#Gaston Glass

[thebutcher-5]

Eva contro Eva

Benvenuti o bentornati sul nostro blog. Nello scorso articolo abbiamo deciso di cambiare completamente argomento, passando dal mondo del cinema a quella dei fumetti e continuando ad andare avanti con Kalya, la serie fantasy italiana che ormai conoscete bene qui sul blog, giungendo al volume 8. Dopo essere riusciti a sfuggire a Varnon e il suo Corrotto, il gruppo di Kalya trova rifugio in delle…

[achildsfirstsorrow]

You can have an Erik with the 🥸 glasses

[ladyjuliapearle]

Number 24, 'Shallow', is a tribute to 'Beauty and the Beast' from 1991.

They made a real life adaptation in 2017 where Luke Evans plays Gaston, and I think my favourite line from that movie is when Lefou says: 'There's a beast running wild there's no question, but I fear the wrong monster's released.'.

So this is my take on Gaston's Shallowness

[queerstuffonscreen]

Anyone But Me (2008-2011)

Episode length: 6-22 min.

Country: USA

Genre: Web Series, Drama

Language: English

When 16-year-old Vivian is forced to move and leave her girlfriend behind in NYC, she struggles with her sexual identity as she tries to fit into her new suburban neighborhood.

Season 1

Episode 1: Heavy Lifting

Episode 2: New Alliance

Episode 3: Countdown

Episode 4: Vivian + Aster

Episode 5: The Note - Part 1

Episode 6: The Note - Part 2

Episode 7: Welcome to the Party

Episode 8: Now Clean Up the Mess

Episode 9: Out of the Gate

Episode 10: Enormous Changes at the Last

Episode 11: The Lost Scenes: Tomorrow Without You

Episode 12: The Lost Scenes: The First Time

Episode 13: The Lost Scenes: Miles of Possibility

Season 2

Episode 1: The Real Thing

Episode 2: Quickly, to the Exits

Episode 3: Identity Crisis

Episode 4: Girl Talk

Episode 5: One Step Forward, One Step Back

Episode 6: The Things We Know

Episode 7: Date Night

Episode 8: Naming Things

Episode 9: Private Rooms and Public Spaces

Episode 10: Curtain Up

Episode 11: The Lost Scenes: Just Friends

Episode 12: The Lost Scenes: Born This Way

Episode 13: The Lost Scenes: For All to See

Episode 14: The Lost Scenes: Someday

Season 3

Episode 1: Stick Figures

Episode 2: Far Away

Episode 3: Something Old Something New

Episode 4: Mapping Home

Episode 5: 2,500 Miles to You

Episode 6: We Went Down to Battery Park

Episode 7: The Lost Scenes: Hard to Forget

Episode 8: The Lost Scenes: No One's Picking Up the Phone

Episode 9: The Lost Scenes: Wherever You Go

Watch on YouTube

[artist-issues]

Disney doesn't need to change "the formula." That's the last thing that Wish proves.

What Wish proves is that "the formula" only works when you know why the ingredients are in it, and you use them the correct way.

The Princess Character is meant to wish for only half of the movie's message, and go through an adventure that teaches her what the other half is; what her dream was missing. Ariel dreamed of understanding but she was missing love. Tiana dreamed of achieving her goals but she was missing faith. Jasmine dreamed of freedom but she was missing trust. Belle dreamed of adventure but she was missing being understood.

The Villain is meant to highlight the opposite of the movie's message. Jafar gets what he wants through trickery and manipulation; that's the opposite of Aladdin's "truth will set you free" message, and he gets imprisoned in a lamp. Scar thinks being a King is having his way all the time and can't learn from his past of living in Mufasa's shadow; that's the opposite of The Lion King's "Let the past remind you of your responsibility to selflessness." Gaston loves only himself and is always obsessed with appearances; that's the opposite of Beauty & the Beast's "true love is found within a heart of self-sacrifice." That's what makes them such good villains. (and that clear direction is what drives good villain songs, since Magnifico's is what everyone is talking about)

The sidekick is supposed to compare/contrast with the main character's qualities. Abu is a greedy thief, which is what everyone in Agrabah thinks Aladdin is; when he scolds Abu and teaches him selflessness, it shows us who Aladdin actually is. Flounder is easily frightened and looks at the glass half-full; when Ariel coaxes him and leads by example, we see her bravery and positivity reflected in Flounder's tiny character arc. Timon & Pumbaa do whatever they want all day just like young Simba always dreamed of; when Simba goes to live with them, he finds that "getting his way all the time" makes him forget who he really is and feel empty.

The setting is supposed to show off the characters and highlight the movie's message. Rapunzel's tower is designed to be pretty on the inside because of her influence; if it were too dark and prison-shaped, we'd wonder why she didn't work up the courage to leave sooner. Just like how Quasimodo has made his corner of the bell-tower beautiful, too; they're taught the world is cruel and they're not strong enough for it, but they make their own worlds beautiful enough to hint that that's wrong right from the start. Ariel's grotto is shaped like a tower with no roof so that she only has one window to the forbidden Surface, and it's the light that comes from that forbidden world into her dark grotto which literally makes her able to see human things differently. Tiana's apartment has no interesting features except her father's picture, a perfectly made bed, a drawer with no extra outfits but stuffed with tip money, and only two dresses; both of which are for work.

None of that is happening in Wish, because they didn't know why the formula ingredients are there. Disney needs to understand and return to the formula the right way; forgetting it was what got them here.

Asha learns nothing to add to her dream, unless you count "the power to grant wishes is in me." Which you shouldn't, because we didn't even know she was confused about that until the animals sang a song that was completely off-topic and she had the chance to jump in and sing "I'm a Star!"

Magnifico does not demonstrate the opposite of Wish's message effectively because his character has nothing to do with a philosophy against making wishes, and everything to do with power. (He is the strongest character in the film. But because the message and core concept of what wishes are are so bad, that's not saying much.)

Valentino, and Asha's friends, do not highlight anything about her character through compare/contrast. Valentino is brave and all over the place. Her friends are seven-dwarfs parodies. Happy, Doc, Sneezy, Dopey, Bashful, Sleepy, Grumpy. None of that contrasts with Asha's vague characterization of "cares too much." None of it compares to that characterization, either.

The setting is empty. There are no interesting details that teach you something about any of the characters. None in Asha's home, none in the neat-and-tidy one-dimensional forest, none in the Rosas square, and none in the bland, empty castle. Magnifico's study is the closest anything gets; there's a loose concept that all of Asha's friends have to work together to open the roof, and take a leap of faith to weigh the pulley system down. Unfortunately, none of these characters is shown struggling to work together, OR to take leaps of faith, at all, before this point.

The ingredients of the formula are in Wish. They're just not being used correctly. This is how not to use the formula; it's not the formulas fault. If it ain't broke. They should never have let people convince them to try and fix it.

[felassan]

The Slightest Ones bard song:

Arlathan fell so deep onto the ocean floor

Dalish elven lore:

"It is said that the Tevinter magisters used their great destructive power to force the very ground to swallow Arlathan whole"

The Adventures of the Black Fox by Gaston Gerrault:

"The stories all agree that, at some point, the Black Fox disappeared: He and his fellow adventurers voyaged into the heart of the Arlathan forest seeking the sunken city of the elves and never returned"

Solas dialogue:

"Imagine [...] palaces floating among the clouds."

Codex entry: Vir Dirthara: Homecoming

"a city of glass spires so deeply blue they ache. The city's outskirts are wrapped in lakes of mist, and figures stroll along the pearly, glowing strips as if they walked on solid ground [...] other elves walk below a river churning along an invisible shoal in the air."

Tevinter tries to mimic some ancient elvhen magic and Minrathous has a floating castle.

Location in Dragon Age: The Veilguard -

Arlathan Crater: one, two, three

Definitions of "crater":

- a landform consisting of a hole or depression on a planetary surface, usually caused either by an object hitting the surface, or by geological activity on the planet - a bowl-shaped pit that is formed by a volcano, an explosion, or a meteorite impact

Was the city of Arlathan a floating city kept aloft by ancient elvhen magic in a way that was intrinsically dependent on the presence of the Fade, and when the Veil was erected, with that tie severed it crashed to the ground like an asteroid? Did the ground swallow it whole? When Solas created the Veil, in that reshaping of reality was it physically spacetime-displaced deep into the heart of the Fade? When he made the Veil, did it "fall" (warp) into the Deep Roads like the elven library found by Genitivi in Genitivi Dies in the End? Did it fall to the bottom of the ocean? Did it fall into the other ocean, the Fade (the "Waters of the Fade", "the sea of dreams", the "emerald waters", "vast oceans, containing not water, but memories")? The Fade sort've reflects reality and is shaped by dreams, so is The City [by this I mean The Golden/Black City] the Fade-mirror-image or echo of Arlathan as opposed to literally physically it? the wild and fun thing about Dragon Age is that more than one of these things could be true at once.

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[seaslugfanclub]

Random Park attendant: y’know (Y/N), you always seem to spend a lot of time with the animal characters— y’know, Ratigan, Honest John, Scar, Robin Hood? Why is that?

(Y/N), who may or may not be a furry: ….No reason…

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

Cruella: hold my hand— NOW.

(Y/N): *grabs hand* IT. BURNS

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

(Y/N): Other employees have emergency pepper spray. I have emergency pocket Ratigan

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

(Y/N): Gaston, could you read page 23 for the group?

Gaston: No I cannot! (Bonjour, my names Gaston, I’m 29, and I never fucking learned how to read)

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

(Y/N): Do you wanna make out?

Maleficent: Not really…

(Y/N): *Holding back tears* yeah me neither I wanna go to sleep *fakes snore*

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

King Magnifico: I miss my wife (Y/N). I miss her a lot. I’ll be back..

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

Cruella : I really like this shade of blood orange

Medusa: Blood orange… she’s so pretentious—Shut up it’s fucking red. *Blood orange*.. ugh

——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-——-

Mickey Mouse: Do you know why I called you here into my office?

(Y/N): Is it because I accidentally sent you that dick-pic?

Mickey Mouse *stops pouring two glasses of apple juice*: Accidentally?

[v-akarai]

References in Servamp

Arabian mythology

Jinn. Ch. 16

Greek mythology

Elpis. Ch. 75

Moirai. Ch. 108

Pandora. Ch. 130

Pygmalion. Ch. 123

Pandora's Box. Ch. 97

Japanese mythology

Gashadokuro. Ch. 129

Kitsune. Ch. 3

Raijin. Ch. 85

Norse mythology

Baldr. Ch. 39

Bifröst. Ch. 88

Brunhild. Ch. 88

Fimbulwinter. Ch. 40

Freya. Ch. 65

Frey. Ch. 131

Gleipnir. Ch. 101

Hati. Ch. 91, 131

Hod. Ch. 39

Hliðskjálf. Ch. 96

Idunn. Ch. 65

Loki. Ch. 15

Mimir. Ch. 29

Mjölnir. Ch. 53

Ragnarök. Ch. 101, 122, 131

Sigurd. Ch. 101

Thor. Ch. 41

Yggdrasil. Ch. 42

Biblical references

Abel. Ch. 8

Adam. Ch. 128

Boaz and Jachin. Ch. 42

Eden. Ch. 21

Eve. Ch. 1

John the Baptist. Ch. 122

Judith. Ch. 147

Lucifer. Ch. 135

Noah. Ch. 145

Nod. Ch. 29, events

Hinduism

Asura. Ch. 57.5, 89.

Tarot

The Fool - Mahiru. Ch. 50

I. The Magician – Night trio. Ch. 41

II. The High Priestess – Mikuni. Ch. 42

V. The Hierophant - Shuhei. Ch. 77

X. Wheel of Fortune - Junichiro. Ch. 53

XII. The Hanged Man - Tsurugi. Ch. 50

XV. The Devil – Shamrock. Ch. 72

XVI. The Tower - Touma. Ch. 47

XVII. The Star - Iduna. Ch. 73

XVIII. The Moon - Yumikage. Ch. 69

XX. Judgement - Mikuni. Ch. 144

Literary references

 "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" Lewis Carroll. Ch. 3, 4, 7, 19, 98, 122. Misono, Lily, Dodo, Mitsuki, Yamane, Hattori, Mikuni, Bad B and Good B.

"As You Like It" William Shakespeare. Ch. 10, 38.5. Mikuni's spell.

"My Fair Lady" English nursery rhyme. Ch. 10 Mikuni's spell.

"Dracula" Bram Stoker. Ch. 12, 30. Hugh.

"Romeo and Juliet" William Shakespeare. Ch. 23, 34. Hyde, Ophelia.

"Faust" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Ch. 29 Johannes.

"Through the Looking-Glass" Lewis Carroll. Ch. 29, events. Mikuni, Johannes.

"Julius Caesar" William Shakespeare. Ch. 23, 84. Hyde.

"Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" Robert Stevenson. Ch. 23, 37. Hyde, Licht.

"Macbeth" William Shakespeare. Ch. 24, 31. Kuro, Saint Germain, Mahiru.

"Night on the Galactic Railroad" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 26, 142. Higan, Tsubaki.

"The Little Prince" Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Ch 30, 67. Kuro, Mahiru, Sloth demon, Gear, probably Jeje.

"Hamlet" William Shakespeare. Ch. 33, 34. Hyde, Ophelia.

"The Phantom of the Opera" Gaston Leroux. Ch. 36 Licht and Hyde technique.

"Peter and Wendy" James Barry. Ch. 44, 56, 74. Tsurugi, Touma, Mahiru.

"Ring a Ring o' Roses" nursery rhyme. Ch. 53 Junichiro's spell.

“Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens” James Barry. Ch. 53, 75. Tsurugi, Touma.

"Death in Venice" Thomas Mann. Ch. 55 Gilbert technique.

"Total Eclipse" a play by Christopher Hampton. Ch. 55 Rayscent's technique.

"The Morning of the Last Farewell" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 57.5 Tsubaki.

"Spring and Asura" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 57.5 Tsubaki.

"The Catcher in the Rye" Jerome Salinger. Ch. 62 Shuhei.

"Four and Twenty Blackbirds" Agatha Christie. Ch. 62 Shuhei's spell.

"Metamorphosis" Franz Kafka. Ch. 62 Shamrock technique.

“The Nighhawk's Star” Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 62, 76. Shamrock technique.

"Rock-a-bye Baby" an English lullaby. Ch. 70 Touma's spell.

“Schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein” lullaby. Ch. 70 Touma's spell.

"Who Killed Cock Robin" an English nursery rhyme. Ch. 70 Yumikage's spell.

"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" Lyman Frank Baum. Ch. 70, 88. Tsukimitsu brothers’ spells.

"Daddy-Long-Legs" Jean Webster. Ch. 74. Dark Night Trio, Touma.

"King Lear" William Shakespeare. Ch. 86. Hyde.

"The House of the Sleeping Beauties" Yasunari Kawabata. Ch. 86. Iori.

"The Divine Comedy" Dante Alighieri. Ch. 118, 120, 121. Niccolo, Ildio, Gluttony demon.

“A Brute's Love” (人でなしの恋) Edogawa Rampo. Ch. 122 Mikuni, Lily.

"Coppelia" ballet Leo Delibes. Chapter 122 Mikuni, Lily.

"Salome" Oscar Wilde. Ch. 122, 147. Mikuni, Lily.

"Turandot" opera by Giacomo Puccini based on the play by Carlo Gozzi. Ch. 129, 136. Lily.

"The Tempest" William Shakespeare. Ch. 131. Licht and Hyde.

"The Old Man and the Sea" Ernest Hemingway. Ch. 134 Hugh.

"Flowers for Algernon" Daniel Keyes. Ch. 135 Hugh.

"Jane Eyre" Charlotte Brontë. Ch. 136. Hokaze.

"Madama Butterfly" opera by Giacomo Puccini. Ch. 136. Lily.

"Hansel and Gretel" the Brothers Grimm. Ch. 140. Faust and Otogiri.

"Girl Hell" Yumeno Kyusaku. Ch. 147. Mikuni, Noah.

Music

"Für Elise" by Ludwig van Beethoven. Ch. 34

"Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" by Johann Sebastian Bach. Ch. 125

Sonata No. 17 "Tempest" by Ludwig van Beethoven. Ch. 131

Movies

"It's a Wonderful Life" (1946). Ch. 131

"Life is Beautiful" (1997). Ch. 131

I believe this list can be expanded. Somewhere I’ve written only chaps when some reference was mentioned for the first time and omitted all further mentions.

Special thanks to hello-vampire-kitty, joydoesathing and passmeabook, because some works wouldn’t be included in the list without their observations.

[nejjcollectsbooks]

black & red & black & red & black & red

> The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco > The Complete Poems by John Keats > Stoner by John Williams > Arabian Sands by Wilfred Thesiger > The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse > The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston LeRoux > The Vindication of the Rights of Woman by Mary Wollstonecraft > The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins > Dracula by Bram Stoker

Thrifted tea set that my brothers got me. I had to pair it with my penguin classics and vintage classics.

[safarigirlsp]

Forbidden

Hogwarts Professor Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Aggressive and Dominant Jacques. Chasing. Implied Age Gap. Student/Professor Dynamics. Professor/Professor Dynamics. Everyone is over 18, as All Readers Must Be.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: Based on a special request for a sexy Christmas party with Professor Le Gris from my beautiful friend @kyloremus ! She does the absolute best edits around and keeps me absolutely rabid! Edits by her, of course!

More Hogwarts Professor Jacques fics for anyone hooked:

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Dashing Through The Snow

I Put A Spell On You

A Duel to Remember

Fog hung heavily in the winter air, snaking through the cobblestone streets and the serpentine twists of Diagon Alley. Fat snowflakes danced lazily down from swirling carbon clouds and the cobblestones were icy and slick beneath the fresh powder snow. Shop windows glowed with a kaleidoscope of lights and buttered rum and spiced wine could be scented on the frosted air. Christmas Eve was a glittering evening, the kind filled with beauty and wonder and promise. A gust of wind blew down the alley toward you, twirling a flurry of snow up from the ground. You pulled your coat tighter around your body and trotted toward your destination a few businesses ahead.

Ducking inside the welcoming doors of the Leaky Cauldron, you were instantly enveloped by warmth and the smell of drinks and fried food. The bar was more crowded than you had ever seen it, packed to standing room only with patrons out for Christmas Eve. Festive music, a mix of cherry and clubby, almost made you want to dance as you weaved your way through the crowd. The edges of the bar were obscured in that murky shadow that liked to linger on the sidelines, like wallflower shades watching from the wings. You could see figures of people sitting in the shadows, but couldn’t make out any discerning features. You could almost feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you from the shadows.

A wave from the crowded bar caught your eye. A group of four people pressed together at the bar, two couples, waiting for you. Your friends. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be the third wheel in your group, still single after your closest friends had paired up with men during their school years and shortly thereafter. Zelda was now married and Dina, more protective of her freedom, was with a man she had been dating for years. It was easy to see that the man who was supposed to meet you tonight was absent. You expected to hear whatever excuse he had for that from your friends. It was no bother, really. Blind dates were always something of a disaster.

Zelda waved at you more animatedly, fitting for your bubbly blonde friend. Beside her Dina, a stately brunette, must have told their men to clear some space for you because both men moved to the edge of the bar under the guise of having some conversation amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe Gaston stood you up!” Zelda huffed indignantly when you joined them, referring to your absentee blind date. “What an asshole! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”

“It’s best for the assholes to weed themselves out early,” you said nonchalantly. It was hardly an upset. You were beginning a new job soon anyway, one that would have you sequestered away from the world for most of the year. Starting a relationship now was impractical.

“I agree,” Dina added. “At least you hadn’t invested any energy in him or wasted any time. Besides, now if we see him out and about, we have every reason to be as nasty as possible to him, which is always fun.”

“To hell with him,” you said and took the beer the bartender slid in front of you. The three of you raised your glasses and clinked them together to a round of, “Merry Christmas!”

“There’s more to celebrate on top of the holidays,” Dina said with a coy smile.

“Yes!” Zelda added excitedly. She clinked your glass again with too much vigor, spilling beer over both your hands. “Cheers to the newest professor at Hogwarts!”

Elation and slight embarrassment rushed through you at her toast. You were proud and excited, and still a bit in disbelief that you had secured such a coveted position. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that you had graduated from Hogwarts yourself.

“To the new History of Magic Professor!” Dina added and took a drink. “Leave it to you to make that class interesting at last. I must admit I’m shocked the Headmaster liked your pitch.”

“Not nearly as shocked as I am.” A wide grin spread across your lips. “I figured that since I had no real chance of getting the job anyway, I might as well shoot my shot and lay all my aspirations out on the table. In my wildest dreams, I never suspected the Headmaster would actually want a course that teaches both the history of magic and the added practice of the arcane spells we lost to history.”

“Another toast! To no lost limbs or dismembered students in your first term!” Zelda teased.

“At least, to no one I like,” you laughed.

“Just think,” Dina mused with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Now you’ll be on equal standing with our old professors.”

“Ooo, yes!” Zelda said conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s best you’re going into this job single.”

Nearly every teenage girl at Hogwarts had a crush on one professor or other. You and your friends were no exception. It didn’t help matters that several professors were men in their prime, in their thirties and forties, at the peak of their attractiveness. Zelda had charmed her journal to explode with pink hearts whenever she wrote a certain name in its pages. The hearts smelled like roses and would flutter around her like butterflies. Of course, the name belonged to their charms professor, a dashing man with chic mahogany hair, masculine chest hair that peeked through the buttons in his shirt, and eyes as richly green as the forest after a rain. Dina had been so enamored of their quidditch coach, a tall athlete with golden hair, sky blue eyes and a movie-star smile, that she engineered a few nasty falls from her broom just so he would rush to rescue her and carry her to the hospital wing in his burly arms.

It was undeniable that both professors were attractive, but your interest had never been piqued by nerds or jocks. Bad boys appealed to you, or rather, tall, dark and handsome men. Byronic men with a hint of darkness who would be right at home in a gothic Victorian novel. The sort of man who exuded danger and vigor, the kind who had a predatory presence and a devil-may-care glint in his eye. The kind of man who, when he looked at you, he looked ravenously, leaving you wondering if he was going to steal you away to a dark tower or ravage you against the wall at the ball where you could be discovered at any moment.

As schoolgirls, the three of you spent countless hours in the library and common room discussing your favorite literary men, debating which men were the best. Fortunately, there was never any competition between you for your favorites. Zelda could have gallant Mr. Darcy and Gatsby and Atticus Finch. Dina could claim lively Cpt. Wentworth and Beowulf and Jean Valjean. So long as they left roguish Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff and Edmund Dantes for you. The dark antiheroes and villains who you weren’t really supposed to love. The forbidden kind of man. Prince Charming was so boring compared to the Beast, and what prissy prince could eat you better than the Big Bad Wolf? Naturally, the literary epitome of this was Count Dracula, but until he crossed oceans of time to find you, you were left with a sadly more mortal selection of men.

And if there was ever a man who epitomized tall, dark, handsome, and Byronic, it was Jacques Le Gris. When he stalked down the halls, he looked as if he were roaming his family’s century’s old gothic mansion. When he strolled across the grounds in the evening, it was easy to picture him roaming a Scottish moor. Adding to this imagery was the fact that he often undid the top two buttons of his shirt when taking his evening stroll, revealing the thick cleft of his chest. You thought you were suffering a heart attack one morning when you saw him running shirtless near the lake through the mist before dawn.

In coffee and in men, your tastes ran dark, robust, and strong. It was the Head of Slytherin House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who had captivated you from the moment you first saw him. The year he came to Hogwarts as the new defense against the dark arts professor was your last year in school, and despite the number of candles on your birthday cake, there was nothing childish about you at seventeen. The memory of that first day was still as vivid in your mind as the present moment you were living. Professor Le Gris all but storming down the hall in his long purposeful stride, unruly ebony hair dusting his impossibly broad shoulders, his cape swirling in his wake as though it were a living thing. Heat flooded you at the mere memory. Some girls had their sexual awakening in some bumbling experiment with a pimpled teenage boy under the quidditch stands. For you, it was imagining Professor Le Gris’s huge hands running over your body, gripping you so hard in his passion that the bruises he left lingered for days; his long hair falling around his face in sweaty tendrils as he looked down at you, caged beneath his enormous body, running your hands over his broad back and feeling his muscles flex with every thrust into you.

Memories of your darkest fantasies flooded your mind with an almost dizzying intensity. It was unsettling, you had never experienced such vivid, intrusive visions. The feeling of Professor Le Gris’s hands on your body felt as real as the wooden bar you leaned against. The sound of him growling your name in your ear rang deeper than the cheery music in the bar. The rich masculine scent of him overrode the smells around you, and the taste of beer on your tongue was overshadowed by the taste of his skin and arousal.

“Hello?” Zelda snapped her fingers in front of your nose playfully. “Were you listening at all? I asked if you still have a crush on our old defense against the dark arts professor?”

“Oh, Professor Le Gris?” you feigned ignorance, hoping your friends didn’t see the way your pupils had dilated at the thought of him. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“Perhaps you can seduce Professor Le Gris and put in a good word for me with Professor Wren and we can have an awkward double date together,” Zelda laughed. “Best we not tell my husband.”

You rolled your eyes and took a drink in an attempt to open your throat back up, since it had closed at the thought of him.

“You’re not a student anymore,” Dina said suggestively. “And rumor has it Professor Le Gris is newly single again after some tawdry fling with one of those jezebels teaching at Beauxbatons. You’re rather lucky, you know? I was devastated to hear that Coach Baldr had married.” She nodded toward her boyfriend at the end of the bar and snickered. “Poor Albert has no clue how precarious a position he has. I would leave him in a moment if that Norse god wanted to take me to Valhalla.”

“Speaking of rumors,” Zelda said, lowering her voice to the quiet tone they once used to gossip in the library. “I still wonder if Le Gris is a werewolf. He has the look, doesn’t he? Those amber eyes, all that bushy hair, and those teeth. The way he looks at you a little too intensely. Can’t you just picture him howling at the moon?”

“My money is still on him being an animagi,” Dina argued. “I agree that he would be a wolf though, like his patronus is. A big black wolf with yellow eyes.”

Unbidden, the image came to you of a big black wolf chasing after you as you ran through a misty forest. Your heart pounded in your ears, almost as loud as the wolf thundering behind you. You inhaled sharply as the wolf lunged at you, sinking his teeth into your neck, pleasurably painful. Your wide eyes shot up as if the bite was real. And met a pair of amber eyes across the room, watching you from a shadowy corner of the bar.

Shock froze you in place, made your muscles seize as though it was Medusa’s eyes you had looked into and been instantly turned to stone. It was lucky actually. Otherwise, you would surely have dropped your beer and made a much more outward spectacle. As it was, you managed to keep a modicum of decorum and show no obvious displays of surprise. Or arousal, even as old fantasies again played in your mind like a song on repeat. You met those eyes steadily, eyes you hadn’t seen in person since your last day as a student at Hogwarts.

Professor Jacques Le Gris watched you intently. The way a wolf watches a fox frolicking unaware. Even the way he leaned casually back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, was lupine. A predator at ease, waiting for the opportune moment to seize his prey. Though he reclined in his chair, he still dwarfed the small round table for two. He was dressed all in black, the way you had most often seen him. Only tonight, his jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. His cravat was undone, the tails hanging down on either side of his shirt, framing the vee of chest that was exposed by the top two open buttons. He looked every bit the swarthy rake, a bodice-ripping libertine straight out of a Victorian penny dreadful. A half-smoked cigar was pinched between his index and middle fingers, a tendril of smoke spiraling from its glowing end toward the ceiling as he casually circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. His eyes had a fiery glint to match the cigar.

Instantly, you wondered how long he had been there. How long he had been watching you. If he had heard you. Judging by the level of his drink and the length of his cigar, he had been there some time before you arrived. His plush lips twitched in a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass to them, watching you over the rim as he took a drink. Another image intruded into your thoughts. Professor Le Gris striding down one of the many long, dark hallways of Hogwarts. He was behind you, stalking you. And of course he caught you. Grabbing your shoulder, he roughly turned you around and pushed you back against the nearest wall. He crowded against you, towered over you. His hips pinned you to the wall and his arms caged you in, his huge hands planted on either side of your head. He leaned in, his lips hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Every part of him was huge and hard; his thick chest under your hands, his iron fingers gripping you, his massive cock digging into you through his pants. The thought was too real, utterly taking command of your mind, and your body responded. A deep throb rocked through your core along with a melting heat, dripping through you slowly and deliberately like candle wax.

“I need some air,” you told your friends. They looked at you concerned, so you added convincingly. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just stuffy in here with the Christmas party crowd. You know how I hate being packed in with the unwashed masses.”

You pushed through the crowded bar and all but bolted outside, hoping the cool winter air would have a chilling effect on your rampant imagination. Outside, you walked briskly, feeling the icy snowflakes land on your cheeks. And the way they steamed on your hotly flushed skin. Thankfully, there were few people outside on Christmas Eve. They were all either home with family or inside at a party like the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley itself was nearly vacant, the shops darkened. Darker still and more vacant was Knockturn Alley. You were counting on it as you rounded the corner into the literal darker alley and trotted past a few darkened storefronts.

In the privacy of a shadowy doorway you leaned against the locked door and let out a heavy breath. You sounded lewd even to your own ears. The overhand of the doorway blocked the snow from falling on you and your skin felt instantly hot again. Another image flooded your mind, and you began to wonder if this was what madness felt like. This vision was different than any you had ever had before, but just as vivid. In your mind’s eye you saw Professor Le Gris standing shirtless in a gothic bedchamber with tall arched windows and a grand king bed, perhaps his chambers at Hogwarts or his home, wherever that was. In that omniscient way you know the thoughts of every character in dreams, you knew the thoughts that plagued him. How he had been consumed by the desire for a particular woman for years. A forbidden woman. Jacques would never seduce a student, fuck a student. No matter how beautiful and enticing, and blatantly responsible for his wolfish hunger you were. In nearly forty years, he had never been so captivated. So enchanted. So cursed.

Clear as a florid memory, you saw Jacques lean against the wall, pressing his head to the cool stone. Here, in private, he could imagine all the things he could never do in reality. Like fuck his favorite student. He knew how wrong it was even to think such disturbing things. The thought made him grin to himself, an indulgent, devilishly handsome grin. He pictured your luscious body. He wondered how sweet you smell. He imagined how delicious you taste. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the tight hot squeeze of you around his cock when he fucked his fist. Stroking his cock, he imagined thrusting into you, over and over and over, feeling you strain and flutter when he stretched you around him. The way he groaned was absolutely filthy when he came, imagining he was filling you until it was leaking out of you. He all but banged his forehead on the stone wall when he finally rested his head there, his hair falling around his face in a disheveled ebony curtain, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

There in the snowy alley, you watched it all happen in your mind’s eye as though it were your own memory. No, less like a memory and more like watching it happen through a window, like a voyeur. Your friend’s statement flashed in your mind. An exciting, enticing thought.

I am no longer a student.

As you felt a slick heat ruining your panties, you sobered for a moment. Just long enough for one lucid thought that was both thrilling and frightening. You remembered another rumor about Professor Le Gris. He was rumored to be a master of occlumency and legilimency. A legilimens could access another’s mind, see their thoughts and feel their feelings. No one could keep any secrets from a legilimens. Not only could a man with such a skill read your thoughts, he could influence them. He could plant any thought, any feeling, any image into your head as though it was your own. He could make you fantasize about him and remember your most forbidden desires. He could make you see what he felt for you, what he always had. He could make all those thoughts and feelings boil to the surface of your mind, make your desires simmer. He could even make you drip for him, almost on command.

“I’ve known your secrets for some time,” his voice sounded from the alley corner. Real this time, deep and hoarse with desire of his own. Jacques Le Gris leaned against the brick wall of the shop whose doorway you had hidden in. “The way you wanted me to corner you in the halls, pin you there against the wall where you couldn’t escape. Take whatever I want.” His pose was casual, his shoulder leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. But his eyes were the opposite, watching you with a burning intensity that all but crackled through the air. “Now, you know my secret, too.” His voice was a growl when he added, “I’ve always wanted you. To ruin you for any other man. To make you mine and keep you all to myself.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward you in that predatory way of his. “And now, there’s not a damn thing stopping me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a feeble attempt to cling to some dignity. A thought flitted through your mind – he was prostrating himself before you. In his own way, he was making himself just as exposed as you were. He was pursuing you, taking the greater risk.

“Don’t you, now?” he teased in a gravelly voice. “I’ll never believe you didn’t know how you tormented me. Seeing you in those little skirts, thinking about those fumble-fucking schoolboys laying their clumsy hands on you. Knowing how much more a man could give you. What I could give you.”

“And what exactly is it that you could give me?” You tilted your chin up defiantly to add, “Professor?”

“Knowledge.” He walked to you until he stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, grinning wickedly at the way his proximity affected you. “Regardless of what else I may be, I’m a very good professor. There is a loophole in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct that you might find interesting. Relevant.” He placed his hand on the door next to your head and leaned in close, his body only inches from yours. “Would you like to learn it?”

“If it saves me the time reading through the Code myself,” you tried to sound nonchalant, certain you failed. In fact, you did need to read those exact Codes before assuming your role as a new professor, but you had until the start of term to do it.

“Still a procrastinator through and through,” Jacques tisked you and leaned closer, his entire forearm now resting on the door next to your head, his face very close to yours. “You should know that relations between fellow Hogwarts professors are forbidden. A fireable offense.” He dropped his head and brought his prominent nose near your neck, and you thought he was going to kiss you there. Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of you like some exotic perfume he had long been denied. “But forbidden only when the relationship postdates the beginning of a professor’s tenure.”

His words seemed to echo in your thoughts, needing a moment to take root. Looking up, you met his eyes. Eyes that glimmered like gold in the snowy night. “Relationships that predate the beginning of a professor’s term are allowed?”

“Clever girl,” Jacques said, his lips still near your neck, his breath steaming hot on your skin. “You always were a quick study. The very best and brightest. Did you think I only wanted you for that luscious ass?”

You tried to detect a note of sarcasm, but found none. You took a steadying breath and put a tentative hand on his chest. It was hard as granite beneath your hand. Jacques placed his free hand over yours, trapping your hand over his heart. You fixed your eyes on his, watching for a flicker of doubt when you asked, “What is it you want with me, Professor? Exactly?”

“Everything,” he growled the single word. It was more than an affirmation. His eyes told you it was a promise.

“We shouldn’t waste a moment, then,” you told him confidently. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.

“You read my mind.” He smiled genuinely, one of the very few you had ever seen on his lips. His toothy smile could have looked gawky, but right now, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. His chest rose and fell under your hand as he leaned in to kiss you. Before his lips consummated your first kiss, he whispered, “My name is Jacques, not ‘professor.’”

“I’ll save professor for when I want you to teach me something, then,” you made your voice as seductive as possible now that you had decided on your course of action. It was easy now that you were confident he felt the same, that he desired you as fiercely as you did him. You eased your hips toward him, arching your back away from the door. Your lips were already parted when they met his, eager to finally taste the man you had dreamed of for so long.

The taste of him when he kissed you, the feel of him when his powerful body pressed against you, the strength of his hands on you was so much better than anything your imagination had ever conjured. It must have been the same for Jacques because he groaned into your mouth, his free hand dropped to your waist and he pulled you against him almost brutally. You wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed to his. Lifting a leg, you hooked it over his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, using your entire body to pull him closer. His hand caressed your thigh from your knee up to your ass then squeezed you there. It would be so easy for him to hoist you up off the ground, for you to wrap your legs around him, for him to fuck you right now against the lonely door in Knockturn Alley, while snowflakes gathered in your hair.

“I know what you want. I’ve seen your fantasies,” Jacques purred, pulling back from your lips just enough to speak. “I know them so well they might as well be my own. Tell me which is your favorite and it will no longer be just a fantasy. I’ll enact it for you right now, down to every last detail.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” you teased. You were on fire from his touch and you ached with desire. Thinking of him as you had been was its own kind of foreplay, and now it was torment to prolong it. He was hard and his cock rubbed against you through both your clothing, teasing you erotically in the perfect place. But then, he knew right where your perfect places were. And dear god, he was huge.

“This is too tame for your fantasies,” he laughed darkly. “Tell me your favorite. Although, I think I know it.” He kissed your neck, teasing your skin with his teeth and a light nip. “You want to run from me, pretend you have a chance of escaping. You want me to chase you down, catch you, rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal. Or is that what the girls call being ravaged these days?” He pressed more weight against you, almost crushing you against the door, but the feel of his body and his weight was wonderful. “You’d pound your fists on my chest and tell me to stop, but you wouldn’t mean a word of it. You want me to take from you what has always been forbidden to give me.” Pulling back just enough to let you breathe, he brought his hand to your throat. His hand easily circled your neck, making you feel small and vulnerable, trapped in his grip. He squeezed. Gently, just enough for you to feel how easy it would be for him to truly take whatever he wanted. His voice sounded dangerous when he told you, “I can do that.”

“Yes,” you said at once without even taking a moment to think. This is what you had wanted for as long as you could remember wanting anything from a man. And Jacques Le Gris was offering to give it to. “I want our first night together to be like a fantasy. But I have a counteroffer.” He kissed you before you could make it, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You took a breath and finished, “I say we play out my favorite fantasy first and your favorite second.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “If you’re game.”

“Darling, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.” When Jacques grinned at you now, sideways and wicked, the wolf practically jumped out of him. You knew he was telling the truth, that he shared your desires in full. That he wanted you just as desperately as you did him, and that he possibly had for just as long.

“Wait, I can’t just run off.” You stalled him with your hand on his chest. “What will my friends think?”

“What do you want them to think?” He slyly tapped a finger to his temple, his message clear.

“It’s enough for them to think I went home with a handsome man and not to worry about me,” you said coyly. “And it had better be true.”

“So long as you think me handsome, it’s true.” His grin widened and he pushed your arms back up around his neck. “Hold on tight.”

You knew what he was about to do before he did it and asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“The perfect place to give you what you want,” he laughed, a throaty rumbling laugh, and held you so tight you couldn’t have escaped his arms if you wanted.

Suddenly, the world blurred around you and spun as if you stood at the center of a cyclone. Your stomach swooped with the unnerving feeling of falling and a boom like thunder rang in your ears. When the world stopped spinning, your head took another moment to catch up. You swayed against Jacques in what could rightly be described as a swoon. For a few seconds, his hard body against you felt like the only solid thing in the world. He held you as you regained your balance and composure, his arms comforting and secure.

You were no longer in Knockturn Alley, or the city at all. You were surrounded by thick pine trees with snow drifting lazily down around you and leaving a light blanket on the ground. The light was diffused softly from the light of the bright full moon filtered through a thin layer of cloud. It looked like a dream and you wondered if Jacques could possibly be such a powerful legilimens that he could be crafting this world all inside your head. But you knew this was real, and you knew precisely where he had apparated with you. Although it had been years, you had been here many times before.

You shook your head at him fondly, appreciating his humor in the moment. He had taken you to the Forbidden Forest.

Jacques was game indeed. He fully intended to give you exactly what you had always wanted– a man of action instead of those of lesser fortitude who hid behind pretty words. Now that the onus was on you to accept his offer, you found it difficult to keep from trembling with nerves. He was so big, so powerful, so predatory. It was more than a little intimidating to think of him chasing you, catching you, manhandling you. It was almost frightening. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was always a fine line between fear and excitement, between a fright and a thrill.

“What shall it be, beautiful?” Jacques asked. The devious bastard had probably read your mind again. Or your trepidation was that plainly written on your face. “Do you want me to play naughty or nice with you?”

“You brought me here,” you said with as much conviction as you could, making up your mind. “Carpe nocturne.”

“I’ll seize something alright.” Jacques sucked his teeth and bared his canines in a wolfish grin. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and glazed his black hair with silver, giving him a wild look. A beast, at home in these woods. He lowered his chin and fixed his lupine eyes on you, looking ravenous and dangerous. His voice rumbled through you when you told you, “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I hunt you down and sink my teeth into that delicious ass of yours.”

“Ten seconds, huh?” you teased as you took a few tentative steps away from him deeper into the woods, exaggerating the sway of your hips seductively.

“One.” He cut off your flouncing, deadly serious, and took an ominous step toward you. He rolled one sleeve back up to his elbow where it had slipped down, somehow making that gesture look aggressive.

Smiling, you began lightly trotting through the dense trees. The forest glittered all around you in white snow, silver moonlight, and deep pine trees. The air was crisply-scented and cool, but your skin was so flushed the chill was welcome.

“Two,” he huffed behind you. “Better run a lot faster than that.”

Deciding on a path through the trees, you quickly picked up speed as adrenaline flooded your bloodstream. The idea of the chase, of running from a looming hunter, was exhilarating. You found a small game trail snaking through the forest, a pristine white laceration between the snowy trees, narrower than a footpath. The trees themselves reached their twisted branches out to you, as if to offer their help to hide you from the beast at your heels. A light mist lingered in the forest, dancing around your knees and swirling in your wake as you ran ahead.

You felt it when Jacques gave chase. You couldn’t see him now through the trees and brush that separated you, you certainly couldn’t hear him, but you felt him somehow like an electric shudder through your body, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It was as if the forest itself felt him too, the atmosphere changing around you now that you were actively being hunted. 

A thick pine tree was close ahead of you, its lush low-hanging branches inviting you near, offering you a place to hide from your pursuer. Ducking under its branches, you pressed your back to the trunk on the opposite side of the trail. Snow dusted down on you from the branches you rustled, pleasantly cool on your skin. The fragrant smell of pine and sap surrounded you as you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to slow the hammering in your chest.

Snap.

The sound of a breaking branch reverberated through the trees, making your entire body jolt. You strained your ears to divulge more sounds, but there were none to be heard. The silence around you was so complete it was oppressive after the sounds of your running. It seemed as though the forest itself had gone quiet, and the snow offered more insulation on top of it. The trees surrounding you had become an audience waiting with bated breath to see if you would make your escape. Or if you would fall victim to the hunter at your heels. 

Surely, Jacques could have caught up to you by now. You expected him to charge past your hiding spot behind the pine tree only seconds after you and run ahead down the game trail. 

Slowly and as quietly as you could, you turned to look around the trunk of the tree that shielded you, daring to breach the side of the tree with only one eye as you checked your backtrail. Nothing. No big bad man in sight. Even the fog had settled again.

You returned your back to the tree and rested your head back against it, still scanning the trail. As you returned to face front, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head around to meet Jacques’s unnerving eyes and hulking body looming right at your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pathetic yelp left your throat. Jacques growled as his arm shot around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. He wasted no time in sinking his teeth into your neck in a biting kiss, ensuring he left a bruise to mark the presence of his lips. 

“Jacques!” You jumped away from him, fueled by reflexes alone. Jacques let you. You took a moment to steady yourself, filling your lungs with air too slowly for your spinning head and rubbing the fresh mark on your neck. It stung, but sensually so.

“I’ll only count to five this time.” Jacques told you as he stepped toward you with a hint of menace and a devilish grin curling his lips.

Hungry lust radiated off Jacques in waves, so thick you could feel it on the air like a spectral presence. And it was all for you. He indeed thrilled you and also frightened you just a little, just enough for that rush of adrenaline to make you giddy. He certainly knew what he was doing, playing this little game of yours, or he had read your desires as clearly as a script and played his role to perfection. Sweat shone on his chest through the open vee in his shirt, a blush tinting his chest and neck. He looked voracious, driven mad by his desire. Jacques awakened the animal part of your brain that civilized society had tried for millennia to tame away, the part of you that wanted to be captured, taken, and utterly ravaged. Jacques was enjoying this even more, his huge chest heaving from the thrill of the hunt. You could see how it sparked a primal urge deep inside of him, probably even more poignant that it did in you. You could also see the evidence of his aching arousal tenting his pants. You were no better off. You had been melting inside all night, it seemed.

Backing away from him, you took a few deep breaths as you prepared to run again, unable to rein your pulse back down from a gallop. He registered your excitement and winked at you, enjoying your game. Laughing, you bounded away then skipped into a run that carried you further along the trail and deeper into the welcoming mystery of the woods.

The trail narrowed and became overgrown as the forest closed in around you. Deeper inside the forest, the woods grew wilder, much as the man chasing you was growing wilder with every pursuing step. You knew he was closing in on you swiftly. You slowed enough to look behind you. You were just in time to see Jacques lowering his massive body as he lunged at you with a growl. His shoulder connected with your waist as his strong arms gripped you, tackling you to the ground beneath him. He was careful with you. He’d never actually tackle you with his full force or risk hurting you. His arm hit the ground hard beneath you, cushioning your body when you met the cold wet snow. His heavy body covered you with enough weight to pin you but not quite enough to crush you. 

Laying on your back beneath his sweaty body, your arms flew around him. One hand fisted harshly into his damp hair and one hand dug sharp nails into his muscular shoulder, earning a groan in response. Jacques crashed his lips down against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, his hot tongue twining with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. He kissed you hungrily, licking into your mouth and catching your lips between his teeth. He brought an enormous hand to your neck, again wrapping around your throat easily, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken and pound against his palm, adding to the effect of being captured.

“Do you like making me chase after you?” he asked into your mouth. “You must, since you’ve teased me for years. The torment was almost more than I could stand. Do you know how hard it was for me to resist taking what I know you wanted to give me?”

“I like being chased,” you whispered back. Feeling his weight press down upon you as you kissed, your legs fell open to invite him to settle between them. “But I like being caught by you even more.”

A low moan rumbled in his chest and he grinned against your mouth. The hand at your neck smoothed down to your breast, kneading you and making you gasp. 

Moving his hand lower, Jacques’s fingers dipped inside your pants, inside your panties, discovering how hot and wet you were already. You were powerless to resist succumbing to him, your body not allowing you to maintain any coy pretenses. Jacques’s mouth moved down to your neck as he plunged two thick fingers into you, curling them firmly against that spot he knew could make you scream. His fingers worked you into a frenzy as his teeth and lips attended to your neck and throat. He began rutting against you, his cock digging into the back of his own hand, which was still making you writhe on his fingers. Even that light movement caused your body to shift on the ground. The snow beneath you had melted, the ground now soupy under your back.

“This is about to get messy if you want me to take you here, fuck you on the ground like an animal,” he said huskily, pulling back from your lips. “Do you want that? The beast from your fantasy? Or I can show you what I’ve always fantasized about doing to you instead. It’s much simpler, I’m afraid.” He kissed you again. “But you’ll like it.”

“You’ve already proven better than my fantasies,” you said, running your hands over the breadth of his back. “I trust your judgment.”

“Hold on,” he told you as he pulled his fingers from you. He collapsed on you and gripped you in a strong bear hug, but you barely had time to feel the heavy weight of him.

The ground fell away beneath you and you squeezed your eyes shut as your stomach swooped in that familiar way. Thunder boomed around you and the whole world seemed to shake from it. The cool air whisked away from you, replaced by a welcoming warmth. The snow and ice of the forest was replaced by the golden glow of a fire dancing inside a marble fireplace. The sky above you was replaced by an arched cathedral ceiling, and the ground beneath you exchanged for crisp sheets on a king bed. The only things that remained from the forest were the silver moonlight peeking in through the tall, arched windows, and Jacques above you, grinning down at you, the feeling of his powerful body covering you. He traced hot kisses down your throat and chest as he rose back off the bed to roughly shrug off his shirt and work his belt free.

The sight of him shirtless was breathtaking, you felt yourself growing wetter just from that sight alone. His chest was glorious. You had never seen a chest so thick and expansive. His shoulders were absurdly broad and made even more impressive by his fit abdomen. The taper of his waist, the lines of muscle along his hips, even the trail of hair descending from his navel, all worked in conjunction to practically drag your eyes down toward his cock. After pulling your shirt off, you centered yourself on the bed and arched your back seductively. Jacques reached for your pants and yanked them the rest of the way off, tossing them aside as he stood over you at the side of the bed. His eyes glistened like whiskey on ice as his gaze caressed your body.

“As many times as I’ve imagined you like this, you’re better,” he said reverently in a voice that was all smoke and gravel.

You watched the muscles in his arms flex as he undid his belt and pants. Without taking his eyes from you, he unceremoniously shoved his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. Towering above you, standing totally naked, he palmed his enormous erection and let you admire the sight of him, the cocky bastard, watching you with his molten gaze. You expected Jacques to have a nice cock, as big as he was everywhere else. You had imagined it embarrassingly often, but the sight of him still made your breath hitch. It was practically monstrous, and deliciously thick. He would have injured you as a schoolgirl, and you couldn’t be entirely certain he wouldn’t now. Another bit of danger he offered. There would be a limit to how rough he could be with you, and you were thankful that he was seasoned enough to know it.

“If you can’t handle me, tell me now.” Of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you.

In response, you held his eyes firmly as you reached to undo your bra, slinging it across the room to be lost with your other discarded clothing. You raised one eyebrow at him, meeting his challenge. Jacques walked to the edge of the bed, pausing briefly to absorb the sight of you as you lay spread before him, the best Christmas gift he had ever received, before he lowered himself to the mattress and crawled over your body.

Eagerly, your legs spread for him again and he settled between them. Jacques caged you in with his impressive arms on either side of your body as he bent over you, a predator over his prey, and kissed at your navel. His kisses were open mouthed and he lavished you with his tongue. He trailed his mouth down until he placed a wet kiss at the top of your pussy, still covered by the lace of your thong. Bringing a hand down to the thin line of fabric at your hip, he yanked it roughly, ripping your thong away from you and tearing it apart with one motion. His aggressive lust had you aching with the need to be filled. Jacques paused and just admired you, the way you glistened with desire. He lowered himself, wanting to kiss you there, taste you, make you cum on his tongue. But you stopped him.

“The first time you make me cum, I want it to be with your cock,” you told him huskily. “I want to feel you inside of me when I cum.”

Jacques grinned up at you before trailing his nose and lips slowly back up the center of your body as he crawled up into position above you. He paused to inhale deeply at your throat, taking in the scent of you and exhaling in a low heady groan. He kissed you passionately and deep. His taste was smokey and lush, making you shiver. His weight was resting on you now, pushing you down into the mattress. You could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tense and flex under your hands as he moved, and his heavy chest pressed against yours, a sharp contrast to his soft lips. The unduly thick head of his cock nudged into you, teasing at your entrance. When you bucked your hips against him, he plunged into you in one fluid stroke. He rolled his hips against you gently, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your nails raked his back as a pornographic moan escaped your lips at the pleasure of being so completely full of him. Jacques’s mouth returned to diligently kiss you as the rolling of his hips became shallow thrusts. When your hips started moving to meet his own in time with his thrusts, he began thrusting into you more passionately.

Jacques propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head. Groaning again at an unabashed volume, he pulled back and slammed his entire length into you. It skirted the line of painful pleasure, but he felt so good. He saw your features rendered beautifully distraught by pleasure and kept that angle and rhythm that he knew was driving you in exactly the direction you wanted. You fluttered and tightened around him, your orgasm imminent. Jacques could feel it. Losing control himself, he fucked you harder, pistoning into you roughly. His whole body tensed when he felt the pulsing orgasm surge through you, shooting through him like a current of pleasure connected the two of you. Jacques’s thrusts grew erratic, his shoulders and arms quivered, and he came moments after you on a deep thrust. You reached to his thick, damp hair, tangling your fingers in it and pulling him down to settle over you. He looked down at you adoringly then kissed you lovingly. Though it was unspoken, the emotion was unmistakable.

After lavishing you slowly and indulgently, he rolled onto his back and pulled you down against his enormous chest. Wrapping the arm beneath you around your waist tightly, he held you in something between a cuddle and a bear hug and caressed you with his free hand. His huge body was hot beneath you, his arms radiating warmth around you, and his lips searing as they gently kissed along your hairline. The man was an absolute fever dream. He could keep you in an erotic stupor for hours if he wanted.

“Where are we?” you asked lazily, drunk on the rush he had given you.

“Normandy,” he purred, his hands gentle and warm on your skin. “My home, precisely speaking.”

“This looks like the inside of a castle,” you said of the bedroom with its stone walls and arched windows.

“You could call it that.” He smirked. “Regardless of the descriptor, it will accommodate us well until the start of term.” He brought his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to look at him. “Provided you’ll accept my invitation to stay with me until then.”

“I’ll need a change of clothes,” you laughed.

“Not for what I have planned,” he laughed too, and rolled back over you again.

Briefly you wondered at the stir you would cause when the pair of you returned to Hogwarts in January. Together. Gossip spread through those enchanted halls like wildfire and you knew a professorial couple would be a source of it for a long time to come. You had no time to dwell on the thought now. Jacques demanded all of your attention elsewhere.

************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some bewitching beauties 🖤

@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @heartlight-starlight @clydesfavoritegirl @celiholland @reveluving @reylokisses @queen-of-elves @kyloremus @looking4mymagicshop @lumberjack00fantasies

[moonlight-tmd]

What would you think of a Shockbee Beauty and the Beast AU taking place in the TFA version of the Shattered Glass universe?

Since when are we doing AUs of the AUs... oh well.

Tbh I'm disappointed my imagination can't go that far. I could try to imagine the Beauty and the Beast AU with normal boys but Shattered Glass... slim chances. Sorry.

If there was a BatB AU then Bee would be the cutest minibot in the small town they live in. Optimus is the friendly baker instead of the book shop owner. And Ratchet would be of course the somewhat grumpy but caring grandpa of Bee. Megatron is Gaston, lol. Makes sense cuz Lugnut would fill the role of the local Bimbettes swooning for him. Starscream is LeFou, the helper.

Shockwave would be the Beast, who'll transform into Longarm after Bee falls in love with him. Bulkhead and Prowl would take roles of Lumiere and Cogsworth but the characters are switched- Prowl is the candleholder who's the responsible one while Bulky is a mechanical clock who always wants fun and the best for the moment.

I would guess the three Blitzwings are split to be the tea pot (icy), the wardrobe (random) and the stove (hothead). Sari would be the tea cup they are babysitting all the time.

*note the size difference would be much less significant to the canon sizes.

[thesimline]

It’s a dark and stormy October weekend, and the top crust of 1930s high society have gathered at the country manor of King Candy, a lauded and savvy business magnate. Alas, the high spirits of the weekend have been dashed - murder most foul, and this time it isn’t the butler who’s done it! In fact, he’s the unfortunate soul at the end of a gleaming gold dagger. Each suspect has their own clandestine motives, but which of their secrets was the sorry servant about to expose? The story continues under the cut…

URSULA

Once a highly regarded starlet of the theatrical stage, she longs for those bygone days of youth, beauty and fame. What depths would she be willing to plum in order to return to her glory?

Skin | Turban | Earrings (TSR) | Necklace | Dress | Robe | Gloves (Vampires) | Right Ring (TSR) | Right Bracelets (Fashion Street) | Left Ring (TSR) | Left Bracelets (My Wedding Stories) | Stockings (TSR) | Shoes

GASTON

As a professional trophy hunter this playboy has the wealth, looks and notoriety that makes the ladies swoon. Even more so once they hear his seductive french accent. But will his bad boy image transform into a more beastly reputation once his violent past is exposed?

Hat | Hair (TSR) | Outfit | Socks (Base Game) | Shoes

JAFAR

With the latest fad for exotic home decor all the rage, his dealing in antiquities has created quite a kingdom of wealth. It’s even whispered among social circles that he promises to bring your dreams to life, but is he really just a snake in gentleman’s clothing?

Turban | Moustache (Base Game) | Outfit | Ring (TSR) | Socks (Base Game) | Shoes (My Wedding Stories)

MALEFICENT

With her snooty attitude and thorny personality, this old money socialite puts most people at ill ease, but will the 16 year long grudge against her nemesis be her ultimate downfall?

Skin | Hat | Hair | Earrings (TSR) | Necklace | Top & Pants | Ring (TSR) | Shoes

KING CANDY

Purveyor of fine confections and even sweeter business alliances, he has all his fingers in the preverbal pie. His eye is forever looking over his shoulder wondering which will catch up with him first - his passion for racing automobiles or his turbulent, mysterious past.

Hair | Glasses (TSR) | Moustache (Base Game) | Top | Right Rings (TSR) | Left Ring (TSR) | Pants (retired) | Shoes (Get Famous)

CRUELLA DE VIL

Rumours abound that her materials may come from nefarious sources, although that doesn’t stop the lauded designer’s fashions from flying off the racks. But is there a scandal just around the corner that threatens to dog her reputation?

Skin | Hat | Hair (TSR) | Necklace | Outfit | Gloves (Curseforge) | Ring (TSR) | Cigarette Holder | Stockings | Shoes (TSR)

With thanks to some amazing creators: @lamatisse @sentate @its-adrienpastel @jius-sims @hezzasims @softerhaze @serenity-cc @nucrests @qicc @candysims4 @delis-sims @madlensims

[greattigerssimp]

Hi! I see you like my stupid Punch Out x Disney Princess idea. Maybe some headcanons if they went out for Halloween as the Disney princesses (I know Halloween is over but still 😭)

idk really stupid idea but I blame my brain lol

It's not stupid at all! Girl boss Disney princess boxers coming right up ^^

Little Mac 🟢🥊

- Went as Vanellope

- Doc Louis went as Ralph and Peter Punch went as Felix

- Highly protested against putting candies in his hair

- Kept the hoodie after Halloween, but otherwise didn't care for the costume

- Terrible at the voice

- Watched the movie for authenticity, later bullied Joe for being cut from the film

Glass Joe 🇫🇷 🥐

- Absolutely adorableeee. Bro got lots of candy for being so bonita

- He actually loooves Beauty and the Beast! It's classic French literature, after all, and he's a sucker for adorable literary works like that.

- Also relates to Belle a lot, mainly for her love of reading

- Gets giddy every time he watches the movie or the Broadway version

- Kinda snobby about it though, like he's all like "erm actually the Broadway version is the one I prefer" like sis no one cares, shush and continue being adorable

- If Gabby was alive in this AU, he'd dress up as Gaston. He admires him in a not-straight way lmao

- Obviously kept the dress

Von Kaiser 🇧🇪 🔩

- Wanted to go as Snow White or Rapunzel since he's familiar with them (his mom would read those fairy tales to him as a kid), but since he was the last boxer to choose who to go as, he got stuck with Anna

- Watched the film alongside Soda, and he didn't care for it (that was mainly bc of Soda singing along to each song)

- Sweating BUCKETS during trick or treating since Anna's outfit is quite warm

- Chaffed... a lot.

- Did not keep the costume, even after Joe's compliments.

Disco Kid 🇺🇲 🕺

- Was happy to go as Rapunzel, until he realized what a hassle the long hair would be

- Also hard to get groovy bc of the hair

- Has the entire films soundtrack on a playlist

- Made a remix of "I see the light" after he was done trick or treating

- Kept the dress, but gave it to April (his lil sister in my AU) after Halloween. She definitely dressed up as Flynn to match with Disco Kid that night

King Hippo 🏝 🦛

- Bonita af

- Watched the film, and got obsessed with it... the lush, tropical environments reminded him of home, which is rare since Hippo doesn't remember a lot about Hippo island

- Y'all should've seen him watching the film for the first time; he can't talk, but during the songs bro was low-key stimming- like, bouncing a bit in place, humming along, that sorta thing. Dude was in his element

- Joined Macho Man at the local beach for a Halloween swim

- Sadly lost his outfit in the ocean. Cried for 3 hours

Piston Hondo 🇯🇵🥊

- Dresses up as Mulan

- Thought the film was nice, but would much rather wear Mulan's armor than a dress she barely wore

- Heike dressed up as Li Shang, Dragon Chan later joined them during trick or treating, dressed as Shan Yu

- Even Yuki joined them, wearing a cute lil Mushu outfit

- Sadly didn't keep the outfit

Bear Hugger 🇨🇦🐻

- Went as Snow White (SO DID I OMGG?? - me)

- Most authentic portrayal of character; dude equipped himself with animals and stuff to make himself look real

- Wifey Lomasi (OC of mine) had to help him put on the dress. She would match him by dressing up as Prince Florian (would love to go as Pocahontas, but didn't want to chafe + wanted to be unique)

- Spruce (his squirrel) dressed up as an apple

- Singing the songs in a very jolly, very off-key manner.

- He's definitely keeping the costume for next year

Great Tiger 🇮🇳🐯

- Dressed up as Jasmine, but he'd really prefer to dress up as Jafar. He's more bonita (this hc was brought to you by ✨️an extremely biased Jafar fangirl✨️)

- His clones dresses up as the other characters, namely Aladdin, the Genie, and the very bonita Jafar

- Jafar Jafar jafar

- Holy frick I love Jafar smmmmm

- Okay back to Great Tiger

- He liked the movie a lot, and thought it was very funny

- Also very content with his outfit! He didn't chafe (hahaha Kaiser-) and it was nice and breezy

- Even fashioned his flying carpet to look like the one from the movie

- Keeping the outfit, but is definitely dressing up as Jafar next year (mmmm my fave boxer + fave Disney character uwu)

Don Flamenco 🇪🇸 🥀

- Dressed up as Sleeping Beauty, aka Aurora (ironic since in my Halloween hcs Carmen was Aurora and Don was Prince Philip lol)

- Carmen dressed up as Maleficent bc she doesn't want to "dress up as a dude" (oh the symbolism)

- Loves all romance stories, and Sleeping Beauty is no different. Dude 100% believes in true, unconditional love

- Joe also loves sleeping beauty, since it's another piece of classic French literature. He's going to see the play version with Joe in about a month lol

- Somehow didn't chafe; it must be his skincare routine

- Got sleepy halfway through the night and went home early

- Carmen stole the dress and isn't giving it back

Aran Ryan 🇮🇪 😈

- VERY against dressing up as Merida (a Scottish character) at first, but slowly grew to love it

- He watched the film, and related to Merida to a T (and so do I lmao)

- Brought a real bow and arrow and definitely shot random people with it (Before Sandy broke it)

- Took off the wig, burned it, and threw it at a random house

- Kept the dress and gifted it to his younger sister, Brooker (Another OC of mine) back in Ireland

Soda Popinski 🇷🇺🍾

- Watched the movie with Kaiser and really liked it! He's a sucker for winter aesthetics

- Researched more information on Elsa and went crazy learning about Elsagate

- Can and will sing "Let it go" if you either ask nicely, pay him, or if your name is Super Macho Man

- Chaffed terrible, ended up crab walking most of the night

- Spent 30% of the night w/Macho Man and king hippo, watching Macho Man do laps

- Also gifted the dress to his sister after Halloween

Bald Bull 🇹🇷 🐂

- Dressed up as Tiana, and doesn't care for it

- Very independent trick or treat night

- Was fine with the movie, but wasn't crazy about it

- A few candy givers complimented him though

- Accidentally ripped his dress late into the evening. Pray to the random group of trick or treaters that got mooned that evening

- Didn't keep the dress

Super Macho Man 🇺🇸🌊

- He's absolutely slaying the little mermaid outfit (he got first pick lol)

- Will not shut up about how he saw the movie in theaters as a kid, and will not shut up about how he knows Jodi Benson lmao

- That being said, it was very hard to move, which meant someone (Soda) had to pull him on a wagon everywhere. Dw, Soda wasn't complaining

- Decided to go to the beach to see if he could swim like a mermaid with the tail on. Yes, he could, and he did it beautifully.

- Soda also joined in his swimming. It wasn't straight at all

Mr. Sandman 💤🟢

- Very itchy dress- it did not accommodate his build at all

- He won't admit it, but he felt very bonita

- Joe started yapping about how lucky Sandman was to be dressing up as such a deep, meaningful character (bro straight up has a hyperfixation for French literature)... Sandy almost clocked him for yapping.

- Ironically had to go home to midnight, not because it was late, but because his glass shoes broke under his weight, and he had to go home and pick shards of glass from his feet

Bonus HC: All of them definitely recreated this scene:

OG post from @flamingoprincess25 ://www.tumblr.com/flamingoprincess25/765906549064482816/to-the-punch-out-fansmy-halloween-special-is?source=share

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a hangover (some throwing up), brattiness, cursing, insults bc they are stupid (respectfully)

☆word count: 7.7k

☆a/n: Another week, another chapter! Once again, thank you to my beautiful beta reader @moonleeai for her help on this chapter!

☆series masterpost here

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, April 29th

                You don’t know what’s worse. The pounding in your head as you wake up, or the immediate nausea that hits you when you realize everything is spinning around you. You crack an eye open to see you forgot to shut the blinds in your drunk state last night, and rain splatters on the window. You’re lucky it’s not sunny, otherwise your head probably would have imploded right then and there.

You sit up, wincing as the nausea rocks against you harder, determined to throw you off the cliff until you’re throwing up. You hold on strong though, breathing in slowly, holding it before you release it. You’re still dizzy after that, but it doesn’t feel like you’re seconds away from throwing up. It’s enough for you to slip out of bed, and your feet catch into your discarded clothes from last night. You almost fall, but you catch yourself at the last minute, stepping over the pile before making your way to the window. You crack it open a little, and the smell of rain overtakes you, right as a cool breeze moves on your naked form.

You always sleep naked, but somehow you have a sock on right now. You furrow your brows, trying to remember when you put it on because you sure as hell weren’t wearing it in your heels last night. It’s too much thinking for your poor brain, and let out a shaky breath as nausea finds you again.

You lean your head against the windowsill, and mist from the rain outside cools your forehead, until you’re able to stand straight again. You take off the sock, throwing it somewhere in your room to be picked up later before gathering the courage for the trek to your bathroom. It’s a good few meters, and you have no idea if you’ll make it.

You don’t really have a choice, so you take a deep breath from the rainy world outside to steady you before taking a few steps. You’re halfway through when you realize nausea is going to win, and you run the rest of the way to throw up in the toilet.

There’s not much for you to throw up, and bile burns your throat for a few seconds before you’re able to sit back. The cold tiles feel like heaven, and you lie down, shutting your eyes. You must have fallen asleep, because you wake up a while later, feeling way too confused as to how you got to the bathroom. You shrug it off, sitting up and wincing at the sore spots in your back.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself before you’re able to stand up, and you grab the glass beside the sink to pour yourself some water. You down the whole glass in a few long gulps, feeling dehydration in every inch of your body. You pour yourself another glass, from which you take a single small sip before making your way to your room.

You sit on your bed, eyes watching the wet world outside. It’s not raining anymore, but drops of water are still drying on the window. From the looks of it, it’s probably going to rain again, dark clouds looming low over the horizon.

What you like about drunk you is that there is a couple things she never forgets. Taking off your makeup and doing your skincare being one. Always plugging in your phone, another. So your phone is fully charged as you grab it, and you read through your notifications as you sip the water.

You’ve gotten a lot of texts you entirely ignored last night, as you usually do when you’re drunk. One of them makes you pause for almost a full minute, and you’re still not sure it’s real when your phone’s screen goes black from you not having touched it in a whole minute.

[02:37 am] unknown number: please don’t fkg flirt with my friends lol

You don’t have to rake your brain to figure out who might have sent that text. The fact that he took the time to type it out and send it to you is surprising, even unbelievable. You didn’t even know he had your phone number saved.

You don’t know what to reply. So you say nothing for now, mind reminiscing of the events of last night. Of Jeon Jungkook reappearing as if he was never gone, to be a prick in your side once again. A thorn stuck under your skin. Not really hurting, but gosh if it isn’t annoying.

You scoff. You know he’s talking about his friend Jimin. You weren’t drunk enough yet to forget that, and last you checked Jimin was the one flirting with you. Jeon Jungkook is out of his mind if he thinks you’re the one to blame.

You decide to fully ignore the text, moving to your conversation with Jiho instead.

[10:36 am] Jiho❣️: brunch??? 🥲

She sent it about twenty minutes ago. You’re in no state to hit the city and go brunching right now, and you lie back on your bed.

[10:57 am] You: can we go in one hour? I’m barely alive

[10:57 am] Jiho❣️: lmao mood

[10:58 am] Jiho❣️: yes ma’am. I’ll text the rest

You send her a thumbs up that she laughs-reacts to, which makes you chuckle. It’s the first truly human thing you’ve done since you woke up and it helps to make you feel less dead inside. Enough so that you sit up and drag yourself to the shower. You let the cold water wash away the remnants of your hungover, though you’re pretty sure it’s the Advil you took before that truly does the deed. You’re getting dressed when there’s a gentle knock on your door, and your mother doesn’t wait for you to tell her she can come in before she does.

"You were out late last night," she comments as she walks in.

She heads straight to the window, and she shuts it as you just stand there, wet hair from your shower soaking through your shirt.

“Was I?” you sarcastically say.

Either she misses the sarcasm, or she really doesn’t care. “Had fun?”

It’s suspicious. She doesn’t usually want to know if you’re out having fun. Which means she probably has something she wants to ask of you, and you steel yourself for the question.

“Yeah,” you flatly say.

“There’s going to be a dinner at your aunt’s house,” she reveals. “I said you were coming.”

You roll your eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “When?”

“Next Saturday.”

“I’ve got practice on Saturday evening.”

She doesn’t care, because she merely shrugs her shoulders. “If you can go out at night instead of practicing, I’m pretty sure you can afford an evening with your family.”

In truth, you don’t mind dinners with the family. You’d prefer them if your mom wasn’t there to remind everyone of all the mistakes you’ve dared to make in your life though.

“I’ll see,” you say, only so she lets it go for today. You actually have no intention to do so, but it works well enough so that she leaves your room, not closing the door behind her.

It makes you clench your jaw as you move to do it yourself, and then you finish getting dressed, grumbling about annoying mothers as you pull your jeans on. You were considering a pair of pale dress pants a moment ago, but with the wet world outside you’d only risk staining the fabric. So jeans it is, and five minutes later you’ve dried your hair enough to pull it back into a neat bun. You only then grab your phone, and Jiho’s already texted you.

[11:27 am] Jiho❣️: do u remember bridget from last night? heather asked if she can come?? [11:34 am] You: ??????????🤯 [11: 36 am] Jiho❣️: ?????????? what’s going on [11:36 am] You: they hooked up???? [11:37 am] You: i didn’t know heather’s into girls [11:39 am] Jiho❣️: dead that that’s the first thing u think about💀 [11:40 am] You: looool am i wrong tho [11:41 am] Jiho❣️: just come down plz, I’m terrified of ur mom🥲

You laugh out loud, before quickly grabbing a pair of socks to put on for the boots you’re planning to wear. You head downstairs and sure enough you find Jiho in the living room, talking to your mother with a mortified look on her face. She sees you before your mother does, and you stifle a laugh at her widened gaze. She glares at you, before blinking a few times as your mother asks her a question.

You intervene then, walking in the living room to rescue your best friend. Your mother wishes you a good brunch, in that cold detached tone she uses whenever she just wants to be rid of you, and you quickly make your way outside, Jiho in tow.

“I know I shouldn’t say that of your mom,” Jiho says as you step outside, “but she is so weird. She’s like a robot or something.”

You laugh. “I know, I’m the one that’s forced to live with her.”

You walk in silence for a few seconds, huddled close together under the umbrella Jiho pulls over you as soon as a drop of rain falls from the sky. “Anyway, Heather?”

You shriek. “What did she say?”

Jiho pulls her phone out of her tote bag, handing it to you. You unlock it, before going into the messages.

“I can’t believe the first person Heather brings home is a girl.”

Your eyes skim over the conversation. It’s a lot shorter than you thought it would be, and you shriek all through it.

[11:01 am] Jiho: u up for brunch? [11:04 am] Heather💃🏼: oooooooh [11:04 am] Heather💃🏼: brunch!!!!!!! [11:05 am] Heather💃🏼: always [11:05 am] Heather💃🏼: can I uuuuuuuh bring Bridget🫢 [11: 13 am] Jiho: ???? [11:14 am] Jiho: bridget? [11:16 am] Heather💃🏼: i might have brought her home last night [11:17 am] Jiho: HEATHER WTF [11:17 am] Jiho: yes plz bring her [11:18 am] Heather💃🏼: 🥰🥰🥰

“This is the best plot twist of the year. I don’t care about nationals anymore, I have reached heaven,” you say, handing her phone back to Jiho. “I didn’t even see them talk all that much last night.”

Jiho chuckles, and a gush of wind sends water splashing right into your face. You dry it with the back of your hand, mindlessly.

“That’s because the other girl…”

“Jo?” you provide.

“Jo made you drink shots back to back for like an hour.”

You wince. “No wonder I feel like shit right now.”

“At least you don’t look it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing her gently. “Please, I’ve seen my face in the mirror this morning.”

 “I stand by what I said.”

You laugh together, and the conversation moves to other subjects involving last night, revolving around Hobi, though by the slight blush on Jiho’s cheeks you know she’s trying not to talk about it too much. After all, it’s probably one of the first times she’s actually hung out with Hobi outside of practice.

You let her gush, teasing her whenever she mentions stuff you actually remember from last night, and soon enough you reach your usual brunch spot. Heather and Bridget are already there, and your eyes widen at the sight of Heather’s sweater on Bridget’s frame. You and Jiho exchange a knowing look, before making your way to where the two girls are standing.

“Morning,” you greet them.

Bridget flashes you a bright smile. “Hey! Not too hungover?”

You chuckle. “Your friend was determined to kill me last night, wasn’t she?”

“That’s Jo for you.”

It makes you laugh, and a hostess appears to guide you to your table. Jiho asks for six seats, and you only understand why when Chaeyeon and Lance appear about twenty minutes later. Lance is still wearing his clothes from last night, and blush dusts Chaeyeon’s cheeks. Not the kind of blush caused by the cold, no. It’s the walk of shame kind of blush, though the smile on her lips tells you she probably has no regrets at all.

They sit with you, and you’re halfway through your meal by the time Lance addresses you directly. “You talked to JK last night?”

The table falls in a hushed silence, and all eyes turn to you. You scrunch up your nose, shrugging your shoulders. “Tried to get him to explain why he left but he’s stubborn.”

“He’s always been,” Heather points out. She exchanges a look with Bridget. “He… probably left because he was tired of…” She seems to be looking for an excuse, and it comes upon you that she appears to know something you don’t.

You’ve never been one to push people to speak, so you just watch as she struggles to find words. She never finds any, and Bridget is the one to talk.

“He just wanted to focus on college.”

It’s almost harsh, the way she says it. As if she wants all of you to drop it. It piques your curiosity even more, damn you, and it takes everything in you not to ask why Jungkook out of all people would want to focus on college.

Isn’t he studying visual arts anyway? It’s not like it implies a lot of studying.

Jiho doesn’t have your chill, because she says, “That sounds awfully like a big excuse, huh?”

You stifle a laugh, and Chaeyeon intervenes with a completely oblivious, “Who’s JK?”

Heather lets out a small anxious chuckle. “He’s someone that used to be on our dance crew.”

“He dipped last year without telling anyone why,” Lance adds, leaning closer to Chaeyeon.

They exchange a look that leads to both of them blushing, and you purse your lips as you look at Jiho. She’s got the same look on her face, and you would have burst out laughing if Bridget didn’t talk.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s not the kind of person to do something without a reason.”

You scoff. “Doesn’t mean the reason is good.”

“What’s with you and JK being at each other’s throat anyway?” Bridget asks.

You like her. You don’t know why but you like her. Even if it seems as if you’re fighting with her right now (albeit subtly), you respect her for defending her friend. Because clearly Jungkook is her friend, and she’s the type to protect the people close to her. It’s cute, and instead of angering you, her question makes you ponder for a time.

“We’ve just never really liked each other,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oof,” Heather puts in. “They always fought before JK left. It was kind of annoying.” She shoots you a look. “Sorry.”

 You shrug again. “Nah, you’re good. It really was annoying. That’s why I think we’re better off without him.”

Lance only then returns to the conversation, after having spoken to Chaeyeon, ignoring all of you for the last few minutes. “Honestly we might be. If you pull up with a good choreography I think we might be just fine. Just need to convince Hobi to stop trying to get us to be seven.”

“I’ll work on that,” Jiho says beside you.

It’s her turn to receive everyone’s attention. “What, ‘cause you think Hobi would listen to you?” Heather asks. It’s genuine, the way she asks, with a slight pout to her lips.

Jiho flushes red, shrugging her shoulders. “We’re a team, I can help.”

“Right,” you say, offering her salvation. “We’ll figure it out.”

Heather sighs, sitting back in her chair. “I kind of missed when JK was on the team though.”

 “That’s because you were crushing on him for the longest time,” Lance teases.

Clearly, he’s completely unaware that something happened between Bridget and Heather. You glare at him, trying to knock some sense into his head, but it’s already too late.

Bridget doesn’t look like she cares. She only laughs, playing with a piece of pancake on her plate. “Who can blame her, have you seen the man?”

You have. And he’s far too full of himself to be even remotely attractive to you. You refrain from saying so, preferring to let the conversation move on from Jungkook’s subject. Instead, you eat your breakfast, listening to everyone talk as you sip on your orange juice.

Your phone is face down on the table when it vibrates, and Jiho puts hers down a second later. You grab yours, subtly looking down at the screen.

[12:49 pm] Jiho❣️: u look upset☹️

You make sure no one is looking before you reply.

[12:50 pm] You: jk texted me last night

The sound Jiho lets out next to you is somewhere between a snort and a cough, and she recovers well by faking a real cough this time. It seems to go unnoticed to everyone but you, and she looks at you with round eyes before replying.

[12:52 pm] Jiho❣️: y didn’t u mention before😤 [12:53 pm] You: bc it’s nothing. he’s stupid [12:53 pm] Jiho❣️: 😤😤😤

You laugh as silently as possible, before screenshotting Jungkook’s text. You send it to Jiho, before adding,

[12:54 pm] You: hope this is a good enough apology [12:54 pm] Jiho❣️: he said WHAT [12:54 pm] Jiho❣️: also, the unknown number i’m dead💀

You put your phone back face down on the table, indicating that the conversation is done for now. Jiho is glaring at your profile, but you ignore it. Just like you ignored Jungkook’s text, really. It works well enough, and Jiho lets it go to focus back on the conversation around the table. It gives you the opportunity to think about what to reply to Jungkook, though you still have no idea.

It’s only later in the evening that you find yourself with something to reply to him. You know it’s going to piss him off, and you send the text with a mischievous grin on your lips.

[10:03 pm] You: who’s this?

Thursday, May 3rd

                For someone that’s been dancing since you were a child, you know nothing about creating a choreography from scratch. Maybe you’d be able to do it for a lone dancer, but a group of six? Your mind has been completely empty.

It’s infuriating, really. And you think Hobi might as well murder you when you tell him you have nothing. And you’ve watched hundreds of hours of other choreographies since Sunday, but still your brain is completely empty.

‘No thoughts, head empty’ has never been so real.

You’re sitting cross-legged on your bed. It’s late at night, and your laptop’s screen has gone black a while ago as you scrolled through your phone. You’re stalking the Instagram pages of other dance crews, trying to figure out what kind of moves they are going for for nationals. Your goal is to head away from anything that might resemble what other crews are doing.

Which is quite a harder task than it seems when you’ve never even choreographed anything before.

How did Jungkook manage to do this? Back when he was still part of the crew, Hobi asked him for choreographies all the time. He always had something new, something fierce and something never done before. No wonder your dance crew has had so much success so far.

But you are running out of choreographies created by Jungkook, the last one having been used at nationals last year.

You scoff, running a hand through your hair. You only have two days left for a choreography, and you really don’t think you’ll make it. There’s always the option of asking Jungkook for help, but something about it doesn’t sit right with you.

Especially after his only reply to your last text message was:

[10:27 pm] unsaved number: 🙄

He sent that on Monday night, a little over twenty-four hours after you replied to him, and you haven’t said anything in return. You don’t really want to talk to him or to see him again, if you’re honest. Especially not after he said you were a bitch.

No, you usually don’t do insults, and the fact that he did really doesn’t sit right with you.

 But you’re not stupid. You need help for the choreography, and you ARE running out of time. So you bite the bullet and type out a text that you reread at least a hundred times before clicking on send.

You immediately shut your phone and put it face down on your couch next to you, before clicking on your laptop to make the screen come to life again.

*****

                Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, one arm under his head as he looks at a show on the TV. Taehyung and Jo went up a moment ago, and he’s decided to watch another episode before going to bed. Mostly because his leg has been hurting like a bitch today.

It always does after his physical therapy appointment.

He’s dozing off, eyelids heavy as he watches the action unfold on the screen. In all truth, he’s not really paying attention. He received your text before Taehyung and Jo went to bed, and he’s been thinking about it since then.

So far, he hasn’t found anything annoying to reply, so he’s making you wait. Little do you know, Hobi actually asked him the same thing. Not that Hobi doesn’t trust you, but Jungkook has always been the choreographer.

You’re more of a dancer than him though, but he’d never admit that to you. No, he rather prefers making you feel like you’re not good enough, just because riling you up gives him a weird sense of satisfaction.

It’s been that way since he met you, back when you were sixteen. The first thing he had noticed about you then was that you were pretty. The soft kind of pretty, the one that comes with having everything given to you whenever you wanted it. You joined the dance crew almost at the same time as him, so he always felt like there was competition between you. It only became worse when he realized who your mother was, and that you had joined a dance crew at your mother’s studio.

He had thought it was insulting that they had taken you, because clearly you didn’t need a crew to be a dancer. In all truth at first you had been friendly competition. It’s when he had realized how much better you thought yourself to be that he had started teasing you, insulting you subtly whenever he got the chance.

It’s second nature now, and whenever he sees you he just feels the need to rile you up. To make you frown and stomp your feet, with your little fists resting on your hips. You probably think you’re intimidating when you do that, but he’s always just found it cute.

He sighs and shifts on the couch, wincing at the pain that shoots from his knee before returning to its usual background intensity.

Indeed, the pain never goes away. It’s always there, gnawing at his nerves until he loses his temper. He reckons he’s been losing it more and more in the last few months, but that’s only because the winter cold made it hurt far more than it has hurt so far. He’s glad that summer is coming now, and he already feels it in his knee.

It’s a hopeless wish, but he hopes one day his leg won’t hurt anymore.

Another sigh escapes the confines of his chest, and it turns into a startled gasp as someone throws something soft on him from behind the couch.

“What the fuck?” he grumbles as Jimin’s iconic laugh is heard.

His friend moves around the couch before sitting at Jungkook’s feet while the latter pushes the soft thing – a sweater – off his face.

“You’re so lost in thought you didn’t even hear me come in,” Jimin teases as he leans against the couch, turning his head towards Jungkook. “Still thinking about that girl from Saturday?”

Immediately Jungkook grows defensive. “No? Why would I be thinking of her?”

Jimin just raises his eyebrow, a shit-eating smile on his lips.

“Fuck off.”

“You’re still jealous,” Jimin teases, and Jungkook struggles to sit up so he can punch his friend in the shoulder.

“I was not jealous.” He feels hot, and his brows knit together. “Just fucking let it go.”

Jimin shrugs, pouting. “No.”

“You’re an ass.”

Jimin looks away, eyes settling on the TV. He doesn’t say anything except letting out a laugh, and the laugh in and of itself is even more infuriating than whatever he could have said. Jungkook scoffs before laying back down.

“Seriously though,” Jimin says after a few blissful minutes of silence. “What’s your deal with her?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “I have no deal with her. And it’s not because you ask the same question a thousand times that the answer will change.”

“So you won’t be angry at me if I tell you I dmed her on Insta?”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot to Jimin’s profile, and the smirk on his friend’s lips make him want to punch a hole into his head. “You did not?”

“So what if I did?” Jimin asks. “As you said, ‘I have no deal with her’.”

Jimin’s imitation of his previously uttered phrase forces Jungkook to sit up once again. This time he throws his legs on the side of the couch until his feet touch the ground, and he sits back against the backrest, playing with his piercing to keep the annoyance at bay. He chooses to remain silent, because he knows saying something will just make it worse.

“This is gold,” Jimin still says, and he starts laughing again. “I’ve never seen you worked up about a girl before.”

“I am not worked up about her.”

Jimin throws him a no-bullshit look, an eyebrow cocked sassily. “No, of course not, my bad bro.” Another snicker, and Jimin adds, “You’re sulking”.

“Do you want to die?” Jungkook asks, entirely serious. Because he does want to kill Jimin, if only to shut him up. “She’s annoying, I don’t give a shit about her. Besides, I don’t even dance anymore. You should know that.” He speaks fast, and his voice quickly falls into the same simmering anger that takes over him whenever he thinks about the consequences of the accident.

Jimin notices the change in him and immediately backs off, shrugging his shoulders. “I know.”

It ends the conversation, and they watch the rest of the show in a tense silence, until Jungkook finally decides it’s time to go up to bed. Jimin wishes him good night before disappearing into the kitchen, and Jungkook climbs upstairs.

If Jo and Taehyung were not already in bed, he probably would have slammed his door shut behind him for good measure, but he’s not that much of an asshole. Not when his friendship with Taehyung still feels fragile, even after the talk that they had a couple of weeks ago.

Instead, he softly closes the door behind him, before heading straight for his bed. He plops down, wincing at the ever-constant pain in his leg. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it; it doesn’t feel like he will. Especially not when he doesn’t feel it for a few seconds when he wakes up, and he almost forgets he ever got in a car accident in the first place.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rolling on his back. He looks up at his ceiling, and the purple glow of his LED light does almost nothing to calm him down.

He needs Jimin to stop teasing him about you. He also needs Jimin to stay fucking clear of you, because he knows his friend. If he can’t have something, it makes him want it even more. He usually finds it funny, but somehow it strikes a nerve right now.

Maybe because he’s always fucking upset about everything now. Like how you pretended it wasn’t him that texted you the other day. Who else would have texted you anyway?

It reminds him that you actually texted him about an hour and a half ago, and he’s yet to reply. He groans, grabbing his phone from his pocket before opening it. It directly opens to the conversation with you, and he rereads your text.

[9:56 pm] You🙄: i might ignore jimin if u help me with a choreography

Does that mean that Jimin actually did text you? It makes Jungkook’s heart feel heavy in his chest, and he frowns as he rereads your message a couple of times, teeth pulling at his piercing.

He wants to reply something to spite you, just because he can. But now that Jimin said all of that… Jungkook can’t help but think maybe he should just accept. Because he doesn’t like the thought of you with his friend at all, and he knows you well enough to know you would do Jimin without a single ounce of hesitation if it can piss him off.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself replying with,

[11:31 pm] Jungkook: already accepting defeat i see [11:31 pm] Jungkook: yes i can help

You were already typing something by the time he sent the second message, and he watches the three little dots disappear before reappearing again. It takes you almost a full minute to reply, and he wonders how many times you’ve rewritten the text that appears in front of his eyes.

[11:32 pm] You🙄: i need it by Saturday [11:32 pm] Jungkook: bruh

You don’t say anything for a while, and he puts his phone away to go take a shower and brush his teeth. His mind is already coming up with something to help you with, and he’s almost appalled with himself. Why is he so willing to help you?

He’s settled under his comforter when he finally grabs his phone to see if you replied. You have and he smirks as he reads your text.

[11:34 pm] You🙄: plz don’t be a bitch about it, hobi only gave me a week🥲 [10:47 pm] Jungkook: and u still have nothing? outrageous🤨

Satisfied, Jungkook moves to put his phone away, but it vibrates in his hand before he does. You sent him a bunch of looking-up emojis, and he just replies with the one blowing a kiss. You’re quick to reply once more, and he rolls his eyes before laying back in bed with his phone in hand. He’s not annoyed though, just amused. Surprisingly so.

[10:48 pm] You🙄: can u come to the studio tmrw?

Jungkook wets his lips, and he’s about to reply when his brain comes up with an image that makes him freeze. He thinks about you, in bed. For some reason, his mind decides you’re lying on your side, hair loose around your head. You’re looking at your phone, and the light caresses your features ever so softly. It strikes him so bad that he finds himself pressing on the Facetime call button before he even realizes he does.

He’s appalled for a time as he watches his own reflection on his screen for a couple of seconds, the sound of ringing filling his room. He’s convinced this is a bad idea, and he doesn’t think you will pick up.

To his surprise, you do pick up. But all he can see is what looks like a wall.

“Why are you calling me?” you ask, and your voice is dripping with annoyance.

That’s how he likes you to be, isn’t it?

“Figured it’d be easier that way,” he replies, and he wonders if it’s just him or is it suddenly more hot in his room?

You remain silent for a time, and he wonders if you’re looking at him on your screen. It’s hard to know what you might see there. Even though he knows he’s an attractive man, there’s something about your disdain for him that’s always made him feel a little insecure in your presence.

Maybe that’s why he’s always riling you up.

“Mmh,” you hum after a moment. “Can you then?”

He’s all but forgotten what you asked him by text before he called you, and it takes him a moment to formulate an answer. “Probably.” There’s a mischievous smirk on his lips when he adds, “What do I get in exchange?”

He hears you scoff, and his smirk melts into a grin. “I’m not going to let you flirt with me at almost midnight.”

“Then why did you pick up?” He’s being a little shit. It feels refreshing and his smile doesn’t waver from his lips. Especially as you don’t say anything. It makes him chuckle. “Thought so.”

“You are as annoying as I remember you to be, Jeon Jungkook.”

The way you say his name, with a low voice that sounds a little like danger, makes him gulp, and the smile dies on his lips.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” he says, and just like that he feels like he’s regained control. He can almost hear you roll your eyes, which brings him to say, “Why don’t you show your face?”

“Why? Do you want to see me?” you ask, and it’s almost a purr.

His heart picks up its pace in his chest, and Jungkook is glad for the purple light in his room. He’s pretty sure it hides the blush on his cheeks. “Just weird to be staring at a wall when you get to see my handsome face, no?”

“Who told you you’ve got a handsome face?” you tease, but you still finally show on the screen.

You’re not wearing any makeup, and your hair is a mess. Jungkook almost wants to point it out, but he doesn’t want to make you go away, so he just shrugs.

“My mom?”

“I don’t think that counts,” you say, and this time he sees you roll your eyes.

He moves until he’s lying on his back, holding his phone over his face. He wets his lips, before saying, “Anyway, yes I can.” He pauses, looking away from his phone before resuming his attention on you. “Only if you bring something to eat.”

You look up as if annoyed. “Alright, whatever it takes.”

He immediately jumps on the occasion. “Whatever it takes? Let me reconsider what I want.”

To his surprise, you laugh, and he’s struck dumb for a good ten seconds.

“So?”

He gulps. “So what?”

“So what do you want?”

He doesn’t know. He’s really struck dumb, but then his brain goes down the dark road again. He wants his leg to stop aching. He wants it to be so he’s never left the dance crew, so he’s never had to give up on his dreams. It sobers him up real quick.

“Uh, just food is fine.”

If you’re concerned by his switch in behaviour, you do not show. You only watch him for a few seconds before saying, “I have no idea what you like.”

“Just anything”, he says. His eyes trail away from his phone, and he doesn’t let you say something else before adding, “Listen, I gotta go, but text me what time you want me to be there?”

At that you seem surprised, as if you didn’t expect him to want to hang up so quickly. Your brows are knitted together when he looks back at you. You look as if you want to ask a question, and he really feels like he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s glad when you just scoff, and say, “Alright?”

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. He feels like an asshole, but you’re suddenly the last person he wants to be talking to. “Good night.”

At least he’s not an asshole enough to hang up without saying goodbye.

Friday, May 4th

                You won’t lie, you’re a little anxious at the thought of being with Jungkook alone. It’s not something that ever happened before, and in all truth you don’t know why you suggested it. Why didn’t you ask him to come tomorrow instead, when everyone would be there to work on the choreography?

You feel stupid, but then again you don’t want the crew to know you had to ask Jungkook for help. You can only hope he doesn’t say anything to the rest, but it seems unlikely. Last you checked he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore except Hobi.

You’re in a small studio, away from the main class ones. It’s a studio you usually use when you want to dance alone in peace, and it’s almost forgotten by everyone that comes to your mother’s dance studio. It’s cozy to you, maybe because it’s always been a refuge to you, a safe haven whenever Jiho’s house couldn’t be one for you.

Right now, it smells like fried chicken, because that’s what you were craving before you came to the studio. You arrived an hour ago, even though you only told Jungkook to be here around 5 pm.

You needed to mentally prepare yourself after all. You’re not sure it really worked, and when Jungkook texts you to say he’s outside, you feel like this is all a bad idea. You still text him the number of the room you’re in, and as you wait for him, you look at yourself in the mirror to ensure you look okay.

You don’t even know if you do. Don’t know why you curled your hair and put on a little bit of makeup either. Maybe because Jungkook has a tendency to point out every little flaw on you.

He arrives about a whole five minutes later. He’s holding two bubble teas, and your eyes widen as he smiles at you.

“Hey,” you greet him, and you take a few steps towards him before stopping in your tracks. You motion towards the chicken. “I got Korean fried chicken.”

“Thought it smelled like it,” he says. He finishes crossing the distance between you two, handing you one of the bubble teas. “Do you like this?”

“What flavour is it?” you ask, taking it from his hand.

A strange sensation goes through you as your index touches one of his fingers. You frown at the feeling, before taking a sip from the bubble tea as he says, “Banana milk”.

You hum in content, and your eyes are almost bulging out of your head when you realize he’s gotten it with jelly instead of tapioca. “How did you know that’s my favourite?”

 He makes a weird face, with his nose scrunched up a little. “I didn’t, I just took two of my usual.”

You don’t like that you have something in common with Jungkook, so you say, “Did you have to make banana milk bubble tea disgusting?”

He looks infinitely confused for a few seconds. “Uh?”

“Never mind.”

There’s an awkward silence, and your eyes slide to the fried chicken. “Do you want to eat first?”

He takes a sip of his own bubble tea, making the silence stretch until you feel like disappearing through the floor. He probably does it on purpose, just to unsettle you. It’s so long you look back at him, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.       

“Sure,” he finally says, and he offers you the shit-eating grin he usually uses to piss you off.

Your brows are a little furrowed as you look at him for a few seconds, annoyed, before you finally move to where you left the food on the ground. You sit cross-legged, ignoring Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you as you put the bubble tea down next to you and open the box of fried chicken. Jungkook hasn’t moved, and you roll your eyes as you glance at him.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask. You sound just as annoyed as you feel, and it only doubles up when he looks at the floor with an eyebrow cocked.

“You expect me to eat on the floor?”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Last I checked, there’s no table in the room.”

“We can go to the cafeteria.”

Your shake your head, lips stretched in an upside-down smile. “Just.” You motion at a vague spot next to you. “Just fucking sit and eat.”

“Why don’t you want to go to the cafeteria?” he asks, and he takes a long sip of bubble tea as you just glare at him. “Are you ashamed that you asked for my help?”

There it is. The teasing glint in his eyes. It’s the same as last week, and the same you have been used to for what now, eight years? It makes his eyes sparkle, a little innocently, though you know the reason behind is not innocent at all. No, if Jungkook has a little angel and a little demon on his shoulders, he’s been listening to the little demon since you’ve known him.

“You’re making me regret asking you for help,” you complain, biting down on your tongue to keep the ‘asshole’ that wanted to follow your sentence.

He’s smiling now, bright and happy. “Then I’ll just go.”

He makes no move towards the door though, and you just raise your eyebrows. “Alright. Go.”

He surveys you for a time, as if gauging if he can actually go. He pouts a little, and you frown, looking away from him. You grab the sauces you got with the chicken, opening the lids of each of them to busy yourself. You don’t want to look like you want him to stay.

You reckon you don’t actually want him to stay. You wish you could get help from anyone else but dreadful times call for drastic measures, uh?

“Damn,” he says, and he chuckles, before finally walking towards you. He sits on the other side of the box, but he makes no move towards the chicken for now. “You’re really that desperate?”

Your eyes shoot to him, and you hope he feels the blade of the daggers they hold. “Can we just be professional for once?”

“I’ll be professional if you promise not to ask me why I left the crew,” he says, falling so serious you almost get whiplash.

You have considered it, you won’t lie. But it’s not like it matters anyway, especially not now that the crew has finally accepted to be six instead of seven.

“I don’t give a shit as to why you left the crew,” you let out flatly, before taking a bite of chicken.

It’s savoury, with just enough crunch to make your little monkey brain go haywire. It’s almost enough to make you forget that you are currently alone in a room with the person you dislike the most out there.

Jungkook seems surprised by your comment, and you think there’s a flash of disappointment on his features, but it disappears too quickly for you to analyse. Instead, he frowns, before scoffing as he shakes his head. “Is that why you were such a bitch about it last week?”

“Did you come here to call me a bitch or to create a choreography?”

Your outburst is loud and unexpected, both to you and him. His eyes just widen, and he raises his hands as if to show he’s not dangerous. “Woah, calm down.”

It’s probably the worst thing to tell you whenever you’re angry, but even as you see red you bite down on some chicken again. Keeping your mouth occupied is the only thing you can do right now to keep yourself from blowing up in his face. Considering you really do need his help, that is.

“You are not a bitch,” Jungkook says. He scoffs again, and his eyes drop to the chicken in your hands. “You acted like one, there’s a nuance.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Am I the law student here or is that you?”

“Is that a compliment?”

He’s annoying. A prick, a pain in the ass, an asshole and everything in between. Especially as he just starts smirking, as if he knows he’s struck the right chord.

“Somebody fucking kill me right now,” you grumble as you look up to the ceiling.

There’s nothing up there to save you from Jeon Jungkook, so you let your gaze drop back to his face. He’s looking at you, features set in a calm mask, and it takes you by surprise. He looks different like this, more mature. More like the adult that he is now, and less like the sixteen year-old you met back then.

He sighs, before grabbing a piece of fried chicken with his free hand. He dips it in sauce, before taking a bite. He chews for a few seconds, and then swallows it down with a sip of banana bubble tea. You’re not sure the flavours go well together, but he doesn’t seem to care as he just dives in for another bite.

You echo his sigh with one of your own, and then you start to eat too. The meal is surprisingly spent in silence. You think it’s supposed to be uncomfortable, but for some reason sitting across from Jeon Jungkook while eating fried chicken is anything but uncomfortable. Strange, that’s for sure, but you don’t feel awkward.

Maybe it’s because he’s rarely this silent, and your soul is singing to the gods above in thanks for the peace.

And then you realize you might have more than gods to thank. Because Jungkook really is professional. He came with ideas for songs you could use, and for most of them he’s already thought up parts of choreographies. You don’t know how his brain does it, and you’re a little amazed for a time. You don’t let it show, because God forbid Jeon Jungkook and his oversized ego know that you think something positive about him, but you really are impressed with him.

And a lot more thankful than you’d ever dare to say.

One thing you notice though, as Jungkook shows you some moves, is that he doesn’t dance like he used to. There’s something a little mechanical with the way his body moves, as if he’s a machine that’s missing a little bit of oil.

Maybe even a lot.

He’s halfway through his idea for the third song he suggested when you notice him half-assing a leg move that you’ve seen him doing to perfection a hundred times before. He stops as his eyes fall shut, and darkness takes over his features. You’re a little taken aback, as you stand next to him, and you look at him in the mirror.

It takes him almost a good thirty seconds before he opens his eyes again. “Sorry.”

If he hadn’t been so professional in the last hour, you probably would have given him shit, just because that’s how you and Jeon Jungkook work. But right now, all you can think to say is, “Is something wrong?”

He meets your gaze in the mirror. His is heavy, sad, and it makes him look exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept in a few months, and you realize maybe he hasn’t.

Maybe he really has a good reason as to why he disappeared from the dance crew in February last year.

“I’m out of practice,” he says flatly. It’s a lie and he’s not a good liar. As soon as the words are out he looks down, pulling at his piercing.

“We can go with the first choreography,” you say tentatively after a moment of silence. “I think it’s the one that’ll work the best considering everyone’s strength.” He slowly nods, but he remains silent.

And you’re right. The one he’s showing you right now would have been good to make him shine on stage, but he’s not going to be there.

“Okay,” he lets out after he sighed loudly. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

You purse your lips, eyes still boring into his forehead. His hair is falling in front of his eyes, and he seems as if he’s fighting demons standing there. You turn towards him, tilting your head to try and catch his gaze. It fails miserably, but you still say, “Are you okay?”

It breaks him out of his trance. He scoffs, glancing at you once before holding his head up high and running his hands through his hair. “Don’t act like you care.”

It takes you aback, and you just stare at him without even blinking for a little while. He’s right, you don’t care, so why are you asking?

It’s your turn to scoff, and you furrow your eyebrows as you turn away from him to face the mirror again. “Okay,” you mutter. “Sorry for trying to treat you like a decent human being. I forgot you’re an asshole for a moment there.”

You realize the insult is out a long time after you’ve finished your sentence. Actually, you only realize because Jungkook finally looks at you again, but only to glare. His brows are knit together on his forehead, and you notice his clenched fists at his side.

“You know what, I think I’m done for tonight,” he says. He chuckles bitterly. “Let’s see what the crew does when you come up to them with half a choreography because you can’t even create one.”

You would have apologized if he hadn’t said that second part. Now, all you want to do is punch a hole in his face. “Are you fucking serious? Do you need me to beg on my knees for your help?”

He smiles, but there’s no warmth. Just contempt, and it’s a disgusting look on Jeon Jungkook’s features. “Yeah, get on your knees.” He adds your name, saying it like it’s an insult, before continuing, “Let’s see what you fucking look like when you beg on your knees.”

It makes you want to throw up, and you just turn your back to him as you walk to where you left the empty containers of fried chicken and sauce. You gather them up with shaky hands, before straightening. You reckon your whole body is shaking, as it usually does when you’re really angry. The kind of angry that makes you want to murder people, and surprisingly enough, it’s the kind of angry only Jungkook and your mom have ever succeeded at getting out of you.

It’s an ugly feeling you don’t like, and for that reason you storm out of the room, not even caring to see if Jungkook is following. No, all you can think of is that you need a breather, some fresh air to cool down the boiling of your blood. Otherwise you might just kill Jungkook, and you don’t think you have the energy to hide a body at the moment.

You make it all the way to the evening world outside before Jungkook actually calls your name behind you.

You swirl around, and one of the containers fall to the ground. For some reason it makes you even angrier, and you just throw the rest of them next to it. It makes you feel incredibly stupid, and you’re bending down to pick them back up when Jungkook says, “I’m sorry I said that”.

You finish picking the trash up, before straightening. “I don’t give a shit about your little fucking apology. I’d rather shoot myself than spend another fucking second in your presence. Just leave, and please never come back.”

He doesn’t move, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I can finish the choreography and give it to Hobi.”

“Just do that, I don’t care,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

He slowly nods but he still doesn’t move. It occurs to you that he does look apologetic, as if he wants to go back in time and erase what just happened.

“Why are you still looking at me?” you ask, but some of the fight in you is starting to dissolve, leaving you feeling exhausted.

“I just…” he trails off, and he scratches at the nape of his neck before letting his hand fall at his side again. “I’m just really sorry, that was disgusting of me.”

“I already said I don’t care, Jeon”, you say through gritted teeth. “You just reminded me why I hate you so much, so thanks for the wake-up call. Just give Hobi the choreography and leave me the fuck alone.”

“But…”

“There’s no but,” you interject before he can say more, and your voice is shrill, high-pitched. You probably sound crazy, and you sigh deeply as you remember that you’re out in the street and that anyone can hear you. As a matter of fact, you’re pretty sure the guy walking on the other side of the street just turned to look at you curiously, attracted to drama the way moths are attracted to a flame.

Jungkook falls silent. For good this time. He just nods, and he digs his hands in his pockets. He holds your fiery gaze for a few seconds longer, and then his gaze just drops to the ground as he starts walking away.

 If you cared about him more, now would probably be the time that you say his name and apologize. But you’ve never cared about him, so you watch him go, satisfied to know you’ve won this argument.

It’s childish and petty, but Jeon Jungkook really does bring out the worst in you.

Once his form is out of view, you move back into the building to throw away the containers. It takes you all but thirty seconds before you’re out again, and you grab your phone to ask Jiho to come over.

[8:41 pm] You: i’m about to commit murder or arson or both😤 [8:41 pm] You: can u come over to diss Jungkook with me🫠

Jiho’s answer only comes later that night, when you’re positively cooled down, lying in bed as you watch your favourite anime.

[11:23 pm] Jiho❣️: sry, didn’t see this before, i was at my uncle’s

You pause your episode, before moving to your messaging app.

[11:23 pm] You: it’s fine, i feel better now😶 [11:23 pm] You: he was a fkg asshole tonight [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: WAIT [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: wtf did i miss [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: what were u doing with jk🤨 [11:25 pm] Jiho❣️: why didn’t u tell me u were gonna see him [11:26 pm] You: uuuuuuuuuuuuh😅

You press send, and you laugh as Jiho almost immediately calls you.

“What the fuck” is the first thing that she tells you as you put your phone against your ear, quickly followed by, “Are you having a fever? Why were you with JK?”

You wince, and you shrug your shoulders even though she can’t see you. “I asked him to help with the choreography for Hobi.”

 “You bitch!” Jiho bursts out. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you just tell Hobi you were struggling?”

You laugh, and it really helps to forget your anger towards Jungkook. “I’ve got some pride, you know? I really wanted to be able to bring something to dance practice tomorrow.”

And then you go on to tell her everything that happened, and to your surprise, she laughs at Jungkook’s comment.

“What’s funny?” you grumble.

“Girl,” she says in between two fits of laughter. “You opened that door so wide. He’s Jeon Jungkook, of course he was going to jump on it and say something like that.”

You reckon she’s right. Jungkook really is the kind of cocky guy that thinks he can just say anything without any consequences.

“Right,” you mumble. Your phone vibrates against your ear, and you put Jiho on speaker mode to see who texted you. You choke on your saliva as Jungkook’s unsaved number is now at the top of your texting app. “Jesus fuck.”

“What’s up?” Jiho asks.

“He texted me.”

She’s laughing again, and maybe Jungkook is not the one you’ll need to murder after all. “What did he say?” she eventually asks once she’s calmed down.

[11:34 pm] unsaved number: just letting u know that hobi asked me to be there at dance practice tmrw

You repeat the text out loud for Jiho, who hums pensively. “Damn, is JK really going to be our choreographer now?”

You’re not surprised she’s jumped to that conclusion. You have too, and you saw it coming the moment you told him to talk to Hobi.

“I am never coming back to dance practice if that is the case.”

“Oh come on,” Jiho lets out. “Nobody cares about Jungkook. We can’t lose you too.”

She’s not wrong. Losing another member would completely annihilate the crew, and you’ve been part of it for way too long to ever consider leaving. It’s part of you now, and it’s been so for so long you think you’d probably die if you left.

Or at least turn into a very bitter version of yourself.

You’re about to go to sleep, a while after you’ve hung up with Jiho, when you finally decide to reply to Jungkook. Only because you don’t want him to be too much of a little shit tomorrow.

[12:58 am] You: ayt lol, sry about earlier

You don’t know why you apologize. You just do it because it feels like the right thing to do. The “be the bigger person” kind of thing to do, and now that you’ve talked to Jiho, you feel like you can actually be that person. That, or maybe it’s the fact it’s been long enough since you saw Jungkook that you don’t quite feel like murdering him anymore.

[1:05 am] unsaved number: no worries:) i was a dick

Your phone lights up on your night stand but you feel too tired to check it out. As if being the bigger person takes too much energy. Maybe it does, and you’re asleep before you receive the next text.

[1:09 am] unsaved number: i hope u like the rest of the choreography😌

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Ooooof when will they stop fighting uh? Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist (strikethrough means tumblr isn't letting me tag you my bad):

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @sugaluvmyg | @tearyjjeon | @jkclouds | @libra04 | @parkinglot-nights | @ggukieasy | @omnomnomtron | @jichimx | @synnfulqt | @leedoesntknaur | @oopscoop | @melodiesforari | @pornichet

[peterfields]

Get inspired! Today with...

-Merino Kaschmir wool Ribbed Scarf in grey and Merino Wool Beanies by #fishermanoutofireland

-Beanie in sand by #lebonnetamsterdam

-Socks Wool Sonora Earth - olive and Socks Wool Bungalow - smoke by #chupsocks

-Musette Gaston in dark khaki by #bleudechauffe

-Le Cardigan L'enfant du Malheur in charcoal by #fleursdebagne

-Composition Notebook Coil by #penco

-Old Fashioned Tumbler, Shot Glass, Letter Holder and Pewter Gecko by #cositabellini

-Leather Coaster in mokka by #legendär

[sterlingarcher23]

Movie inspos for ElMax (& Ronance)

Tangled

It's inside of you...

"Flower, gleam and glow

Let your powers shine

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine…"

El is wearing flowers if you didn't notice like she IS the flower, life, resurrection. We can conclude that her powers are not for killing people/her personality is actually meant to be a healer, cure or medicine. Like Owens said "I believe you are the cure"

.....................................................................

Throw the evil bitch out of the window

.....................................................................

Beauty and the Beast

Stained glass window and blue (hair tie) and yellow (watch) are "dancing". The ST rose is framed within blue and yellow being intertwined.

Visiting the mall/library.

"To see if I was the monster. Now I know the truth. It's not me. It is you... You are the monster."

"He's not a monster, Gaston. You are."

A reversed transfiguration...

.....................................................................

Matrix

Trinity's love saves Neo - besides the "No" that El always utters is the ST version of "Nyu" from Elfen Lied

Neo real world = Max ; physical representation of her in the Void, not the mind - her mind avatar looks fine in comparison to her physical self.

Neo Matrix = El ; actual "ghost" mind version ; blood stains on shirt from the mind battle, no blood stains in the physical world.

This btw proofs that El can't find Max not because her mind is empty since it is NOT minds that El sees in the Void but events. El is the only representation of a mind (her own) in the Void - I'll talk about this in another post.

Oh, and this for Ronance....

"Tangled" is confirmed, so is "Matrix" & "Beauty and the Beast" because those are on the inspo board (just can't find the image rn).

For ElMax you can technically also add "The Legend of Korra" which was mentioned by one of the writers. So, Korrasami, Belle & Beast, Rapunzel & Flynn, Trinity & Neo are four couples we can count as inspos for ElMax.

Seriously, shall I talk about what actual love triangles in Stranger Things are and what isn't and never was? Certain characters never felt romantic love for one another, they kinda just pretended to or talked themselves into it.