phone rings a few times until it clicks

‘’Dio's pizzeria how can i help you?’’  asks a lazy voice.

You give them your order and address and they tell you that the pizza should arrive in thirty minutes. Hanging up the phone you walk out of the kitchen, down the hallway into your room.

Your bedroom just like the rest of the apartment is decked out in the same monochromic colors , even your sheets and pillows match. Hanging on your wall are cute pictures of your college friends that you try to meet up at least once a week. Overall the room has a nice feeling to it but if the pictures weren't there no one could tell that this room belongs to you.

Putting the light on you stop in your tracks. Something is off, you cant really pin point what but it feels like someone was in your bedroom when you weren't home. Looking at the pictures on the wall you see that they're all intact and untouched. Walking towards the desk you carefully look at the papers and other items, wondering if you truly left your desk this disorganized.

With quiet steps you walk to the closet and take out your pajamas and scurry out of the room. ''What is this , final destination?' you mutter under your breath and enter the bathroom. Feeling like someone is watching you quickly undress and jump into the shower.

After serenading several songs you remember that the pizza should be arriving any minute you jump out of the shower and dry yourself with a fluffy towel you bought a few months ago. As you're wrapping the towel around your head you hear the doorbell ring so you walk out of the bathroom, take your purse out of the bag that you left in the hallway and open the door.

In front of you stands a boy that looks like he's in his early twenties. Tall, with honey dipped tan skin and Dark hair that reaches the tip of his chin. A face that's so flawless you're sure he was sculpted by god himself. Yet the longer you stare at him the more its off putting. Kind of like how the longer you look into the mirror the more grotesque you think the reflection has become. His eyes is what makes the alarm bells ring in your head. They're big and dark but soulless to the point where for a second you think a other worldly being stands in front of you.

‘’One prosciutto e funghi pizza for Y/n?’’ He asks his voice deep and you notice that his canines are unusually pointy.

‘’Thats me’’ you answer , take the pizza. As you're handing him the money, your finger tips graze the palm of his cold hand a electric shock goes through your body.

‘’Always be careful to not touch supernatural beings’’ a vague memory of an old woman flashes through your head and you quickly retract your hand, clutching it against your chest.

The delivery boy who stiffed up at the skin contact, hastily takes a step back, runs his fingers through his hair , acting nonchalant but his eyes are still wide. ''Have a nice day'' he says, his smile even more menacing than before and it sends a shiver up your spine.

You nod slowly, and he turns around and  leaves. Your eyes following his back until he walks down the stairs and you cant see him anymore , before you walk back into your home and close the door. Walking into the living room you put the pizza on the small table by the couch and you sit down.

‘’Its just paranoia’’ you mutter, reach over and take a piece out of the carton. ''Is it though? you ask yourself while biting into the food. You're not sure why you even had such a flashback earlier and why your grandma was in it. As much as you know she's was an ordinary old sweet lady who loved spoiling her grandchild, though there is a big junk of your memory missing due to an incident that happened when you were a child.

Shaking your head you decide to worry about it when the time comes and try to enjoy the rest of the night.

‘’How could you do this to me?’’ the woman on tv cries and you scrunch your nose. The acting is horrible, similar to how the late eighties movie were, over dramatic with a lousy plot and weird sense of humor. Taking the remote control, you take a bite off the pizza and switch the channel.

⤑ ⤑ ⤑ ⤑

Annoyed Yoongi sits in the waiting room, tapping his fingers against his thigh rhythmically. He's only here because his advisor- Jimin basically blackmailed him to go to therapy, which in yoongi's eyes is ridiculous. As a matter of fact , Yoongi had rolled his eyes when jimin came up with the proposition. He doesn't need therapy he's perfectly fine but according to Jimin ,yoongi is brash, pompous and needs a ''reality'' check. Yoongi thinks jimin is only saying that because of the way he treats his employees. Sure he's a hard-to- please- boss and likes to nitpick at everything, he is satan after all but he has seen human's who were in his position treat their employees way worse than he does.

Yet here he is, sitting in the waiting room in a uncomfortable chair while starring at the white eggshell wall that's decorated with various framed pop art posters. The atmosphere heavy reminding yoongi of the dread of lost souls and he wants to smack his head against the wall. The tapping on his thigh speeds up , making the small thumping sound echo through the room and the man sitting opposite of yoongi shoots hime a glare. Before yoongi can retaliate the door opens and you step into the room.

‘’Min Yoongi?’’

Yoongi stand up and fixes his blazer and walks towards you.

The first thing you notice about the Yoongi is the suit he's wearing. The red is so bright it makes you want to gauge your eyes out, you cant fathom for the life of you why someone would wear that color but then again secretary Kim did tell you that the person on the phone was strange. The suit though fits his form quite and goes well with the white turtleneck that he's wearing underneath the blazer.

‘’That's me’’Yoongi replies, stretching out his hand.

‘’Y/n’’ you take his hand into yours and shake it briefly. The second thing you notice is how deep yet slightly nasal his voice is, which matches his image impeccably.

‘’Please follow me’’ you say and turn around to walk down the hallway with yoongi on your heel. Opening your office door you step aside and let him enter the room first. ‘’Would you like something to drink?’’ you ask walking over to the coffee machine standing on top of the gray table thats by the wall.

‘’Coffee, black’’ Yoongi curtly answers, while looking around the room before sitting down on the arm chair.

Yoongi feels uncomfortable. Theres this weird feeling in his gut that started the moment his skin touched yours and that feeling only got stronger when he walked into your office. Your office looks like any normal office would look, white walls also decorated with the same overrated pop art posters that every college student that majors in art surely has hanging in their room. Gray armchairs and a plant by your desk that looks like its five minutes away from dying. Yoongi isn't sure if the plant is supposed to be like that or if you're really just careless and if the latter is the case, does that mean you care about your clients the same way as that plant?

‘’Here’’ you speak up ripping yoongi out of his thoughts, putting the mug on the small table in front of him before taking a seat opposite of yoongi.

Yoongi was surprised earlier when you greeted him. He expected his therapist to be an older woman in her fifties who had a kind grandmother face and a soft voice. Instead he was met with you, who stood as if you were being pulled up by the roots of your hair, wearing black from head to toe with your hair pulled into a tight ponytail and oval glasses sitting on top of your nose. Which made you look more like the grim reaper instead of a professional who listens and helps people coping being alive. Even know as you're sitting in front of him, you're posture is straight as a wooden board which adds an air of elegance to your being but in yoongi's eyes you look prudish and stern.

‘’Tell me why you're here’’ you say looking up from your notebook where you wrote down todays date and his name.

Picking the cup up Yoongi takes a sip before sighing deeply ''i was forced to be here''

That doesn't surprise you, his whole body language and vibe screams that he doesn't want to be here at all and you're sure he's doing that on purpose. ‘’Forced? by who?’’

‘’By my advisor’’ Yoongi answers ‘’he thinks i have behavioral issues’’, he makes air quotes. ‘’Which is complete bullshit considering we work in hell and compared to the human bosses who are way more corrupted that we demons are i'm actually quite lenient’’

You stop writing on your notebook and blink at him multiples times. The fact that he even said that whole speech with a straight face makes you think you dissociated for a second. Raising your eyebrows slightly you continue to write.

calls workplace hell and refers to coworkers as demons. advisor sent him to counseling.

‘’I assume then that you haven't seen a therapist or counselor before?’’ you ask and cross your legs.

‘’correct’’ Yoongi sighs ‘’i'm going to be honest i'm not exactly expecting much from this i'm only here cause of my advisor who otherwise would get angry it wouldn't surprise me if he ratted me out to the angels’’

That the action of someone nonchalantly shrugging their shoulders could look so arrogantly never occurred to you until you met him. Nodding your head you continue to ask

‘’What do you see as being the biggest problem?’’

‘’Work’’ Yoongi answers so fast the words practically fly out of his mouth. ‘’Some would say its me but its the workers. We're not understaffed but the workers love lazying around and gossip. And hiring new people would take up too much time considering that they'd need training and honestly i don’t have the patience cause they're more likely to make mistakes and i hate mistakes. he stresses the word hate.

likes consistency ,seems very particular about surroundings.

‘’What exactly is your occupation?’’

‘’I thought you humans knew what we demons do’’ Yoongi states taking another sip of the coffee. ‘’Considering that mankind worship god and its ways, though the holy scriptures aren't accurate at all i mean they were written by humans , which by the way half of those people didn't even exist, and then translated into other languages over decades which means most of what was originally written is lost in translation.’’

If this were The Office this would be the scene where you'd blankly stare into the camera for a few seconds but it isn't so you just choose to stay quiet.

‘’But you know what's ridiculous?’’ Yoongi continues ‘’i got casted out , told that i will never return to heaven, which yeah was shitty but the real trauma is how when i fell i was immense pain cause my wings started to burn off and my wings were my pride you know.  Just cause i didn't agree with their vision,  and now i constantly have gods followers on my ass, acting like I'm the bad one when in actuality I'm just doing my job and its those unemployed demons that wreck havoc in the human world.’’

Refers to parental figure as god, meaning that person is the authorial person in the household. overall cites and talks about the bible, could mean  the household is extremely religious.. Says angels are after him and the coworkers, possibly trying to tarnish the company's name. Has implied that he is satan, possible the black sheep of the family.

‘’I thought satan is responsible for all demons’’ you decide to humor him.

‘’Don't be silly human' Yoongi waves dismissively his hand ‘’that would make me a god, which i'm not. To be a god i'd need to have a lot more followers and willing sacrifices which i honestly don't have the time for cause you humans are dying at an alarming rate and we have to overwork ourselves.’’ He sends you a nasty glare you decide to ignore.

‘’What would be the solution?’’ you look up from your notes

‘’if they stop fucking misplacing the documents, pens and everything else. Theres a manual where it specifically states that if you put documents on my table it has to be on the right side four centimeters away from the left and three centimeters from the part of the desk thats the closest to you .’’ he rubs his temples with furrowed brows.

‘’Why those numbers specifically?’’

‘’because thats the most efficient way’’ Yoongi answers with a tone that makes you think you asked the world's dumbest question.

‘’They stress me out so much to the point where i feel like screaming every time i see their faces, sometimes i feel like they're doing this on purpose cause when my advisor orders them to do something they'll happily comply. im sure its because of his looks’’ he mutters the last part.

gets stressed out to the point of exhaustion if he doesn't have full control of his environment.

‘’What positive changes would you like to see happen in your life?’’

‘’this is going to sound crazy since i'm satan’’ Yoongi sighs deeply and stares at the dying plant behind you ''but i want things to be more peaceful and right now hell is in utter chaos, as i mentioned earlier a lot of demons are not working, not due that there aren't any jobs but because they still have that old mindset that their only mission in life is to kill humans. Don't get me wrong i could care less about you guys but its my company that has to overwork itself cause of it’’

You raise your eyebrows ‘’don't souls go to hell cause they used to be a sinner?’’

Yoongi scoffs and rolls his eyes ‘’ hell is just another word for the underworld. Souls come down to us to get judgment of their previous life and if they were a goodie two shoes they get sent to heaven by following the holy light that shines down when the gates open up. Though i am glad my advisor was able to negotiate with the angels to let them into heaven cause it was getting overcrowded down there and all the demons we sent up to bring the souls were brutally attacked by them’’

For someone who claims to hate humankind yoongi sure likes and takes his time to explain to you how hell really works. As if you're going to correct anyones assumptions about hell , which by the way you don’t believe that he's satan, there is no actual evidence that demons exist. So you decided a long time ago that you wont believe in such folklore.

You stare at the paper in your lap for a few seconds, raking your brain on what to write down of what he just told you, since you cant compare it to anything logical. The only explanation on why the ''angel's '' would attack yoongi's worker would be that he works in the shady field, you know, like being a drug lord or anything else that isn't accepted in society.

‘’you know’’ you speak up, deciding to document that last part later when you have time to think everything through. ‘’although you are not a god, you're still the most powerful demon in the underworld no?’’

‘’Not exactly, after i fell i became one of the ten kings of hell, mostly because i was the one who contributed the most when it came to establish the underworld. Though i am the one who makes the final decision hence why i get the most workload.’’

‘’hm’’ you hum ‘’it sounds like the reason why you're not being listened to is because you haven't clearly established the hierarchy in your environment’’

‘’I clearly have but they don't-’’

‘’Being the boss does not mean you scream or fuss at your subordinates, but that you reward them for their good work and fire them if it needs to be done’’  you give him an intense look. ‘’With you lashing out shows that you have time to be emotional which means theres time to dilly dally’’

‘’Their reward is a good paycheck’’ Yoongi counters clasping his hands ‘’there are no holidays for us because you humans die whenever its convenient and theres a special regiment that needs to be followed for the souls to either get reincarnated or go to heaven. And firing my workers is out of question’’

‘’Then what about proposing the idea to the others ,of making a trainee department where you recruit people who want or are desperate for money since you said the paycheck is hefty. It would benefit you in the way that , the trainee's can see what working in your department would be like  and then decide if they want to stay or not, and if they stay your workload will sink significantly’’

Yoongi touches his lips for a few times, lost in his thoughts trying to process what you said before he snaps his fingers and points it at you. ‘’Human that is actually a very good idea, do you want to work for me?’’

A feeling similar to disgust washes over you with the way he said human, as if you're lower than him, lower than an insect even and your first instinct is to grimace. Instead you smile, squinting your eyes ever so slightly to give the illusion that the expression is real. ‘’No thank you i'm quite content with my job’’ you politely refuse.

‘’Thats a shame’’ Yoongi shrugs his shoulders ‘’you would fit into the underworld quite well’’

You're not sure if that is a compliment of it he's telling you that you're demonic. Either way you decide to ignore his statement and close the file in your lap. ‘’The session will end in five minutes , but before that i want to ask you, how do you feel now?’’

''Better'' Yoongi answers ‘’less stressed as when i walked in which surprises me , you're quite good  i wouldn't mind the weekly sessions.’’

‘’Thank you’’ you answer ‘’do you have any questions?’’

‘’everything i tell you is confidential right?’’

‘’Yes, unless you've killed someone or are threatening general public i would have to report you but otherwise no one knows anything, even your advisor wont get told what happened in here’’ you reply.

‘’i wouldn't say that’’ Yoongi hums ‘’he has quite a way with words and is able to persuade anyone’’

‘’we'll have to see’’ you retort and take your planner from the small table ‘’is next week on thursday at four o'clock in the afternoon good for you?’’

‘’Yes’’ Yoongi answers as he's looking at the schedule on his phone.

‘’Good’’ you close the planner ‘’before you go i want you do this every time you feel like your anger and stress is getting to you, take deep breaths and slowly count to ten, that should help you calm down a little and think rationally, well talk on how effective it was next week then’’

Yoongi nods and you stand up, walks towards the door and open it. As you turn around to face him you see him standing just a few feet away from the couch starring out of the window, his brows furrowed and his lips tight. He turns around and walks towards you in long strides an hint of annoyance on his face.

‘’I'll see you next week then’’ you stretch out your hand ‘’if something should come up and you’re not able to come please do call and cancel a day before the appointment’’

''Alright '' Yoongi replies and takes your outstretched hand into his

When Yoongi's hand touch your skin your earlier suspicions are confirmed. His hand are icy cold to the point that it feels like your skin is burning at the mere contact. Which is worrying because the only time a human ever has a temperature that low is when they're dying of hypothermia yet the man in front of you looks like he has drank out of the fountain of youth.  

He grips your hand tighter and says in a low voice ‘’be careful in the next few days’’

Not sure if he's warning or threatening you, you blankly stare at him before nodding silently and Yoongi lets go of your hand. Gives you one last glance before he walks out of the room and you close the door. Walking over to your desk you plump into the chair and sigh deeply, you have no idea what that so called warning is about, yet another part of your brain instantly goes to how you thought your apartment was broken in a few days ago. But how can Yoongi even know about that, considering the fact that you've just met an hour ago unless the whole thing about him being satan is actually true.

You shake your head, there is no way Yoongi is satan, sure he looks devilishly good despite the ugly red highlighter colored type of suit he was wearing and the black hair compliments his skin color impeccably. But you're also pretty sure the overlord would have more blood thirst and wouldn't be so merciful like yoongi ,who took his sweet time to explain details about hell to you. Almost coming off like that one kid at a slumber party who corrects the other kids when they state they had fun today , saying since its past twelve it technically ''tomorrow'' hence why they had ''fun yesterday''

Basically a kill joy.

Tapping the pen against the desk for a  few times you snort out loud before putting the utensil down. Its out of question that demons and otherworldly beings are real, so for now in your eyes yoongi's using religion as metaphor for his own life.

Opening the laptop you wait for it to start up so that you can write about the session. After around twenty minutes of you trying to find the right words for the report without making it seem like you made the whole thing up ,you notice the time and shut off your laptop. Looking out of the window you notice that the sky is already dark and snowflakes are falling from the sky.

‘’I hope Christmas comes soon’’ you murmur with a small smile before turning around and taking your jacket from the chair. After wrapping the scarf around your neck and picking up your bag you walk towards the door, shut the light off and exit the room.

Christmas has a special place in your heart. Until you were fourteen you had never experienced Christmas, it was something you'd only see on tv and thats was rarely cause your mom almost never paid the electricity bill. And the only time you did was when you were seven, because your grandmother came and took you away from your delirious mother. Though you cant remember it because you had an accident that was severe enough to wipe out your memories of that entire winter.

After you started working as a waitress and the girls who worked there found out that you never celebrated the holiday they made it a tradition to throw a party after work. Everyone would bring food , cake and gifts and would just have a jolly time. And till to this day you continue on with that tradition.

‘’Im clocking out’’ You say as you arrive at the reception to just to find it empty. Confused you look around until you see secretary Kim coming out of the break room with a cup of coffee.

‘’See you on monday’’ he says in his soothing deep voice and holds the cup higher in salutations. You give him a bright smile and walk out of the praxis.

⤑ ⤑ ⤑ ⤑

The reason why you're standing in the middle of the grocery store is because you still haven't bought food. You don't even have an excuse for it, sure technically your'e now seen as an adult but your mind is still that of an nineteen year old college student who doesn't know what budgeting is. Its pure laziness, the mere thought of having to cook and then wash the pots and pans has you groaning for eternity. Hence why your basket is filled with food that can be cooked under fifteen minutes, such as ramen, bread ,cheese, all types of sweets and of course beer.

The convenient store is relatively empty, besides you there are two other people in it one which is the cashier. Mariya takeuchi's song plays in the background but its not the same melody as you remember it. Its funkier than usual which gives the whole store a weird vibe to it. Stores at night are generally a place where it seems like reality is altered. you know the same way how when you're at your friends house and wake up in the middle of the night and everything just seems like its from another dimension? exactly that.

Putting the last chocolate bar into your basket you walk towards where the cashier is located. The cashier is a tall girl who has turquoise blue hair and a mole underneath her left eye. Her whole demeanor is screaming that she's bored but she doesn't attempt to make small talk with you which is something you appreciate. After paying you bid her goodbye and walk out of the store only to bump into someone.

‘’oh shit sorry’’ you aplogize and take a step back. The person you notice, is a male with a black hoodie on, his eyes weirdly soulless as he glances at you not even bothering to give you a reply yet for unknown reasons the hairs on your neck raise and you get goosebumps.  Scurrying across the parking lot you open your car door and put the bags into the passengers seat. A feeling of paranoia washes over you and you quickly get into the car.

‘’be careful- ''  yoongi's voice rings in your ear and you shake your head.

‘’Im starting to loose my damn marbles’’  you murmur, set the gear into reverse and back out of your spot before driving out of the parking lot , towards home. no music is playing because you feel like if it was on you'd miss clues on if someone is following you, also you can concentrate better that way. Thankfully it doesn't take too long for you to arrive home and you park your car into the spot that was given to you by the landlord of the housing complex.

You tighten the scarf around your neck because the cold wind picks up. Heave your purse over your shoulder as you take the two bags full of food,  close the door and lock it before walking up to the building your apartment is in. As you climb up the stairs you notice how the closer you get to your apartment the louder the thumping sound is.

Its your neighbors. Two boys who love to party constantly, which is really annoying even though they're always very polite to you and sometimes when the partying gets too much, they leave you a token of gratitude for not calling the police on them. Its not all that bad though a pair of ear plugs can solve the problem pretty quick and once you're asleep its like you're dead anyways, well unless someone enters your room thats when you wake up in 0000.3 seconds.

You unlock your apartment door and get inside, take off your shoes and walk into the kitchen. You set the bags on the counter, rip the post it note from the fridge and throw it into the garbage can. You leave one ramen on the counter while you put the food into the cupboard, take a small pot and fill it with water before turning on the stove and walk out the kitchen towards your bedroom. 

Putting on the light you notice that your room actually looks untouched and your sigh relieved. You get out of your clothes, carelessly throwing the on the floor and put your pajama on, which of course are black. You tie your hair into a bun, take your phone and walk back into the living room. Put on the television and realize that the water should be boiling by now. 

you smile slightly when you see the water is indeed boiling,  kind of proud at how accurate your timing is but thats no feat for someone who cooks ramen constantly. Literally after ten minutes the food is cooked and you put water into the pan to ‘’let it soak’’ knowing well that you’re using that an excuse to just not have to wash it now. Taking the bowl you walk over to the living room where you sit on the couch and watch the variety show thats playing on tv. 

Chuckling at the funny reactions of the idols you put the now empty bowl on the small table in front of you and lay down on the couch, your hand underneath the pillow. This position , combined with your full stomach and the temperature of the living room has you growing tired and its just takes a few seconds before you fall asleep. 

⤑ ⤑ ⤑ ⤑

The loud banging on the door wakes you up and alarmed you jump up from the couch. Looking at the clock you see that its eight in the morning and grumble ‘’Who the hell has the nerve to disturb me at ass o clock on a saturday morning somebody better be dying’’

You walk up to the door , open it and see two police officers , whose annoyed expression disappears , in front of you.

‘’ yes?’’ you ask

So despite how tired you were from a night of tossing and turning, you get up to make breakfast. You make the usual heart-shaped pancakes complete with chocolate chips, strawberries, and whipped cream. You make his coffee using the special expensive beans that are only brought out for holidays because you guys had to special order it from some hipster place that grows and roasts them on site in limited batches. You even make his usual bowl of rice on the side, because even though rice isn’t usually paired with pancakes, he’s an old-fashioned soul that “feels weird” if he doesn’t start his day with rice. 

You hear the shower start up and assume it’s Jimin since Yoongi likes to have his coffee and breakfast first. You go ahead and start plating now that they were awake. 

You’re humming to yourself when Jimin finally wanders into the kitchen, no doubt following the smell, no sign of Yoongi behind him. His puffy and half asleep face was slightly covered by the hoodie he’d put on, and frankly, you’d find him adorable right now if you weren’t so determined to not like him. 

“Sit,” you order softly and place a plate in front of him. He quietly thanks you, smiling drowsily before he takes a bite. 

“Noona, these are amazing!” Jimin moans with a gravelly voice, thick from sleep. 

Ever a sucker for having your cooking complimented, you smile at him genuinely for the first time without thinking. Jimin freezes midbite, staring at your mouth. A strawberry falls off of his fork unheeded. You’re about to ask if you have something stuck in your teeth when Yoongi comes strolling into the kitchen, pecking the both of you on the cheek. 

“Good morning, loves.” As you observe him cheerily fixing his coffee, you realize that besides the odd phenomenon of him being fully aware before his caffeine, he’s totally showered and dressed like he’s ready to leave. 

“How many pancakes do you want, Yoongi?” You ask, setting his rice and a plate next to Jimin at the table. 

“Mmmm, as good as they smell, babe, I have to get going. We have a comeback starting in a couple weeks, and I can’t leave Namjoon alone in the studio.” He chuckles then drains his coffee quickly, leaving the cup in the sink. 

“Oh, noona, did you drop this?” Jimin asks, peering at the trashcan. He leans over and grabs the card you’d thrown in there, Yoongi’s name in bright red glitter glue. You always use glitter glue instead of markers. He hated how the glitter got everywhere, and you found it hilarious when he grumbled for days. 

You want to be furious at Jimin for not keeping his mouth shut, but you suppose it’s more your fault for waiting until after breakfast to take out the trash. Yoongi’s eyes widen when he spots the shiny red of his name. 

“Oh, did you write me a love letter, Princess?” He smirks and grabs the card from Jimin, who is glancing at you curiously, no doubt wondering why you’d suddenly gone tense. 

Yoongi opens the card and pulls out the two playoff tickets you’d had to promise so many favors to get. Your friend Baekhyun was as adorable as they come but was really a diabolical mastermind. He’d made you promise to treat him to pizza once a week for a month and petsit his puppy. However, the way he’d worded it made you unsure if he’d really meant his dog or his boyfriend. 

“Shit, babe! These were sold out! How did you get these?” Yoongi’s surprised gaze flitters between you and the tickets as you smile at him with smug pride. 

“I have my connections.” You say airily as you prepare coffee for yourself. 

Yoongi grins at you knowingly. “So, what do you have to do for Baek this time?” 

You huff at the loss of your mysterious cover. “Pizza for a month,” you moan dramatically as Yoongi chuckles. 

“Shit, babe this is amazing, but these are for today. I really have to finish at work, the last piece is due on Monday. You and Jiminie should go. I’m sad that I’ll miss out, but at least my babies can have a good time, yeah? Love you, gotta go.” Yoongi pecks the both of you on the lips and rushes out, leaving you staring at the tickets he’d left on the counter. He didn’t even seem to wonder why you’d gotten him the tickets. 

You sigh wearily and begin cleaning up, not much in the mood to sit down to eat anymore. Besides, you’d had your fair share of stolen strawberries while you’d cooked. It’s silent for a good two minutes until you hear Jimin clear his throat behind you. 

“Noona?” His voice is soft and unsure, and it makes you feel terrible. You were generally well known for being a kind person, and the fact that someone was too scared to even talk to you was an uncomfortable experience. Even if a small part of you reveled in the last shred of dominance you had over him. 

You turn to Jimin, your eyebrow raised in question. He clears his throat again and squares his shoulders like he’s going into battle. 

“I’d love to go with you if you’ll have me. We could make it our first real date because I think you’ll agree that ice cream thing that Yoongi sprung on us doesn’t count. I’ll even take you to dinner. Please?” His eyes are wide and pleading, his generous lips pursed in a slight pout. You wondered if there was a secret school that people like Jimin and Baekhyun attended. Pout perfection 101. It had even you melting momentarily. 

“It’s okay, Jimin. You don’t have to pretend to date me. I know what you’re here for.” You mumble, unable to stop yourself from allowing hurt to color your tone. 

“No, Noona, it’s...I know we don’t have to date each other too to be in this, but I think it would be good if we at least try? It would certainly make things easier, and it’s not like I don’t find you attractive.” His voice tapered off into an almost whisper towards the end, and you peek over to find him staring at his hands, his cheeks covered in a deep blush. 

You were slightly flattered, you couldn’t lie. Someone as ethereal as Jimin saying he found you attractive in any way would flatter anyone. 

“Jimin...I don’t know.” You know that what he’s saying makes sense if you want things to work out in the long run, but it seemed too hard. You were still so hurt, and in your head he was still the dastardly villain, twirling his evil mustache.

His head shot up, eyes filled with fierce determination. “Y/N, give me a chance. This is the first time we’ve really been able to talk one on one, something we should have done a long time ago, but still. I know this is all unfair, and that a good chunk of the blame lies on my door. Allow me to make an attempt at making things better for us. You’ve been trying so hard, and you do so much for us. But you’re unhappy, I can see that, and I don’t blame you. Yoongi seems to love you as much as he loves me, and I know it would break him if you became so unhappy you’d leave him. For Min Yoongi to love you so fiercely, you must be amazing, so I’d like the chance to learn for myself. Please? Please give me a chance to make you happy?”

You stare at Jimin in wonder, and for the first time, you see a glimpse of just what would make Yoongi fight to keep him. 

“I...” you chew your bottom lip in thought, observing Jimin’s eager expression. Finally, you sigh. “Fine, but you’re buying dessert too.” 

Jimin beams, his eye smile endearing. “Great! Let’s get ready, Noona.” He jumps up and places his dishes in the washer before running to the bedroom. 

He politely lets you shower first, which is a blessing because you’ve learned since he’d moved in that he takes forever to get ready. While he’s in there taking his turn, you get dressed, throwing on one of your favorite semicasual date outfits. A simple black dress accented by a silver leather jacket and matching pumps, as well as your fishnets. Yoongi loved your fishnets, and you wondered if Jimin would too. 

He wanders into the bedroom clad only in his tight boxer briefs as you’re finishing up your hair and makeup, freezing in the door as soon as he sees you. 

“Wow, you look incredible.” He says as his eyes travel your body up and down. You’re still a little weirded out by this sudden change, but you can’t help feeling a little smug. 

“I know,” you shrug, pretending to be unbothered, and go back to touching up your lashes. Jimin chuckles and grabs his clothes from the closet. 

You sneak a small peek, just out of curiosity since you’d never really allowed yourself to look at him in that way before. You had to admit he was built nicely. Surprisingly muscled and sharply toned despite the babyface. And even you had to admit the view you had of his ass as he bent over to pull on the black jeans he’d grabbed was fascinating. You quickly remind yourself that his ass is what your boyfriend has been buried in the past couple of nights, completely ignoring you, and that sobers you back up. You’re not doing this for any personal interest, just to try and be less unhappy. Maybe if Yoongi sees the two of you getting along, he’ll be more inclined to remember you’re a part of this too. 

You were so lost in your thoughts you slightly jump when Jimin suddenly speaks behind you. “Well, what do you think?” 

You turn from your vanity seat to see him smirking at you, his outfit a mirror to yours. Black shirt, black jeans, and a silver jacket with silver dress shoes. 

You can’t stop the giggle that escapes. “Couple outfits, are you serious?” 

“Hey, Y/N.” He says softly, his voice somehow still commanding in a way, enough to make you glance at his face in surprise. His expression is completely sober. “I am. Completely serious. I want to do this for real.” 

Your cheeks suddenly feel hot as a blush forms against your will. You flap your hands in a way that you hope conveys a lack of care. The fact that your heart fluttered a little was probably just due to lack of attention the past few weeks.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

The courtside seats were excellent; near enough to the players that you even smelled the sweat, and not too crowded. You felt terrible that Yoongi had to miss out because you knew he would have flipped out being this close. Not to mention that the seats were utterly wasted on you, someone who’s only knowledge of the sport came from what Yoongi yelled at the television. You spotted a few idols and actors you were familiar with in the crowd and exchanged friendly waves. 

“Noona, did you just wave to Gong Yoo?” Jimin asked in shock, his mouth next to your ear to be heard in the loud stadium. 

You smirk and lean in, trying not to focus on the fact that he wrapped his arm around your waist to bring you closer to his ear. “Yeah, he played a musician in his drama last year, and I was the one that worked with him. He still asks me out every time I see him, so don’t be surprised if he comes over here.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and he quickly turns to glare in the man’s direction. You snort and poke his shoulder. 

“Stop glaring at Gong Yoo.” 

“Nope. Can’t let you become the Goblin’s bride. We all saw how that played out. Yoongi would kill me because you know he’s totally the grim reaper.” 

You throw your head back, unable to stop the genuine laughter at the image. Jimin glances back at you, smiling proudly for finally making you laugh. He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the appearance of a food vendor. He unwraps his arm from your waist and leans forward to talk to the man. You try not to dwell on the fact that your waist suddenly felt naked without Jimin wrapped around it. 

“You want anything, baby?” Jimin asked absentmindedly as he looked over the options. Your silence prompted him to turn around, and he took one glance at your surprised face and hastily apologized as he realized what he’d said. 

“I’m sorry, it just...ummm.” Jimin stuttered, his cheeks blazing. 

“It’s...uh, it’s okay. No biggie. I’ll take a hot dog, no onions, and a beer. Please.” You shyly answer. Jimin nods and quickly turns back to the vendor, no doubt hoping for the moment to be forgotten.  

The two of you dug into your food as you pretended to watch the game. Honestly, it was more exciting to watch live, but you still didn’t know enough to really follow. And it quickly became apparent after Jimin starting rooting for “guy with the green hair” that was on the opposing team that he didn’t know anything either. 

“I’m beginning to suspect that these tickets were as big a waste on you as they were on me. You don’t know anything about basketball, do you?” You snicker at Jimin’s overly dramatic sigh. 

“Only a little that I picked up from Yoongi. Otherwise, it just looks like a very complicated game of monkey in the middle. At least they all look very nice doing it.” 

“True,” you agree, as a passing player winks at the both of you. 

Suddenly the crowd around you is yelling and shaking your shoulder, pointing up to the ceiling. You look up to find a nightmare. You’d forgotten about this horrifying tradition at sports games. 

You and Jimin were on kiss cam. 

You inhale a shuddering breath and glance up at Jimin, who is already staring down at you, his gaze dark and terrifyingly determined. As usual, your mind had to go into overdrive, questioning everything. Was he determined because he really wanted this, or was that more of a preparing himself for something unpleasant kind of determination? 

A hand gently cupped your jaw, and suddenly Jimin was coming closer until his lips were on yours. You were surprised to find you didn’t hate it. His plush lips were so soft and gentle as he tentatively coaxed you to respond. He began to pull back, but you mindlessly followed and finally kissed him back, marveling at how your lips slotted together perfectly. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping gently and grinning against your lips when you gasped. He quietly moaned against you, his heavy breathing as you finally moved apart awakening something in you. You stare at his lips that are wet and pinkened because of you, and you’re so confused as to why that makes you feel proud. 

Suddenly, you become aware of the roars of approval and remember where you’re at. The two of you soon sport matching blushes and Jimin grins at you sheepishly. As soon as the camera moves away and the people behind you stop poking your shoulders, Jimin leans over. 

“Wanna head out?” 

“Oh, God, please.” You plead, making Jimin laugh as he helps you up and escorts you out to the car. 

Once you’re on the road, he turns to you. “Still up for dinner?” 

“Yeah, I could eat. All I really had today was the hot dog.” 

“Can’t let my Noona starve! I know just the place.” 

Twenty minutes later he’s leading you into a tiny restaurant, following after a sweet old woman who greets Jimin like he’s her grandchild. After you tell him you don’t have any preferences, he places two orders of “his regular,” which turns out to be Kimchi Jjigae with pork belly and a plate of mandu. You take a bite and glance at him in surprise. 

“This is really good. Most places don’t make it sour enough for me, but this is perfect.” You explain, humming around your spoon. 

He grins, pushing some side dishes closer to you. “Yeah, she’s great. She learned a long time ago that I’m not into seafood, so she makes it with rice stock instead of anchovies. Same with the side dishes, all fish free.” 

“Aren’t you from Busan?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He sighs theatrically, still smiling. “Yes, I’m a man from Busan that’s not into seafood. I’m a disgrace to my city. Please stone me and have me exiled.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t go that far. Most you’ll get from me is a good shaking of my head in your direction. I’ve been with Yoongi too long. I’m much too lazy for a stoning,” you giggle. 

The rest of the dinner goes by smoothly, both of you too preoccupied with eating to make too much conversation, but when a topic arises, it’s not difficult. Jimin’s surprisingly easy to talk to, not to mention polite and kind. You’d never really noticed before since you’d been looking at him through a haze of bitterness and jealousy. Not that it had all magically went away. You’d just packed it into the back of your mind. Might as well enjoy your anniversary. 

Soon enough the two of you find yourselves walking along the street eating the crepes filled with ice cream he’d insisted on getting, despite your stomach near to bursting. You’re staring into the shop windows as you pass along, humming to yourself as you enjoy your treat when Jimin suddenly grasps your left hand and laces your fingers together. You glance up at him in shock before looking down at your combined hands. 

Jimin clears his throat and peeks at you with a little embarrassed smile, squeezing your hand lightly in a comforting way. 

“Soooo....” you mumble, trying to cut the tension a little. “Did you always want to be a dancer?” 

“Oh, well. Secretly, yeah. But for a long time, I planned to become a police officer because I figured that was more realistic.”

“You should have just become a stripper then. You could be a dancer and an officer whenever you wanted.” You chuckle mischievously.

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, grinning down at you in amusement. “Oh Noona, already thinking about lap dances? Feisty.” 

You choke on your own saliva, squeaking with indignation as Jimin laughs. 

“Shut up.” You groan. Jimin smiles at you happily and swings your arms back and forth as the two of you walked back to the car. 

“This was nice, Y/N. I’m glad this went so well. I'm serious when I say I want this to work. I know we didn’t start off well, but I’m hoping this is a sign we’ll be okay.” 

You sigh and buckle in, taking in Jimin’s seemingly genuine desire to include you. “I hope so too. I mean, everything is not going to be perfect all because of one night, Jimin. I’m still hurt, and yes, I’ll admit it, jealous and bitter. What we have going on here is weird, and I don’t even feel welcome in my own home half the time. However, you seem like you really are serious about making it work. I have just been so focused on making sure that Yoongi was happy that I forgot we’re supposed to be happy too. I promise to try harder.” 

“Let’s go home, Noona.” Jimin reaches over and grabs your hand, leaving a gentle kiss on the back of it. He grins cheekily then starts the car, humming as he drives home. 

You decide to take the time to check your phone. You power it up since you’d both shut your phones off during the basketball game and you’d just forgotten to turn it back on. You had ten missed calls and fifteen messages, all from Yoongi. 

“Shit, is your phone on?” You ask Jimin as you scroll through the messages, most of them just asking where you were and to text or call him back asap. 

“No. I left mine off too.” He hands his phone to you to turn on while he drives, and sure enough, he has an almost equal amount of messages. 

You quickly call Yoongi, who answers after one ring. 

“Finally. Where are you guys?” 

“We went to have dinner after the game, then walked around a little bit while we had dessert. Why? What’s up?” 

Jimin glances at you, worry evident in his eyes, and you shrug.

“Just...get home soon. I’m so sorry, Princess. So sorry, I love you. Hurry home.” 

The call abruptly ends, and you hold your phone before your face in confusion. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks, and you shrug. 

“Not sure. He said sorry and to hurry home. Maybe he remembered...” you mumble, and Jimin peers at you in confusion. 

“Remembered?” 

“It’s, ah, nothing. I guess we’ll see what’s up. Onward, Officer Park.” 

“You’re going to hold that over me forever, aren’t you.” He snorts. 

You smile innocently. “Of course not. Only until I lose my memory someday.” 

“Yoongi? We’re home,” you call out as the two of you enter the house. You kick off your heels, looking up with a small smile as Yoongi exits the bedroom. 

He looks angry, and for a moment you’re terrified that perhaps he saw the kiss cam and was mad about you kissing Jimin. After all, you’d never discussed actual dynamics. Maybe Yoongi didn’t want the two of you to interact like that. 

He rushes towards you, and before you can think of an excuse, he drops to his knees and buries his face in your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to bring you closer. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” he mumbles into your shirt. 

You reach down and card your fingers through his hair, crooning. “It’s okay, baby. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.” Of course, you knew you were lying, but you hated seeing Yoongi like this. 

“I didn’t even make the connection, my mind was so wrapped up in work. The pancakes, the tickets. God, I’m an asshole. I didn’t even remember until Jin brought Namjoon lunch and screamed in my face for being at work today.” 

“What am I missing?” Jimin asked, prompting Yoongi to finally look up. Your heart clenches when you notice he was starting to tear up a little. 

“Jiminie, thank you for taking care of her today. I forgot today was our three year anniversary, but at least she had you.” 

“Anniversary? Noona, why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin’s jaw drops, and he turns to you dumbfounded. You just shrug and keep petting through Yoongi’s hair. 

“Because she never complains. She never fucking complains. I used to love it, but then she lets me get away with doing shit like this and I hate it. Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I love you so much.” Yoongi finally stands up and pulls you in by the back of your neck, kissing you harshly with slightly chapped lips. He pulls away and presses your foreheads together. 

“I got you a gift though. I didn’t forget entirely. I got it a few weeks ago. Hold on.” Yoongi suddenly rushes towards the fancy sound system he had set up for the entertainment center. He pulls the front off of one of the speakers and pulls out a velvet box, approximately the size of a tablet. 

“You sneaky son of a bitch.” You exclaim with a pout, seeing his new hiding spot. 

Yoongi chuckles as he walks back to you. “I had to get creative after you found my present stash in the hall closet.” 

He holds the box up in front of you and slowly opens it. “You know how much I like you in red. I saw these and couldn’t stop picturing you wearing nothing but them,” he explains with a slowly deepening voice.

When the box is opened, you inhale shakily, shocked by the glittering red contents. It’s an entire set of ruby jewelry. There is a ring and a bracelet, what appeared to be a thick ruby collar, and right in the middle of all of them was a ruby tiara. 

“A tiara, Yoongi, really? Why do I need a tiara?” You giggle, still peering at the contents in awe. 

He hums and kisses your cheek, pleased by your reaction. “Because you’re my Princess. Do you like them?” 

“They are stunning. Yoongi, this is too much.”

“Nothing is too much. You deserve everything, and I’m sorry that I’m lacking.” Yoongi mumbles. You stroke his cheek lightly, letting him know without words that you loved him. 

“Okay, now put them on me!” You laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Yoongi’s eyes darken as he smirks at you. “Not yet. I told you I pictured you wearing nothing but them, didn’t I?” 

You peek at Jimin, a little embarrassed that Yoongi was talking like that in front of him. Yoongi notices and turns to Jimin. 

“What do you think, Jimin? Don’t you think your Noona would look stunning in these?” 

Jimin licks his lips and catches your eyes, his own slightly dilated as he stares at you hungrily. 

“Yes. She would look incredible.” 

You gulp nervously as Yoongi sets the box down and grabs the jacket your wearing, lifting his eyebrows in a silent plea for permission. You take one last look at Jimin, and not seeing any signs of discomfort, you quickly nod. Yoongi sighs and slides your jacket off, throwing it across the recliner behind him, before moving behind you and grabbing the zipper in the back of the dress. 

“Jiminie hasn’t gotten to see you yet, has he? He’s in for a treat.” Yoongi chuckles darkly and presses a kiss to the back of your neck as he begins to pull the zipper down slowly. The sound is abnormally loud and echoing in your ears. 

Jimin still hasn’t looked away from you. He’s just staring right into your eyes like he’s daring you to look elsewhere. It isn't until Yoongi begins sliding the dress off of your shoulders that his gaze finally lowers. As the black lace bra is finally revealed, Jimin visibly swallows hard and licks his lips. His gaze follows the path of the rest of the dress as Yoongi purposely lowers it slowly until it hits your ankles and you kick it away, allowing Jimin to feast on the view in front of him.

“Can he help with the rest, sweetheart?” Yoongi asks as he rests his long fingers along the side of your stomach and holds you close. You can feel his bulge digging into your back, and it takes you a few moments to remember he’d asked you something. 

“Yes...please,” and suddenly it was like he’d just been waiting for you to say something because Jimin rushed forward and buried his nose in your neck, inhaling and pressing a soft kiss there. 

Jimin’s fingers trailed down from your collarbone to either side of your breasts, teasing with light brushes before cupping them both. He lifts his head and watches you as he moves his thumbs over to brush against your nipples. 

“Is this okay, Noona?” He asks softly, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before and looking at you like you were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Either he was the world’s greatest actor, or he was being genuine, which was just as confusing. He was only here for Yoongi, right? 

“It’s okay. You can...take it off.” You mumble shyly. 

Yoongi unsnaps your bra from behind. “Still good, baby?” He asks lowly in your ear. You nod and crane your neck around to peck his lips quickly before turning back to Jimin. 

He bites his lip and hooks his fingers under each bra strap, sliding them down slowly. As your breasts are revealed, he throws the bra behind him and stares down at you in awe, reaching out to cup them like before. 

“So perfect,” he groans, pinching your nipples slightly. You gasp in surprise but lean into the touch. 

Yoongi chuckles from behind you. “I guess you can tell Jiminie is a boob guy.” 

Jimin smirks then trails his fingers down until they rest near Yoongi’s that were still lodged against your hips. He tugs lightly against the top of your panties, peering at you in silent query. You take a deep breath, suddenly really nervous because holy shit you were about to be naked in front of Park Jimin, but you nod to give him the go ahead. 

He suddenly drops to his knees and begins pulling the panties down slowly, groaning as you’re revealed to him. 

“Fuck, Noona, you are so wet already. Your panties are soaked. How are you so wet?” He holds up the panties in question, causing you to blush profusely. Yoongi groans at the sight, leaning in to nibble on your neck. 

“I think we’ve been neglecting her, haven’t we? Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. You have two cocks at your disposal, baby. Nothing but the best for the Princess.” Yoongi growls against your neck. “How’s the view, Jimin?” 

“She’s perfect, hyung. So pretty. Even her pussy is pretty,” Jimin responds as he strokes your thighs, staring at the dripping sight in front of him. 

Yoongi smirks and releases you, reaching over to get the box of jewelry. You give a startled squeak when a wet tongue suddenly slides up your pussy. You look down to see Jimin grinning at you with wet lips. Yoongi peeks over your shoulder and laughs. 

“Yah, you brat. Are you sneaking a taste?” 

Jimin whines dramatically, still smiling. “I couldn’t help it. She’s dripping down her thighs, and she smells so good.” 

“Sounds like she’s going to need to be serviced soon. Strip while I get her ready.” Yoongi orders as he clasps the ruby bracelet around your left wrist. 

You take a moment to admire it on you before you notice the shuffling in front of you. Jimin is taking off his clothes speedily, throwing them everywhere until you were faced with the view that you had earlier today. He stood there with his sculpted body, his hands holding the tops of his boxers as he waited for the go-ahead from you, like you would actually turn him down at this point. You scoff quietly but nod, following the path of the boxers down his body. 

It was strange seeing another dick in front of you after only being with Yoongi for three whole years. He was thicker than Yoongi but not as long. It was a pretty pink and clear of all the veins that stuck out on Yoongi’s. You were suddenly struck with the desire to see what he tasted like and unconsciously licked your lips. His dick twitched like it heard your thoughts and he stalked back to stand in front of you. 

Jimin helps Yoongi put the rest of the jewelry on you, wrapping the ruby collar tightly against your neck and placing the ring on your right hand. Yoongi comes around to face you with the Tiara, grinning naughtily as he places it snugly into your hair. 

“Damn, Jimin, have you ever seen a more beautiful woman?” Yoongi asks as he observes you. 

“No. She’s stunning. The perfect Princess.”

You can’t stop blushing, never having received this much attention in your entire life, but you can’t say you don’t like it. In fact, you probably loved it a little too much. You were supposed to hate Jimin, he was your rival, but all you wanted right now was to know how he felt buried deep inside of you. 

“Jimin, since you were so desperate to get a taste of her, why don’t you eat her out while I undress, make sure she’s nice and ready for us.” 

Jimin led you to the couch and sat down, positioning you so that you were standing on the cushions with one leg on either side of him and leaning over to grasp the back of the couch. You blush and glance down at his head between your legs. He winks at you cheekily before sticking out his tongue to lick your clit. You groan and buck your hips into his face. He grabs your ass to pull you closer, the lewd slurping noises as he basically feasted on you filling the living room. You reach down and slide your hands into his hair as he works, your cries increasing in volume. His plush lips felt so incredible, like they were made for pleasure. 

“Fuck...” Startled, you glance behind you, surprised to find you’d actually forgotten Yoongi was there. He was staring at the sight of Jimin underneath you, his lips working against you as saliva and your juices dripped down his chin. 

Yoongi has his long fingers wrapped around his cock as he watched, tugging lazily. You whine, desperate for him, and he smiles as he comes up behind you and kisses the dip at the base of your spine.  

“Are you ready to sit on your throne, Princess? Wanna try out Jimin’s?” 

You pull your hips away slightly to glance down at Jimin, suddenly unsure. Did he even want to go that far? You were in such a pleasure induced haze, you’d probably agree to anything right now, but that didn’t mean he had to. 

You guessed he sensed your hesitation because he suddenly smiled shyly, his drenched face contrasting perversely. 

“Please, Noona? I’ll make you feel so good,” he asked quietly, pressing a light kiss against your thigh. 

You chew your lip in thought, assessing his face for the truth. He seems to really want this, amazingly enough, so you nod and let him ease you down. Yoongi reaches between you and grasps Jimin’s cock, leaning near your ear one last time. 

“Still all good?” He murmurs and kisses your neck when you nod. 

He lines Jimin up with you and Jimin’s hands on your hips slowly ease you down. The slight stretch as your body adjusts to the new thickness isn’t bad, and you practically slide right down you’re so wet. 

Jimin gasps and bangs his against the back of the couch. Yoongi looks up from your neck, releasing the bit of skin he’d been sucking on to laugh. 

“She feels fucking amazing, doesn’t she?” 

Jimin nods but keeps his eyes clamped shut. “So fucking tight and warm. I’m not going to last long,” he whimpers, his fingers clenching hard against your hip.

“Give him a good ride, baby,” Yoongi whispers into your ear before sitting in the recliner next to the two of you and grasping his cock in his hands. 

The desire to just watch Yoongi was strong, but the twitching cock inside of you reminded you of your task. You peek at Jimin, surprised to find him watching you. He suddenly lifts you up before slamming you back down, the both of you moaning at the intense sensation. You adjust yourself so that your hands are on his shoulders and dig in your knees, and ride him hard, giving him your all. A tiny part of you insists it’s to show Jimin that Yoongi lacked nothing while he was gone. The other thought that you’re not quite ready to explore says that you are just enjoying how pretty Jimin is when he’s falling apart under you. 

And pretty he is. His lips are parted with little whimpers and groans escaping, his heavy-lidded eyes pleading with you to look at him. You stare into his pleasure filled gaze as the room is filled with skin slapping against wet skin, cries from the two of you, and the occasional grunt from Yoongi. 

It doesn’t take long before you feel his grip on your hips tighten painfully. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, Noona!” Jimin groans and tries to lift you off of him, but you smack his hand away and slam down hard, rolling your hips slowly as he cums inside of you with a stuttered moan. He stares at you as he comes down, breathing heavily and petting every part of your skin he could touch. 

“Is the Princess ready for me now?” A voice growls against your ear. 

“Yes, Yoongi, please.” You plead as he helps lift you up so that Jimin could slide out of you. 

You try to back off from Jimin a little bit, so you don’t smother him, but he just pulls you closer, kissing you softly before tucking your head into the crook of his neck. This angled you towards Yoongi, so he entered you effortlessly, the remains of Jimin’s release easing the way. 

“Shit, this is so dirty. You like this, baby? You like me fucking Jimin’s cum out of you? I’m going to fill you back up when I’m done. Can’t let my Princess be empty.” Yoongi grunts as he slams his hips into you, already overly excited from watching. 

You moan into Jimin’s neck as he wraps his arms around you, petting your sides and whispering things into your ear that you were too far gone to make out. Jimin slides one of his hands down to rub your swollen clit. 

“Oh, God, I’m going to cum! Jiminnnnn....”you whine, nipping his neck as your orgasm rips through you. 

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to follow, pounding into you fast as he fills you up with one long groan. He leans into you and kisses the back of your neck as he catches his breath, then pulls out slowly. It’s completely silent for a minute, so you glance behind you to find him staring down at the mess between your legs. 

“Stop looking at me.” You whine, shoving your head back into Jimin’s neck in embarrassment. They both chuckle as Yoongi helps you up. 

“Can’t help it if my Princess is prettiest when she’s messy,” Yoongi smirks and taps your butt on the way to the bathroom. 

Yoongi props you on the bathroom counter and runs a warm rag across you and helps you take off the jewelry. Jimin was apparently in the kitchen getting water for all of you.

“Was that really all okay? I know we didn’t talk about it, but I thought it was amazing.” Yoongi asked softly, peering at you with a hint of vulnerability and worry. 

“Yeah...it was good. New, kinda strange, feel like a porn star, but nice. I felt like I was wanted.” 

Yoongi suddenly appears horrified. “Baby, did you not feel wanted before?” 

“Um, not for awhile, no.” You whisper, staring down at your hands. 

Yoongi sighs and leans his head into your lap. “You are wanted. God, you are so wanted. I’m sorry I’m such a bastard. We’ll talk, properly this time. Okay? We’ll all sit down and figure things out better. I’m not good with actually talking about shit, I know, but I can’t have you going around thinking that you’re not wanted.” 

“Okay. It’s okay. This was good though, alright? I enjoyed it.” You quickly reassure him, not wanting to end the night on a sad note after everything that happened. He nods and kisses your thigh. 

Jimin brings water for everyone, and you all finish your bottles before climbing into bed, everyone content and sated for the first time. You smile happily as Yoongi cuddles you close to him, and Jimin sweetly tells you goodnight. Maybe it was okay to have a little hope that everything would soon work out, because this day wasn’t bad at all. 

Little did you know this was merely the calm before the storm. 

The dim lighting in the narrow halls along with the stale smell of cleaning supplies had you on the verge of waddling back to the safety of Jin’s car. The squeaking of your shoes echoed loudly on the barely inhabited waiting area. The dull sickly shades of green intimidating the living daylights out of you, as you made your way towards the nurse station and registration area slowly, wary of tripping and eating shit, which to be honest with your luck nowadays it wouldn’t come as a surprise.

“Hello, Darling! May I help you with something?  You look a little lost there.” An older looking lady with peppered hair said giving you a small smile.

You nodded as you rubbed your belly, a weird feeling erupting from the pit of your stomach, making it feel a bit sensitive and stiff as if you were flexing. You took a deep breath and quietly cursed your body’s onset timing for what you had concluded were Braxton Hicks. You smiled back ignoring the weird sensation, “Yes, I came to visit a patient.”

“That’s great. What is the patient’s name? Are you a family member?” she asked as she started clicking away on her computer.

“No...I am not...actually…” You started only to be interrupted by a familiar, deep honey-like voice.

“Y/N?” a familiar deep voice questioned as he came into full view.

He looked different than last time you saw him. His usually bleach blond locks were now dyed a dark brown that matched perfectly with his brown orbs. He smiled at you, the familiar gummy smile that you had grown to love and now associate to a brotherly figure.

“Yoongi!” You said smiling widely at him, the sorrow and pain associated with Jimin’s abandonment forgotten for a brief moment as you were engulfed in a warm hug, “I’ve missed you so much. It’s been way too long!”

He chuckled as he ruffled your hair, “Yeah I know. Last time I saw you, you didn’t look like you were hiding a basketball underneath your shirt. I am wondering how you haven’t fallen face first with that cute belly of yours. You are definitely glowing and look absolutely stunning, Stef was right.”

Your face paled at the mention of her name as Yoongi’s bright smile turned into a grimace.

“Yeah, Stephany….How is she doing??” You asked trying to sound unaffected as the light tremble of your voice gave you away.

Yoongi reached for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, “She is doing good..actually, I was going to ask you.. is it okay if we have a coffee and maybe talk??”

You nodded, “Milk and cookies and you have a deal.” Another awkward cramp shot up your back making you squirm in place, “Is there a cafeteria or something. My pregnant butt needs to sit.”

Yoongi nods happily, “Yeah, it is right over there, let me help you with that.” He said taking the damp umbrella and purse from your hands.

You waddled next to him as he glanced at you every once in a while with a small smile on his face.

You plopped down happily at the first table you found, not even giving Yoongi the opportunity to seek out another one.

“I’ll be back,” he said as he walked towards the small serving area. The cafeteria was for the most part empty other than the bored looking teenage cashier who you were more than sure was more focused on the pink cell phone on her hand than her surroundings.

Yoongi placed a warm cup of milk and a bag of chocolate chip cookies on the table, displaying it as a beautiful buffet for your weak for munchies ass.

“So what do you want to talk about?” You asked as you eagerly opened the bag in front of you and plopped a whole cookie in your mouth successfully.

“I want to say I am sorry.” He said no longer looking at you, but instead focusing at the gray, dull coffee mug in front of him as if it was an intricate piece of art, “I called Jimin…..I told him to come.”

The hunger that had been pestering you since you had left your apartment, evaporated into nothingness with that lone sentence. Your belly contracted a bit more painful than usual as you wiggled yourself repositioning to hopefully soothe the dull tightness.

“How?” You asked quietly as you stared up into his eyes, your own already tearing up from all the emotions you had bottled up all these years, “How..how..how can you do it? How do you just sit and watch, as you watch her walk away into someone else’s arms, arms that aren’t yours? How do you go to sleep and wake up without knowing if she is going to be there in the morning? How do you numb yourself knowing that you might not be her first priority? How…..do you make it stop hurting? Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me? Cause….fuck ….excuse my french…..The only thing that comes to mind is ‘that fucking bitch’ when I hear her name coming from his lips. And it sucks because I know Stephany. I have grown close to her in ways I probably shouldn’t have. I love and care for her as well, but I am not okay with it..especially when it comes to Jimin’s love. I can’t stand watching her dance around boundaries she shouldn’t be crossing in the first place”

Yoongi ruffled his hair, the sadness in his eyes clearly noticeable, something you had never witnessed personally, “To be honest...I hate it....but at the same time….. I have come to realize that the only reason why I have put up with it in the first place is because I am fucking selfish.”

“Wait… How are you selfish? If anything Stephany is the selfish one. I don’t deserve this... You do not deserve this” you asked puzzled at his response.

“Look..” he said ruffling his hair nervously with one hand, “Stephany is my world. From the very first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We have gone through so many things together, and I was there to pick up every piece whenever she would fall apart in my arms. When we found out about Nataly she was ecstatic, everything was getting better and then…. As I held our little girl in my arms I noticed something was off. Stephany seemed fine for the first few weeks, until one day she locked herself for three days in her room with our child refusing to come out unless it was absolutely necessary. She wouldn’t eat, she would barely talk, and she rarely slept. She had become so absorbed in her own little world, that she panicked if I even got near Nataly.” Yoongi sighs, but continues explaining himself.

“Then one day I ran into Jimin, I had not seen him in a while, and after exchanging numbers I was on my merry way. Stephany deteriorated and I took her almost forcefully to the doctor. That is when she got diagnosed with Postpartum Depression. I reached out to various resources trying to figure out how to help the love of my life, and after several therapy sessions and group talks I found out that sometimes an outlet or maybe revisiting things that had made her happy in the past can help to break the wall she was building around herself. I remembered how much she talked about Jimin and the adventures they would have when they were young. And that is when I decided that maybe meeting up with him would be a good idea. I wrote down his information on a sticky note before work hoping she would find it since she refused to acknowledge me on her low days. Before I knew it she was gone... And then... she left Nataly at his door... and I knew I had fucked up. From then on she did it several times... She would run from me and go to him..but she always comes back and I much rather have that and know she is safe even if it is not with me than have her leave and never return...”

You wiped the tears away from your eyes as you saw Yoongi fall apart bit by bit till he was a sobbing mess, you reached out your hand to grasp his tightly, “Yoongi, I know... With me and Jimin... it is not the same but I have had to share too and it is not healthy Yoongi. I have excused this behavior for years now and now that it will not only affect me but my babies as well. I’ve come to realize that sometimes you have to set your foot down.”

“I love her... And she’s not well... I feel like it is my fault... I am so sorry (Y/n) I didn’t think it was going to get this bad. I love you and even though he can be an asshole at times, I love Jimin as well. You have been such a great help with Nataly and Stephany. I am so sorry I didn’t talk to you about this before. I was scared. I thought if I didn’t address the problem it would just disappear... and it just got bigger and bigger. I know about everything (Y/n)... The kiss they almost shared and every time she would invade both of your lives and I am so sorry. I am going to make this okay and be stronger for her. That is why I am taking her away. Once she gets better... Maybe we can try this friendship thing again... Maybe, if you don’t hate us too much. It was not Jimin, (Y/n) I was the one at fault… I should’ve told her not to go. I should’ve taken care of her better so she wouldn’t have to seek anyone else but me. I am so sorry. Jimin really does love you (Y/n), he was just helping Stephany….us out.”

You gave him a side smile as you wiped the tears from your face. “Sure... that sounds good. And don’t be silly... We are always going to be friends.” you said as you grasped his face in your hand and wiped a tear away... Now let’s stop crying and start eating. My kids need to grow.”

Yoongi shook his head disbelievingly as a choked up sob came out mixed with a laugh, “Thank you, you are honestly one of the most amazing and understanding people on the world. Love you.”

“Love you too, Yoongi.” You said as Yoongi grasped both your hands in his, “You can do this Yoongi. You take care of your girls.”

He gave a gummy smile, “Thank you (y/n), I will.” He said as he stole a cookie from your hand.

You scowled at him playfully, “That, though...I might not forgive.”

You walked the hallways alone. The voices and whispers around you made your growing anxiety click like a bomb waiting to explode as you searched the room number Yoongi had written on your hand. Yoongi had left you on your own to head back home and continue packing. You had assured him you would be fine over and over again before he relented and went on his way.

Your phone vibrated in your hand a notification popped up showing Jin’s name.

I hope everything is ok. I am still outside just in case you need me. I will be waiting for you.

Jin 4:05pm

I am okay Jin love. I should be out soon. Just saying bye.

(Y/n) 4:06

You placed the phone back in your pocket, and out of nowhere, a familiar laugh sounded through the halls. Your pace quickened as you finally met up with the number you had been searching for what it felt like forever.

Your feet traveled towards the door that was left slightly ajar.“Nataly, you know that pink isn’t my color!” You heard Jimin say dramatically, as you peeked in through the door quietly.“But the ponytails look great on you and I ran out of blue rubber bands!” Nataly replied as she leaned in placing a smooch on his cheek.

Your breath hitched as you took in the sight of Jimin kneeling on the floor, as Nataly sat on the edge of the bed doing his hair. Stephany sat on a bed with a wide grin on her face as her hand rested on Jimin’s. If a stranger would come in they would assume they were the happiest of families. The giggles inside the room were filled with pure happiness.

Stephany looked small in the medical bed, her usual full blond hair looked frizzy and unkept, her blue-eyed pools that could drown you were more of an icy gray, and her usually rosy cheeks looked gaunt and pale. Even in her current condition, she looked absolutely gorgeous, like a fairytale princess. Your stomach clenched again as you took an instinctive deep breath to soothe the uncomfortable pang.

A flashback of Yoongi’s voice resounded reminding you of how frail and delicate the woman you had believed was strong truly was.

Yoongi’s watery broken eyes staring straight at you flashed in your brain taking over your senses, “She took pills (Y/n), I got there just in time... But I almost lost her...”

Jimin stood up from his previous position and sat next to Stephany on the bed. She ran her small hand through his hair as he leaned into her warmth.

“You’re like a puppy Chimchim!” She said giggling as he stuck out his tongue playfully. Nataly quickly sat on his lap as she licked his cheek, “I wanna be a puppy too!”

You smiled at the scene unfolding as you rubbed your stomach that was once again cramping. You sighed sadly as you took a step back.

You couldn't do this. You didn’t want to interfere. They looked so happy and at peace. Maybe Stephany wasn’t the problem...maybe it had always been you.

Jimin leaned in to place a soft kiss on the crown of her forehead, the same kind you had felt every night you had spent in his arms as you crossed the threshold to dreamland. His soft plump lips blessing you with sweet dreams through the night.

You turned away from them and back to the door you had come from, throwing down the white towel...you had given up.

The rain poured relentlessly as you exited the building, camouflaging the tears that were falling down your face. You grasped your purse tightly against you as if it was a stress ball, turning your knuckles white.

It hurt, it really pained you to leave the man you loved behind. You were weak, you couldn’t do this.

Stephany didn’t have to leave. You did. They needed him. He had known this, but your selfish self had been reading way too much into it.

Nataly’s glimmering eyes as she stared at Jimin as if he was Superman himself.

You could stay…. You could bare it through at his side until Stephany got better… but when would that be?? Would it be a year from now??? Maybe 10???

The ongoing battle in your mind had caused another onset of cramps as you slowed down in place.

“Fuck...” you said out loud, as the cramp got more intense.

“(Y/n), are you okay??” You heard Jin say as he stood in front of you with an umbrella that was now covering you. The water was dripping against his forehead as he shivered.

“Seokjin, what are you doing outside?” You said trying to get closer to him so the umbrella could cover him as well.

“I told you I would be waiting for you silly.” He replied rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I know dork, but what are you doing out in the rain??” You asked as you brushed away a raindrop on his eyelash.

He gave you a nervous smile, “I was debating whether to go in or not… You were taking too long and I was starting to get worried.”

You shook your head with a small smile, “Jin, I really don’t deserve your ass!”

“You don’t, but I am here so.... how about we go back to the car? It’s starting to get chilly.” Jin replied as he wrapped a strong arm around you, “You are okay though, right?”

“Yes I am fine”

You lied.

There was something about Jimin’s eyes that had always captivated you. They were brown, the color of an old oak tree you would climb during the hot summers of your youth. Home, that is what his eyes would take you back to, in them you drowned and reminisced of the times where your biggest worry was learning how to tie your shoelaces.

His warmth was addicting. Being near him had always put you at ease no matter the situation. The way his strong arms would wrap around your waist pulling you into a tight embrace, flesh against flesh. A feeling that would borderline trigger your claustrophobia had become your favorite sensation.

The way his fringe would fall against his brow as he leaned down to capture your lips as he thrusted into you throughout the night, making you come undone over and over again, the both of you becoming one, would be an image embedded in your memory. A treasure you would admire from afar, too precious to touch.

The smile that had made you fall in love with him was not only reflected on his mouth, but also within the crinkles that appeared right beside his eyes. The contagious happiness that spread all over your body with every giggle and smirk that was thrown your way… There was nothing that would ever compare to that.

Just like in tug a war, as soon as the rope commences to burn along your skin and a light prickle of a sting awakens the trigger to drop it and give up, sometimes in life you must learn to let go.

Stubborn Love had held your hand and walked you all along the way, only stopping where you were at now, but your overly conscious insecurities and consistent state of neediness and selfishness could no longer bear the weight that had fallen upon your relationship from the very beginning, as the weak foundation it had been built on was hanging on by a thread, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Jin’s fingers tapped softly yet relentlessly along the steering wheel. You could tell he was anxious to question what had happened, but he knew better. Jin knew you. You sneaked glances his way as he focused on the road. Jin was handsome and strong, he had always been your shoulder to cry on and your personal diary; the only one who truly knew how you felt about Jimin and Stephany’s relationship. There were times where you wondered why hadn’t you fallen in love with him instead. From the beginning, you had never had doubts about your friendship or his loyalty. He knew your likes, dislikes, and where to set his boundaries.

The car stopped suddenly breaking you away from the thoughts that had been clouding your mind. He took a glance your way, catching your eyes with his brown ones. He tilted his head as he leaned in to wipe a tear that had been trailing along your cheek. You laid your hand against his letting it rest on your cheek. Your lips kissed the sensitive skin of his wrist as more tears traveled down your face.

“(Y/N)”, he whispered as his own voice was wavering slightly with emotions. You looked up to meet his eyes and you noticed they now looked pink and swollen, “I’m sorry…. I am really sorry about everything. I am sorry I pushed you his way. I didn’t know. I should’ve…”

You shook your head as you let go of his hand and it fell against your lap, “You have nothing to be sorry about Jin. You have been nothing less than wonder…ful. Sorry, I am having those fake contractions or whatever….they’re just uncomfortable.” You said, rubbing your belly.

“Let’s get you to bed.” He replied as he got out of the car quickly and ran to your side to help you out. You walked next to him as he held your hand all the way to your shared apartment with Jimin. You paused every once in a while to rub the cramp out of your belly.

The place felt cold and empty as you walked inside, the framed pictures taking you back to a happy place for a few seconds before reality came crashing down once again.

“(Y/N), I think you should lay down…. I’m starting to get worried about those cramps you are having.” Jin said as he took off his wet jacket. The rain had done a number on him as he made sure to cover you entirely with the umbrella leaving no room for himself.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him tightly giving no fucks about the cold rainwater that was now soaking through your shirt, “Thank you Jin. Thank you so much. You deserve the world… scratch that, you deserve the whole fucking galaxy at this point.”

Jin chuckled lightly as he returned the hug and ran a hand through your hair. You felt a warm kiss against your head that had you looking up at his tall frame. He was close, so close to your now blushing face. His warm peppermint breath fanning against your skin. At this distance, you could make out every single eyelash, and can now perfectly memorize the pink that laid upon his plush lips.

“(Y/N),” he whispered softly enough to have you wondering if he had truly said something or it had just been a figment of your imagination.

You hummed questioningly not backing away.

“You are my galaxy,” he whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead quickly about to back away from you as to not invade your personal space. Before he could take a step back your hands reached out to grasp his collar tightly.

His pupils dilated with mixed emotions you had never been able to decipher before, but now were as clear as day.

A second. That is all it took for you to completely erase every thought, memory, and guilt. That one second is all it took for you to fuse your lips against Jin’s blurring out the world. His lips were sweet and warm. They felt safe. They felt like they could be home. He responded almost automatically holding you closer than before, but then as you felt him ask for entrance Jimin’s face popped into your mind. The way Jimin’s hands held your face as he deepened his kisses as his thumb caressed the back of your ear soothingly as opposed to Jin’s, that were holding on to your sides with trembling fingers, wary that you would push him away. Jimin nibbled on your bottom lip softly whenever he would ask for entrance causing your core to explode with heat that could overpower a volcano anyday. Jin was careful and soft, licking your bottom lip before you allowed him to take over. Jimin was rough and passionate. Jin was soft and careful. Jimin was dangerous and unpredictable. Jin was safe and cautious.

Jimin…..

A warm liquid traveled along your leg. At first, you thought it was the rainwater dripping from Jin’s soaked clothes, but the drip turned into a continuous leak and the contrast from the cold water falling from his hair to your face was quite obvious.

Jin backed away before you could react. His face went into panic mode as he looked down, the clear evidence of the unknown liquid all over the floor and his pants.

“Did I make you pee yourself??” He asked in a small, confused voice.

You remained quiet and stunned as you looked at your belly.

Jin caught onto your line of sight staring with wide eyes and open mouth gaping at your belly.

Frightened, you stared up at him, “Jin, I think my water broke...”

Before you could react Jin had already picked you up in his arms cradling you easily against his body. Your instincts kicked in as you kept in mind the birthing classes you had forcefully attended.