#alas it's getting too warm for me to wear three layers so soon enough the vests will have to go :/

[anglerflsh]

self sunday (on wednesday this time)

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…” He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

They Will Certainly See More

  “What do you mean Seymour isn’t here?!”

The stage manager’s eyes were wide and bulging in their sockets from her smoldering gaze. The queens couldn’t help but shy away slightly- all the crew members had an aura that nobody wanted to cross when worked up. 

  “She was sick,” Aragon explained. 

  “You couldn’t think to tell me this BEFORE the show was about to start?!” The stage manager snapped. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are any of the alts here? Tell them to throw on some makeup and do their hair, they’re going on.”

  “Umm...no.” 

  “What?” The stage manager’s eyes snapped open to stare at Cathy.

  “None of them are here.”

  “WHAT?!”

The stage manager began to work herself up to a proper fit, barking and squawking at the queens and just about anyone who crossed her path like a jungle bird that just had its territory approached by a rivaling avian. She might have tore strips off the cast the entire time if it wasn’t for Anne suddenly piping up.

  “Wait!! What about Joan?”

That made the stage manager shut up. She snapped her mouth shut and blinked before all eyes turned over to the nearby music director, who, up until that point, was peacefully eating a yogurt cup.

  “What?” Joan said with the spoon still in her mouth.

  “That’s perfect!” The stage manager exclaimed. “Joan! Go get your makeup and hair done!”

  “My makeup and hair is already done?” Joan said. She was always ready an hour before the performance starts. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re performing as Jane,” The stage manager said. “Aragon, Parr, go help her into costume!”

  “Wait- What?!” Joan yelped, finally understanding. “I-I can’t- I-” But she was already being herded off into Jane’s dressing room.

The process of redoing her makeup and hair was hellish- there was a lot of tugging and pulling and painful brushing that scraped her scalp raw. She had to get an all new layer of makeup so she wouldn’t look washed out onstage and wouldn’t sweat it all off. Because she was sweating. A lot.

  “God, you’re soaked,” Cathy laughed slightly, combing back Joan’s hair.

  “Mm-hmm,” Joan merely replied. She was stiff in the chair, spine straightened in perfect posture for the first time in her life. Her hands clenched and unclenched anxiously in her lap. “G-guys, I--”

  “I got the costume,” Aragon cut her off, taking Jane’s dress off the rack. 

Joan actually gaped at it- were they really expecting her to wear that?!

  “Guys--”

  “Come on, stand up, Joan,” Aragon urged. “Let’s get this on you.”

  “Guys!” Joan finally spoke up. Her voice had raised a few pitches. “I-I don’t think I can do this…”

  “Of course you can!" Cathy said as she pulled her out of the chair. She and Aragon were being weirdly nice; usually they just ignored the music director unless they needed her for something. Joan guessed it was because they were in a rush and thought that being kind would get Joan to cooperate (which kinda worked).

  “You know the show by heart. There's no way you can screw it all up." Aragon smiled gently as she set the costume on the back of the chair. "We'll be outside whilst you change, call us when you're ready.”

And with that, Joan was alone in the dressing room.

Standing in Jane's dressing room with the woman was one thing, but when she was alone everything felt wrong. Joan felt like she was invading Jane's personal space. She knew it was stupid, Jane wasn't here. Jane was at home, sick.

Deciding to not dwell on it any longer, Joan quickly changed into the costume. The first thing she noticed about the dress was that it was heavy, much heavier than she had imagined. The second thing she noticed was that it didn't fit her at all. Instead of looking like it was tailored to her body, it simply hung from her shoulders, and she didn’t even want to THINK about how saggy it was around her smaller chest. She was practically drowning in the fabric, and Joan wondered if she could just wear her band costume and claim it as an emergency alternate costume, but then the five minute call blasted through the speaker.

Cathy and Aragon burst through the door, stumbling over each other as they tumbled into the room.

  “Come on Joan, the show is starting soon and we still need to have a mic check." Cathy said, giving Joan a quick glance. "You can't go on stage looking like that." Frantically, she and Aragon searched Jane's room for safety pins.

An announcement played over the speaker, saying the show was delayed for another ten minutes. Guilt started to consume Joan as she stood in the middle of Jane's dressing room. She must look rather pathetic, standing there in a dress too big and her face caked in makeup.

Suddenly, there’s hands cupping her cheeks and she flinches in surprise. Aragon is standing in front of her, holding her face while Cathy finished with the last of the pins. The golden queen tapped Joan’s cheek with a finger and Joan stopped trying to avoid her eyes like a dog that was caught drinking out of the toilet bowl, instead slowly meeting her patient gaze.

This was the first time Aragon had ever been affectionate or gentle with Joan. And Joan relished it.

  “You’re going to be okay.” Aragon told her. Her voice was smooth and warm, coiling up Joan’s neck and slithering right into her ears. It numbs her anxiety. 

  “B-but what if I--”

  “Shh...” Aragon stroked back a loose piece of hair that just didn’t want to stay down. She took a silver bobby-pin from her sleeve and pinned it back herself. “You’ll be just fine, darling. We know you can do this.”

  “B-but I-- OW!!”

  “Sorry!” Cathy called from behind Joan. “Yikes. That’s a lot of pins.” She laughed slightly. “But I’m sure it’s fine. The dress is silver, anyway! Matches the, uhh, color scheme!”

A chunk of ice drove itself into Joan’s stomach. She sets her trembling hands over her unsettled middle and Aragon quickly took them in her own. She squeezed them tightly. Oh how Joan wished she actually cared about her and wasn’t just doing this to get her to cooperate.

  “I can’t,” Joan whispered.

Despite always dreaming of getting to perform and dance and sing, actually having to do it sounded horrible. Perhaps because it was forced onto her and she didn’t have a say at all. It would probably be easier if she had volunteered herself.

Maybe.

  “You have to,” Aragon said. “I’m sorry. But I know you can do this.”

  “Come on,” Cathy said. 

The three of them walked down to the wings, where the other three queens and ladies in waiting were already in place onstage. Cathy and Aragon have to leave Joan, grabbing their mics and getting in their spots. Joan took Jane’s place a few moments after them. Right before the lights go out, she saw Maria, Bessie, Maggie, and even her dep giving her encouraging smiles and thumbs up. She shook her head nervously at them, pleading with her eyes for one of them to drop dead so she didn’t have to do this.

But alas.

Blackout.

A cacophony of anticipated murmurs swelled through the audience as the curtains part ever so slightly so the queens can walk out. They were just barely lit up by soft white lights bleeding dimly from backstage. Fog rolled out like great grey waves.

Then, pitch blackness once again.

She tripped. She knew she tripped or stumbled or something stupid while walking out of the curtains. She tripped or staggered or stepped wrong or something and now they all know she’s not Jane and they’re going to laugh at her and--

Joan couldn’t breathe. Her body was on autopilot as she followed along with the others, trying to walk the way Jane would normally walk (and yet she still messed that up with her slight stumble on her way out of the curtains). She hoped that she looked enough like the woman to fool the audience and keep them happy for at least half of the show before they got tired of seeing her as a fraud, but that was just wishful. They could take one look at her (or her chest) to know that she was not Jane Seymour.

And that scared her. 

She was scared of them booing or leaving just because she wasn’t the queen. Which was entirely stupid of her to worry over because the alts and swings went on all the time and everyone loved them. But her anxiety just wouldn’t register that as true facts. 

She was a fraud. And they were all going to laugh at her.

She really didn’t want to be laughed at...

A deep hum filled the auditorium- the beginning of Ex-Wives was starting. The sound seemed to rattle Joan to her very core as she listened to it. It honestly used to be serene and calming, but now it just filled her with icy cold dread. She wanted to throw up from the intense terror waving over her, but her stomach was in too tight of knots to eject anything at the moment.

  “Divorced.”

A cone of purple light rained down on Aragon. There were the twin beats. 

This whole part revolved a lot on timing, and Joan knew if she didn’t say her line at just the right moment, then she would throw Maria off. And she really didn’t want to embarrass her bandmates, too, so she gathered up as much confidence as she could and prepared herself. 

  “Beheaded.”

The purple light comes down on Anne. The twin beat resounds loudly.

This was her moment. One of her many moments, but a moment no less. She couldn’t fuck it up, not after the way she tripped.

The purple light spills its rays of amethyst over Joan and she takes a deep breath.

  “D-ied.”

The twin drum beat thumps heavily. Joan swore the thunderous pulse was enough to shatter her rapidly beating heart, which just picked up even more speed.

Her voice cracked. Her fucking voice cracked.

She wondered if it was possible to swallow her microphone whole and choke on it so she wouldn’t have to do this...

  “Divorced.”

A cone of light encased Anna. Joan exhaled deeply, no one seemed to notice. Maybe she could pretend to be sick, people have gone on sick before. Joan prayed that they had an alternate ready before Heart of Stone; she didn't know what she would do if she had to sing that song.

  “Beheaded.”

Joan was ready to run, she didn't care about letting the audience down. But then the image of Jane popped into her head, she was frowning, like she was disappointed. Disappointed in Joan. That thought made her stay on stage, rooted in her spot.

  “And tonight, London. We are…”

I can do this, She kept telling herself, hoping it would calm her down.

The pause seemed to last much longer than a few seconds. Her nerves mounted as she waiting. Joan raised the mic to her lips a bit early.

Then suddenly she saw Anne take a breath, meaning it was coming.

  “Live!" Joan's voice was stronger than she thought, an excited grin adorned her face. I got it! She praised herself.

The show flew by in a whirl of flashing lights, humming harmonies, and barely-contained pride. The longer she performed, the more Joan got comfortable with the role of being the third queen. And the audience didn’t even seem to mind! They looked like they really liked her!

It was just amazing. Every inch of her body was tingling in joy, fueled by an adrenaline rush that seemed to be made of liquid gold. She hadn’t been this energetic about anything in a long time. Her limbs would ache the next day, but she didn’t care. She just continued to sing and dance and be genuinely happy.

The MegaSix soon rolled around, meaning the show would be over soon, and Joan found herself slightly sad while she danced along with the queens. She wished she could play this part forever, that she could always be in the spotlight like this. People would praise her name: Joan Meutas, the False Silver Queen. And they would love her, they would want her autograph and ask to take pictures with her and go to brag to their friends about meeting her.

It would be incredible.

Joan was so wrapped up in dancing and fantasizing her own popularity that she didn’t even realize something was wrong until a cold breeze hit her bare belly.

...Bare?

The audience gasped, yelped, shouted, laughed, whistled.

Cameras flashed.

The queens turned to her, frozen, eyes bulging out of their skull, mouths hanging open like their jaws had been unhinged.

Petrified, Joan slowly looked down at her naked body, shielded only by a bra and underwear, and the silver dress around her feet.

[efrmellifer]

Célèbre

“You know, Etien, I still cannot believe you agreed to this, when it feels as though you only just returned from your year-long sojourn.”

“I’ve never been to a proper Ishgardian gala,” she replied, meeting Aymeric’s eyes in the mirror with a smile. “Well, I suppose excepting our wedding reception. So this would only be my second one.”

Aymeric laughed softly. “Then it would stand to reason that we had better make it special, hmm?”

“What do you mean?”

He settled his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm on her skin even after she’d soaked in hot water. “What did you plan to wear?”

“The dress from Starlight,” she replied, turning to look at him. “Did you have something different in mind?”

“I did,” he admitted. He stepped to his armoire, aware of Etien’s gaze on him, and peeled back a layer of linen over a garment hung there.

“Oh,” Etien breathed, only just audible where she sat. “My goodness.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. Ye gods, how long has this been here? How did I never find it?”

“Well, you aren’t prone to snooping, so that would explain it, I think.”

Etien giggled. “Fair enough. Can I put it on?”

“You may, though you might require some assistance, as it does lace up the back.”

“I could lace it up myself, I’m sure.”

“Let me help you? Please, Etien. I missed getting to do these simple things for you that one settles into in the everyday. We… have never really had an ‘everyday,’ have we?”

She exhaled sharply but quietly through her nose, rising from where she was seated before the mirror. “No, we haven’t. What was the longest we had? A fortnight? A moon?”

“Long enough to form habits to miss when it was over.” Aymeric sighed, handing the dress to Etien so she could get into it and do up the busks.

“That is the size of it.”

He watched her start at the bottom and work her way up, the boning conforming to her body as the dress took its proper form around her.

“Wow, it looks like the night—Aymeric.”

“Yes?”

She looked up at him, teeth glinting as a sly smile spread over her lips. “The night sky?”

He returned the smile, glad his thinking had been understandable to her. “After drawing the fabric of night across Norvrandt, I only thought it fair that you drape it over your body to conclude. It looks quite lovely.”

She looked down, examining the dress now that it was on her, considering the flecks of shimmering silver, stars in a bed of deep blue. The crystals accentuating her bust served much the same purpose, though despite their glint, they were more like clouds on the horizon.

She nodded in approval, stepping closer to Aymeric again and turning, offering the loose lacing to him.

“You’ll let me know the second it’s too tight, yes?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you can crush me more than the weight of—all right, ease up a little.”

With a little chuckle, he slackened the laces. “Better?”

“A little tighter, please.”

“Remember, you will want to dance.”

“Oh, will I?” She gave him an easy, amused smile. “I know. I just like the pressure that firm lacing brings. It feels more secure.”

Aymeric tugged the laces, holding them and slowly pulling them until Etien said with a nod, “Perfect.”

He tied the laces into a bow, commenting, “Not to mention, the guest of honor has to be resplendent.”

“Guest of honor?” Etien crinkled her nose slightly, striding across the room to grab her sapphire earrings.

“Indeed. Let me see what Estinien’s invitation to this event said.”

Etien paused in slipping the earring into her piercing. “Why do you have Estinien’s invitation?”

Without looking up, Aymeric answered. “He brought it here to ask me what I knew about this, and I had to tell him, as shockingly little as he did. But, this is how it reads. You are cordially invited to the Fortemps residence to join the family in celebrating the return of Etien Mellifer de Borel, champion of Ishgard and sister to Lord Artoirel, Count de Fortemps. Guests are also encouraged to offer their congratulations to her and her husband Ser Aymeric as they celebrate their first year of marriage.”

“Well, it’s been two, hasn’t it?” she asked, squinting to help herself remember as she scrutinized herself in the mirror.

“Only the Fury knows that, my dearest.”

A wistful look came over her. “Was it really a year ago?”

“It was. Though it feels longer when you recall that we spent a fortnight in the Black Shroud and we were called back to Ala Mhigo nearly as soon as our feet had touched the stones of the airship landing again.”

“Oh, right, and it was so cold when we got back.”

“A misfortune of the changing seasons.”

Etien responded in the affirmative with only a soft “Mm” in the back of her throat. The seasons. It felt like she hadn’t experienced a season in years. That was what had thrown her internal clock off the mark for so long after she’d started adventuring outside the greater Twelveswood.

Eventually, the systems of her body had adjusted to the new normal of traveling to and fro between wildly differing climes and locations, and she’d been learning to deal with that in its time, as well. And it was certainly better to do so here at home, where there was no gritting her teeth and pressing forward despite the sensations low in her belly, the flick of her tail a beckoning flag to anyone who could interpret the signal.

But she didn’t want just anyone. She wanted the man now holding out her fur-lined cloak to her, so they could step out and take the short walk to Fortemps Manor.

Not the Nuhn. Her husband.

Etien shrugged into the cloak, her earrings swaying where they dangled from her ears, and feeling suddenly both very mature and like she was playing dress-up in clothing that was too grown-up, too fancy for her.

As much as she had enjoyed how she looked in the mirror, as much as she liked wearing pretty dresses, being dressed now in something so fine, boned corsetry and crystal-studded netting, felt odd compared to the leather and metal layers of the armory.

But then, she didn’t want to always be the battle-maiden. She quite liked being a happy housewife, soft and in love. She even didn’t really mind being a noblewoman in title, even if it didn’t feel quite right.

She took Aymeric’s offered arm and let her chin lift in something akin to pride as they strode to the door and out into the crisply cold night. She could play this role as well as any other, frippery and furs the uniform of the high houses.

A cheer went up as Etien and Aymeric’s outerwear was taken, a few guests lifting their drinks and calling their greetings.

Etien’s ears moved to dip in embarrassment, but they flicked forward again as she fought the urge to be  overly modest.

She waved to the people still looking at her, giving them as wide of a smile as she could manage. She slipped her hand into Aymeric’s, leading him away from the door.

“We had better go find, Artoirel, don’t you think?” she said, the look in her eyes shockingly urgent to him.

“Of course. Lead the way, if you think you know where he is.”

They found Artoirel and Emmanellain sitting together, Artoirel making his way through a story he didn’t seem to want to be telling, Emmanellain lounged boredly beside him.

Both looked up as the pair approached, overjoyed at the distraction to ease their respective burdens.

“Etien! I’m so glad you have arrived,” Artoirel said, taking her elbows to pull her closer and press a single kiss to her cheek. “You have saved me from the most dull conversation I may ever have had. Though I feel they may want to hear your stories now,” he told her, voice low so only she, Aymeric, and Emmanellain could hear him.

The three of them laughed. “Yes, it’s good to see you, too,” Etien replied. “Go, host your party. Hopefully I’m as good of a storyteller as I am an archer.”

“Is that not part of being a bard?” Emmanellain asked, sitting down again.

“Well—it is,” she began.

Emmanellain just chuckled as he took a sip of the wine he’d put down when she’d arrived.

“Were there no skirts you were seeking and pursuing?” she asked him, sitting down herself, smoothing the material of her dress over her knees, spine straight.

She ran through every story she could share without revealing so much of the truth—tales from the Crystarium, mostly, all the details removed so she had only traveled to “a distant city”—and could feel herself beginning to fade and falter.

For a blessing, again, someone approached the couch she was now perched on, having replaced Artoirel before.

And when she looked up to see who it was, she broke into a wide smile, more genuine than her earlier one.

She moved to rise, but was encouraged to stay seated as he approached, sliding his fingers under hers.

Estinien lifted Etien’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss just above her knuckles, so her wedding ring hit his chin. “Viscountess.”

“Estinien, please,” she murmured.

“Lady Borel, then.”

“Estinien,” she repeated, her voice slightly more affected.

“Etien. You look radiant. Let me guess, Aymeric picked that dress out?”

She looked down at the dress, admiring it again. “He did. Another winner. He dresses me so well.”

“Fine taste in wine, fine taste in a woman, and fine taste in her clothing, that’s our Aymeric.”

She looked up to see Aymeric blushing under their praise, trying to hide it in the crystal goblet Estinien had handed him. Her eyes crinkled and lip pulled back in a playful grin. “Truly.” She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. “I tire of chatter.” She rose. “Can we dance, Aymeric?”

He stammered for a moment, handing over his glass and giving Estinien’s back to him, one in each hand. Then, he offered his hand for Etien to take, and lead him to the space cleared for dancing.

The hired musicians were playing a slower song, a waltz they were fond of, when Aymeric and Etien reached the dance floor. So it was even easier to flow with the music, natural as walking.

“Is this the first time we’ve danced since you came home?” Aymeric asked, tilting his head as they turned.

“Certainly for longer than a single boxstep as we maneuvered around each other,” Etien admitted. “We still don’t dance enough.”

“Hard to find the time, when the battlefield has to take precedence over the dance floor.”

“But not right now. Ghimlyt is quiet, Norvrandt is at peace, and the Coerthan night is cold and beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Aymeric replied.

Etien’s eyes closed slowly, accompanied by a light sigh as she accepted the compliment. “I’m blessed to be welcomed home and celebrated by a loving family and in the treasured company of my darling husband. Anyone would look beautiful when they were so happy.”

“I’ve half a mind to kiss you right now.”

“And why not the whole mind, ser?”

Laughing, Aymeric drew her closer and bent to kiss her.

It was a quick, chaste thing, and yet a whisper and a whoop went through the guests assembled. Caught.

Etien giggled, lifting a hand to her lips as they both stepped back, putting some distance between their bodies.

“There are some things which are somehow never acceptable,” Aymeric sighed. “Shall we continue this elsewhere?”

“That was why not the whole mind, wasn’t it?” she asked as they scampered down a hallway.

“I don’t suppose we can fault people for holding onto social rules that don’t cause anyone any real harm,” he said with a light shrug, moving closer to the window they stood before, watching the night sky mirror Etien’s gown in a darker, more wintry shade. “It likely will become something of the city-state’s quirk, eventually a value of the elderly that the youth ignore despite being chastised, and then someday, be gone completely. Perhaps that will be the sign we’re fully a part of the Alliance.”

“I refuse to make a habit of asking about Alliance politics, when I’m only there to offer my feet-on-the-ground perspective to half the leaders attending, but are you not already an integrated part? After all that to-do before the Sultana’s banquet, and then after Azys Lla? I admit, I was fairly distracted in both circumstances, but I could have sworn… and if they insist on dragging three-quarters of the Congregation out every time a cannon goes off--”

“Etien,” Aymeric said quietly, taking her hand. “I know I started it, but we aren’t here to speak of the Alliance. We’re here to celebrate that you’re finally, finally home. And, to people who paid attention, to  rejoice in the anniversary of our union.”

“Right,” she replied, voice soft as her gaze turned from the window to their threaded hands between them. “Happy anniversary, darling.”

“There’s no poetry already written or that I could compose now that would fully capture how this last year—these last two years, the three years I’ve had the privilege to know you—have been the most joy-filled of my life, for all the hell we’ve seen within them. I only wish we had ever gotten to spend much time together in that span.”

“What, stolen moments in your office and long weekends of me pretending I was your average runaway-turned-immigrant to Ishgard weren’t enough?”

“No,” he admitted. “I accept it, because all the time I get to have with you is precious, and because we both have the pressure of our acquired positions, but… sometimes I do wish we were ‘normal’. That we didn’t have to pretend.”

Etien was silent for a while, the mix of moonlight and distant lighting of the house making her eyes glisten—or perhaps that was a result of held-back tears. She blinked twice rapidly and then gave her response. “Me too.”

Far away on the dance floor, the music swelled, and with it, Aymeric’s heart. Despite the world and the myriad duties they had to fulfill in it pulling them apart, how many moments had they had like this? Where it was just the two of them, ensconced in their own little world where the stars shone only for them?

He could think of a few times, and in them, he had always felt so alive. Alive and in love, there with Etien and knowing that no matter what happened in the next moment, who needed them and what had to be done, those moments were theirs. And they were spending them together, wanting to be nowhere else.

If he had to steal them, then he would be the best thief the world had ever seen.

“You know,” he mused, trying desperately to lighten the mood and make up for bringing it so low, “out there, they can stop us from expressing our affection, but when it’s just the two of us, and we are supposed to be celebrating…”

Etien took a second, but then she gave him a grin, the one that made her eyeteeth glimmer in the moonlight. “When could they ever really stop us?”

She rubbed his thumb while they still held hands, then let him pick her up and met his lips with her own eagerly, one hand cupping his cheek, fingers catching stray strands of his hair between them, and the other arm slung over his shoulders. The typical position for when he held her aloft like that, attempting to support some of her own weight, but trusting him enough that she didn’t need to worry about letting her legs hang unsupported. She didn’t scrabble for purchase. He had her, as he always had her.

They broke for breath, and when she’d had her fill of air, she spoke. “I didn’t get to say it before, foolishly choosing to joke, but I want to make sure it’s said. I was nervous the day we met, even though Haurchefant told me I had nothing to worry about. I don’t think he had any idea what the years held for us, but he was right regardless. These have been three of the longest years of my life, but it’s like I said in my letters. A life with you is better than any alternative. I want slow years with you, so I can savor the time… rare though it is.”

“It won’t always be.”

“That’s what I’ve been praying for.”

“I intend to make it so, sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, please do,” she breathed, pulling him in again for a more heated kiss.

They separated when they heard footsteps, but it was too late.

Estinien had taken in the tableau, familiar though it was, in some ways. Etien’s right ear visible to the side of Aymeric’s head, a leg hooked over his hip, one exposed silver pump glinting in the dim light.

And then, the sheepish expressions, until they saw who it was that had come to them.

“I had come to bring you your abandoned wine, Aymeric,” Estinien began, “but I see you’re drinking deep of something else.”

“Aye, well…” he cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to join us, if you can keep quiet.”

“Oh, not a peep,” he assured the couple. “I cannot say I wouldn’t have been more shameless if it had been me.”

“It can be,” Etien said. “Would you say we’ve been here long enough, Aymeric? I never know how much time needs to pass before we look rude.”

“We had better take another turn talking to people,” he said with a near groan, taking his wine from Estinien. “Then we can leave. Bag up some celebration to bring home.”

Etien giggled, hooking her arms through both Aymeric’s and Estinien’s for a moment, before they went back into the party.

She would certainly be more a lively guest with that to look forward to.

[feverishbangtan]

I actually got this idea during Bon Voyage last year but changed it to the Summer Package due to reasons (really just became I had this idea of them going on a hike but... there's no mountains like that in Malta lol so I did some research and there's one in Saipan).

I hope you enjoy this and I apologize that it's always Jungkook-centric :(( Seriously, I'm sorry :(

Sickie: Jungkook

Caretaker: all the member (and manager Sejin)

Word Count: 5893

TW: emeto, hospital

It's the sixth day of their summer vacation in Saipan and there's still two more days left. The boys have been filming for the summer package for the past few days but nothing official was scheduled for the remaining ones yet.

So far, it has been exciting for them. None of the boys have been to any of the Northern Mariana Islands before. The landscape is breathtaking and the sea the most beautiful shades of blue.

Most of the members were enjoying their off day in the pool of the resort they are staying at, while some were just lounging on the sun beds or the air mattresses floating in the water. Others decided to stay in their air conditioned rooms, claiming that it is too hot to go outside.

The past week has, indeed, been very hot with temperatures exceeding the 40° mark. However, it was the humidity that made the heat almost unbearable at times.

The members are gathered up in Seokjin's suite that evening, a small camera team with them but no one told them what for, not even after the boys tried to bribe them.

They talk loudly among themselves until the director and manager Sejin walk in. The two men talk quietly to each other before they settle on chairs, outside of the cameras view point.

"The past few days you've been doing activities as team Bang" the director points at his left where Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin sit on a couch, "and Tan" this time he points to his other side, at the remaining members, "so for the last planned activity you'll be doing something as team Bangtan."

Before anyone can comment on it, the man speaks up again. "Tomorrow, for your second to last day, you will go on a hike." He informs them, "You will hike up to Mount Tapochau, the highest point of Saipan."

The room fills with loud chatter. Namjoon claps his hands happily, a huge smile on his face as he voices his delight. 

"I've been thinking about going there anyway! I heard you can see the whole island from the summit!"

Namjoon loves nature and walking so a hike is the perfect activity for him.

Taehyung looks just as excited, laughing happily as he gets up to high-five the leader.

"It's like when we hiked up Achasan Mountain, hyung! But this time everyone else is coming, too!"

Sejin's loud voice cuts through the conversations, "It's supposed to stay very warm, so make sure to wear appropriate clothing and apply sunscreen." Their manager reminds them.

Everybody turns to look at Jungkook at the mention of sunscreen. A few years ago, when they were in Hawaii for Bon Voyage, he had gotten a pretty bad sunburn and the members were still jokingly mocking him for how he looked back then.

Jungkook promised himself to not let that happen again but alas, when he fell asleep during a photo shoot the day before he woke up with another mean sunburn that left his skin irritated and dry.

"And don’t forget your drinks!" Jimin diverts the attention away from the maknae.

After the director informs them that they will leave around 10am the next morning, he leaves the room together with Sejin. The filming crew packs up their equipment as fast as possible and exits the room as well.

The members stay in the suite for a while longer, ordering room service and talking about the past week, as well as sharing their excitement, or dissatisfaction, over the upcoming hike.

"The weather is so warm and humid and we have to walk all the way to the top. I don't think that's a good idea." Yoongi grumbles around a chicken drumstick. He's not a big fan of the heat but he's been handling it well enough the past week. The upcoming hike is pushing it, though.

Hoseok sighs, "Ahh, Yoongi hyung is right. I nearly died during the photo shooting yesterday!"

"Yeah, the heat's really draining. You're tired and sweating even if you do nothing at all." Seokjin agrees.

"That's just because you're old hyung." Jungkook tells him with a huge grin on his face, glad he's sitting far away from his oldest hyung.

"Yah! You brat, respect your elders!" Jin is ready to jump up should the maknae continue teasing him.

"Oh, I respect you alright, ahjussi."

Taehyung speaks up before the two can continue bickering, "I think it's going to be fun. Just dress lightly and drink water, hyung!"

It's nearing midnight when they decide to go to bed so they will be fit for the hike the next day.

—

A driver picks up the boys, along with their manager Sejin, at 10am sharp. He's taking them to a village, Garapan, at the foot of the mountain and he'll also pick them up again in the afternoon once the hike is over.

"It says the mountain offers a 360 degree view of the island." Namjoon repeats what he's reading on his phone, "Wow, those pictures are magnificent!"

Namjoon continues giving them information about Mount Tapochau for the whole 20 minute drive, telling them how it is the highest mountain on the island and of its importance in World War II.

Once they arrive at their destination, they all pile out of the van.

"It's not even noon and the sun's already so strong." Yoongi comments, hand shielding his face as he looks at his surroundings.

"Well, it's summer hyung, of course it's hot!" Jungkook answers him amusedly.

While they wait for the rest of the crew to arrive they make sure to apply an extra layer of sunscreen to protect themselves. They laugh when Taehyung's entire face is coated in white cream, Hoseok trying to help him spread it.

Soon, two more minibusses filled with crew members stop on the side of the road. They'll have a camera team following them all day long. The makeup artists already got them ready at the resort before they left, some of them still following along for some retouching that might be needed during the journey.

The boys, the director and Sejin gather up at the road sign while the crew prepares everything for filming. Sejin hands them a map with a red path marked on it.

"This is the path you'll be taking up to the mountain." The manager points at a spot on the map, "We're here right now, on Navy Hill Road."

All seven members study the map, then their surroundings. They basically just have to follow the road, it can't be too hard.

Once the camera team is all set up, they're ready to go. They start their way up Navy Hill road that leads out of Garapan.

"Hyungs! Let's race up, the last one has to buy ice cream for everyone!" Jungkook challenges, full of energy and motivation.

The challenge awakens Taehyung and Seokjin's competitive spirit and the three sprint off. Jungkook soon outruns the two, determined to win the race.

The others can't be bothered to spend their energy like that, not with the temperature and humidity steadily rising and tiring them out quickly, even without running. Instead, they focus on their surroundings, taking in the houses that gradually change into jungle.

The road makes a steady ascent and at some point they meet up with the three other members.

Seokjin stands with his hands braced on his knees, panting as he's trying to catch his breath. Jungkook and Taehyung have their cameras out, taking pictures of the pretty landscape. Garapan can now be seen below them in the distance with the turquoise Philippine Sea in the background.

"Haaa, JK! Don't make hyung run like that, it's too hot!" The eldest complains, throwing himself onto Jungkook as if he needs him to hold himself up.

Jungkook stops taking pictures, "Yeah, you should be careful hyung. Heat is dangerous for old people." The youngest has his eyebrows furrowed in mock concern. He laughs out loud when Seokjin shoves him away with an exclamation of what a brat he is.

"Taehyung-ah, can you take a picture of me?" Jimin requests, already posing at the side of the road.

Taehyung turns to his best friend and snaps a few pictures, then continues to take some more of the landscape around him and the other members before they continue their journey.

There isn’t much traffic but the sparse cars driving along the road tend to go very fast so everyone has to be careful. Once the sidewalk ends they have to walk along the shoulder of the road, quickly moving as far to the side as possible when they hear a car approaching.

The two youngest are constantly taking pictures, trying to capture everything they see.

There are a few homes spread out along the road that have debris and fallen trees in front of them. Namjoon tells them that they are probably still there from a typhoon that had struck the island three years ago. Jungkook is stunned at the leaders knowledge, staring at him in open admiration whenever he gives them any kind of information.

Almost an hour into their hike, they reach a dirt road with a wooden sign that points out the way to Mount Tapochau. There isn’t any traffic anymore so everyone is spreading out, the cameramen filming the members as they walk along the road, occasionally stopping to take pictures or pose for some.

"Aish, it just keeps getting warmer." Hoseok complains, fanning himself with his hand.

"So hot. So hot." Yoongi agrees. He wipes sweat from his forehead and stops walking as he takes his bucket hat off to shake out his hair that's damp at the ends. "It's so hot, my hair is wet!"

It steadily gets warmer as time passes and the sun continues to ascend. Everyone is sweating, their shirts clinging uncomfortably to their sticky skin. They're all used to heavy workouts but everyone is breathing heavily.

At the intersection of the official Mount Tapochau road they decide to take a break. Everyone sits down at the side of the road, underneath the shade the trees are providing. They take out bottles of water and some of the members even thought about bringing their little hand fans with them. The breeze washing over them is warm and brings no relief at all.

They're all wearing hats to shield themselves from the sun but it's hot and they make them sweat so they take them off while they're sitting in the shade.

"It's so hot here." Jungkook moans, grabbing his oversized shirt at the front and flapping it in an attempt to cool down. He takes his water bottle and spills the contents over the back of his neck and his arms, the cool liquid providing a little bit of relief for a few moments as it runs down his sunburned skin. Jungkook takes out a second one and drinks a few mouthfuls, hoping the dull throbbing in his temples will go away if he does. The headache has been there since morning and has slowly gotten worse in the heat; he blames the sunburn for it.

"Yoongi hyung and Jungkookie are both wearing all black; I would die." Jimin laughs and takes another sip of his water.

Both members are wearing black basketball shorts and black T-shirts, basically the only clothes their wardrobe consists of. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to wear all black but the clothes are comfortable and the shorts are meant for workouts and sports activities so they believe they'll be fine.

They enjoy the clear view of the Philippine Sea and the jungle around them and after a half an hour break, they continue their hike to the summit.

As the road gets wider there are occasionally hummers and other vehicles driving past them and Yoongi bemoans how they should've rented one of those and driven up the mountain as well instead of walking.

"Woah, look at that! There's houses up here?" Hoseok is surprised, staring up ahead at a big house.

"They must have the best view of the island from up here." Yoongi points out, "But it seems kind of pointless. There’s nothing here, except for a dirt road and tourists."

"It must be nice and peaceful when there aren’t tourists coming up here to go to the mountain, though." Namjoon hums. He likes how peaceful the nature is and he appreciates every moment he can spend like that, being so used to the turmoil of his life and the city he's living in.

As they continue walking, they can see the summit of Mount Tapochau in front of them. There aren’t any big trees providing shade anymore, the sun glaring down at them mercilessly. They have been walking for a while now and it is past noon, the sun up high and powerful.

Jungkook feels like he is going to melt underneath the black shirt he is wearing. He takes out his water bottle and pours most of it over his head and neck again until it's almost completely empty.

"Huh? JK, where did your hat go?" Jimin asks from behind him. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn't for the maknae's bright red hair. Jungkook dyed it for their comeback and refreshed the color on their first day on the island so it'll look fresh and nice while they are filming and taking pictures.

"I forgot it back when we took our break." He explains.

The fresh air around his head made him feel better back then but the pounding progressively got worse over the past few hours of the journey. At first, he ignored it, continued to race around and climb up rocks to take the best pictures but it got harder as the headache got worse and he started to feel tired.

"When will we take another break?" Jimin whines as he clasps his hands around Jungkook’s waist, trying to let the younger pull him up but Jungkook wiggles out of the hold instead.

"There was a sign a while ago, we should actually reach the top soon." Namjoon answers from behind them, his breathing heavy and his whole body sweating, much like the rest of them.

The director suddenly speaks up, telling them that the first one there will get a surprise. That promise motivates the tired boys and Jungkook's slow pace turns into a spurt, quickly followed by Taehyung.

It turns out that the summit was still a bit farther away than expected so Taehyung and Jungkook ended up last as they had spent all of their energy at once.

Three and a half hours after they started the hike, they all finally reach the top of the mountain.

The crew found a nice shaded grill area for their lunch break and the seven boys are happy to sit down and rest. Seokjin is helping with the meat and vegetables on the grill; Namjoon decides to explore the immediate area around them, not going very far but far enough to have some peace to himself. Taehyung and Jimin are taking pictures together while Yoongi and Jungkook sit down at the table.

Jungkook isn’t hungry at all. Actually, just the thought of eating something is making him feel queasy, the smell of the meat on the grill not helping at all. Or maybe he's so hungry that it's making him feel sick already. He can't tell for sure.

They all eat together, sharing the food with the whole crew. Seokjin, who ended up being the first one at the top, got ice cream from the crew. The others eye him enviously but the oldest ignores them and tells them to be faster next time.

"Director-nim~ please give us some ice cream, too." Jimin begs with sad puppy eyes. The crew can’t resist Jimin's charms so they relent and hand out ice cream to the other members as well.

After lunch they're given leisure time to roam around the summit of Mount Tapochau and do whatever they want to. The boys quickly run up to the huge Jesus statue which is already surrounded by tourists. It's fascinating how many people there are despite the muggy weather.

While everyone is admiring the view and taking pictures of themselves or the island, Jungkook sits down on one of the benches, close enough to be able to see over the railing as well. He's so tired and he started feeling sick after lunch. His head is still pounding as well so Jungkook reaches a hand up to massage his temples. His skin doesn’t feel dry from the sunburn anymore, quite the opposite as his whole body is drenched in sweat.

Jungkook's feeling a little better after sitting down for a while so he takes out his camera and starts capturing the view from where he's sitting.

"Jungkookie! Can you take some pictures of me please?" Namjoon walks up to him with a bright smile that's showing off his dimples.

"Sure, hyung." He agrees easily.

They take picture after picture, trying different angles and walking around the plateau to find the prettiest background. Sometimes Jungkook stops to take pictures of the landscape instead. Namjoon didn’t lie when he told them that it's possible to see the whole island and its neighboring ones from the top of the mountain.

After a while Jungkook's stomach starts cramping, making him nauseous again. He swallows hard and pulls the camera away from his face. Namjoon takes that as a hint that there are enough pictures and thanks the maknae. He walks up to him but notices how pale Jungkook looks.

"Jungkook-ah, are you alright?" Namjoon gently grabs the youngers wrist. His skin is moist and cool and he's sweating heavily. The leader can also see goose bumps on Jungkook's skin. His eyebrows furrow in concern.

Jungkook shakes him off, saying that he's fine and, even though it is hard to believe, Namjoon doesn't want to argue with the maknae and insead let's him go. He hopes that he'll tell someone if something is wrong.

—

Jungkook doesn't tell anyone, even when he's starting to feel worse. They spent a good two hours on the summit and he had spent most of the time sitting down in the shade, trying to breathe through the waves of nausea and massaging his temples to will the headache away. Occasionally, his legs are cramping up painfully and when he's standing for too long, he's starting to feel dizzy. Something is wrong but Jungkook doesn’t know what. He hopes it was just bad meat.

They are descending the mountain and Jungkook is walking at the end of the group, slowly trudging behind everyone else. He stumbles and his vision goes completely black for a few moments. When he opens his eyes again, he's sitting on the gravel path, vision slowly coming back; then his hearing and then the numbness turns into tingling as feeling gradually seeps back into his body.

Most of his members are standing around him, talking to him but his mind is too hazy to make out any words.

Nausea rises in the back of his throat, burning its way up and he swallows hard. It doesn't help and he gags into his mouth unproductively, then again, before be lurches forward and a mouthful of sick spills out. Jungkook barely registers the hand rubbing his sweaty back as he throws up again until the lunch he had earlier is a disgusting puddle in front of him.

Jimin is still rubbing Jungkook's back, worry clear on his face. "Jungkookie? Jungkookie, what's wrong?"

"What's going on?" Hoseok asks from a save distance away. He looks a little pale as well after seeing the youngest throw up.

"I don't know! I was walking and then I heard something behind me and then I saw Jungkookie on the ground and now he puked. I don't know what's happening, hyung!" Jimin rambles, scared and confused.

The others must have noticed that something is wrong because they all gather around them. There's still people filming but they're standing a few feet behind, Jungkook protected from the cameras view by his hyungs and manager.

"What happened? Is he sick?" Manager Sejin asks, kneeling down on Jungkook’s side.

He turns to the pale boy, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing to get his attention. "Jungkook-ah? What's wrong?"

Jungkook shakes his head. He doesn't know what's going on; he's not feeling good and just barely registering the words. He's confused and tired.

There's more talking but the words aren't directed at him. Then there's a hand on the side of his neck and he wearily looks up, looking into Namjoon's warm eyes. They're filled with worry now though, his eyebrows knitted but he's trying not to show it.

"Hey, are you with me, Jungkookie?" The leader waits until Jungkook gives him a slow nod.

"Good. We're going to take you to the shade over there, okay?" Namjoon points at an area a little further down the road where trees are standing on the side. "We're going to help you. Do you think you can do that?"

Jungkook isn't sure he can manage but he doesn't really have a choice. There's strong arms wrapping around both of his, supporting him underneath his armpits.

"I'll count to three and then we'll get up together, alright?" Sejin instructs on his other side and, like he said, after the count of three Jungkook is standing with the help of both Namjoon and Sejin.

Jungkook feels weak and dizzy, his muscles cramping and his head throbbing. In that moment he's glad he has someone to lean on, literally, because he doubts he'd be able to stand on his own.

He stumbles more than he walks but they get to the shaded area soon enough. Sejin and Namjoon lay him down on the grass. Namjoon kneels down in front of Jungkook and elevates his legs; he's sure he read that you're supposed to do that to someone who fainted.

Jimin is immediately by Jungkook's side, stroking his sweat-soaked hair out of his face.

"What's wrong, Jungkook-ah?" He whispers quietly. His thick lips are formed into a pout and his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Instead of answering, Jungkook grimaces and whimpers at the pain. Jimin is patting his head, trying to comfort him.

"Do you want me to stay?" The older asks, glancing up to see the others watching them from a few feet away.

Jungkook isn't sure what he wants or needs but he knows he doesn't want to be alone, wants someone to stay with him and comfort him, even though he's embarrassed about the whole situation. It's scary and it's hard to figure things out so he nods his head a little, barely noticeable but Jimin feels the movement under his hands and makes sure to stay close to the younger.

"Hyung? What’s going on?" Taehyung asks wide-eyed. He was walking ahead of everyone earlier and didn’t see what happened.

"Jungkook-ah's not feeling so well right now. It's probably because of the heat." Yoongi explains.

He's not sure how bad it is, he doesn't really know anything about heat related things but Yoongi knows that the maknae must be feeling very unwell and that they should probably try to cool him down and keep him hydrated. 

The boys want to be closer, want to be right next to their maknae but they know not to overwhelm him so they watch from a little distance as Jimin, Namjoon and their manager tend to the ailing youngest.

Seokjin rummages through his backpack until he finds his last water bottle. It's not exactly cold anymore but he guesses it's better than nothing. He walks up to Jungkook and crouches down on his side.

"Jungkook-ah, you should try and drink something." Seokjin holds up the uncapped bottle, "Here."

Jimin and Sejin help the maknae sit up and Jimin kneels down behind Jungkook so he can support his back. They watch him take a few careful sips, then some more as he dares to take bigger gulps.

Before Jungkook can lay back down Seokjin stops him, "Wait, JK. Let's take off your shirt, it'll make you feel better."

Seokjin isn't sure how to handle the situation but he's sure the black shirt the youngest is wearing isn't helping his predicament at all, aware that the dark color stores heat.

Jungkook's still pale so the abashed blush covering his cheeks is all the more visible as he starts to protest, "No, hyung- the cameras..."

"Aish, they've seen you shirtless often enough!" Seokjin fake huffs without any malicious intent at all at the same time as Sejin tells them that they've been turned off and nothing of this was being filmed.

It makes him feel a little better but Jungkook is still embarrassed that this is happening to him, that he's so vulnerable and helpless and still doesn’t completely understand what exactly is wrong.

Seokjin ends up helping him take his shirt and shoes off, leaving him in his pants only. He makes the younger drink some more, hoping it will make him feel better soon.

The director walks up to Sejin. "There's a guesthouse just a little down the road. We should go there and ask for help."

"Jungkook-ah, how are you doing? Do you think you can walk for a little bit?" Jimin asks him, hearing the directors words.

Jungkook shakes his head no; just sitting up earlier made him dizzy and he simply doesn't feel well enough to get up at all. He needs more time, more rest. He just wants to lay down for a while longer and not move.

Namjoon chimes in before anyone else can talk, "We can just go there and ask for help. They probably have a car. Sejin-hyungnim and Jimin-ah can wait here with Kookie."

They agree and everyone leaves, except for Jungkook, Jimin and Sejin. They stay with him and make sure he drinks a few sips every now and then. Jimin has his little Chimmy hand fan with him and he uses it to help and cool Jungkook down.

It's just five minutes later when a jeep pulls up in front of them and Namjoon hops out of the front-seat passanger side. A middle-aged Korean woman follows him, a fresh and cool water bottle in her hand.

"Hello, I'm Bong-Cha. I own the guesthouse down the road. Your friends came to ask for help." The woman greets them in Korean.

She's very calm and she has a small smile on her wrinkling face. She stops next to Jimin and hands him the cold water bottle, gesturing at Jungkook.

"Give this to your friend." She tells him and turns to smile down at Jungkook, "The heat is terrible during the summer, isn't it? It's important to drink a lot and dress lightly."

Her tone isn't patronizing or lecturing at all. It's light, like she's merely having a conversation about the weather and Jungkook nods his head, a little embarrassed smile on his face.

He drinks a bit of the cold water before Namjoon and Sejin help him up and to the car. The water Jungkook had churns in his stomach and makes him feel queasy. Walking only makes it worse and he swallows hard to keep the fluids down.

They sit him down on the backseat, legs still out of the car when he gags, his mouth filling up with vomit. Jungkook leans forward, letting it spill out of his mouth and onto the ground before he heaves again and again until there's nothing left to throw up.

"I'm sorry..." Jungkook murmurs apologetically, spitting out the saliva in his mouth.

Jimin's heart breaks a little. There's nothing he could've done so he makes sure to let the younger know, gently ruffling Jungkook's hair.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay." He promises and passes him the water.

Jungkook rinses out his mouth to get rid of the taste and holds the bottle out so Jimin can take it back.

"Take a few sips, Jungkook-ah. You're probably already dehydrated and you don’t want it to get worse." Namjoon prompts him.

Jungkook takes small, hesitant sips and hopes it won't upset his stomach again.

Jimin and Namjoon settle into the backseat with Jungkook while Sejin sits down in the passenger-seat. The woman, Bong-Cha, turns on the AC and even though the drive to the guesthouse is a short one, they appreciate the gesture.

It takes less than five minutes for them to arrive and it wouldn't have been a long walk either but Jungkook looks very tired and they all think that this was the best solution.

Hoseok and Taehyung greet them at the entrance, holding the door open so Namjoon can help Jungkook inside. Sejin and Jimin are close behind them, ready to help should it be needed.

"Here, they set up a little area for him. This way." Hoseok leads them to a secluded corner of the entrance hall.

Namjoon careful sits Jungkook down on the free couch, then also helps him lay down. Jimin props Jungkook's legs up on a few pillows, hoping to stimulate his circulation.

"How's he doing?" Hoseok asks from behind them, glancing at the maknae who's still looking pale and clammy.

He comes forward to kneel in front of the couch, hands gently stroking Jungkook's hair from his forehead. The other members join him, all settling around their maknae.

"How are you doing, Jungkookie?" Hoseok repeats the question to Jungkook directly.

Jungkook's feeling so tired and he can literally feel the cold sweat running down the side of his face and coating his whole body. He's still feeling a little sick too, and the headache is very persistent.

Before he can answer, the woman who picked them up comes over to them, followed by a few of the guesthouses staff. They have fans with them and ice packs wrapped in towels.

"Place these on his neck and armpits to help him cool down. It usually gets better within 30 minutes so you can all just rest here for a while. I can also drive you to the hospital if you prefer that." She offers politely.

The members glance around, their eyes moving to their manager before they land on Jungkook.

He's starting to feel better and his mind is getting clearer as he's cooling down. He also regained some color in his face, not looking as pale anymore.

They still decided to take him to the hospital. They'd rather be safe than sorry and Jungkook did faint earlier and he got sick several times.

—

Namjoon and manager Sejin accompany Jungkook to the hospital.

Maybe it's because the island is so small and nothing much happens there but the emergency room is basically empty and a doctor sees them immediately.

They are lucky that the doctor is Korean herself so there isn't any danger of miscommunication or misunderstanding. She knows them but they aren't really surprised; a lot of people know them nowadays.

The doctor performs a quick check-up after asking about what happened. She tells them that what Jungkook experienced is heat exhaustion and he's dehydrated as well, probably encouraged by the sunburn.

Now, Jungkook is resting in one of the hospital beds, fluids and electrolytes slowly seeping back into his body through an IV.

"When can we leave?" Jungkook pouts. He's bored and he's feeling pretty fine now that he's out of the sun and heat and cooling down.

Sejin looks up from his phone, an amused look on his face now that he knows the boy is alright. He looks back down at his phone as he answers nonchalantly, "Once the bag is finished and the doctor deems you well enough to leave."

The pout on Jungkook's face intensifies and he has the guts to look annoyed and sulk at his predicament.

Namjoon would laugh about it, the maknae looked quite hilarious, but the images of him looking so pale and sweaty and weak are fresh in his mind.

"You also need to be able to use the bathroom before we can leave." He teases the younger anyway, trying to lighten up and get rid of some of the stress that seems to have a tight grip on him.

"Oh."

Namjoon holds up a cup of water with a big grin on his face, "Drink up, Jungkook-ah."

However, Jungkook hesitates as he frowns at the cup and the teasing smirk on the leaders face drops immediately.

"Are you still nauseous?" He asks carefully, ready to put the cup back on the bedside table and comfort his maknae instead.

Jungkook shakes his head and takes the cup, drinking slowly until it's empty.

Namjoon pulls out his phone as well and makes sure to update the others, also telling them to stop blowing up his phone and demand updates every 30 seconds.

Another hour or so passes and they can finally leave and go back to the resort.

Jungkook was told to drink a lot and stay inside if at all possible. He should stay in the shade if he needs to be outside but he'll be more sensitive to high temperatures during the next week or so. The doctor also told him to avoid heavy exercises for at least a week.

—

Their driver picked them up and brought them back to the resort.

Namjoon and Jungkook ended up in Seokjin's suite. The other members gathered up there after they came back and showered, waiting anxiously for Namjoon to tell them what’s going on and then for the two members to come back from the hospital.

Namjoon went to his room to take a shower while Jungkook just used Seokjin's bathroom. Jungkook's skin was sticky and his hair stringy with sweat; he felt dirty and a cool shower was just what he needed now.

"So much for old people have to be careful in the heat." Yoongi tuts gently as they wait for Jungkook and Namjoon to join them again. The others laugh, although a it's a little bitter.

After the shower, all seven of them are sitting on the queen-size bed, eating together. Jungkook only ordered a light meal. He doesn't want to upset his stomach again and even though he doesn't feel nauseous anymore, he's being careful.

The day ends with all of the members cuddling in bed, watching movies on Seokjin's laptop. It's a tight fit for all of them but they manage, Jungkook protectively squeezed in the middle of them.

They're only halfway through the first Iron Man movie when Jungkook falls asleep. He's exhausted from everything that happened today and the heat exhaustion and his head is still hurting a little bit as well.

The members make sure to give his hair a little ruffle and peck his forehead before they leave for their own rooms for the rest of the night.

"Don't scare hyung like that, he's getting old." Seokjin whispers once the lights are out and he's settled behind Jungkook's body, "Goodnight, Jungkook-ah."

—

A few days later, when the members are back in Seoul and settled into their apartment, they make sure to send the guesthouse owner that helped them so much a signed CD and a thank you letter that, they later find out, she hung up in the entrance hall.

[justsomerandomweebo]

An AU I Think (Side Effects)

Alright so I've never done one of these before but this has been haunting me for days now. So here's the thing: what if the ninja (and by extension all elemental masters) suffered side effects from their powers?

Starting with our fire lord Kai:

The drawback for him is that his fire makes him have a short fuse so to speak.

Like it could be something as passive as a leaf falling in his hair just after he did it and he will freaking explode (not literally of course).

"What the hell?! I spent an entire hour doing my hair and this stupid freaking leaf just-" *cue massive flame up* (The Bounty almost gets burnt down a lot)

He hates it though because he knows it's usually nothing big and he shouldn't even be mad in the first place but he can't let things like that go, no matter how much he wants to. Not without throwing a fiery tantrum first that is.

This of course makes it soooo hard for him to even be around the others or anyone for that matter because he lives in constant fear that his explosive and uncontrollable anger towards the simplest of things will result in someone being seriously hurt.

He avoids Zane like the plague outside of missions because of this. (You'll see why)

Speaking of Zane, our beloved snowflake, the boi is as cold as ice. In more ways than one you see.

Not only does he have a hard time connecting with anyone (humane, mechanical and otherwise), but he is plagued with a feeling of deep, freezing cold.

No matter what he does, he can't warm up and because of this, he often wears a lot of layers.

To everyone else though, he's average in temperature.

He gets along well enough with plants and animals since they don't require conversation or too much attention.

The never ending cold really gets to him though. If he isn't monitored, he will do things like sticking a limb in a flaming hot oven or worse- purposefully make Kai flare up.

*pushes Kai* "You should really watch where you're going." *Kai does the big snap*

Jay has to fix and replace parts on his person due to direct exposure to Kai's intense fire while Kai holes himself up, swimming in guilt with Cole trying to make him feel better.

And when that fails, he often lowers the temperature in their entire base so they can feel as cold as he does too. He usually feels a flare of guilt a few minutes in and stops.

Jay, the lovable cinnamon roll cannot. Stop. Talking.

His mind goes a mile a second and he just. Can't. Stop.

He tries to lessen his time with being around the others because he knows he's annoying, jumping from one topic to another in the span of a few seconds to the point where it's impossible to keep up a conversation with him.

Be careful when touching because he's always charged up. He zapped several of the ninja and innocent bystanders on accident.

Sleep is so hard for him because he can't get his mind to shut up long enough to fall asleep.

On bad days, he can be found on the nearest roof, digging into his scalp until it bleeds and muttering to himself. Aside from Lloyd, Nya finds him most of the time and help bring him down enough so he'll stop trying to scratch his brain out.

Dearest Nya. After unlocking her true potential, she becomes so mellow. Absolutely nothing phases her.

Kai's having an explosive episode? That's cool. Zane nearly melts his arm off? Radical. Jay spent three days doing half projects without a lick of sleep? Neat!

She. Freaking. Hates. It.

But like everyone else, she can't do anything to stop it. Deep inside, she just wants to scream because she can't show that she actually cares properly.

Which makes her ideal in getting Jay to calm down because he could talk for days about 100k things and it wouldn't phase her. She would just nod and sometimes interject to show him a cool water trick.

Despite that, she just can't seem to take anything seriously, despite how desperately she wants to. Part of this is the reason Cole tries to keep his distance.

Precious rock boi Cole. Everyone thinks he has it easy. He doesn't have fiery tantrums or can't connect to people or can't stop thinking or can't take things seriously. But that doesn't mean he doesn't suffer still.

His problem is stubbornness. Once he sets his mind to something, that's it.

"What time is it Cole?" "It's 1am." "I think you mean 1pm." "No. AM." "Dude, the sun is out." "Which is exactly why it's AM and not pm!" "No dude. You've got it wrong-" "Think what you want to but it's freaking AM and that's that." *stalks off, ground rumbling with each step* (an actual conversation with Nya)

He knows he's wrong about most things (because first thoughts/impressions stick) but he just can't admit it for the life of him. And what makes it so much worse is that when he gets into one of these arguments with the Ninja and he decides he's going to be mad at them, he can't not be mad at them ever since.

He's reluctantly furious with Nya because she doesn't give in like most of the others do to spare him. She keeps going, proving him wrong when he knows he is but can't utter a word to say he is.

The only ones he can still talk to without being mad is Wu, Jay (he isn't able to stay on topic long enough to prove Cole wrong), Kai (who does everything in his power to avoid arguments) and Lloyd.

LLOYD MY GOLDEN CHILD. Oh boy, he does the big suffer. So, Lloyd's problem is having. Too. Much. Energy!

He feels like he's on a sugar rush 25/8.

He has to keep moving, has to keep burning energy or else his energy will build up and his powers will go haywire. (Last time, his powers blasted the mast clean off the Bounty and it landed a few yards away from the ship. Luckily, they were docked.)

Morning, mid-day and nightly runs are a thing when they're on land.

Insomnia. Panda eyes. Jitters. The big depression he hides from everyone.

He just keeps going until he passes out. All the ninja take turns carrying him to bed when he does. (He once fell asleep half over the railings on the Bounty. While they were flying.

Some flare-ups are the result from his frustration. He can't even play videogames because they aren't engaging enough! He can't do anything that requires staying still for more than two minutes and it makes him so sick and tired he just- may have accidentally destroyed one of Jay's half projects laying around. (Luckily he doesn't mind)

Avoids sweets like the plague, despite his longing to have even one. He doesn't need any more energy. In extension, he sometimes purposely misses meals.

Despite his problems, he tries his best to help the others out. He doesn't talk much around Cole but he listens and while he couldn't go near Kai during his flare-ups, he does invite him to train or go running with him to take his kind off things. He knows Nya really cares and makes sure to let her know he knows that. He brings Zane small cactai and other small plants as well. He also lets Jay talk his ears off and while it does get confusing, the challenge of keeping up with his conversations takes a lot of his focus and energy (which he's grateful for).

He also helps them all pull it together for a mission where they can remind themselves why they go through the things they do instead of passing their powers over to someone else and being free of it all.

In return, they do everything they can for him and while he appreciates it, some things restrict him and cause energy build up. (ie, doing laundry for once puts a huge hole in his messy schedule to keep him moving.) He encourages them not to most times.

Bonus:

Our favorite Sensei. Garmadon (sorry Wu ily2) has to destroy things. Not as often as he needs to with the evil gone from his body but it's still a need to prevent his powers from building up.

To solve this without causing actual damage, he brings bubble wrap everywhere. Everywhere. He stashes them all over his monastery too. There's even some in his staff.

When he runs out (he never does but if he should), he takes to crushing pebbles instead.

Wu can't help but laugh seeing his brother so focused on popping individual plastic bubbles but also makes sure he never runs out as well.

Now our just as favourite Sensei Wu of course has the reverse problem. He needs to keep creating.

This is where the Tea comes in. He creates several different blends done several different ways so he's never drinking the same tea done the exact same way twice.

If he can't do that then his Nin-Jo (his staff) also doubles as a sort of puzzle. (Half of it at least). It has several tiny sections you can twist and turn to create different clicking sounds and combinations. He hasn't run out of combinations yet but he only uses it for emergencies.

As for his students, he has already gotten a gist of what the previous elemental masters went through (getting them all together for the first serpentine war was hell!), so he knows how to avoid certain incidents. Alas, he is only one old man (a very, very old man) and he cannot stop everything. He does have a special tea brew that calms their emotions enough to help prevent a flare up (but they can only have one cup a day else it represses their emotions completely and the effects only lasts about 4-5 hours. He calls it ClariTea) and a reverse version to increase emotions for Nya (He calls it EmotionaliTea). He's still looking into a tea that'll help Zane get warm as he is the only one who he hasn't been able to help (since ClariTea would make him even more distant and EmotionaliTea would most likely fuel the side of him that wants others to feel what he feels and that would be very bad).

He does have difficulty sleeping but not because of his powers. It weighs on his conscious heavily that his students have to suffer for Ninjago to be safe. How can he sleep peacefully while his students suffer after all?

He soon recruits Mistaké's help in curing the side effects of their elemental powers but nothing is forthcoming so far.

That's it for now. It's not the best but if you guys have questions, feel free to let me know and I'll answer as best as I can! If you have additions, I'd love to hear them too!

[bbubbleddae-blog]

because we have each other (seho)

title | because we have each other

pairing | sehun x junmyeon

rating | pg-15

summary | junmyeon gets stuck in paris with sehun. he may not like it for a moment, but sehun convinces him otherwise.

3,225w

“This is all your fault, you know.” Sehun gasps, stomping his foot. “I did nothing wrong!” he pouts. “I could have gotten that dog bed for Vivi…” Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “We missed our flight, Sehun, for a dog bed!” A pout forms on Sehun’s lips, and he crosses his arms, not even bothering to look at Junmyeon. He mutters something Junmyeon does not hear, but honestly, Junmyeon doesn't even want to know. He is simply too fed up right now, and they have to wait three days until their next flight. It was all their manager could book them for. The other flights today, tomorrow, and the next day were completely full. Of course they’re booked. Junmyeon sighs deeply. “Whatever, I don't even care anymore.” He finally sits on the bench, farthest away from Sehun, with his arms crossed and staring at the ground. Sehun watches Junmyeon, brows furrowed. He hopes Junmyeon won't be too mad at him after they leave Paris. An angry Junmyeon — especially when it is at only one person — is a scary Junmyeon.

They’ve been in Paris for maybe a week now, between different photo shoots and even greeting fans around. The city has become a bit tiring, at least for Junmyeon. He wishes they would just go home and curl up and never move again. Fuck schedules, his bed sounds really good right now. Alas, they — Sehun and Junmyeon — are stuck in France, while the other members are on a plane home and Junmyeon can just imagine Chanyeol and Baekhyun cheering because their leader with a stick up his ass is stuck for a while. Junmyeon isn't even offended by it at this point. Sehun sighs. “Hyung, please don't be mad at me.” “But I already am.” Sehun looks around, making sure there's no signs of fans or paparazzi. Then he scoots closer until he can lay his head in Junmyeon’s shoulder, and he squeezes the elder’s hand. “Think about it this way,” Sehun says quietly, grinning. “We’re alone, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, for three whole days. Just you and me, and we can do whatever our hearts desire right now.” Junmyeon nibbles on his bottom lip in thought. “But still, Sehun—” “Ugh, please for a few days,” Sehun lifts his head, “just let us be a normal couple. We barely have a thing to worry about as long as we're careful of fans.” A knowing smile turns at Junmyeon’s mouth. “You little shit, you planned this, didn't you?” “Maybe.” “I should have known.” Sehun smiles wide. “Do you love me now?” “I always have, baby,” Junmyeon kisses Sehun briefly, wary of people watching. “But don't do this again, or at least tell me what you're planning before I get mad at you.” “That would spoil all the fun, though.” “Brat.”

Somehow they had managed to find a low-key restaurant and bar, where no one was able to recognize them. There’s only a few customers, mostly single ones, maybe one or two tables with two people. It’s a cozy restaurant, and luckily, the employees speak enough English that Junmyeon understands. He has been able to order themselves a couple of drinks, albeit not knowing what they are exactly and just willing to try whatever. Sehun likes a certain one most, something in French Junmyeon can't make out. Junmyeon can tolerate the taste and strength of the drink, so he decides to keep ordering it for the both of them. Soon, though, Sehun is wasted. His cheeks are a red tinge, and his eyes have clouded a bit, and he’s begun to slur his words more. He wears a dorky grin on his face, and he has made his way next to Junmyeon, leaning on the elder man’s shoulder. “‘myeon, you should drink more,” Sehun slurs and laughs out loud, taking the third bottle of the said drink, and pouring it in Junmyeon’s glass. “I d’n’ wanna be the o’ly one wasted.” Sehun pushes the drink into Junmyeon’s hands. Junmyeon shakes his head slowly, a bit tipsy himself. “What good is it if we’re both drunk, Sehun? Someone’s gotta walk one of us somewhere.” “Noooo!” whines Sehun, clinging to Junmyeon’s arm and jutting his lower lip out. “C’mon, hyung,” he hiccups. “Jus’ a few more won’ hurt.” “No–” “Baaabbbeee, pleeeaaassseee,” Sehun whines more and bats his eyelashes, knowing how Junmyeon can't say no to that. He’s so cute even when he’s drunk, what the hell. Junmyeon ponders for a moment. They are here for another night and two days. Like Sehun said, they're alone, in Paris for God’s sakes, a city of romance and anonymity and freedom. They can do whatever their hearts so desire. And right about now, getting drunk with his boyfriend sounds amazing to Junmyeon. He smiles approvingly, and gulps the liquid down to the last drop.

Sehun grins too, leaning up and pressing a sloppy kiss to Junmyeon’s cheek. So, Junmyeon downs a few more glasses of the drink, before he, too, is red-faced and laughing at practically every little thing. Somehow he managed to carry Sehun over to straddle his legs, and now Sehun is just kind of sitting there, head on Junmyeon’s shoulder and his body akin to jelly. Sehun is warm, and big, and lanky, but in this position, he almost feels smaller than Junmyeon. “‘myeonnie,” Sehun mutters sleepily. Junmyeon giggles at the nickname. “Hm?” “We should fin’ a hotel to crash at.” “P’ssibly,” Junmyeon giggles again. “But ‘m kinda comfortable right h’re.” Sehun lifts his head, eyes dazed, but a smirk grazing the corners of his mouth. “We c’n get even more comfortable,” he leans in until their breaths are mingling with the scents of the same alcohol. “In a r’lly fluffy bed, and we c’n make out while we’re still s’per wasted. Maybe you c’n fuck me real good too.” “Mmm, that sounds hot as hell, doesn't it?” Junmyeon smiles suggestively, a possessive grip on Sehun’s hips. “Wanna go now?” “Fuck, yes.” Junmyeon drunkenly pays the bill, and leaves with his hand on Sehun’s hip. Even late at night, the city is lit up, full with warm wintery lights. The air is cold, and only a thin layer of snow covers the ground, thin enough that barely a crunch is heard under their feet. They stumble a couple of times, though laugh it off when one of them nearly hits the ground. Luckily there's no people around to ogle at them, but that's honestly the last thing they're worried about right now. Junmyeon even whips his phone out at one point, taking pictures and videos of a very drunk Sehun, and the other will do the same with his own cell too. They’ll laugh out loud, stumble over some more, sneak a sloppy kiss or two. There is an easiness Junmyeon feels now that he hasn't had in a long time, despite his drunken state. His chest is warm, body and soul filled with love and adoration. The feeling is one Junmyeon wouldn't want to shake off for the world. He hopes time would stop, just for a little while, so he can feel close to Sehun longer. Eventually, they stumble upon their old hotel, and luckily, they were willing to make a new reservation for the same people they'd had for the past few days. Tripping into the elevator, Junmyeon presses the number for their hotel room (which is the highest level). The doors close, and Junmyeon backs Sehun up to the edge of the small space, eyes clouded with dark desire. He latched his lips to Sehun’s neck, that emits a cry from Sehun as he sucks a tiny mark to the skin. Sehun’s hands come around Junmyeon’s waist, landing on the latter’s ass and pushing him even closer.

“God, you're so hot,” he mutters against Sehun’s skin, trailing his mouth up to the younger’s sharp jawline, then his chin, and not much longer, their lips align fervently. Junmyeon’s hands grip on Sehun’s thin waist, hard and dominating. The elevator dings and opens in the middle of their moment. Junmyeon breaks their mouths’ contact after tugging slightly on Sehun’s lower lip. He grabs hold of Sehun’s hand and pulls him out, both stumbling and laughing until Junmyeon finds the room. He fumbles with the keycard, weak at Sehun’s mouth pressed to the back of his neck. The door unlocks and Junmyeon pushes through. Surprisingly, the next morning, Junmyeon wakes up still clothed and (not surprising) with a raging headache. The sun shining into the room blinds him, and he groans, an unpleasant, sickly churn in his stomach. He turns over on his other side and pulls the blanket up past his chin, his arm falling over nothing. Another groan, and Junmyeon opens his eyes fully. He notices Sehun absent and the sound of water running from the washroom. Junmyeon sits slowly, eyes squinted from the open curtains. His vision scatters about the hotel room, the interior basically the same as the other one he had, except a little bigger and with a wider window, since it's one of the top floors. The furniture is warm colored, Victorian styled, and definitely expensive. The sheets are soft brown, smooth at the touch of Junmyeon’s hands. He can only remember getting drunk and he and Sehun having a few heated, short lived make out sessions, but other than that, last night is fuzzy. His clothes are still on, maybe one of them zonked out before they could take it further… With a sigh, Junmyeon throws his legs over the bed and stands, almost tripping over his own feet. He walks into the washroom, and sees the shower curtain first, a deep, solid red hue, pulled over to cover the other male in the shower. Junmyeon turns on the faucet and splashes cold water onto his face.

The shower stops, and Junmyeon looks over, a very naked, dripping wet Sehun emerging. His black hair is plastered to his head and he grabs the towel on the stand in front of the toilet, wrapping it around his lower half. The said male looks up, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth when he sees Junmyeon. Junmyeon smiles back tiredly, Sehun coming closer. Sehun kisses Junmyeon shortly, with something that makes both their hearts stutter and bodies tingle. When it's broken, Junmyeon smiles wider, and despite his headache and gross feeling within him, he is more than content just having Sehun here. Alone, together. “I’ll wait for you, hyung,” Sehun says quietly, before kissing him once again and exiting the washroom. He closes the door behind him, leaving Junmyeon by his lonesome. Junmyeon looks up at the mirror, smile fading when he sees his horrid appearance. Messy hair, tousled clothes, and a funny taste in his mouth. He immediately ambles to the shower and turns it back on. He strips himself of his clothes, then walking into the shower. The water trickles smoothly down his bare skin. After washing himself, he leaves the washroom with a white towel around his waist, strutting briskly to find his suitcase to pick out a clean pair of clothes. He realizes Sehun is gone again, and his eyebrows furrow as his eyes bounce about the room. He goes back to finding his clothes, before the hotel room door opens and closes, and Sehun is flopping stomach first on the bed. “We should go out today, hyung.” Junmyeon slips a pair of briefs on, a tingle of heat up his spine. Sehun is definitely staring right now. “Where?” asks Junmyeon as he grabs pale, ripped jeans, then putting those on and lifting himself enough to see Sehun. Sehun hums, then grins knowingly. “You’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, right?” “Well, yeah, I guess…” Sehun moves closer, sitting upright and crossing his legs together. “So let’s go today,” he dangles his feet off the bed and onto the floor. “We didn’t have time last week, why don’t we now?” Junmyeon frowns. “Don’t you think we’ll get caught by fans?” “Oh, come on, hyung. We’re always bound to be sought out by fans, and a little fun never hurt anyone,” Sehun pouts a little. A smile and a low hum comes from Junmyeon, and he walks a step closer. “I guess not. However,” Junmyeon smirks now, his hand trailing on Sehun’s arm. His lips rolls into his mouth as his hand continues down to Sehun’s and threads their fingers together. Junmyeon brings it up to his lips, and murmurs, “I think we have to finish what we started, though.” Sehun, too, has his mouth curling into a mischievous smile, Junmyeon pressing a long kiss to the back of Sehun’s hand. The latter pulls Junmyeon closer, until Junmyeon manages to straddle Sehun’s hips and their mouths meet with Junmyeon pushing Sehun on his back.

Two rounds (maybe an extra round in the shower, too) later, it’s almost three in the afternoon. It’s a bit chilly out, but it's sunny and the air is light in their lungs. They've put sunglasses over their eyes in hopes no one will recognize them as they walk down the streets, hand in hand, laughing, smiling adoringly. Luckily — so far — they haven't received any strange looks, or fans recognizing them. “We should go to the tower at night,” Sehun suggests, swaying their tangled hands. “It’s even better at nighttime.” Another smile curves its way up to Junmyeon’s mouth. “You know me all too well, don't you?” “Aren't you grateful for me, yet?” Junmyeon stops walking for a moment, pulling Sehun toward him and Sehun almost squeaking when Junmyeon rests his hand on Sehun’s waist. “Possibly,” Junmyeon whispers, with a teasing smile. “You think someone will point out who we are if I kissed you here?” Sehun shrugs. “We’ll chase them down if they do.” Junmyeon laughs a little and pulls Sehun down until their lips meet. It’s soft and fluttering, and it ends quickly, much to Junmyeon’s dismay. They start walking again, towards a quaint café with a chestnut brown exterior. For a few hours — at least until the sun has finally begun setting — Junmyeon and Sehun remain there, this time with coffee and total soberness. They haven't been recognized still, which Junmyeon takes that as a plus. That, or passerby fans choose not to say anything and shy away (that seems highly unlikely, albeit).

Caffeined up and with utter contentment, Junmyeon pays the bill, and they both exit the tiny café with Junmyeon’s hand around Sehun’s waist. The air has cooled down even more, and the sky is painted with wisps of oranges, pinks, reds, and purples, the orange sunset shining warmly on their skin. The two walk slowly without much else of a word, just being in each other’s presence and touch enough for them. Talking would seem to ruin the welcoming air around them.

By the time he and Sehun are in front of the Tower, the sky has turned black-violet, with the remaining smidge of orange lining the horizon. With another smile at one another, they find they take a lift and a flight of stairs to get to the highest part of the Tower. As they're in the lift, Sehun leans his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder, the angle slightly awkward due to their height difference (not that it's ever actually mattered to them though).

Colder air hits their bodies as they arrive on the level. Sehun grins brightly, pulling Junmyeon toward the ledge. Sehun leans over it, the lights from below reflected in his eyes. Junmyeon looks down, awestruck.

Lights are everywhere, and people are merely specs from so high above. The sky is completely blackened, and more vast than Junmyeon has ever seen. Stars sprinkle the sky, with a few clouds that pass the half moon. He hears the wind, and Sehun pointing out any part he recognizes and jumping with excitement. A fond smile finds its way to Junmyeon’s lips, and he comes up behind Sehun, right hand finding purchase on Sehun’s waist.

“It's so pretty, hyung.”

A hum. “It is.”

Sehun gazes at Junmyeon with warm eyes. He smiles softly. “You think we can come back here?”

“Who knows?”  Junmyeon shrugs, a smile still gracing his lips. “Maybe we can sneak away and move here someday.” His eyes fall on Sehun’s and Junmyeon can feel his stomach and chest do flips.

As Sehun leans in a little closer, he says, “That sounds amazing.”

Junmyeon then finds himself in a trance. Sehun’s dazed eyes, the cold, autumn air, the couple of people on the highest level with them, minding their own business. He doesn't realize he, too, was leaning closer, until Sehun makes the final push to reconnect their mouths.

It’s just as warm and soft as the last one. It feels as if their mouths were created only to fit onto the the other’s. Albeit there is a sense of timidness in Sehun’s touch, that causes Junmyeon to become the same when he parts his lips just a little. He almost peeks his tongue out, but refrains. Sehun kisses a little harder, though not rough or fast. Enough for both to open their mouths and giving for one to shyly rake his tongue into the other’s mouth.

Their kisses have never felt quite like this in a long time, Junmyeon recalls. When they both feel shy and terrified that whatever they did next would harm the other.

They remain like that for a few moments, kissing slowly. It is eventually broken, to stop them from potentially going any further there, or even see the chance of paparazzi spotting them. Eyes are glazed and locked and half-lidded under sunglasses. Junmyeon’s lips tingle and he wonders if Sehun has the same sensation now.

His fingers graze Sehun’s face, moving a bit of Sehun’s fringe and running on smooth skin.

“I don't wanna go home tomorrow,” whispers Sehun, sadly.

Junmyeon’s chest clenches. But he smiles with something gentle. “Don’t think about it right now, Sehunnie.”

Sehun immediately hides himself in the crook of Junmyeon’s neck, and Sehun’s arms fall around his waist. Junmyeon brings his hand up to stroke Sehun’s hair, but finds it on Sehun’s nape, playing with the baby hairs. Sehun starts to tremble.

“Hey,” Junmyeon whispers, lips grazing Sehun’s ear. “Do you know I love you more than I have anyone, or anything else?”

Sehun hums, holding tighter, but Junmyeon lifts Sehun’s head. Junmyeon sees the tears that have fallen past Sehun’s shades. He lifts them briefly to fully see Sehun���s pretty eyes, and wipe the tears from his face.

“Then I want you,” Junmyeon slides them back down, hand lingering on Sehun’s cheek, “to remember that only for now. We’re together. I love you, Sehun, you know that, don't you?”

A nod and a tiny simper. “I know, hyung. I love you too.”

“Good. Forget that we can't stay much longer, okay?” Sehun nods again. “Because we have each other right now. That's all that matters, baby.”

Sehun’s breath trembles as they kiss again, more passionately now, but Sehun with the same shyness he had earlier. It doesn't last much longer than a few seconds, when Junmyeon suggests: “Let’s go back, hm?”

They smile at each other, and walk back to their hotel, without another care in the world.

[shuuenmatsuri]

@magimagical

merry christmas im sorry you had to get the resident c-ta kicker for your secret santa because this is honestly just c-ta kicking. i hope your christmas is better than his

When the snow season started, C-ta assumed he would be able to stay warm in his home with heating and blankets. He had no plans for being outside—there was nothing enjoyable about being showered by condensed water.

So then why the fuck was he decked out in winter clothes, hat, mittens, scarf and all? Well.

Somehow, either B-ko or D-ne got the idea to “experience the joys of winter” and spent an entire week pestering the rest of the group to play in the snow on a free day. C-ta didn’t really remember when or why it was brought up, and he wouldn’t have cared if A-ya didn’t agree.

Alas, A-ya did agree and now he’s stuck outside. The four of them were in an open field, and while the other three were chatting in front of him, C-ta hugged himself to stay warm. How were the others immune to the cold?  

Amidst his reverie, C-ta didn’t notice the group breaking apart and A-ya walking over to him. So, he was unprepared for the rather rude greeting of snow on his cheek. With a yell, C-ta jumped away. Grumbling, he shifted his scarf to cover more of his face.

“You’d be less cold if you didn’t stand like there a statue,” A-ya said. Though his face was blank, C-ta could tell the other enjoyed his small prank.

“I’d be less cold if we weren’t out in the freezing weather.”

“It’s not even that cold.” A-ya stooped down, moving his hands in the snow.

C-ta could barely suppress a scoff. “It is too that cold, and—don’t you dare come near me with that snowball.”

His prayers were slightly answered. While C-ta backed away, A-ya stood in place; however, with utter horror C-ta realized that he was going to hurl the hellish ice ball at him.

One throw and loud shriek later ended up with the snowball missing its target and C-ta crouching on the ground. The two boys couldn’t be more different in how they felt about the situation. One felt slight disappointment about missing, and the other felt pure distress.

Their antics caught the attention of the two girls with them. Despite being a few yards away, they clearly heard C-ta yell at A-ya over… something, and clearly saw A-ya ignoring him to mess around in the snow.

To be exact, they saw him make a couple of snowballs. C-ta must have seen them too, because he was up on his feet in seconds and running off. To B-ko’s surprise, A-ya actually ran after him. A-ya was running. The scene felt rather comical.

The only person not seeing the comedy in this situation was of course, C-ta. Logically, C-ta knew a couple of snowballs wouldn’t spell his demise, and the snowballs lacked force behind them because A-ya was weak. But he was fucking cold, and did not want to be any colder than necessary. So, run he did.

At least A-ya missed every single throw. C-ta knew it was because his best friend sucked at any physical activity, but he’ll attribute it to his own amazing dodging skills to make himself feel better. And luckily, it looked like A-ya was exhausted from the short run. C-ta was free from any more snow brutality.

Except he forgot two other people were in the group, and a snowball from D-ne smacked him right in the center of his face. And before he could recover, the two girls with superior aim pelted even more snowballs at him.

Fuck all of this, honestly.

As soon as the assault ended, C-ta furiously shook off the snow. The chill was bad enough but some snow melted on impact, so he was soaked now, too. Thank god he was wearing several layers, or his skin would be dying. The worst part was his face. D-ne put her full force into that throw, and it stung.

Whatever semblance of patience or control that remained in him soon left, as he grabbed some snow to toss over at the other. The collection of snow fell pitifully short, breaking apart in the air, and didn’t even fly half a foot. The snickers from D-ne just made the ordeal that much more embarrassing.

So, to get back at her, and because he was a mature person, C-ta got to making snowballs at an extremely quick pace. Fueled by spite, he had an army of snowballs behind him, ready for command. And he was ready to chuck them too. Except in his one-track mind, he, once again, forgot there was another participant in this snowball duel. The reminder came to him in the form of A-ya smacking snow against his cheek once more, eliciting a shriek.

“That wasn’t even a snowball!”

“Would you have preferred a snowball?”

“No. No I don’t. But—hey! That was a cheap shot, I wasn’t ready you witch!”

A stray snowball interrupted their bickering, as D-ne simply smiled in response.

And so, started the great snowball fight, and the true reason behind all the rumors about the field being a place for a demonic war. There were no demons. Just two very spiteful students, one reluctant student, and one bemused student.

“Take that! You aren’t so good now when you’re not getting sneak attacks at me, are you?” C-ta continued his rapid snowball making with intent to aim them all at the girl that pissed him off the most. His aim was subpar, but there were hits. And he gloated far too much about those hits.

Though he managed to avoid most of the snowballs thrown his way during the war, C-ta did not come out unscathed. Mainly because while he was fighting, A-ya dumped snow on him periodically. With his own snowball partner against him, C-ta was fighting a mounting battle.

Try as he might, he ended up buried in snow anyway. It wasn’t all bad; he managed to drench the others (sans A-ya) in snow too, so it wasn’t like he completely lost. Plus, he fought at a disadvantage. He would have won 100% if that didn’t happen. He basically won, even if he was the only one in the ground covered in snow. He won.

The day was getting late, though, so after a quick exchange of goodbyes, C-ta heard the others leave. Heard, because he was still sulking with his face in the snow. He assumed the others all left without him, and only sulked more.

Due to that, color him surprised when he felt someone tap his head lightly. To C-ta’s unmatched joy, looking up showed him A-ya staring at him and still here.

“So, do you feel less cold?”

“… You really have too much fun messing with people. Would it have been so hard to give me a hug or something instead of being dramatic about this?”

“Let’s go home.”

Upon those words, C-ta got up and shrugged the snow off him. A-ya really was so roundabout with his ways, but C-ta didn’t particularly dislike it. It was nice.

Walking home with A-ya in the snow was nice, too. It was warm. Much warmer than what he would have gotten if he stayed home.

“You know, I still don’t know why you wanted to play in the snow like this. I thought you’d stay home to spread more rumors.”

“… No particular reason. I wanted to see if the rumor about snow being magical was true or not.”

“So, was it?”

“There’s snow in your scarf.”

“Huh, where? H-Hey, don’t push it against my face! Haven’t you done that enough today?”

Not everything about today was bad, he guessed.