#best things to do in kashmir

[ritika-25]

Kashmir, often referred to as "Paradise on Earth," is a stunning region in northern India known for its breathtaking natural beauty, rich culture, and warm hospitality. There are many best things to do in Kashmir.

[ashokaholidays97]

Must Things To Do In Kashmir For An Incredible Trip

Kashmir, sometimes referred to as "Paradise on Earth," provides a plethora of exhilarating experiences for a life-changing journey. There are several activities available in Kashmir, such as snowshoeing through stunning scenery, things to do in Kashmir trout fishing in the Lidder River, and heli-skiing in Gulmarg. Take a leisurely trip on a traditional houseboat on Dal Lake or enjoy a calm Shikara ride for an unforgettable cultural experience. Adventurers can go snowmobiling, explore the Himalayas' underground caverns, or take a Gondola cable car trip for breathtaking vistas of the mountains. Visit the Gulmarg Golf Club, one of the tallest 18-hole golf courses in the world, to unwind. Book your trip to Kashmir with Ashoka Holidays to ensure a wonderful trip!

[alleiradayne]

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean's fault.

After failing to drink himself into an early grave, Dean finds a little resolve to pick himself back up and do the right thing: save people. With Sam and Jack by his side, and a little help from a few other survivors, they take on Chuck, restore the world, the multiverse, and everything's back to the way it oughta be.

Everything but Castiel, that is.

Dean clings to a death wish five miles wide after that. And he gets that wish, dying on a hunt. But the worst is yet to come when he wakes up and finds himself in the Empty. And he's not alone.

Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy (hinted at but not depicted Sam/Eileen/Rowena/Gabriel), Jack Kline, Amara, Billie, other minor characters

Warnings/Tags: s15x18-20 rewrite, MCD (temporary), Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Depression, suicidal ideation, alcoholism, prolific profanity, polyamory, ambiguous ending

Total Word Count: 39279

A/N: For @deancasbigbang 2024, with art by @lotrspnfangirl. Two years. This fic took me two years to write. I cannot express to all of you how important this story is to me. What it means to me. The best way you could show your appreciation for it is by reblogging it. The show deserved a better ending...

Playlist: The Anatomy of the Human Heart (Spotify) | Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx (Youtube Music)

Chapter 1 - Ten Years Gone

Chapter 2 - In the Light

Chapter 3 - That's the Way

Chapter 4 - The Rain Song

Chapter 5 - Nobody's Fault But Mine

Chapter 6 - Good Times Bad Times

Chapter 7 - No Quarter

Chapter 8 - Achilles Last Stand

Chapter 9 - The Battle of Evermore

Chapter 10 - Immigrant Song

Chapter 11 - Kashmir

Chapter 12 - Babe I'm Gonna Leave You

Chapter 13 - Ramble On

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

[fairuzfan]

hey! i really want to help my fellow humans in Palestine, however due to financial situations, my family and i cant donate money. i am, however, continuously signing petitions for a ceasefire and spreading the word to all my friends and on social media sites if they can help in any way. i live in africa. is there anything else we can do to help?

p.s. sending prayers for you!

Hello, thank you so much for sending this in. One of the best things anyone can do right now is just keep talking about Palestine, DRC, Tigray, Kashmir, Armenia..... Please find ways to keep the conversation alive!

One of the reasons Palestinians always say "keep talking" is because we see this constant pattern of slight interest brewing for a limited period of time and then the entire world completely forgets immediately after... So keeping the convo alive will really help us keep it at the forefront.

I personally am a big advocate for making art/poetry/etc about Palestine or any other cause that is near and dear to your heart. Paint a vision of the future that you wish to see. Help rejuvenate your and others' spirits.

[natchastxin]

trip to venice.

Summary: Ilsa brings you to Venice despite your refusal and you confess to her the feelings of hurt you’ve had since she left you in Amsterdam three months ago which leads you to join Ethan’s team. You find her in the aftermaths of the fight on the bridge.

Pairings: Ilsa Faust x f!reader

Warnings: blood, slight smut

A/N: I just finished watching Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1 so I’m writing this to make myself feel less sad. And obviously there are spoilers for MI Dead Reckoning so don’t read if you don’t want to.

You loved her, you really loved her and you thought she felt the same way too. She told you so herself just that night she spent in your room in Paris after a stressful mission. So why did you find your bed empty and apartment bare as if she was never there? Had you dreamed the whole night?

The only evidence that proved that the night had transpired was the singular note she left on your nightstand, propped up against a glass of water. On it, etched on the delicate white paper was a single letter: I. The letter was accompanied with a heart that was drawn in the same swoopy style as the letter.

You picked it up and quickly turned it over in your hands to see if she had written anything else. Much to your disappointment, that was it. You laid back in your bed with the note clutched over your heart and closed your eyes as the scenes of last night flashed behind your eyelids.

—

A frenzied knocking woke you from where you had fallen asleep on your couch while watching your movie. Worried sick about Ilsa, you thought it best to distract your mind with something else. She came to your apartment before she left for Kashmir, letting you know how the mission was going to go down as you braided her hair.

You met her while in the MI6. She was the agent and you were... well, you were also an agent but you were better known for your bomb-diffusing skills, how well you handled a knife, and your medical skills. Funny thing, that was actually how you met her, in a knife combat. You were tasked to bring her in because she had information on a known terrorist and caught her off guard. The fight ended with both of your legs wrapped around one another's necks until you called truce.

You fell for her quickly, quicker than anyone you had ever fell for before. It hit you that you were falling for her the way waves break against a barrier of rocks. You came to the realization one late night that two of you had gone to a bar for drinks.

You sat across from her in the headquarters in London, staring at her in your own subtle way— in a way that you thought she didn't notice— but she soon caught on whenever she looked up and you would quickly look back down at your paperwork. For her, she fell for you more gradually. It was a gentle love for her that she received from you, it was like the cool afternoon breeze that rustled through the trees of the forest; it enveloped you and left you wanting more when it left. This pining between the two of you lasted for years, through her disavowal which was shortly followed by your resignation from the MI6 to do privately contracted work all the way to the day she confessed to you that she loved you when she showed up at your apartment front door.

You opened the door and she was greeted by your very disheveled appearance. "Hey," she croaked out and your eyes immediately brightened, any trace of fatigue disappearing from your eyes.

"Ilsa."

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said, smirking.

"You're one to talk," you said, pretending to be cross and resting your hands on your hips. But you can barely keep your facade up long. Your real emotions of fear quickly break through your expression. Your lip trembles and you pull her towards you. She drops her duffle bag onto the ground and lets you melt into her embrace. "You were supposed to call," you tell her, you voice muffled by her shoulder. She laces her fingers through your hair to hold you close.

"I'm sorry, darling," she tells you and hugs you tightly, "I'm here now, I'm okay. We got to the bomb in time."

"The bomb?" You said, wiping your nose on your sleeve while pulling away, "Why didn't you call me? I could've helped."

"We didn't have time," she sighed out, "I got here as fast as I could."

"Come on," you said pulling her in, "I'll make you a drink."

—

The night progresses rapidly and both you and Ilsa down multiple drinks as she tells you how the mission unfolded.

"I have something to tell you," Ilsa said.

"Hmm?"

She pressed the lip of her beer against her chin and leaned towards you. "I love you," she said. Your heart beats rapidly against your rib cage and you breathe in that intoxicating perfume scent of hers. Her grip on the slippery glass tightened for a few seconds while silence filled the air as you came to terms with what the woman before you confessed. "I love you too," you whispered out. She takes your beer out of your hand and places it on the coffee table along with hers. She kissed you then, threading her fingers through your thick hair, trying to bring your lips closer to hers.

"I've loved you all these years," she tells you.

"Let's not waste any more apart," you said, "Do you want this?" You bring your hand to the first button of her shirt to indicate what you meant.

"I have longed for this day since the day I met you," she tells you, "I want this— I want you."

She straddles your waist and your arms encircle around her, bringing her impossibly close to your body.

You bring her to your bed and you make sweet love to her that night, you're gentle as she is with you. She lets you worry over her injuries and press kisses to the bruises on her neck. She cums on your fingers then your tongue multiple times and you bury your head into her heat for as long as she lets you, she then returns the favor until you're shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Mustering the remaining strength you had in your legs, you straddled her and brought both of your cores to each other, rubbing until she sobbed as she came and your thighs burned with exhaustion. You collapse next to her and bring her close to your chest. You kiss the top of her head and brush her hair with your fingers.

"Stay," you tell her, whispering it into the dark corners of the room, "I know you have to leave soon, but stay for the next two days— for me."

She closed her eyes tightly and let out a hesitant breath, "Only for you."

She kisses your chest, then your neck— sucking on your pulse point to mark you as hers. To be fair, you had done your fair share of marking up her body so now it was time she took her revenge. She kissed you long and slow, nibbling on your bottom lip until your lips became red like cherries. She takes your breath away every time she pulls away and you stare into her beautiful iridescent eyes. She slowly falls asleep in your arms and you spend the time counting the freckles on her eyelids before falling asleep as well. You held her close that night, not wanting to let go.

You woke up that morning blissful— if only that lasted for more than a minute. The bed was empty and so was the apartment. She had vacated and left not a single trace of her presence. That broke you. You collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clawing at your chest. Little did you know, this started a cycle for you and Ilsa. A cycle that always led her back into your arms in that tiny apartment in Paris. The next year, she waltzes in and out of your life whenever she pleases. It was as if she had forgotten that first night you had with her entirely. She would fuck you then leave the next morning and you were happy to give that to her if that meant you could have her for that little while.

You used to tell her about the dream you had for the both of you. The one that included laughter, coffee dates, the strolls you would take at the local park, the paintings the two of you would pick out to decorate your apartment, the patter of small feet that would fill the silence of the morning, and the infinite love that the two of you would share. She would lay there with her eyes closed, smiling happy. It was the only way this dream existed for her— in that small bed inside of the small Paris apartment you owned. The only place that dream lived was in yours and Ilsa's minds. You dreamt of a world where no one knew your names, a world where you could live anonymously, stroll down the streets hand-in-hand, free from the fear of someone harming you or Ilsa. She hides her tears when you describe this dream to her each time the two of you lay naked, sprawled together late at night. She let you dream for the two of you because that was the only way she could truly make you happy. You knew that she didn't want the same future you wanted but you endured.

Three months of taking the torture, you had finally confronted her. Not given the response that you deemed to be the truth, you sent her out of your apartment in fury, swearing that you never wanted to see her again.

"I thought what we had was real, Ilsa," you had told her, "You told me you loved me that first night in Paris when you got back from your mission with Ethan."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.

The truth was that Ilsa was scared. She was scared what would happen if other people knew just how madly in love with you she was. She saw what happened to Ethan and how it affected him. She didn't want anything bad to happen to you so instead she kept you a secret and kept the relationship to a minimum because she saw it as the only way she could protect you. She would have you in the only way she could but she never knew how much she would hurt you in the process. You finally came to the realization of why she was treating you like such an ass one day the both of you had spent the night in Amsterdam.

"You're not Ethan," you told her in bed one night as you held her close, "And I'm not totally helpless. I know you love me, Ilsa. And I love you, more than you know. Despite everything you've done these past three months, I still love you even though I shouldn't."

"But I can't protect you."

"Baby, I can protect myself. You forget that I was a trained agent too. This is my life, I'm not going to let some future terrorist dictate who I should be able to love."

She left again that morning and that was the last you saw of her for the next three months.

—

Your head throbbed as you sat up. You quickly began taking in your surroundings and noticed that you were in a moving van. You clutched your head in pain.

"Hey, darling," a familiar voice said and your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. Familiar hands grabbed yours but you shook them off.

"Where am I? What are you doing here? What happened?"

No one gives you an answer. It seems like the two men at the front are waiting for Ilsa to answer you but she doesn't. All she does is stare.

"Fine, I'm leaving then if you won't give me an answer."

You stand up and you're about to open the door when Ilsa grabs your free arm. That does it for you. You twist in her grasp and eventually pin her down in the van.

"Don't fucking touch me," you spat.

"Hey now, c'mon," Benji in the passenger seat finally said, "Just tell her, Ilsa."

"We knocked you out when you came out of your favorite cafe. Something bad is happening, I— we need you," she said and it comes out barely a whisper. Your expression changes.

You finally let her go and sit up. She sits up and coughs, rubbing her chest.

"Why? Why now?" You asked, looking deliberately at Ilsa, waiting for her to answer.

"We're going up against this new enemy and we could use your help," Benji answered instead, "Ilsa has told us about your skills and, well, we need someone like you."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested. She knows why."

You motion to stand up again and this time Ilsa speaks in a stronger voice.

"Y/N. Please," she pleaded. You look at her, which was the first mistake. You could never deny her anything. You would always say yes to her even if it cost you. Your jaw clenched in frustration.

"Fine. But if I do this, I don't want to talk to you or see you ever again. You got it?"

"I understand," she said even though it felt like her heart was being wrenched from her body.

"You've hurt me enough times," you told her.

The two men at the front of the car exchange looks.

—

You sat in the back of the van when Benji brings Ethan in. You had only met Ethan once before, he was nice. But you didn't tend to base how good a person was from first impressions.

"Y/N," he said when he noticed you.

"Ethan," you replied.

"Nice to see you."

You nodded. He looks back and sees Ilsa's deliberately avoidant gaze, looking anywhere but at you. He lets out a very small sigh and looks at Benji who gives him a grimace, shaking his head. He knew what happened between you and Ilsa, one of three people that knew. He knew how much the two of you loved one another and how stubborn Ilsa could be. You, on the other hand, from his singular encounter with you, he knew that you had a kind soul. Why else would Ilsa love you so? Even if she refused to admit it.

You hold up a paper clip and help free Ethan from his handcuffs. "Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded your head, busying yourself with unlocking his handcuffs.

"I'm always fine," you told him once you freed him.

"So what's the plan?" You asked.

—

"What would potentially happen if a government got their hands on this AI tech?" You asked while sharpening your knife nervously.

"We don't know," Ethan said, "We need to find the other half of the key to find out."

Luther shows him the surveillance footage from the chase in the airport, "I took out the footage from your glasses and looked through everything. See anything strange?"

He notices a man glitching and replays the footage, "It's like he's a ghost."

"We can't find actual video of him except for right here," Luther stops at a frame of Grace, "He only exists in this reflection."

"The Entity," Ethan says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "It's protecting him."

"You saw him, didn't you?" Luther said.

"I did, but I wasn't sure."

"Well who is he?" Benji asked.

"Someone I thought died a long time ago," Ethan said, "In another life, before the IMF. Before I was offered the choice."

Ethan looks up at Luther, "In a very real sense, he made me into who I am today."

Luther grimaced.

"Does he have a name?" Luther asked.

"He calls himself Gabriel," Ilsa said, turning from the window. You look over at her and she meets your gaze before switching to Ethan's.

"You know him," Ethan said.

"There is no knowing him. He has no recorded past— the Entity made sure of that. He's a dark Messiah. The Entity's chosen messenger and he sees death as a gift he wants to share with the rest of the world."

"How do you know this?"

"I still have a few friends in MI6."

She looks back at you but you look away. "Friends who are afraid," she continued, "Of the British government gaining control of the Entity. Any attempt to try to stop them would be seen as an act of treason."

"And because you're disavowed," you said, "Friends called and asked you for help."

"They knew Gabriel served the Entity," she said, "They knew he was on his way to Istanbul to acquire one half of the key but I beat him to it."

"Do your friends know what this key leads to?"

"They believe it leads to its source code."

"Source code," Luther echoed.

"When were you going to tell me this?" Ethan asked.

"I'm telling you now," she said.

"Hold on, did you talk to them in person?" You asked, "Your friends. Did this happen over a phone call?"

"I'm disavowed so they had no way of contacting me in person."

Her expression changed when she realized what you were implying.

"He wanted you to find the key," you said, your voice coming to a whisper, "He wanted you to bring the key to Ethan. This was a trap."

"No, we can't be sure that was the Entity," she said.

"We can't be sure it wasn't," you replied.

"We can't believe anything outside of this very conversation," Ethan said, "None of you should be here."

—

You sat with Benji in the other room as he revised the firewalls on his laptop. You leaned back in your chair, having switched to a different knife to sharpen.

"Why did you guys choose me? Of all the people you could've called, why me?"

"Ilsa wanted you here. She wanted to see you and make sure you were safe."

"Bullshit. She doesn't care about me," you laughed.

He looks at you and your belief in your words falters.

"Why did she leave me then?"

"It's the only way she could think to protect you. Yes, I know how that contradicts the fact that you're here now but you're the best agent she knows and she thinks that maybe she can better protect you this way."

"That's stupid," you scoffed.

"Not everything is always a clear path in Ilsa's head."

You look away to where Ilsa is standing in the other room. Benji follows your gaze.

"She still loves you, despite everything she's done to make it look otherwise and I'm guessing you still love her too."

You give an imperceptible nod of your head.

"Go tell her before it's too late. With our line of work, we never know how much time we get with one another."

"You're very wise, you know," you said, "When you want to be."

"Thank you," Benji said, his face brightening.

You walk to the room in which Ilsa is standing in. You tilt your head to the door leading to the roof and she nodded. You went first. She follows a few minutes later.

You stood on the rooftop, gripping the railing tightly. You bent down and stretched your shoulders before resting on the railing with your forearms. She walks over and leans with her back against the sunset. She lets out a loud sigh.

"You're mad at me," she noted.

"Great observation," you said sarcastically.

"Y/N..."

"What? What do you want from me, Ilsa? I've given you everything I have. Every time you turned for me I was there and now you pull me into this mission. You couldn't even talk to me first? I would've said yes, you know. All you had to do was ask. I would always be there, despite everything."

She doesn't say anything so you look at her. Hot tears are rolling down her face. Your heart broke again even though you knew that it shouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Those nights in Paris then in Amsterdam."

Silence fills the air when she pauses. "I had a mission after Amsterdam and faked my death," she said quietly, "I wanted you to come with me but then I remembered everything I did— how I hurt you."

You turn around and lean against the railing, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I didn't realize that in my efforts to protect you, just how much I was hurting you in the process. I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness but I want to give this a chance, a real chance this time."

You looked over at her, "I wanted to give this a chance too. I always have. But I don't want to get hurt again. I can't keep doing that to myself."

"I know. But what if I promised you that I would try? I want to be with you, whatever it takes," she said.

You think about it, was it really worth it to give her another chance? She was the love of your life, yes, but she had hurt you so many times, though not intentionally.

"Fine," you said, uncrossing your arms, "I'll give us a try. But I want complete honesty from here on out.

She nods, "I can do that."

So you let her back into your heart because your love for her outweighed the grudge you held against and it was the only thing you ever knew how to do.

She hugs you hesitantly and you move your arms to hold her closer. She smelled the same as the night in Amsterdam. You brushed your fingers through her desert colored highlights. She tucks her head under your chin, revelling in the comfort your embrace brought her.

"I promise that I won't hurt you," she said, "Not intentionally."

You kissed the crown of her hair and she looked up at you before meeting your lips. You let her deepen the kiss as you pull her even closer to you. She found a home in you that day. You held her closely by the waist, not wanting to let her go. A smile tugs at both your lips.

"You know, I've never been to Venice," she said.

"Really?" You said.

"Yeah, it's my first time here."

"Hmm, maybe I'll show you around after this mission's over. What do you think?"

"I think... it sounds like perfection."

She bit her bottom lip adorably before snuggling her head into your chest. You never wanted to let her slip away ever again. She feels your grip on her waist tighten as your mind drifts once more to the plan. She was going to meet Gabriel at the bridge and fake her death. The margin for error was so small, barely imperceptible to the human eye.

"What's wrong?" She asked, brushing her nose against your jaw.

"I don't like this plan," you confessed, "There's too many things that can go wrong. It's not safe."

"Darling, it's the only way we'll be free," she tried her best to make you see the brighter side of the plan.

"You could die, Ilsa. I can't have that happen."

"I'll be careful. He'll hit me here," she said, guiding your hand just clear of her heart, "I'll be sure of it. Besides, if things get out of hand, death will just have to withstand my will to stay alive."

"Ilsa, don't joke," you said, looking away. Your eyes sting with tears threatening to run away.

"I'm not joking- hey, look at me," she cups your jaw with one hand, "I'll come back to you, I promise." She rested her forehead against yours. "I'll be fine," she told you.

She follows you back down where everyone is changing into their attire for the party. Ilsa pulls you into her room and sits you down on a crate. She sits in between your legs. You give her a perplexed look.

"Could you braid my hair?" She asked quietly and your mouth breaks into a smile. "Of course."

You brush her hair gently to one side. She plays with her fingers while you comb through her hair, plaiting it expertly.

"I haven't had my hair braided since you left me," she confessed, "You've always been the person to do it for me."

You smile to yourself at the thought of this simple activity she saved just for you. You finish braiding her hair and place it over her shoulder. You kiss the side of your neck and she turns to capture your lips. She rises onto her knees and laces her fingers through your hair, pulling you to her. Her tongue slides against yours as you deepen the kiss. She moans into your mouth and you grip her waist tightly. You nibble on her bottom lip before she does the same to you.

Ethan walks in and the two of you break apart. A smile creeps onto his face. "Glad the two of you finally came to your senses," he said and a blush rises to both your cheeks, "Could I get a minute with Y/N?"

Ilsa nods and leaves the two of you alone but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your palm.

She walks back into the common area where Luther and Benji are working on their laptops.

"Nice hair," Luther commented.

"Why are your lips red?" Benji asked.

Her fingers rises to her lips instinctively and she blushes.

"Oh my god," Benji said and Luther smirks.

He stands up and points his finger while following her. She ducks and speed walks to the equipment. "You guys are back together aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Benji," trying her best to keep a poker face.

Benji smirks and crosses his arms across his chest, "I like seeing you happy. The two of you are good for each other, clearly."

Ilsa blushes again before ducking her head and rummaging through a duffle bag, "Thanks."

—

"I have a task for you," Ethan said, "While we're at the party, I want you to follow us from a distance. We have the advantage of Gabriel not knowing who you are. I need you to follow Ilsa and protect her. I won't be able to do that while I get Gabriel. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Ethan," you replied. He nods, "You'll be off comms so that there's no distractions. I just want you to follow Ilsa, don't worry about me. Alright?"

You nod.

"Take the weapons you need. I'll come find you when everything's done," Ethan said. He goes to stand up but you grab his arm, "Stick to the plan. Let her fake her death. I know it's going to seem real but don't worry, we've got this."

He blinks appreciatively at your reassurance. "Good luck," he said.

—

You were following Grace, Ilsa, and Ethan to the party. Watching them from a distance. Ethan had told Ilsa to run so you followed her to make sure that she would be alright. You finally caught up to her in a deserted alleyway. She swings at you with her fist before realizing who was following her. You duck and grab her arm.

"Y/N?" She said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ethan sent me, he told me to follow the three of you from a distance. He asked me to protect you." You moved in closer to her and inspected her face and she closed her eyes, taking in your concerned touch. "I'm alright," she told you.

"Good, you had me worried back there," you said. She opens her eyes and sees that you haven't moved from your spot. One of your hands moves from her face to her hip and pull her flush against you.

"I missed this," you whisper to her. She puts a hand against your abdomen. "What are you waiting for then?" She husked out. Her hand scrunches the front of your shirt and pulls you even closer to her body. You meet her lips, they were soft and they enveloped your own.

You pull away and rest your forehead against her. "We should probably go," Ilsa told you and you nodded, agreeing.

"I'll be right behind you," you said, "Do you have a weapon?"

She half unsheathes the sword she's holding and you smirk. "That's my girl," you said. You take one of the five knives on your body and tuck it into the back of the waistband of her pants, you hide the weapon with her shirt.

"I added a little something special," you told her.

She smiled and kissed you, "Let's go."

She takes off running and you run behind her. You hear faint sounds of combat and Ilsa comes to a quick stop, causing you to crash into her. She held a finger up to her lips. She motioned for you to stay here but you shook your head. She motioned for you to just wait and you reluctantly agreed.

She walks up to the bridge and you wait tensely behind the corner, glancing over to your girlfriend to make sure she was alright. She starts fighting Gabriel and she gets stabbed in the leg. She lets out a heart wrenching scream and you run over swiftly and quietly. You unsheathe the knife from behind your back and slash his thigh— his femoral artery. He yells in pain and clutches his leg; blood gushed past his fingers.

"Who the hell are you?" He grunted. "No one that you need to know." You flip your knife and help Ilsa stand up. "Go check on Grace. I'll handle him."

She limps over to Grace and checks her pulse. You momentarily let your guard down and Gabriel gets back up. "Y/N, look out!" She screamed. Gabriel punched you in the back of the head and knocked you out.

Ilsa's vision turned red with anger when she saw your body crumple to the ground. She picks up the sword again and advances toward Gabriel. Her swipes are sloppy and Gabriel can see it but nonetheless she gets a few slashes in. He takes advantage of her sloppiness and knocks her sword away easily. He slashes at her abdomen and it barely misses her. He cuts open her stomach and she lets out a gasp and clutched her stomach. He pins her against the side of the bridge. "This is what happens to whoever cares about Ethan Hunt," he hissed in her ear, "When I'm done with you I'll carve up your little partner. She'll look so pretty all slashed up."

"Don't ever fucking touch her," Ilsa gasped out in between breaths. Her hand inches to the knife you had tucked into her waistband.

"I kill you first and she won't have anyone to protect her," he cackled.

"She doesn't need me to protect her."

She pulls out her knife and stabs the side of his body. "If anything, she's been the one to protect me all along." He doubled over in pain.

He grunted angrily and stood back up, stabbing Ilsa in the chest, she moved slightly to the side as he did so. Her eyes opened in shock, letting out a shaky breath. She looks down at the knife then back at Gabriel.

Gabriel stumbles back and lets Ilsa slide to the floor. She closes her eyes to control her breathing. You finally open your eyes, your head is throbbing and you look around. You push yourself up with much difficulty and see Gabriel's retreating figure. "Hey, asshole," you yelled out, "You forgot to kill me."

"Your time will come," Gabriel said.

You stumbled to your feet and pulled a small dagger from your boot. As he turns his back, you throw the dagger at him. It lodged in his back and he fell over before crawling away.

You look around and see Ilsa and your heart drops to your stomach. You run over her and see the knife. Quickly taking her head into your lap, you check her pulse, letting out a temporary sigh of relief. However, that relief didn't stay for long, you had a performance to put on. You hunch over Ilsa's body and cry. Your shoulders shake as you discreetly take out her earpiece and crush it beneath your boot. You lower your lips to her ear.

"You did really good. I'm so proud of you," you whisper into her ear. From a distance, it just looks like your grieving over your lover's dead body.

You brush her hair soothingly, continuing to let the tears flow.

"I love you," you told her. Her eyes twitch so you press a kiss to each of her eyelids, over her freckles. You hold her head close to your body and she stays motionless.

You hear heavy sounds of footsteps from the distance and you know it's Ethan. Grace would be waking up any minute now.

"No!" Ethan yells when he sees Ilsa's limp body in your arms. He places his finger to her pulse and his eyes soften to sadness. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen," he said.

You sniffle and brush your tears, "She died protecting others. It's what she would've wanted."

Grace finally comes to and realizes what happened. She's in shock seeing Ilsa's "dead" body. "No, that wasn't supposed to happen. She's not supposed to be dead, she wasn't supposed to sacrifice herself," Grace starts hyperventilating, "Why did she do that? I didn't ask her to do that."

You lovingly brush at Ilsa's chestnut hair. "Ilsa was doing what she loved," you tell her without looking at her. You look at Ethan and place a hand on his knee, "Go talk to her."

You continue talking to her despite the fact that you look mad doing it. "You did good, my love. You did so good. I hope you can finally have some peace." You press a kiss to her warm lips before pressing your forehead against her.

Benji quickly but surely arrives only a couple of seconds later. He takes in Grace's hysterical expression and Ethan comforting her before his gaze landed on you. Your back faced him but he could see the tip of Ilsa's head. He hops out of the boat and rushed over to you.

"No, it can't be true. Ilsa..."

He takes in her pale complexion and the lack of movement from her chest. You look up with your tear-stricken eyes and a string of silent communication travels from your eyes to his. It was done.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't how it was to go down."

You nodded sadly, "I know."

You sniff harshly and brush your tears away roughly. "Please can we just take her home," you clear your throat, "I don't want us to be all exposed here and she deserves a proper burial."

Benji nods, understanding, "Do you need me to help?"

You shake your head and lift her easily into your arms. You take her back onto the boat to the underside, safe from the eyes of the Entity where she finally opens her eyes. You burst into tears then, for real this time. She brushes them away, shushing you.

"I love you too," she whispered to you, "I'm okay. Didn't I tell you everything would be fine?"

You nod, still trying to recover from the events of the bridge.

"If you could give me a hand though," she said pointedly, looking at the knife.

"Oh yes, of course."

"It's a cute knife but it would be better out of my body," she muttered.

You chuckle before indicating to her shirt then your knife, she nods. You slice open her shirt to get better access to the wound. "If you wanted take me to bed you could've just asked," she teased and you rolled your eyes.

You open your duffle bag to take out your medical supplies. You spray antiseptic over her wound and she hisses. "Sorry."

She shook her head, "It's fine. Do whatever you need to."

You get a firm grip on the knife and give it a big tug. It comes out quickly and leaves Ilsa groaning in pain. You toss the knife across the boat and rip open a packet of gauze and cover her wound. "Here, apply pressure. I'll stitch you up."

You take out your suturing kit and help her lay down in the cramped cabin of the boat.

"I only have numbing spray," you tell her and she nods, "Okay, it might sting a little."

She nods again. You remove the gauze and throw 3 tight but delicate sutures on her shoulder before wrapping her chest with bandages.

"Now let's look at that stomach of yours," you said before moving to her abdomen. It had a wider slash but the cut wasn't as deep as the one of her chest. You stitch it up nonetheless then wrap it. You move to her leg and she very gracefully takes off her pants to reveal the wound. It was a small slice, 2 inches wide. You stitch her up and bandage her.

Benji stomps on the floor of the boat to indicate your arrival. You look back at Ilsa. "Ready to hide again?" You asked and she nods. You drape a sheet over her body before lifting her into your arms and carrying her to the safe house. Luther gives your arm a squeeze when he sees you and you blink appreciatively before going to the room you had claimed and laying her on the bed. You remove the sheet and she looks back at you.

"Get some rest," you told her.

—

She was still bleeding heavily despite the stitches you gave her but you were on your own. The rest of the team had left to deal with the mission while you stayed behind and cared for Ilsa. You cleaned her bandages each night and replenished her with nutrients. You bought medical supplies and stole some from a local hospital and brought them back to her. She gets a fever on the second day and falls unconscious, shuddering ever so slightly in her sleep.

You took in her pale appearance in the bed. She sunk into the bed and her freckles looked dull. They never looked like that. You prayed for her to wake up so that the color would return to them. She looked so weak, her skin as pale as moonlight. She looked too frail. Too unlike the Ilsa you knew. You knew she had to get better soon, she had too. You wrung put a wet cloth and wiped her burning forehead. She starting to show early signs of infection so you fed her antibiotics and stayed by her side every night, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Her fever finally broke on the fourth day. She wakes up and say your hunched over position by the side of her bed. She smiled gratefully at her guardian angel and combed through your hair. You sat up quickly at the feeling.

"You're alive," she croaked, her throat raspy from disuse.

"You're awake. God, I thought we would never make it out of that," you tell her.

"Oh baby," she said, a hand coming up to your face, brushing your cheek, "I'm okay. I'm alive. See?"

She brings your fingers to her wrist and you felt her soothing heart beat. You laid your head against her wrist. "Come, lay with me."

She slowly scoots over and you slide onto the bed with her and take her into your arms. "Don't move too much," you told her, "You'll tear your stitches."

"Thank you for being here," she said.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else. Just get some sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up," you told her, smoothing her hair. "Thank you for coming back to me," you whispered into her hairline and she closed her eyes with a smile on her face. You kiss her freckles repeatedly until she falls asleep.

—

When she finally heals, that's when the two of you say your goodbyes. Ethan, Benji, and Luther were the only ones there.

"But if you need me, I'll only be a call away," she told him and slipped a flip phone into his front pocket, "Only use it for emergencies. As far as the world knows, I'm dead." She gives him a tight hug. "And what about you?" Ethan asked, "What happens in your story?"

You shrug, "The love of my life dies and I decide to move to the quiet countryside of France and teach English." Ethan smiles, nodding his head, "That suits you." He gives you a hug as well.

"Treat her well," he told you and you nodded.

"If you're ever in France and need somewhere to stay..." you trailed off.

"I look forward to taking you up on your offer," he said.

"You ready?" You asked Ilsa and she nodded. She picked up her duffle bag and gave her last farewells to Luther and Benji.

"Come visit, okay?" She tells the both of them and they nod.

"Take care, Ilsa," Benji said while hugging her.

You approach Ethan one more time and take your favorite knife out from behind your back. It had an ivory white handle, a Persian tip, and a beautifully intricate wave pattern over the blade.

"This is for Grace. Tell her it's my gift to her for joining the IMF and taking Ilsa's place. We finally gets our happy ending now and it's all thanks to her."

Ethan nods, "I will."

"If any of you ever need us, I'll be there. You're Ilsa's family— mine by extension, we will show up, no matter what."

Ilsa laces her fingers with yours and nods. She gives you a kiss.

"Bye," you said. You and Ilsa exit to the boat that Ethan bought and placed under his name. The plan was to sail to France. It was a short ride and Ethan had packed everything you could possibly need into the boat.

"Go hide," you tell Ilsa and she nodded, "I'll let you know when we reach open waters."

—

You and Ilsa move into a chateau in the countryside, 30 minutes away from the beach. A place where the two of you could start fresh and build your family. There was a quiet town about a 10 minute bike ride, no surveillance cameras, just the eyes of locals who admired the love you and Ilsa had for each other. You and Ilsa went there on the weekends for grocery shopping before wandering around, trying the new patisserie shop around the corner, letting Ilsa feed you bits of croissant. The town made you and Ilsa feel young again, you would go out dancing like you were in your 20s, giggle in the back corners of the bookstore as you kissed one another and picked books for each other, let each other try their ice cream before agreeing which one was better. This quiet life, the one you and Ilsa always dreamed of was finally happening.

The two of you lounged on the couch together, reading. It was raining outside and the fire was crackling. She laid against your chest and you had an arm flung over her shoulder. She looks at your hand, the ring she gave you and smiles contentedly. She fiddles with the ring on your ring finger before smiling back up at you.

"Hey," you said, noticing her staring.

She moved your glasses from your face to the top of your head before cupping your face to kiss you.

"I'm happy we did this," she tells you.

"Me too."

She plays with your fingers while waiting, hesitantly, for the right moment to ask you a question that could change your lives.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You asked, noticing her shift of mood.

She sits up and turns around, sitting on the backs of her heels, so she can talk to you face-to-face. "Would you ever want kids?" She swallowed harshly, waiting for your answer.

Your lips eventually break into a smile and nod, "If it's with you, then yes."

You put down your book and take her hands into your own before pulling her to rest on your chest. You stroked her back and played with the ends of her hair.

"Is that what was worrying you so much?"

She nods against your chest.

"I've been dreaming about having kids with you for forever, Ilsa. Of course I want them. I can't wait to see a mini you running around the house."

"I could settle for a mini you too," she tells you.

She smiled against your skin, her chest warming at the idea.

She lifts her head and kisses along your jaw. She nestled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume. She felt a sense of fulfillment resting here in your arms. A fulfillment that she never got from joining Ethan's team. You offered her a life filled with love and safety and she wishes she had seen that earlier instead of running away. But there was no point in dwelling on the past now. You held her in your arms and she was going to cherish every single moment she could spend with you.

[theyungihven]

ATEEZ X BOLLYWOOD SEASON 2

Time fades away but the moments captured on films last for an eternity. It is your choice to revisit them, enjoying the forgotten times which still reside in your heart.

As an adult whose childhood was filled with these timeless classics, this is an attempt to bring together two things dear to me; bollywood and K-pop. Presenting, a crossover between ATEEZ and Bollywood (late 2000s and early 2010's in Season 2)

just leave a comment under this post to be tagged

SEASON 1

SEASON 2 MASTERLIST (below)

↬ Seonghwa as Rahul in Chennai Express

Kashmir to Kanyakumari

Genre : romance, comedy Synopsis : a north indian guy travelling to goa gets on the train only to be met by a south indian girl who he finds out is running away from home and gets involved with a tamil mob boss and his sidekick.

↬ San as Arjun, Wooyoung as Imraan and Seonghwa as Kabir in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara

Oh Foolish Heart!

Genre : romance, comedy Synopsis : The trio finally go on a spain trip but things start going downhill when their unresolved issues come in between until Arjun meets Zoya brings him back to Earth.

↬ Yunho as Abhimanyu and San as Rohan in Student Of The Year

Is There Someone else?

Genre : romance Synopsis : Abhimanyu is a full ride student from a middle class family while Rohan is the son of a billionaire. When they meet, clashes happen because opposites attract but they find a common ground. However, things go downhill when Rohan catches his best friend kissing his girlfriend.

↬ Wooyoung as Guru in Ek Villain

A Summer Miracle

Genre : romance, angst Synopsis : They say love finds you when you least expect it and it did find Guru on a Summer Morning which tied his heart forever to a girl who was the epitome of happiness.

↬ Jongho as Jay in I Hate Luv Storys

I Hate Luv Storys

Genre : comedy, romance Synopsis : Shaken by personal traumas, Jay swears to never fall in love but life reminds him that there's always this one person for whom you'll risk everything

↬ Hongjoong as Aditya in Jab We Met

My Stella Maris

Genre : romance, comedy Synopsis : Geet, the epitome of sunshine meets Aditya, who is a depressed millionaire, on a train he never planned to get onto but she just had to be there. However, Geet becomes his stella maris, his north pole star as she guides him out of the sea of darkness in which his mind was once emerged.

↬ Mingi as Kabir in Yeh Jawani Hain Deewani

The Traveller without a home

Genre : romance, comedy Synopsis : Kabir dreams of travelling in order to discover new things but when he meets Naina after a almost a decade, he realises that he was actually running away from himself.

↬Yeosang as Rahul in Aashiqui 2

In depth of love and despair

Genre : romance Synopsis : Rahul, a singing sensation, falls in love with Aarohi, a woman who sings in a bar. He helps her accomplish her dream of becoming a famous singer but his own shortcomings jeopardise their future

↬ Wooyoung as Aman and Yeosang as Rohit in Kal Ho Naa Ho

Let there be a tomorrow...

Genre : romance, angst Synopsis : Aman changes the pessimistic Naina's view of life and makes her fall in love with her friend but little do these two know that Aman loves Naina secretly.

SEE YOU SOON!!

[teaforqne]

Morning!!!

OKAY last night was the best night ever, but I came home so tired I almost passed out on my bed as soon as I touched it lol

The night was amazing and I took some photos, but I wasn't on my phone a lot bc I told myself to enjoy it with my big ol' eyes

They played for almost TWO hours – I think – at no time did I stop singing, jumping and headbanging because this was the closest thing I had to actually see LZ irl and I was having the time of my life!!!

Last night I posted the setlist (or most of what I remembered of it), I was on the front row, right in front of the guy playing as Robert — WHO, DARE I MENTION, changed outfits THREE times into these:

Like ??? The dedication!??!

Anyways, after all of that they didn't play any acoustics :c but they did play lesser known songs/songs Led Zeppelin didn't play live too often or at all, which I appreciate :]

I screamed compliments at the guys playing as JPJ, JP and JB because GODDD THE PURE TALENT THOSE MEN HAVE??!?!

When it finished, everyone started asking for one more song – which ended up being four more songs JAJAKSJ they were Kashmir, Immigrant song, The Song Remains The Same and Communication Breakdown (I think)

I tried asking Bonzo for the drumsticks since JPJ and JP had given their guitar picks away to some people on the crowd, but he very kindly denied it because drumsticks are expensive JKWJEEK

When I came out of the bar they were playing in, my ears were completely muffled, my legs were sore, my voice sounded funny and my head hurt so much uhhhggg but I feel much better now :]

Anyways that was it – if they ever do another show, I'm going to see them again hehe

Tagging @midnightinwales since they asked me to tell more hehe

[quietlyimplode]

The language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: day 4 - shock

Warnings: action based blood/explosion

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint and Natasha’s first mission after the events of New York.

A/N: Sometimes things are exactly as they appear to be. (Also be kind to fic writers pls, know we read each and very comment on reblogs <3)

.

2012

NEW YORK

“He’s better,” Natasha defends, protectively.

“I’m just saying that hiding in vents to spy on your friends is not a good thing,” Bruce tells her.

“He’s not spying, this is a weird situation. We’re here because it’s mandated. We just didn’t know for how long.”

Natasha moves out of the kitchen, wanting to find Clint.

“Just think about it?” Bruce calls after her.

Six months they’ve been here and she knows they’re both stir crazy. Probably all of them are.

Bruce is preparing to go back to Calcutta, and who knows where Thor left to.

She knows Bruce just wants the best for Clint, and she does too; but weekly therapy is enough.

They don’t need more.

He’s no longer catatonic, he’s eating, joking and talking about his feelings.

Isn’t that all she can ask of him?

He’s never had to deal with mind control or someone being in his brain.

The tower is more empty now, though Tony maintains they’re welcome for as long as they want.

She wonders what Steve is going to do.

Her phone rings and she glances at the caller, seeing Maria, she picks it up.

“Yeah?”

Reprieve comes in the strangest of ways.

“We have a mission for you,” she opens.

“Australia.”

Natasha’s heart leaps a little and she smiles to herself.

“Send the packet,” she says, “we can leave whenever.”

Maria pauses.

“How’s he doing?”

Natasha finds her way into the elevator, choosing Clint’s floor as an email comes through.

“Got it,” she tells her, “he’s better, he’s ready for this I think.”

Maria is quiet.

“I’m glad; we’ve missed you both.”

Natasha nods.

“Nothing like a mission to Australia to recalibrate.”

“I’ll get Fury to spring for business class, the 18 hour trip is shit,” Maria laughs.

Natasha is thankful, she hates traveling economy class on long haul trips.

“Hey, maybe whilst you’re there you can do some wedding prep,” Maria goads.

Natasha laughs and hangs up on her friend.

It’s been a running joke since the mission in Kashmir, one that since the events in New York, she’d not heard.

Finding Clint reading, she throws her phone at him with the open packet showing.

“Australia?!”

His glee is contagious as she smiles.

Today is a good day.

Natasha feels a bit of lightness in her world, and it feels strange given the last six months.

She can’t remember the last day like it. Maybe before the aliens came.

“Business class?!”

He laughs again.

“What a lowball mission, they must be feeling sorry for us.”

She takes her phone back, and lays down next to him.

“Maria said we should do some wedding prep,” she laughs with him.

His face turns serious, and she wonders if she’s ruined the mood.

“What if we do?”

She breaks into a smile.

“Yeah okay.”

He nods, looks at the packet again.

“We’re going to Queensland anyway. Nothing happens there.”

Natasha nods, lays down next to him and closes her eyes.

“Bruce is leaving tomorrow too,” she murmurs.

“Tony is going to be lonely,” Clint considers.

“Yeah.”

She does feel sorry for the billionaire, who seems to have grown accustomed to having people in his world, to suddenly have none.

“Maybe we should get everyone together and eat tonight,” he proposes, “I think maybe after Australia we could go back to the apartment.”

It’s a big step, not being around people, not feeling the need to have safety measures in place. She doesn’t think she would have even considered it a month ago, but the more she thinks about it, the more it feels right.

“Yeah I think that sounds like a good idea.”

.

Tony spares no expense in providing for his friends.

It’s kind. Natasha isn’t used to the abundance, even after all this time.

“There’s no way we will eat all this,” she tells him, passing him the food.

Pepper, Steve and Bruce sit on one side and it’s the three of them on the other.

Sitting between Clint and Tony, it’s like sitting between her brother and her lover. Or what she imagines that might be like.

She’s going to have to ask Clint what it was like growing up with a brother. She imagines dangerous in a fun way.

Steve tells a story that makes her laugh; and she goads him with a fossil joke, Clint chimes in with another story and the night passes quickly.

Too quickly, it feels and she wants to stay in this happy moment, this good day.

It surely can’t last.

.

Australia is hot.

It’s a different heat to the United States, and she can almost feel the infrared heat engulf her as she steps off the plane.

“Shit,” Clint exclaims.

She stares at him and he shuts up.

He’s to play her bodyguard, and his outburst is out of character. It’s not like him.

It’s like he’s forgotten what he needs to do to be a spy.

She frowns, worried.

This is a low ball mission, but it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t take it seriously.

Let your guard down and you become an easy target, even if the mission is just surveillance.

He takes her bags in apology and she fakes the persona she’s been given.

Rich people rarely give eye contact to anyone.

She leaves her glasses on and continues on her way through customs. It takes longer than she expects and she internally groans at the lines.

Externally, she complains out-loud. Everyone avoids eye contact.

Australians are a strange bunch, unlike Americans they seem to both simultaneously helpful and not, no one going out of their way to explain things or to point the clueless in the right direction.

The car that picks them up and drives them to the house is black and the driver nondescript.

It’s only when they’re alone in the two story house overlooking the beach that she breaks character and flops on the bed.

“I forget how well you do a rich bitch,” he says offensively.

She smiles.

“Get me a drink, won’t you?”

He laughs and busies himself with making a late lunch.

They have three hours before night, before they start the stakeout and all he’s eaten is plane food.

.

Two hours in the car and he’s so bored he starts throwing popcorn into his mouth.

Then.

The generator blows.

“Nat?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

They move out of the car, trying to get a better look.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” he mutters.

She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t think so.”

Natasha moves quickly, scouting the house to see what’s happening inside, their line of sight now gone in the darkness.

“Nat, wait,” he urges, “what if it’s a trap?”

The money launder is clearly on alert.

Two sets of armed guards leave the door and Natasha watches as they fan out. She sneaks past them and Clint swears as she looks back.

Natasha moves into the house.

Two shots ring out, and Clint ducks, swearing softly under his breath.

There’s someone else there and he can’t see them.

Scrambling up and onto the tall fence, he moves across the tallest tree and climbs up it.

There’s a team of two, dressed in black with large night vision goggles that make them look like frogs.

He taps on his ear piece.

“There’s two, on your left, try and take the mark alive if you can,” he orders.

“The two are coming through the kitchen, he’s moving out the up the stairs.”

Ideally alive, with his ties to hydra and the ten rings, he has valuable information they can use.

Natasha gives the signal she’s seen and chases him up the stairs.

Clint holds the two unknowns lined up in his sight.

He sees one set a charge and the other place two more.

“Fuck, Nat, they’re setting it to blow,” he growls, too far away, too high up to get to her before they detonate.

He drops down anyway, yelling.

“Nat, it’s a trap, they’re rigging it to blow, get out,” he says urgently.

He chases after the retreating spooks, and catches one, gun trained on them.

The frog like character shakes it’s head and holds up the detonator.

“No,” he exclaims, and holds his gun up.

They shake their head, and then press the button.

Hot flames engulf the building, throwing both of them back.

He tackles the body to the ground, ripping off the mask, and punching down hard.

Blonde hair and a frown greet him under the balaclava.

Wild eyes turn to him, “better go save Natasha,” a Russian accent growls.

Shock hits him.

How do they know Natasha?

Russian.

Black widow?

His heart sinks as the realization that Natasha is in a burning building.

“Just like Dreykov’s daughter,” she says scathingly, “left alone to die in a burning building with a bad man.”

Clint lets her go and runs.

She’s going to be okay, she has to be.

The explosion wasn’t big enough to total the building, parts still standing as he coughs in the heat, shielding his face.

He hears sirens wailing, and he knows he needs to find her.

“Natasha!” he calls, going in.

“Nat?!”

He calls her name over and over until he reaches the crumbling stairs. Covering his mouth, hoping that nothing else explodes, he climbs them.

Finding a bathroom, he opens the door only to find Natasha behind it.

“Bathtub,” she coughs.

“Stayed in.”

He hands her the cloth he was using to cover her mouth and helps her down the stairs.

“Mr. Nought?”

Natasha shakes her head.

“Couldn’t get to him. Dead, I think.”

They exit the house, Natasha limping and Clint guiding her out.

He wants to check her over, to see if she’s actually okay, but the sirens draw closer and they need to leave.

“I think the safe house is compromised,” he says driving away, heading straight for the airfield.

“We probably need to swap cars too.”

Natasha groans and holds her head, and Clint glances at her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just go, find a car,” she tells him.

There’s blood but he can’t tell in her black cat suit.

“Who was that?” she asks, looking back.

He doesn’t want to say the words but as he speaks them, the more he’s convinced he’s correct.

“Nat, I think it was Yelena.”

.

[18shadesofmay]

now the sky could be blue, i don’t mind, without you it’s a waste of time.

i looked up at the autumn night, and felt i was part of it. am i staring at the inside of my own mind, i wondered. it would look exactly like this. spots and sprinkles of memories, knowledge, people i’ve loved, people i haven’t, places i’ve been, things i’ve been, scents i’ve grown used to, voices i call comfort, and a little bit more. shimmering godly torches in a great distant black. the great distant black, gaps i’m yet to fill, a reminder of what portion of my life remains unbuilt. countless patches of this darkness may never turn, because i’m not meant to live everything a soul could. i did, and will, choose my night sky, and i think it looks perfectly fine with a big inky hole in it.

i took a bite out of my apple. a cold wind had begun to dance, and my mind suggested i go back inside. but i wasn’t listening to it then. i had something more important in front of me.

i saw my great-grandmother squinting at me, as if i was too far away for her to recognise. her ears had failed her near the end, but her eyes had never gone weak. i never knew how old she really had been, or when or where she was born, but she’d been in my memories ever since i was old enough to have any.

a touch north of her in the sky, i saw the old tramp with a hunch that i had had dinner with that one night in kashmir. he had lost his family to conflict, except his second daughter, to whom he had been travelling when i met him. his cobbling had earned him a bicycle, and i’d been far too young and happy to fully comprehend the fight he was fighting. i do remember noticing, he ate like a hyena over a lion’s corpse. steaming hot maggi was probably the best meal he’d had in a fortnight. it felt relieving to see him up there. what he had found at his daughter’s place, i will never know. but i do know what he found in his resting one: his family again.

another face caught my attention, a star standing over the delicate sliver of a moon. this one felt a little more personal. the night had settled in now.

just a moment longer.

the star showed me a dying man. a dying man, but not in a hospital. he was clutching his daughter’s forearm, in a cozy bedroom with his blanket pulled up to his neck. friends and acquaintances stood around the bed, and it was so quiet you could hear the other person breathe, until the chatter of the children from behind the door came strolling in. the kids had obviously been told to stay outside. his gaze panned right to left at the people’s faces, stopping at each one for a heavy moment, maybe to remember exactly who it was, or maybe to thank them for being there, in the room, in his life, in his death. his expression was one of utter contentment, as if to say, i have lived, and now i rest. a successful man, at the end of his life, overwhelmed with how much had happened within the span of a single existence.

the chilly air had grown to discomfort by this point, and i stood up and pulled away from the mesmerising picture that filled the great ceiling. the old man stayed in my thoughts for a while as i walked down the stairs. a soul who had had his heart broken, then mended, then shattered, and healed once more. who had seen loss, and only then had known beauty. who had once been stupid and hopeful, but had later realised that being hopeful was a necessary stupidity. a man who had a lot to tell me, but so little to say to me.

he was a destination.

he was me. a star on top of the moon. as i drifted to drowsy dreams, i couldn’t think of a better home than that.

[sanaxo-o]

Assign your moots bollywood songs and why?

Stop I love this so much 🥺😭. I haven’t been listening to Bollywood music much nowadays so this is totally on my old knowledge since idk any new songs.

@sohnric : Hey Ya! From the movie Karthik calling Karthik

This is totally because bar just genuinely radiates the kind of energy where you stop whatever you’re doing and just stare at her once she walks in the room.

@from-izzy : Haule Haule From the movie Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi

Hmm so basically to sum it up Izz is someone who will make you feel comfortable in an instant even when you just started talking with her. That’s just how she is tbh and I love the vibes of this song so much 🥺

Bonus I assign Chammak Challo from the movie Ra.One to @from-izzy because I can and I will 🥰🫶🏻

@kimsohn : What Jhumka? From the movie Rocky aur Rani Kii prem kahani

I think this is self explanatory. Shru and me had talked about pretty jhumkas and what not when it comes to Indian culture. I totally think of Shru when I listen to What Jhumka now 🥺.

@winterchimez : Love You Zindagi from the movie Dear Zindagi

At first I was planning on giving Cham Cham to Als but then when I remembered the song love you zindagi I knew it was for ally because to be fair 1. She was one of the first moots I got close with 2. Girlie is still thriving despite everything 🥺🫂

@cloverdaisies : Saturday Saturday from the movie Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania

Plz don’t judge this song yall ☹️. This is like the song you will hear at a dance party in India and clo fits this so well 🥺. Like yes girl go and get your drinks after the tough week 😭. (I was gonna give Party all night but I don’t want clo to get mad at me 🥰)

@strayed-quokka : Garmi from the movie street dancer 3D

Hmm I will say it. Lenlen makes me blush all the time hence this song so yes but lemme remember more oh yes! Subha Hone Na De because I just know if me and lenlen meet we would stay up all night just talking, eating, dancing and what not 🥰.

@astrae4 : Ratta Maar from the movie Student of the year

Poor baby has back to back exams nowadays hence this song 🥺😭. All the best non 🫶🏻 but if not that song then Tum Se Hi from Jab We Met because she just meets these vibes so well ☹️🥺. Literally one of my favourite movies and songs <3

@o-onikix : Paisa from the movie De Dana Dan

Hmm 🥰 because this girl is always in some need of money (us girl us) but like Nara is the depiction of Ye Ishq hai from Jab We Met so yes that song too because coughs 🥰 but also Badtamerz Dil because YJHD is her favourite movie and it’d be a crime if I don’t assign any song from that movie

@quaissants : One Two Three Four (Get On the dance floor) from the movie Chennai Express

Because I can and I will, as in the movie the actor (SRK) is drunk and Mona is drunk without drinking anything most of the time so yes. Other than this song I assign Kashmir Main Tu Kanyakumari simply because i think it fits Mona.

@itsbeeble : Senorita from the movie Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and Sooraj Dooba Hain from the movie Roy

It’s always chaos with Reese 🥰 and because she is always awake and is pretty much busy with everything most of the times so she needs these type of things in her life.

@hcuyk : Uff Teri Adaa from the movie Karthik calling Karthik

Have been a huge fan of her since I read Kidult and if I say that this is the biggest compliment I could give as an Indian then? Because the way we all scream to these lyrics when it plays and also she is so these lyrics 😭 (btw plz let me know what emoji you want 🥺😭)

@stealanity : Param Sundari from the movie Mimi

Marty is soooo these lyrics 🥺. Like yes guys she is my param sundari 😍. I don’t have much to say but yes 👏

@juyeonszn : High Heels ke Nachche from the movie Ki and Ka

Omg tbh I don’t know why I chose this song but Dawn is so this song. Idk why but yes.

I think that’s all 😭. Plz let me know if you want a part two with the rest of my moots because I used all my brain juice for this one.

[agentsinlove]

@captainsjack OKAY so thank you for giving me an excuse to share these unconnected snippets i have lol.

Ethan sleeps with Ilsa because he likes her, and he cares about her, and it seems like the right thing to do. She’s smart and beautiful, his equal in every conceivable way. She makes him laugh, he makes her smile, and their coupling seems inevitable. So after the showdown in Kashmir, once the dust had settled and Ethan had gained full faculty of his ribs again, he’d asked Ilsa out and made love to her after the last cup of dessert coffee had been drained. 

It had been soft and sweet until it had been hard and rough, and it’s the best sex Ethan’s had since Julia, if he’s being honest with himself. 

The morning after, they have breakfast in bed, and sex once more in the shower. Ilsa is perfect, and Ethan thinks that he’s in love. He wants more time to explore the idea, but the IMF knows that if he’s well enough to fuck, Ethan’s well enough to fight, and the team’s called together for a briefing with the new Secretary before being sent away on yet another impossible mission. 

“Call me when you get back,” Ilsa murmurs into his collar at the airport, and before Ethan can say anything in return, she’s gone like a ghost into the crowd. 

“First thing when I land,” he says into the empty space where Ilsa used to be. Then he shakes his head and makes his way towards his gate. 

He’s surprised, then, to see Benji sprawled out over three chairs. He has four devices plugged in to as many outlets, charging happily. 

“Ethan!” he says, shooting upright. His burner phone and his tablet clatter to the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Ethan grins. “Same for you. It’s good to see you, Benji.” 

Benji stands the rest of the way and pulls Ethan into a hug. Ethan grunts at the slight pain that thrums through his chest, and Benji—taking the hint—eases up. 

“God, sorry! Forgot about your five broken ribs.”

“No so broken anymore, but definitely still a little tender,” Ethan replies. “You look good, too.”

Benji rubs at his throat. “Well, bruises heal faster than bones.”

“So,” Ethan says as his sits into the chair Benji graciously empties of tech bags for him. “Why the hell are you back in London?”

Benji shrugs. “It’s where I’m from, you know. I like to visit on the off days, when I can.” He pauses. “Should I bother asking what you’re doing here?” 

Ethan’s too old to blush, especially for something so benign as romance. “Ilsa has an apartment here.”

“Ah,” says Benji with a nod. “Of course. How is Ilsa?”

“Good,” Ethan says, his smile a mile wide. “Great, in fact. Enjoying her retirement.”

“So, you two are…?”

Ethan’s smile falters just a little. “We’re...you know. Sure.” 

It shouldn’t be a difficult question, he knows. And by the skeptical look on Benji’s face, he wasn’t expecting such a vague answer. But somehow it seems false for Ethan to say exactly what he and Ilsa are. Partners or lovers or significant others. They hadn’t talked about it all in their weeks together, but Ilsa had said to call and Ethan has been thinking himself in love. So then what, indeed, did that make them? 

I’m too old for this, Ethan thinks to himself. So he turns to Benji and says, “We’re happy.”

Benji smiles at that. “Hear, hear.”

Ethan settles further into his chair and looks around the half-filled gate. He shakes his head. “Interesting choice to have us fly commercial.”

Benji snorts, already back to tapping at his laptop. “Sloan reminding us of our place, no doubt.”

They sit in companionable silence, Benji on his tech and Ethan reading a book. He considers texting Ilsa, but stops himself before committing to the act. He’s not sure it’d be appreciated. He tries to stay focused on his book, but with Benji beside him typing away and humming some song under his breath, Ethan has a difficult time of it. 

He looks sideways at Benji, taking in the man’s profile. Benji looks older, it’s undeniable. His hair’s thinner, his face gaunter. The nature of the job has hit him harder than it’s hit Ethan, and it shows. Not that it matters, Ethan knows. Benji’s not usually the go-to for honeypot missions, but even if he were, he has plenty of other charms. Ethan knows them firsthand. 

“Something on my face?” Benji asks, eyes still on his screen.

Ethan starts. “No. Just zoning out.”

Benji finally turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. “If you say so.” He goes back to his screen. 

Ethan goes back to his book, but he’s not any more focused than he was before. It’s a blessing when the attendant at the front kiosk announces they’re about to board. At least it gives him something to do besides think. 

---

“Uh, Ethan,” Brandt’s voice clips over the coms. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” replies Ethan, curt. He sighs. “Just distracted today.”

“Well, fix it.”

Ethan rolls his eyes. He likes Brandt, really he does. But sometimes Brandt’s attitude is decidedly unwelcome. 

“I know how to do my job, Brandt.”

“Apparently not. The target’s just exited the building.”

“Shit,” Ethan mutters as he stands nonchalantly and throws down a ten dollar bill for his coffee. His own exit from the cafe is casual, though it’s the last word he’d use to describe how he feels. 

It all ends well when he catches the arms dealer mid-transaction two blocks down, but the fact remains: Ethan Hunt had fucked up a job because he was too busy thinking about Benji Dunn. 

“So,” Brandt says later as Ethan’s en route back to their temporary base. “What was that about.”

He doesn’t want to answer. It’s not any of Brandt’s business. But the two of them share a strange and inexplicable camaraderie, knit together by their complicated shared experience with Julia, and Ethan can’t quite keep himself from saying, “I can’t stop thinking about Benji blowing up. I’ve dreamed about it the last three nights. It’s the first thought I have when waking. It’s the last thing I see when I close my eyes before I sleep.” He pauses. “It’s disconcerting.”

Brandt is silent for a long time. When he finally does make a sound, it is only an ambivalent, “Huh.”

“Thanks, Will,” Ethan says, irritated. Then he yanks out his ear piece. 

An hour later, Brandt sends a text. 

Don’t think too hard about it. Your brain knows he matters to you, that’s all.

---

“What about Julia?”

Ethan frowns. “I love her and would die for her.”

“So then what about Ilsa?”

The frown deepens. “I love and would die for her, too.”

“So then what about me?”

Ethan stares at Benji, silently. Not because he doesn't care, but rather because—as he realizes with a sudden startling clarity—there are no words or series of words in any language available to him to adequately express exactly how he feels about Benji Dunn. 

“That’s about what I thought,” Benji says, apparently fed up with the way Ethan gapes at him. 

“No, no, no.” Ethan stutters out. “It’s not that I feel nothing. I just can’t think of any words…” he chuckles, despite himself. “I can’t think of any words big enough for how I feel about you.”

That draws Benji up short. “Ethan,” he says, expression unreadable, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

The question lands like a blow, because Ethan hasn’t let himself get anywhere near that far when he thinks about how he feels about Benji. Where he’d pushed himself to believe he was in love with Ilsa, the idea of being in love with Benji feels absolutely terrifying. It’s too much, too real. It’s too precious. “I don’t think I know what means anymore,” he finally says. Then, “Are you in love with me?”

Benji’s expression shifts to something more openly wounded. “Ethan–”

Their phones chirp a split second apart, stopping the conversation short. 

“It’s work,” Benji says, swallowing. “We have to go.”

Ethan grabs his shoulder. “We have to finish this.”

Benji grabs at Ethan’s hand, as if to shove it away. But he stops. His grip softens. His hand rests gently over Ethan’s. “Ethan,” he says firmly, but not unkindly. “It’s work. You understand what that means.”

And Ethan does. He lets go of Benji’s shoulder and steps back, hand slipping out from under Benji’s palm. It’s work. They have to go. 

They can finish the conversation later.

[moonleeai]

Namaste Collab: Teri Hasee Ka Noor 

Title : Teri Hasee Ka Noor 

Pairing : Hoseok x female reader 

Word Count: 13.8k

City/State : Kashmir / Goa 

Timeline : February / March

Rating : Mature 18+ 

Genre : travel au, friends to lovers, fluff, baby angst, SMUT 

Warnings: unprotected sex, slow burn, explicit language

Summary : Hoseok takes best friend duties seriously and makes it his mission to cure your winter blues. He intends well by surprising you with a tropical vacation but it starts off colder than anticipated. Hoseok fixes his mistake in time for the hot weather to stir something in both of you, but will his flirty nature hinder the flame? 

AN: The meaning of the title is “the radiance of your smile/laugh”. Thank you Baby Queen Jiya @btsstan12 (ao3) for the beautiful banner. It’s so much more than I expected and I love love love it as much as I love love love you.

A huge shout out to Jasz @downbad4yoongi, Sara, and Kari for beta reading this and helping me so so much! xoxo

Special thanks to @sugarwithtea , @btsstan12 (ao3) and @apotatomashedbybts for having me in your desi BTS fanfic collaboration! It was so fun learning about India! I hope you like my take on it ☺

Read More Stories here: Namaste Collab Masterlist

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. 

Life is so boring sometimes. The highlight of your month was buying a cordless vacuum for your newly renovated hardwood floors—adult things. You love your job as a dance director at your best friend Hoseok’s dance academy. He keeps the days entertaining, but you’re tired of repeating the days in the same ways. Today, after teaching the last class of college dance majors, you helped Hoseok do the nightly cleaning of the studio. He blasts hip-hop music and moves rhythmically around while sweeping, and you wipe down the mirrors, watching how his body flows to the beat like a graceful bird gliding in the wind. He glances over and catches you staring, you quickly look away and grumble.

“Hurry up, Seok. I wanna go home.”

“For what? It’s not like you have plans!” 

He wasn’t wrong. Your best friend of a few years knew exactly what you were going to do tonight. Nothing; your favorite thing. He used to get offended when you wouldn’t come out to clubs but quickly realized you just enjoyed the comfort of being home. Once he learned that about you, he started inviting himself to your place instead.

Hoseok is a man of many talents, but he’s most known for dance and his ability to choreograph and practice until perfection, spotting any slight flaws in a millisecond. The hottest dancer there is, was, and will ever be. His presence is a force known as J. Hope or Jay, his stage name. Hoseok is an above-average gentleman, J. Hope is the motivator everyone needs at the end of an exhausting practice, and Jay– well, he’s the performer with the sultriest moves.

The next song comes on, and you both pull your faces into surprised expressions. The song-- Troy Sivan’s “Youth”-- was one of your favorite duo choreos from back in the day. Quickly, you both jump into place and begin the dance from muscle memory. This time though, you two are a little too close, and Hoseok decides to improvise; instead of grabbing your hand at the end, he pulls your wrist up, raising your arm above your head, making you spin, and your back firmly presses into his torso. He places his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying your bodies together. You can feel your temperature rising, and the need to melt into his hold almost takes over. 

“Ahh…I love this dance!” Hoseok nearly screams in your ear, forcing you to pull away, hand over your ear. He laughs and goes back to cleaning while you’re glad to have a reason to walk away. Hoseok is a very touchy-feely friend, and it never bothered you until recently. During the holidays, you were both single and spent too much time together. Too much because now... now you think you’re falling for him. 

You both like the same music, the same movies, and you both love to dance. So many of the holiday nights turned into spontaneous dance battles or deep conversations about those things you equally enjoyed. His laugh was beginning to be your favorite sound, like poetry in pretty handwriting. Every giggle and smile from him filled your soul with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You finish the mirrors and watch him two-step to the trash can. He glances over as if he can feel your eyes on him and gives his charming smile. The smile that drew you in and made you crave his friendship. He embodies comfort, like the feeling of a favorite oversized sweater on a cold day, wrapping you in warmth.

“Let’s stay here and dance.”

“No, Seok. I’m hungry.”

“We can order takeout.” He walks over and reaches for your hand, but you pull away, knowing you’d give in to whatever he wanted once the slightest spark ignited your bones from his touch. 

“Let’s go to my place… it’s close; we can grab food and move the couch to dance. Plus, I have all the alcohol.” 

Hoseok watches you, amused by all the layers of clothing you put on as if you’re preparing for a snowpocalypse and your strawberry lip balm. He knows you are a tropical person at heart, and every winter, you believe it just may be your last. Your beach-loving, sun-soaking spirit is having the most challenging time battling winter blues this year, and Hoseok is going to fix that. He’s been planning something and intends to tell you tonight. Only if you would give him the time to do so; he’s been dying to say something but hasn’t found the right time all night, and now you’re rushing to get home. 

“Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Oh, I was just…lost in thought.” He throws a midweight jacket on, “Let’s go!”

“At least put this beanie on, Seok! You’re going to get sick one of these days!” A hint of a smile plays on his lips as he gently takes the hat and turns away from you to hide his flushed cheeks. He’s always faintly enjoyed you taking care of him. 

After grabbing food and arriving at your apartment, you hurriedly remove your shoes, rush over to your freestanding electric fireplace, and turn it on. Hoseok, still at the door hanging his jacket, tells you to throw your jackets over to be hung. Then you both sit at your coffee table in front of the fire to eat. 

“So, I’ve been wanting to tell you some news.”

“What news?” 

“I’m going to close the academy for a week and go on vacation.”

“Va–? What! To where? When?!”

He stifles a grin and tots his tongue over his teeth, “India.”

“In–! Are you serious right now? By yourself?”

“Well…no. I bought two tickets and have everything planned out. A week in a tropical place–”

“Jeong Hoseok! Who are you going with?”

“I was hoping… you?” The last word comes out so soft and shy you almost miss it.

“You’re serious?” Hoseok nods his head yes to your question. “O–Okay! Yeah! I’ll go!” 

Cutely, his shoulders rise as he half states and half questions, “Soooo… we’re… going to India?” 

“We’re going to India!” I could kiss you right now!

But you don’t; you settle for a tight embrace and huge smiles before you both return to eating. After a few beats of awkward silence, you’re looking up pictures showing each other beaches and cabanas. The excitement is too much to hold in, and you both surrender to fits of giggles. Hoseok throws his body into your lap and you’re enchanted by his comfortable sound. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

On the plane, you sit back and get cozy in the oversized seat. Thankfully Hoseok splurged a little for business class. The dijon yellow cushions and extra pillows make it feel like you’re sitting on the couch in the tranquility of your home. 

Achoo! You look up in disgust as you were just sprayed unexpectedly. A child in front of you stands in their seat, looking at you. Snot running from their nose is enough to tell you they probably have a cold but– achoo!-- the menace is sneezing directly at you. You swat at the air to rid your space of the germs and scrunch your nose at the kid, making them turn around in their seat. 

“Let’s look up the places and try to plan what to see and what to do before you lay this kid out,” Hoseok says, pulling the reservation up on his phone.

“More than the beach?” You laugh because that’s all you want to do. Sit in the sand and sun, letting your body absorb enough heat that might keep you content until summer arrives.

“Well… I saw a boat ride on Dal Lake. The boats are pretty, and yes, the beach, of course.” He shows you a screenshot that he took of a row of wooden boats painted in pastel colors with vibrant cushions. The boats are beautifully resting on a still body of water, but the background catches your attention. There are snow-capped mountains exquisitely reflected in the lake. Snow-capped. Snow.

“Seok, when was this picture taken?”

“Mmm, I just got it off the internet.”

You connect your phone to the Wi-Fi and ask for the resort’s name.  

“Well, it’s two hotels because the package is split into like a north and west tour. Gulmarg and Goa. It was rated pretty high.” He pulls up the reservation and shows you the booking. You type in the first name.

“Hmm... How do you spell the city?” The first picture that came up showed a building with a snow-covered roof.

Hoseok spells it out as you slowly type in the name along with ‘things to do’ and choose the first option. You notice a few pictures with snow again.

“Seok. Did you happen to check the weather for this time of year?”

“What? No. It’s India. Isn’t it always hot?” You both stare at each other. As quick as uncertainty weighed on your chest, his candied hazelnut eyes swept it away, sweet and syrupy, glazing over any discomfort. 

“Let me see the reservation again.” Kolahoi Green Resort, Gulmarg. A luxury resort is nestled near India’s most popular spot for skiing. Skiing. I can’t strangle him on the plane. Reading on, you also see he’s booked a honeymoon package, whatever that means. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Seok…maybe you should read the whole resort description.” You tilt his phone toward him and hold your finger under ‘skiing’ and ‘honeymoon’.

His expression turns into a panic. Eyes wide, he covers his mouth with his hand. 

“I am so sorry. I swear I booked the beach package! I saw honeymoon packages, but I didn’t think I chose that one. I was only looking at the differences in price.”

You pull the phone back and start reading the entire reservation. There is, in fact, a beach for four days, but only after the one by the ski lodge for three days. Three days in the cold, which you just left. To say all excitement has left your body is an understatement. You immediately begin thinking about the lack of clothes you packed. Your suitcase is full of cute sundresses, tank tops, and shorts. You don’t even remember packing jeans. Luckily, there are the sweatpants and hoodie you’re wearing on the plane. Maybe, just maybe, it’s warmer now. You look up the weather in hopes of quelling your thoughts. 

“Seok, I don’t know if I have enough warm clothes for three days in the cold. The temperature is like 11 to 15 degrees Celsius. I– I only packed dresses and–” 

“I’m sure we can buy some clothes somewhere. You can also wear some of mine; you know I overpacked hoodies and sweats.” He goes into compassion mode, a voice of reason. There’s always a solution to a problem; he does just that as you both continue talking. His voice is a soothing palette of neutral tones, easing you into solace. 

“Yeah.” You turn and stare out the window with your hands tucked under your thighs. Hoseok can feel how disappointed you are and will spend these hopefully not-too-cold days doing whatever he can to see you smile. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The resort is pretty. Not your cup of tea with the patches of snow still covering the surrounding property, but you can kind of see the appeal. The receptionist gives some information on the area and informs you that it’s the last weekend for skiing since it’s warming up. 

Warming up. Ha! Skiing is the last thing on your mind, but Hoseok’s body wiggles, and his face lights up. When he turns to look at you, you return a small smile, feeling your cheeks heating up. As the receptionist hands over the key card, they congratulate you with best wishes, and you both walk away confused. 

“What was that about?”

“No idea,” he rushes through those words to get to the next subject, “but would you want to snowboard tomorrow? The sign says they rent out everything, even snow gear.”

“Seok.” You press the button on the elevator, and the doors open instantly.

“Please! I promise I will do whatever you want if you do this with me!” Hoseok begs as the elevator ascends to your floor.

“I literally want to stay in a warm room the entire three days.”

“No way! The lake boat ride is here.” 

“Okay. Then I want to be inside for the rest of the time.” You joke, waiting for him to open the door.

Hoseok scans the room key and holds the door open for you. You walk through and see pretty decorations. Gold balloon letters spelling ‘congratulations,’ flower petals leading to, as well as covering, the bed in a heart shape. The four-post bed has a canopy with sheer white linen cascading down, surrounded by fairy lights, illuminating a tray with a champagne bottle in an ice bucket and two glass flutes. 

There’s only one bed.

Across from the bed is a large two-seater sofa in front of a gas fireplace. You walk further inside with Hoseok on your heels, following the flower petals that continue through sliding doors into a spa-like bathroom. Flameless tea lights and votives of various sizes cover every possible surface area. While everything is beautiful, you’re both still confused.

“What in the world?” 

“Do you think they gave us the wrong room?”

You both walk back to the bedroom and find a card on the small table. You pick it up and read it aloud, “Congratulations, newlyweds. Best wishes from the Staff at Kolahi.”

Hoseok finds another note. “Look at this! It’s not a mistake. It has our names and ‘please call when you’re ready for your complimentary desserts.”

“You did book the honeymoon package, Hoseok!” You start laughing because, honestly, what else can go wrong?

Hoseok submerses in your laugh. He’s been worried, but now a warm tingle is stirring inside him, and his heart beats faster. He watches as you go back to the bathroom.

“Ah! It’s a jacuzzi! We have our own hot tub! I want to use this right now!”

Hoseok freezes at the words. A hot tub… in the room… where you both have to sleep… for three days. The beach is a vast open space, so being in a bikini among a sea of others is no big deal… but you’ll be wearing one so incredibly close. Intimately close. The blur of you walking by brings him back to the present.

He clears his throat as you walk to your suitcase, “Don’t you want to explore the area first? See what all is out there?” 

“Oh. True. Yeah, let’s do that. We can use the jacuzzi to end the day. I could use a nap, too.” 

“No naps. We have to get on this timezone. Come on! We’ll unpack later; let’s go look around.”

Down in the lobby, you sit on a loveseat in front of the fireplace while Hoseok talks to the receptionist. You pull out your phone and check to see how far the lake is that Hoseok is dead set on. It’s two hours away and all the way back by the airport. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, frustrated by the lack of planning. When you open them again, you see an activities book on a table next to you. You pick it up and start browsing through the pages. 

There’s a gondola ride, shrine, temple, and three restaurants. Anything indoors sounds excellent. One of the restaurants is a glass igloo, and you immediately look for Hoseok to tell him, knowing he will love it.

He comes up beside you, and you flash the page so he can see the igloo. 

“I was just about to tell you about that!” He plops down next to you, showing some notes he took on his phone from the receptionist. Pretty much everything in the book you’re holding. “They said the gondola is beautiful at sunset, so we could do that first. Then come back to eat–”

“Then jacuzzi!” You shriek, too excited for a night of relaxation.

Hoseok looks at you, baring a tight-lipped grin; your eyes trace the lines ending in dimples, then float to the mole on his upper lip. He unexpectedly jumps up, pulling you both from a haze and holds his hand out for you. You take it and make your way to the gondola.

Staring at the cables disappearing into the distance, you remember Hoseok’s fear of heights. 

“Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Yeah, I should be okay.”

You both continue following the small crowd and chatting. You were cold at first, but the constant conversation has seemingly kept you warm by occupying your mind. Or maybe it’s his presence. 

Closer to the front, you can see that the ride is in two parts–ten minutes to the first stop and then twelve to the last. The gondola fits six, but with the small number of attendees, you get a cable car to yourself. You sit across each other and observe the surroundings as it ascends the mountainside. 

“I feel so dumb.” Hoseok sighs after the statement.

“What? Why?” you ask while sliding your lip balm over your lips. Hoseok watches and notices the way your lips shine afterward.

“For one, not checking the weather. And two, I had no idea there were huge mountains here!”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn’t know either. Now we do.” You offer a smile, plumping your cheeks into two small plums. Hoseok melts into the seat, responds with a simple grin, and gazes back out the window. 

You pass over pine trees and snow-submerged valleys. You stay on, opting not to get off at the first stop, and before you know it, you’re at the peak. You would’ve never known Hoseok was afraid of heights, at least on the outside. A frigid breeze slices across your bare face when you step off the gondola. Your body quakes as you follow people to a scenic point. 

The setting sun plays peek-a-boo with the fluffy clouds, displaying pastel colors across the sky and a fiery glow on top of the mountains. Hoseok asks you to take fun photos of him, and you laugh while getting every angle possible. A lovely couple offers to take a picture of both of you, and you return the favor for them. 

After a few more steps along the mountain’s edge, Hoseok grabs your wrist and starts jogging, “I’m done! It’s so cold!” You giggle, keeping up with him, and breathlessly throw yourselves back into a gondola. This time he sits next to you. When the door shuts, and the cable car begins descending, he wraps his arms around you. He wiggles and gets as close as possible, pulling you into him and placing his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this; let’s warm up.” His warm breath strikes your neck, and a kaleidoscope of warmth ignites in your stomach. You rest your head against his and take a deep, shaky breath. That’s how you remain the entire ride down, quietly wrapped in each other as the light disappears from the sky. You’re tempted to ask what’s on his mind, but you also don’t want to read too much into his actions. He’s always been touchy in a friendly way, and you don’t want to ruin it.

After dinner, you walk back to the suite and discuss the delicious food. You can’t help but think about how great the hot water in the jacuzzi will feel. In the suite, you open your suitcase and pull out toiletries, pajamas, and bathing suits. You start to feel shy about the itty bitty fabric barely covering your ass. Hoseok watches you as your eyes flit from one to the other, then calls the receptionist to deliver the complimentary dessert, and then goes to turn on the water. 

He comes back out with a robe for you as there’s a knock on the door. He gets the delivery and places it on the tray on the bed. You both marvel over the creative mithai charcuterie board; various ladoos, plain and chocolate-covered strawberries, sweet boondi, and kaju katli. After Hoseok takes a million pictures, he carries the tray of dessert and champagne into the bathroom and puts it on the shelf by the jacuzzi.

Coming back for the glasses, he mentions, “I’ll change in the bathroom. Take your time.” He closes the doors behind him, and you change before pulling the robe over your bikini. When you open the doors, he’s already in the water with the jets on full blast.

You stand at the edge of the jacuzzi, “Would you, maybe, close your eyes?” You chuckle before continuing, “This feels a little awkward.” He turns his head from you and closes his eyes with a massive grin. You drop the robe and quickly get in, sinking until the water is at your clavicle. “Okay. You can be normal again.”

Hoseok sits up, fills the champagne glasses and hands you one. “A toast to our buddymoon!” 

You roll your eyes but still laugh, “You’re so corny.” You both clink your glasses and take a sip. “Did you try any of the desserts yet?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you. Do you want me to hold the tray in front of you?”

“Oh, uh, no. It’s okay. Will you hand me one of the diamond thingies?”

“According to the little guide, that is kaju katli: cashews, sugar, cardamom, and ghee.” You reach for it, but he’s already bringing it to your lips. As you open your mouth and let the sweetness hit your tongue, your lips graze his fingers, and your eyes briefly meet before looking away. He grabs one for himself and rests back against the basin. 

After some time, you’re on your last glasses, having finished the bottle, and feeling relaxed. You both have been chipping away at the dessert and reveling in all the deliciousness. 

Deciding it’s been enough time in the jacuzzi, Hoseok stands, and you notice how his shorts cling to his thigh muscles; he pulls at the fabric, easing the clinging fabric away from his groin. He steps out, drying off haphazardly, and walks to the bedroom, closing the door behind him again. You get out and dry off before donning the robe back on to join him. Standing at the minifridge, he pulls out a bottle of rosé, but all you can see is his waistband resting low across his hips, dangerously low, exposing a faint happy trail under his belly button. The dips and hills are graciously defined on his stomach, and you feel a warmth overtake your body. You raise your hand to your cheek in hopes of hiding the flush. 

“Are you drunk already?” Hoseok teases.

“No! It’s just… hot.” You roll your eyes and motion toward the new bottle, “Where’d that come from?”

“It was in the fridge. Strawberry time!” He places the wine by the fireplace sofa and returns to the jacuzzi to get the fruit. You can’t help but smile at his excitement and the little noises he makes with every step to and from the bathroom. He motions for you to sit, pours the drink, and hands you a glass. You both reach for the same strawberry from the tray and then giggle at the chances. He grabs it, reaches toward your mouth, and watches intently as your lips wrap around the heart-shaped fruit forming a perfect pouty circle. You can’t unsee his tongue slowly swiping across his bottom lip as his eyes glaze over, trapping your attention like a mosquito in amber sap. You remember to chew when his eyes break from yours and roam down your slightly open robe. You reach for the neckline to close it, and he turns away, grabbing a strawberry for himself before sliding against the back of the sofa. “You’re right… it’s really warm in here.”

You clear your throat, eyes on the flames. “So…one bed. Looks like we’re going to be pretty close.”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice to have something to keep me warm tonight.”

The night ends with bellies full of wine and dessert and happily planning the next day of adventure. You have absolutely no desire to snowboard, but Hoseok’s sunshine smile and light laughter seep into your heart. You want nothing more than to continue seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. 

In the bed, you both lie facing the ceiling like statues when he breaks the silence. “Can we like… cuddle?”

You snicker at first, but the idea of it sounds lovely. “Sure, why not.”

Hoseok falls asleep quickly with his arms and legs wrapped around and over you, while you lay there, calming your racing heart in his grasp. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Slightly waking, you adjust your body, rolling on your side as something rigid grazes your hip, eliciting a hiss from Hoseok. “Shit! Sorry, Seok!” Startled, you sit up and fling your legs over the bedside, jolting yourself awake. 

“You didn’t have to jump away. It just–”

“No, no. I should get up anyway. Snowboarding, right? Let me start getting ready.

Ignoring everything that happened, you both take turns in the bathroom to get ready and head to the lobby area. First, you stop in the gift shop and buy matching ‘I love Kashmir’ long-sleeve t-shirts to go under your hoodies, then proceed to the rental shop. You’re not thrilled while standing in line, dreading the cold and the effort and energy snowboarding takes, but your soul is soaking in the radiant smile coming from Hoseok. 

To add more dread, you had hoped to look at least cute while being drained of all excitement, but the shop has the hottest trends from the 1990s in snow bibs, boots, and boards. You settle for the rose brown and black gear and a snowboard with a pale purple bottom. Hoseok, on the other hand, chose to pair the ugliest of every color together and call it ‘fashion.’ You won’t lose him in the crowd.

A few passes on the bunny slope, and you’re as ready as you’ll ever be. As you both glide over the lift, you look for the signage that informs riders which slopes are the easiest to hardest—usually, a color scale. Here, there are only signs stating zones one through four.

“How do we know where to get off?” you ask while staring, puzzled at the signs. 

“Beginner slopes are always the first stop, I think.”

“Seok! I need facts, not guesses. Didn’t the brochure say the locals use the first one to get around to other villages?” Hoseok shrugs and continues with the flow of the line. When you reach the front of the line, Hoseok asks the operator where to get off and they confirm ‘one.’ 

“I guess it’ll be a surprise.” Your nerves are a wreck, and as much as you want to have fun, for Hoseok’s sake, you can’t get into the right mindset. 

You both get off at the first stop and glide down the path to make way for others behind you when you quickly realize this slope is not for you. It’s not steep, but the rivets and snow conditions make it least favorable for a novice like yourself. 

Hoseok yells that he’ll meet you at the bottom, and you watch as he gracefully swoops across the mountain slope. You watch a woman wearing neon teal pants drift delicately right behind him. How you wish that were you. 

You ride on your heels the first bit, destroying your thigh muscles like lava is coursing through the veins. You glide to the side, out of the main path, and fall on your butt to take a break. Watching people pass by, even kids, you curse under your breath and hold back tears of frustration. A pep talk would be nice, but the one best at those just left you to your demise. 

A few deep breaths, and one too many children passing you, gives you very little motivation but enough to hop back up and continue down the slope. Your thighs are on fire, but you alleviate the pain by using other muscles, which also gives more speed-- speed you don’t want. You panic and tense up, causing you to dig your toes too far into the snow, making the edge catch, and you brace for impact. You hit the ground face first, so hard your body goes into a forward roll; your goggles rip off as your head clashes with the firm snow, and all air expels from your lungs. 

Hoseok yells your name a few times from behind and stops next to you frantically. 

“Are you o– is there– are you hurt?!”

You take a few short breaths to test your lungs for proper functionality. Quietly you let out, “No but– that hurt. So fucking bad!” Then tears begin to prickle, and emotions are ready to boil over, “I’m done! I didn’t come here to be freezing my ass off in the snow or to be bundled up like this!” You break down into the ugliest of cries while your shoulders bounce up and down from the force of your sobs. “I wanna go back to the rooooooom,” you whine while sniveling.

You look at Hoseok through hazy eyes, but his face turns away from you. He is likely holding back a giggle in hopes of not upsetting you more. He clears his throat and faces you with a gentle smile and twinkle in his eyes. It soothes you enough that tears stop falling, and you begin to feel warm. Hoseok pats your head and uses his glove to wipe your face, then rests his hand on yours.

“Let’s take the boards off and walk down. I’ll get you some spiked hot chocolate.” You nod your head, and he unclasps your bindings first. 

Walking down the mountain silently makes you feel bad for what you said. 

At the bottom, you prop the boards in the holding area when the woman in neon pants appears. You watch as a scene from a drama unfolds, and before you know it, Hoseok is walking with her as they flirt back and forth. Your eyes dance between the two, noticing how smiley they are. You feel like an outsider. Your hand is balled tightly by your side, and when you can’t stand the pain of your nails digging into your palm any longer, you shake it off and walk past them into the lodge. 

You order your drink and find a table to sit at. Jealousy has reared its ugly head, and you’re fighting with yourself. You shouldn’t feel this way. You can’t feel this way for your best friend. You take a sip and let the alcohol flush the jealousy down into the pit of your stomach. 

Hoseok finds you and sits beside you with his body angled toward you. “Here you are. Why’d you leave?”

“If you want to keep riding, go ahead. I don’t want to make you miserable.” 

He reaches up and places both hands on the sides of your cheeks. His thumbs swoop under your eyes, wiping the last remnants of tears. “I promise you. I’m having a great time.” 

Radiant. His warm touch and kind words weave into your soul alongside the space occupied by his smile and laugh. Serene. Your body relaxes in the window seat and immediately feels every ache and pain from your tumble. You roll your neck around and pause in the areas that need more stretching. 

“Do you want to get a massage?” He pulls out his phone, “I’m pretty sure I saw one here.”

“No, no. A good stretch and maybe the jacuzzi will be enough.” You both stare out the window at the snow-covered nature. Taking a gulp of courage, you say, “Sorry, Seok. What I said on the slope was mean, rude, and uncalled for.”

“Would you stop that? I had fun, now let’s do something you want. You wanna get in the jacuzzi then order in for dinner?” Hoseok notices how your eyes light up like a candle at the mention of food.

“Yes! Let’s get different dishes to try new stuff. Chicken and beef, maybe?” Now it’s your turn to pull out your phone and find the room service menu you took pictures of. “Oh, look, lamb! Butter chicken and lamb biryani? Or maybe curry? Oh! Hummus! And garlic naan! What?! There’s so much!” 

“I love how excited you get over food.” He chuckles, “I’ll look up pictures, and if it looks good, we get it.” 

You replay his words in your mind. Love. How did he mean that? Does he feel something like you? Or was it more of a friendly love? You glance his way, eyes soaking in his profile. You must’ve stared a little too long because he meets your gaze. Your eyes flit to his heart-shaped lips, and you can’t help but wonder if they feel as pillowy as they look. 

“You okay?” His voice forces you to finally blink and look down at his phone.

“Yeah. This set looks good.” You point to a picture, and he takes a look. 

“Okay. It’s settled. I’ll order while you’re getting blasted by the jets.”

Finished with your drinks, you return all the snow gear to the rental shop and head to the suite. Hoseok runs the water for you and turns on some of the flameless tea lights. He sets his phone in the corner, plays a Lofi Bollywood playlist, shuts off the light fixture, and walks out. You carry your bathing suit into the bathroom and close the door. 

Hoseok lies on the couch, closes his eyes, and surrenders to the sound of the jets and soft music. He imagines the bubbles around your collarbones; your eyes closed, body relaxed. A throb sends a jolt through his stomach, but he places a hand on his groin and adjusts to calm himself down. You call for him, and his body freezes, lifting his head to ensure you’re not standing there.

“Come join me. I’m bored, and this music is so relaxing. I think you’ll enjoy it too.”

“I can hear it out here.”

“Please?” 

There’s a flutter in his chest, and he’s changing to join you.

You smile at him as he walks through the threshold and close your eyes when he enters the basin. You both don’t say a word but enjoy every second of your closeness. The water feels electrified as you chat away.

Later, with bodies relaxed and bellies full, Hoseok pulls you into a hug on the couch. 

“I hope you’re having an okay time. I’m excited to see all the cute dresses you packed for the beach tomorrow.”

“Any time spent with you is a great time, Seokie. Thanks for bringing me. I promise not to throw any more tantrums,” you chuckle at the last word and pinch his ribs in an effort to break away.

“Hey!” He laughs and smacks you with a pillow. “Wanna finish the night watching the sunset from the balcony? Then a nightcap by the fire?”

“Sounds perfect.” 

You couldn’t think of any other way you’d love to spend the evening. Well, maybe cuddling again, but for now, sunset and a drink with your best friend, who you adore, and possibly more, sounds like a truly perfect night.

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

A few hours later, Hoseok wakes to vibrations in the bed and discovers you shivering. He pulls the quilt up to your neck and wraps his limbs around you before feeling that you are soaked. He sits up, trying to see anything in the pitch black, getting his eyes to focus on you. He swipes his hand across your forehead and gasps at the heat that comes off you. He briskly walks to the bathroom, turns the light on low, then kneels by your bedside to better understand what’s happening. You whine as he tries to wake you. 

He calls your name softly while rubbing a hand down your back, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“S–so cold,” you mutter as he watches sweat bead on your forehead. 

“I’m gonna go get you medicine. Drink some of this water for now.” He helps sit you up against some pillows and slowly guides the water bottle to your lips. After a few sips, he hurries out of the room and to the lobby mini-mart in hopes of getting you something to aid in breaking your fever. 

When he comes back into the room with two rustling bags, you look at his hands bewildered. He unpacks an array onto your side table: ginger tea, bananas, children’s applesauce squeeze bags, chicken noodle soup, a box of jello, orange juice, and Gatorade. 

“I thought you were getting medicine?”

“I mean, these are the natural way, right? But I have more.” He grabs the second bag and unpacks a variety of cold medicine in liquid and pill forms.

“Seok! What–” Your head pounds at your words, and you close your eyes as if that will stop it. You take a deep breath, open your eyes and turn toward the side table. You reach for the box of jello and scoff, “How were you going to make this?”

“Hmm…not sure, but I will figure it out if you want it.” He grabs the box from you and starts reading the directions.

“Seok, I probably just have a cold from that kid sneezing on me. A fever at most; I’m not puking.”

“Right! Um…tea? Soup?”

“How about medicine and a cool rag so I can go back to sleep?” You smile at his thoughtfulness, but keeping your eyes open becomes more difficult. 

Hoseok opens the medicine, opting for a liquid form, and brings it to your lips to drink. Then he grabs a cool cloth for you, places it over your forehead, and gently rubs his hand over your hair. You scoot down to lie comfortably and begin to relax again. You hear Hoseok rustling around, turning off lights, and getting changed for bed again. He snuggles up close to you, wrapping you in his hold. You can feel yourself drifting into dreamland when his hushed voice brushes the side of your neck.

“I went overboard, huh?”

“I didn’t expect anything less from my Seokie,” you whisper. He warms at your words and buries himself further into you. Even with a fever, you could still feel his radiance healing you deep inside.

Sometime in the twilight hours, Hoseok woke again, but this time you were talking…or more like mumbling. He raised his head and blinked heavily several times to ward off the grogginess. 

“I like your lips.” He heard you say softly. 

“Hm?” he asked quietly. 

“Heart-shaped clouds. Pretty clouds.” He grinned, feeling a kaleidoscope swarm in his belly, then leaned into you and kissed your cheek. He watched as a smile swept across your lips and thought you looked like an angel, fast asleep.

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The next morning you feel like a brand new person. You stretch and realize Hoseok isn’t next to you. You sit up, and just as you’re about to call for him, he walks in with a beaming smile and a mug of ginger tea. He hands it to you as you make room for him to sit. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course. How are you feeling?”

“So much better! I’m glad it was just overnight. We have so much more to see!”

Hoseok clears his throat and looks toward the ground, “Do you happen to remember what you dreamt about last night?”

“Dream?” You think for a few seconds, “I don’t think I had any,” you lie, bringing the mug to your mouth. You did remember. However, you weren’t going to tell him you dreamt of his lips, soft and pillowy, pressed against yours. Or how his hands felt like heaven as they rested on your waist while his tongue moved slowly over yours. A heat was creeping up your neck from the recollection. 

“None at all?”

“Nope. Why?”

“No reason. I just thought I heard you say something in your sleep.” Hoseok snickers and hops off the bed.

“What? What did I say?” 

Hoseok sing-songs from the other room, “Just nonsense.”

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Today was a smidge warmer than the others, and for that, you were thankful because Hoseok was still dead set on taking a shikara ride on Dal Lake. With your suitcases in the trunk, the taxi made its way to Srinagar. You asked the driver about the weather and how cold it may be on the lake. He reassured you the boatmen would have blankets to help keep you warm. 

When you arrived, the scenic view took your breath away. The snow-capped mountains staggered along the horizon against an unblemished blue sky, towering over their reflection on the lake. Your suitcases were taken to a houseboat for courtesy storage, and you both set foot on the shikara—a beautiful wooden yellow boat with a half-bed on one side and a bench on the other. The cushion is covered in red velvet with a black floral print, and the boat’s roof has vibrant blue curtains draping down but drawn back elegantly so you can see the scenery. As you get comfortable among the cushions, the man hands you a rich red and gold-toned blanket. 

The man rows and speaks, “Welcome to the second-largest lake in the Kashmir valley. We call it the ‘Jewel in the crown of Kashmir’.”

“May I ask why?” you question.

“Well, not only is it an important source of fishing and water plant harvesting, but it’s also a beautiful, tranquil piece of nature. It sits against the backdrop of the gorgeous Himalayas.”

He continued to explain that people live in the houseboats lined along the bank. How the lake was usually bustling in the warmer months with floating markets and locals selling food and drinks. A few were working, but it wasn’t worth it without many tourists. He rowed to a houseboat with a shop where you bought hot tea and then navigated to a souvenir market where you bought a few trinkets for memories.

The guide continued his journey around the lake while you and Hoseok snapped pictures and awed at the beauty over and over. With the Himalayas in the background, the guide slows the boat to a stop and gestures toward a chest full of garments, traditional Kashmiri attire with authentic accessories. 

“Would you like to put some on for a picture?”

“Oh! Um it’s–” you begin, but the guide cuts you off.

“Honeymoon package, yes?” You and Hoseok look at each other and smile.

“Right…yes.” You reach for a magenta ghunghat with a gold embroidered border and drape it over your head, “Like this?”

“Yes, yes. Beautiful.” The guide takes a few shots at different angles and then commands, “Now kiss.”

“I’m sorry?!” You both bark but with smiles.

“Newlywed pose! You must kiss with this background.” The man gestures his hand around, emphasizing the beautiful scenery.

While he’s right about the scenery, you can’t help but wonder if he would be offended if you said there was a mistake. You’re not really newlyweds. You turn toward Hoseok, who is already grinning from ear to ear. Hoseok giggles and you can feel your body flush, even in the cold air. 

“It’s just a kiss,” Hoseok says calmly. The way the words and your name flow from his mouth is music to your ears. They float around your head and cause a dizzy spell as his lips creep toward yours. The subtle touch of his lips sends you into a freefall from the top of the mountain. Your heart shivers as he ignites a flame, thawing winter and bringing spring to life. 

The guide clears his throat, and Hoseok pulls away first. Just a kiss that has now set a fire within your heart. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

There was mostly small talk from Dal Lake to the airport and even less on the plane to Goa. You didn’t want to talk about your feelings, especially with the one who ignited them and probably didn’t feel the same. 

You watched episode after episode but had no idea what the story was because you were playing the kiss repeatedly in your mind. You tried to nap but were restless from the lingering tingle of that moment. Hoseok, on the other hand, was sound asleep. One more reason you knew he didn’t feel anything. 

Hoseok faked being asleep, shoving his feelings away and jamming them so far down they couldn’t threaten to escape in a confession right there in row seven. He would peek and steal glimpses of you, and when you had your eyes closed, he would trace his finger over his lips, craving to taste your strawberry lip balm again, yearning to feel– whatever that feeling was deep in his stomach when your mouth molded to his. 

The taxi ride to the beachfront hotel is full of excitement. Already the weather was hotter, and you could smell the salt in the air. You hung your hand out of the open window, making the slightest little movements to your fingers to let the wind carry your hand into ‘catching waves.’ Hoseok basked in your happiness and watched the wind breeze across your face and jostle loose strands of hair. 

Check-in to the hotel was smooth, and you were given yet another honeymoon suite, much like a villa. Although this time, you couldn’t complain. You felt like a liar but also spoiled and enjoyed every minute. This luxury villa has its own personal plunge pool surrounded by tropical plants and flowers. The lush lawn surrounding the pool and the gorgeous view of the sea from the verandah made the setting a romantic oasis. 

Staring out at sea, Hoseok’s hand brushes your lower back, sending chills down your spine. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks softly.

“You wanna just hang out here and adventure out tomorrow? We could swim and eat dinner. There’s still a few hours before sunset; maybe we could watch it from here?” You feel yourself rambling, but if you stopped, the feelings from earlier would surely emerge again. Your mind begins spiraling, wondering if staying in was a bad idea. Maybe out in public, you wouldn’t be nervous, you would be able to act normal. “Or–”

“I like that idea,” Hoseok quickly cements the plan to be together, alone, in your villa. 

Not much later, you’ve ordered a pitcher of a coconut-based cocktail to drink during your swim. Dinner and wine are set to be delivered before sunset. Music plays while Hoseok lays on an inflatable pool float, and you lay on a chaise to soak in some of the sun you’ve been dying to stain your skin. Twenty scorching minutes later, you’re ready to cool off. You reach for Hoseok’s cup and pour both of you another before setting the pitcher closer to the pool’s edge and make your way into the refreshing water. 

Hoseok has been watching from behind his sunglasses. The way the sun illuminates your skin and accentuates every curve. The barely there bathing suit covers just enough, letting his imagination go wild, too wild. An ache arises between his legs, and he groans before falling into the water to cool off and calm down. 

You walk over to Hoseok’s float, and he swims to meet you there. Handing him both glasses over the float, you dip into the water and then rest your arms on the other side. 

“What is on your agenda here, Seokie?”

“Mmmm, well, I thought you would just want to lay on the beach all day, so I didn’t actually plan anything. There’s water sports, some old monuments, and lots of clubs and parties. I think I saw something about a sunset cruise.”

“While all that sounds interesting…I am only interested in sun, sand, and saltwater! But, for you, my Seokie, I will make an exception for parties and maybe a cruise.” 

You raise your glass toward Hoseok, and he matches your gesture, clinking his glass against yours. You both chug back the contents, finishing the liquid. Hoseok takes the cups to the side of the pool and fills them again. 

“Let’s go sit in the little nook.” Hoseok nods toward the built-in bench. It’s so tranquil; you both are leaning back, eyes closed, with your arms resting on the stone surrounding the pool. Hoseok speaks first, “I kinda like when you call me your Seokie.”

Your heart gallops at the sound of his voice. Slowly, you open your eyes and turn your head, catching sight of his lips. Your bottom lip curls between your teeth, but as your eyes rise, something catches your attention over his shoulder: a not-so-cute gecko inches from his arm. 

“It’s a cute nickname, yeah? Can we switch seats? I think the sun is better where you are.” You tell a quick fib hoping to keep him calm. “I’ll go over you; just slide this way.” 

Hoseok obliges, and as you’re straddling his lap. His eyes can’t help but fixate on your chest. He lets out a huff of air which hits between your breasts, triggering goosebumps to rush over your skin. You ignore the sensation and cup some water in your hand to splash the reptile away, but Hoseok’s hand touches your leg lightly, drawing your attention. You look down at him with dreamy eyes. His candied hazelnut richness sticks to your soul and pulls your heart with its gooey sap. Your skin tingles as you recall the kiss on the lake while his other hand slowly slides up your other leg.

Then, the universe had other plans, changing time into slow motion. 

The gecko betrays you, moving just enough to attract attention. Hoseok jerks under you, squeals, and stands up, sending you back into the pool. As you swim back to the nook, Hoseok prances and yips his way back into the villa. 

You giggle and rise to your feet to step out and refill drinks. You call out while pouring the last of the cocktail mix, “Seokie, it’s safe!”

He peeks his head out of the cracked door, “You sure?”

“Yes, scaredy cat, come on.” 

Hoseok slowly walks out, watching where he steps, then takes the glass from you. “Dinner should be here soon. We should get cleaned up and go inside.”

“I wanna watch the sunset while we eat.”

“We can see it from the window. There are things out here.”

“I thought we were gonna do what I wanted since I endured the freezing cold and went snowboarding and got sick,” you whine.

Hoseok’s lips stretch in a straight line across his face, and his dimples make a full display. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, moving toward you to grab your hands with his. “For you, I will eat with the creatures.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff and try to pull away, but Hoseok doesn’t let go. You scrunch your eyebrows and search his face for a reason, but he only smiles with a gaze that caresses your soul. Hoseok seems like he wants to say something, so you wait; his mouth opens as the doorbell sounds.

“Food delivery.” Hoseok releases your hands and walks toward the door. You stand there for a second longer, trying to assess what just happened.

The food is brought in by multiple staff and laid out gorgeously on the dinette, and each dish has a tag placed next to it with a description. An oversized center plate has fish thali and a few smaller plates and bowls with rice, crab masala, butter-garlic calamari, vindaloo, and naan. They also placed dessert trays full of sweet bread with perad– or guava cheese– sweet turmeric cakes called patoleo, and a bowl of melted chocolate surrounded by coconut cookies. To make things even better, two bottles of alcohol that are popular in the area, coconut Feni and a rich Syrah wine from a local vineyard, are provided with the food.

The staff leaves and your stomach rumbles in the silence. Apparently loud enough for Hoseok to hear as well.

“Wow! You must really be hungry. I’ll make the plates; you pour the drinks.”

Time passes too quickly while eating on the verandah. The two of you have yet to run out of things to talk about, and this new adventure to India has just given you even more to discuss. 

Delicious food, full-bodied wine, and a sunset later, you take a dip in the pool one last time before heading to bed. It’s illuminated with soft purple lights, giving off a milky way appearance. Hoseok sets up the Lofi Bollywood playlist again, and you both float peacefully together. 

When the peppery syrah runs out, you’re both tipsy and a little tired from being in the sun for most of the day. You both have kept your distance, mostly just floating on the pool floats and admiring the star-studded sky. When you both decide to clean up and call it a night, you stumble inside after each other, laughing and pulling at one another to get to the shower first. 

Hoseok wins by a quick battle of rock, paper, scissors and is off to shower first. You take another gander at the food and do some picking before grabbing your clothes to change into. 

When Hoseok walks out with only a towel, your mind goes blank while your eyes fixate on a few drops of water beading along his v-line. He voices it’s your turn, and you quickly grab your clothes, beelining to the bathroom. Hoping the warm water would sober you up before bed was wishful thinking. When you step out to grab your towel, you lose your balance, bang into the wall, and start giggling to yourself. 

“You okay in there? Did you fall?”

“Nope! Just a little…bump. I’m fine!”

“Do you need…help?”

“No! I’m not dressed, Seok! Don’t come in!” You can feel your cheeks flush a hot crimson while you dry off. Why is his voice so sexy right now? You wrap the towel around you and look in the mirror, then tap your hands on your face a few times. The sound of music grabs your attention, so you snap out of it and reach for your clothes. Only to find there is just a T-shirt. Somehow you forgot underwear. You shake your head and put your shirt on, realizing it’s not yours. 

Well, this will be awkward. You open the door and scan the room for Hoseok, but he must be in the other room. Before he notices, you beeline to your suitcase to find your hairbrush, undergarments, and another shirt that’s not his. You find everything and turn to go back into the bathroom.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks from the threshold. You wince at being caught red-handed.

“I accidentally grabbed it! Sorry! I know you hate when people wear your clothes. I came out to get my shirt, and I will change.” You lift your hand to show your shirt and inch back to the bathroom, but something holds you back. Hoseok’s hand is around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“Let’s go dance.”

“Let me finish getting dressed.”

“Nope!” Hoseok pulls you into the other room, where he’s moved some furniture and made space for dancing. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he pulled you into him, taking the items from your hand and tossing them onto the nearby chair. That’s when you see you grabbed a lacey lavender thong instead of the boy shorts you usually wear when sleeping. Embarrassed, you go to hide them, but he keeps a firm grip.

“Seok, I need to finish getting dressed.”

“You’re dressed enough. Dance with me,” he whines, and you search his eyes for any hint of his mood. 

“You’re kinda cute when you whine,” you tease and bop his nose with your finger.

“And you’re kinda cute in my shirt.” 

His words take you by surprise, and you look away but his hand catches your chin and pulls your attention back to him. You look into each other’s eyes as he sways you back and forth. He smiles and you feel warmth bore into your skin. He removes the towel from your head and drops it to the ground. Your mind is already foggy from the wine, but now this– whatever this is– adds to the cloud. He raises your hand above your head, making you spin. You clutch at the hem of your shirt as it lifts, exposing the side of your upper thigh and buttcheek. Hoseok pulls you back into him, face to face, and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, maintaining eye contact. You’re dizzy; from the wine or the spin, maybe both. The music you forgot was playing stops abruptly, and you both stutter-step, clashing your feet together. 

“I guess we’re tipsy, huh?” he says just above your ear. “Maybe we should get to bed. We have to wake up early for the tour, right?” He hugs you tight, then walks toward the bedroom, leaving you standing there with your thoughts. Your body, hotter than the sun, almost collapses under your weak knees. 

Completely forgetting about your hair and undergarments, you follow in his footsteps. All of the lights are off save for the one on your side of the bed. Hoseok is waiting for you, covers lifted for you to get in. You sit on the bed and reach to turn the light out, then assume the position you’ve been sleeping in for days. As you scoot back into Hoseok, his arm rests just under your breasts, his hand sliding between your ribs and the bed. You can feel how the shirt has bunched under his arm, and the hem rests just above the bottom of your butt. 

Hoseok thinks about how close he was to kissing you again, feeling your lips rest on his. He can feel how doughy your breasts feel on his arm, and he’s fighting the urge to squeeze them in his hands. He imagines how they would fit perfectly in his palm, his fingers massaging into your flesh. He tilts his pelvis back a little, feeling a sensation between his legs, and he lets out a sigh. 

Hoseok’s breath tickles the back of your ear, sending a vibration down your spine, your back arches sending your ass into his half-hardened member. He pulls his lower half back from you and rests his forehead on your shoulder. 

“S–sorry, Seok.”

“Please be still,” he whispers.

Hoseok raises his head only for his wet lips to catch the skin on your neck. You gasp and stir again, sending his hips into a frenzy. Unable to ignore the feeling, he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. Your hips roll again, this time against a rock-hard Hoseok. He lets out a shaky breath, and his arm across your chest pulls you closer. 

“I want you,” he mutters along with your name against the crook of your neck before dusting your neck and shoulder with his lips. He pulls his arm from your chest and brushes the underside of your breasts. His hand traces your ribs and follows the curve of your body. He stops on your hip, digs his fingers into your flesh, then does the same to your breasts while slowly thrusting into your backside. He feels good. Too good. He pushes himself up onto his elbow and pulls you under him. 

It’s dark, but he still searches for your eyes when he places his hands on either side of your head, then lowers his body onto you. His lips, those beautiful lips, push onto yours and part them just enough for his tongue to swipe across yours. You follow his lead and press your tongue to his, your hand snaking up to his nape and the other dragging your nails down his back. Hoseok shivers and moans, moving one hand to your ass, pulling you into his throbbing manhood. He grinds against your aroused button and swallows the mewl that escapes your mouth. 

You feel euphoric, and part of you wants to go all in with Hoseok. The sober part realizes this may just be the alcohol speaking. You wouldn’t regret it, but what if he will? What if his flirty self isn’t thinking straight and is just being a man chasing his sexual desires in the moment? Hoseok lets go of your ass and moves his thumb against your core; he coats his thumb in your slick and uses it to slide against your nub with intense pressure and slow rubbing. Juicy lips wedge together between his tongue, languidly dragging it along yours.

“Wait, Seok. Wait,” you mumble against his lips breathlessly. He stills and meets your eyes. “May–maybe we should wait until we’re both completely sober.”

Hoseok passionately kisses you again, following an imaginary line down your jaw to your neck. He sucks the skin into his mouth gently. “Is that what you want?” His teeth graze your clavicle, then he nibbles and chuckles at your arching body. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

His weight is crushing you, much like the words– suffocating your senses– and there is no way out. There isn’t enough air to help you overcome the punch to the gut. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It sounds like something someone would say when they were just scratching that itch.

“I–I think it’s best,” your voice trails off like you have more to say, but you don’t know what else to say.

“Okay. You’re probably right.” He briefly stays on top of you, then slides off to your side. “I’m sorry if I crossed the line.”

“That’s not it… I don’t want us to regret anything we did while intoxicated.”

“Makes sense.” There’s a long pause before he continues, “Can I still use you as my body pillow?” 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 It doesn’t have to mean anything. Easy for him to say. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

The four days in Goa are going quickly, too quickly. You’ve mostly spent them relaxing on the beach, finding adorable cafes, and avoiding what happened and what was said the first night. Even though you said you only wanted to sunbathe and party, you made sure to experience the local culture. 

You walked a beautiful heritage tour through a place blending Portuguese and Indian traditions. The quaint streets were lined with traditional Portuguese-style homes in a palette of bold, bright colors—breathtaking preservation of heritage amongst modern development. 

One day also consisted of a bus ride to the jungle and trekking to a waterfall. The private tour guide told you the water had minerals like a natural spa where you could sit and relax to rejuvenate, but they forgot to mention the little fish that would surround you, and Hoseok’s scream was too embarrassing to stay.

Today was your last full day, and you were determined to soak up every last second you could in the sun. The morning was spent walking along the shoreline, and this afternoon was spent by the pool. You promised Hoseok tonight would be spent at the club because it was the last night to do so. He wanted to dance badly. 

You made sure to have enough time for a shower and a nap. The nap turned into another cuddle session that was quickly becoming your favorite way to sleep. The way Hoseok’s body molded to yours felt too good ever to let go. You were also growing accustomed to his warmth and how his lips would sometimes skim over your skin. But you kept a wall around your heart again, only thinking of it as a friendly snuggle.

It was time to get ready for the club, so you took your outfit into the bathroom. Hoseok gets dressed into his white button-down shirt and yellow shorts, then begins making pregame drinks, and you can hear him making little sounds while he concentrates. It made you recall a few nights ago; you heard little moans while his body subtly rutted into yours. You didn’t wake him or mention it because it was thrilling and made you want more. You wanted to take his hand and place it where you really needed to feel the friction... 

“Do you need help in there?” Hoseok says right outside the door.

You shook your head, looking in the mirror, wondering when you even got dressed. Your outfit was a khaki knit romper. It was backless save for the lace-up string to hold it in place. It looked perfect against your tanned skin with gold hoop earrings and three layered gold necklaces. Keeping your hands behind your back, you realize you need help tying it.

Holding the top, you opened the door with one hand behind your back. “I do, actually,” you swallow hard, noticing his bulged eyes, “can you –uh– tie it, please?” 

Hoseok couldn’t blink. His brain was malfunctioning, and his heart was tearing through his chest. He stumbled backward, then nodded his head yes. You turned slowly, and his eyes roamed every millimeter of your figure. The khaki color accentuated your tan, the perfect sun-kissed, silky skin. He tied the strings and noticed how the shorts ended just below your ass cheeks. He spun you around and looked at the front.

“Y–you can’t wear this,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Hm? Why not?” You turn toward the mirror, twisting, looking for something wrong.

“It’s basically see-through!” he scolds.

“I have pasties on…can you see them? Can you see my underwear?”

Hoseok feels like he’s going to have a cardiac episode. “No. Well, I mean–I– I don’t know. I’m not looking that hard.”

“Well, look! I need to make sure before we go out.”

He steps back again, and you feel naked under his gaze as you slowly turn, making sure everything is in place. 

“One bend or squat and your ass will be out.” 

“Who cares? Not like we’re going to see these people ever again.”

“Right. Okay, looks good. I’m just gonna pee before we go.” He walks into the bathroom and closes the door. 

Now you’re wondering if the outfit is too much. You walk into the bedroom, check yourself out, and decide you look hot and ready to party. Something else crosses your mind as you let your thoughts drift to the other night, how Hoseok raked his hands over your body. How you molded into him while your tongues did the tango. When one of his hands caressed your breast and the other sought to pleasure you? The excitement ends when you also recall, ‘It doesn’t have to mean anything’.

You snap out of it when you hear the bathroom door open, “Ready for the drinks?” he calls out. You both down some shots, quickly sip the cocktails, and then start walking to the club.

You both arrive at the club tipsy and giggly. The booming bass takes over your bodies, and you float rhythmically to grab a drink and then hit the dance floor. Dancing together feels good. His sparkling smile penetrates your heart like the sun’s rays penetrate the Earth’s atmosphere. Drunk off the excitement, and you find yourselves getting closer and closer. You’ve slowed from the beat and look up into his eyes, glossed over from bliss. He leans down as if to say something but the song changes.

He can’t stop his body from reacting, and he’s off to a new dance, showing off his skills… Jay has arrived. He finishes his drink, nudging you to do the same, then sets the empty cups on a nearby table. His sultry steps stalk toward you and turn you around, pressing himself against your backside. You gasp at the sudden movement but flow perfectly with him. His hands rest on your hips, fingers applying pressure to your hip bones. He grinds into you slowly, and you feel the slightest bulge. You push your ass into him and hear a slight hiss escape his mouth. His one arm snakes around your shoulders while the other hand firmly rests on your belly, holding you in place. He grinds into you again and brings his lips to your ear, “You look irresistible in this outfit.”

Your breath hitches, and your back arches away from him, causing your ass to press against him again. He moans your name softly, “Be careful, or we may have to call it a night.” 

Overwhelmed by impulsive thoughts and the cracks in the wall around your heart, you giggle and turn in his arms, “Maybe we should…get water? I’ll be right back.” You walk off the dance floor and head to the bar. 

You ask for ice while the bartender makes cups of iced water. You grab a cube and drag it along your clavicle to cool off; the water glistens on your skin. Once the bartender places your drinks in front of you, you turn to find Hoseok in the crowd before you start walking. 

When you finally spot the back of his yellow shorts, you smile and begin to turn toward the drinks when you see hands with hot-pink nail polish grasping Hoseok’s neck. You watch the hands play at his hairline and swear you hear his distinctive chuckle over the booming music. 

The sinking feeling in your stomach tells you to run away. You look back at the drinks on the bar and reach for your water. When the cup gets to your lips, you realize you’re trembling. The neon lights become dizzying, so you follow your gut and leave. 

Walking along the shoreline, shoes in hand, the sea laps at your feet, each impression erased. You stand still, facing the water, once a vibrant blue full of life, now slumbers in a dreamy black robe. The moon casts its light in a pathway, calling you to walk its passage to serenity. 

You step away from the water, find dry sand to sit on, and plop down onto it. The sand retreats into your shorts, but you don’t care. Your eyes stay fixated on the moonlit path until self-made salt water trickles down your cheek. 

You fell carelessly in love with someone that you’re not sure was even capable of doing the same. “Who was I kidding?” You speak softly to the moon, dig your feet further into the sand, and wrap your arms around your legs. 

Back at the club, Hoseok feels dehydrated from all the dancing and leaves the dance floor to find you. After two laps around the place and asking women outside the bathroom if you’re inside, he starts walking out. He thinks back to when he last saw you, going for water, and then he got distracted dancing. Not just dancing– dancing with another woman. “I’m an idiot!” Hoseok nearly sprints out of the club on a mission to find you.

Clouds slowly roll across the sky, obstructing the moon and the moonlit path vanishing. The shots from earlier have worn off quicker than you’d hoped, and it’s getting chilly sitting by the water with little clothes on. You brush the sand off your butt and legs, grab your shoes in one hand, wrap your arms around yourself, then start walking toward the villa. 

From a distance, Hoseok ardently calls your name. You turn toward his voice and watch as he races toward you. His body slams into yours, almost knocking you over, but his arms hold you tightly in place. 

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“The ocean was calling me. And you... You seemed a little preoccupied.” You step out of his hold. “Plus, seeing you dance like that with someone else– after saying– I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“Am I crazy, Hoseok? I know we both feel there’s more to this... more to us.”

“You’re not crazy. I feel it too. I–”

“You’re confusing, you know? You flirt with me all day but then do the same with other women. You’re all over me in bed and on the dance floor but then dance the same way with someone else. It hurts, and I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I’m an idiot, I know. But please, please let me fix this. I–” Hoseok stops talking and stares into your eyes, searching your soul for the words.

“You what? Want to have your cake and eat it too? I don’t want to be your toy.”

“I meant what I said the other night, granted it wasn’t the right timing, but I do want you–”

“Forget it, Hoseok! Let’s just pretend nothing happened and go back–”

“I don’t want that. I want you in more ways than just sex. If anything, this trip has brought us so much closer, and I can’t imagine not waking up next to you, and I don’t want it to end.”

Unsure of what to say or if you should believe him, he was the one who said it didn’t have to mean anything, and now he says this. Your eyes brim with tears as raindrops prickle your skin. Hoseok looks up at the clouds and scoffs at the inconvenience. The rain falls steadily, drenching the two of you and masking your tears. 

Hoseok grabs your hand and pulls you along while running back to the villa.

Neither of you say a word on the way back, yet your minds are not silent. When you enter the door, you gently slide off of Hoseok’s back and straighten your romper down. He turns to face you and runs his hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. He toes off his shoes, keeping his eyes on you, and then dashes for the bathroom coming back with a towel and robe.

“I wasn’t sure which one you may want.”

“Thank you,” you mumble.

Hoseok watches you sluggishly dry your hair as much as you can, then puts his hands on yours and takes the towel. He dabs your face, slowly moving down your body, removing as much water as possible from your satiny skin. When he’s finished at your feet, he looks up at you, eyes warm and inviting like a cup of coffee. You swear you can see hearts dancing in the richness of his irises. 

He drops the towel, removes his shirt, and stands before you. You can tell he’s nervous before his hand lands on your cheek, spreading his warmth into your skin. 

He holds your hands and rests his forehead on yours, “I made stupid decisions, but I promise you, I am stupid for you. I’m scared I ruined everything when in reality, I wanna be with you. More than friends, more than a hookup. I want to be your partner.”

“Seok–”

“I never should have said, ‘it didn’t have to mean anything’, because it would always mean something to me. I regretted the words the minute they came out but didn’t want to dig myself deeper.”

You pull away slightly to better see his face, attempting to find whatever answer your heart seeks. 

“Yes, I swear. I have wanted to confess my feelings to you for years–”

“Years!?” You swat at his chest and step back, but he doesn’t let you get far, pulling at your hips.

“I love our friendship and working with you. I was afraid my feelings would ruin what we had, but then it felt like you maybe had those feelings too. Instead of talking to you about it, I tried to hide it in other ways that ended up hurting you and almost lost you. I will never let that happen again.”

Hoseok leans in and presses his plump lips to yours, the air from his nose tickling your upper lip. You fuse your lips to his, and the kiss radiates your surroundings, the dark, damp room now ambient and forgiving. Your body molds to his as sweet tingles of butterflies escape the crumbling wall around your heart. Hoseok lifts you onto him with his lips still pressed to yours, and your arms wrap around his shoulders. He walks gingerly to the bed and lowers you down onto it. His mouth breaks away from yours and moves to your breasts, barely held in by the top of the romper. His tongue outlines the mounds as his hand feverishly runs along your thigh.

He murmurs your name, “Please be my partner…my lover?” He stills his hand and sprinkles kisses up to your neck. 

You giggle at the tickle, “Yeah, I’ll be yours, Seok.” You can feel his smile broaden against your skin before he lifts his head and looks at you.

“One more thing…a favor.”

“Hm?”

“Call me Jay when we’re in this kinda mood.”

“Okay?” Your curious tone prompts him for more.

“It turns me on, and I wanna hear it from your pretty mouth,” he coos before swiping your bottom lip with his tongue. 

Hoseok stands, eyes roaming your body, and pulls you up to do the same. His hand reaches behind you, untying the strap and letting the top of your romper loosely fall. The material sits on your hips before you push it down, letting it fall to your feet. Hoseok grins at the sight of your pasties, and you hide your face behind your hands. 

He tugs gently at your hands and pulls you into him, swaying into a dance. He kisses your forehead and then twists you, placing your back against his chest. Your body melts into him as his hands explore, and teeth nip at your ear. Hoseok begins to bend you forward, pressing your body into the mattress. You put your hands out to soften the fall onto the bed, and they slide above your head. Hoseok admires the sight before he lowers himself onto you, pressing his semi-hard cock into the crack of your ass and sliding a hand down your arm until his hand intertwines with yours. 

You lift your body, making him adjust so you can roll onto your back. Pulling his face into yours, you place soft kisses along his cheeks and jaw. He grinds against the thin cotton between your legs and squeezes your breast. You let out a slight noise that ignites his desire, and soon enough, his mouth is ravishing anywhere it can reach, stirring fire within you. 

“Mmm, Jay.” 

Hoseok stops abruptly at the words that escaped your lips. His forehead collapses against yours, “Say it again.” He peels the pasties off your nipples and pushes your breasts together, licking the crease between them. He sucks the skin into his mouth hard enough to leave his mark, then moves onto a nipple and nibbles lightly before swirling his tongue around it. He sucks it and releases it with a popping sound. You squirm under him as he does the same to the other breast.

“Fuck, Jay.” His body turns to jello– weakened by your whisper– falling limp on you. 

“It sounds better than I could’ve ever imagined.” He slides a finger into your underwear and pulls it off you. Kisses linger on your skin from your breasts to your stomach. His warm breath is on your thigh, and your body shivers under the heat. 

His mouth sweeps your folds, and he licks a long, unhurried stroke. Your legs shake, and your hands fly into his hair. His tongue flicks at your swelling nub as mewls escape your lips. 

“Jay, please.” 

He continues flickering his tongue and makes eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow. “Hmm?” The moan sends vibrations up your spine and a whine from your chest. You grab the sides of his head and steady him as you rock your hips against his face. He chuckles, sending your body into a frenzy. You moan his name repeatedly until you climax, dropping your hands, but he continues. You whine and wiggle out of his grasp when it becomes too much. 

Hoseok lets you come down a little before repositioning on top of you. You can feel his thickness against your leg, you push his underwear down until he takes it off. He kneels between your legs, and you watch as he pumps his cock a few times, eyes trained on you. He leans down with his hands on either side of you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Blissed out, you can only mumble a resemblance of a response. Hoseok laughs and an iridescent aura overtakes your body, giving you more energy to continue. 

“Can you handle a little more of Jay?” he quirks. You bite your bottom lip and nod your head. He eases into you; his cock drags along your walls, filling you deliciously. “Fuuu…so wet and tight.” He lulls, waiting patiently for you to adjust to him, and peppers soft kisses onto your mouth. 

His hips pull back slowly and gently push back into you. His tongue pushes in the same movement against yours. He swallows all of the moans slipping from your throat. Lewd sounds are coming from each movement, and he groans, “Do you hear that? I’m gonna cum so fast.”

Hoseok holds himself up off of you and quickens his pace. Your tits bounce with each thrust, along with little sounds leaving you; he’s close. 

You hiss and moan his name again as you hit another high. When he feels your walls throbbing against him, he lets go, not stopping until every drop is out of him. He rests on you, staying buried in your warmth. 

Hoseok nibbles along your shoulder, then bestows tenderhearted kisses up your neck, landing on your mouth. You drink him in like a refreshing iced tea on a hot summer day. 

He mutters your name against your neck, “That was even more amazing than I’d ever imagined...and trust me that's been a lot.” His smile against your skin radiates happiness into your bones, a feeling overwhelmingly pleasant. 

“Mmhmm. I think India is my new favorite place. It's beautiful here, even the cold part, and the memories are enough for a lifetime," you pause for a moment, your fingers combing through his fluffy hair, "and I really like this too."

Hoseok suppresses a laugh, letting out a puff of air, “Me too, but it's only my favorite because I'm with you.” He kisses your shoulder and finds one of your hands to wrap his fingers around yours.

The two of you lay there, one hand interlocked and the other tracing each other’s bodies, gentle kisses on exposed skin, letting this new experience seep into your core memories. Like traveling to a new place for the first time and becoming deeply smitten with a new, beautiful place. 

You look at Hoseok’s face, his eyes closed and soft features aglow, even in the dark. His smile is your favorite sight and his laugh is your favorite sound. He is easily your favorite adventure. 

☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺☺

Namaste Collab Masterlist

Glossary:

Ladoos- traditional Indian dessert is made with different types of flour that are mixed with sugar and shortening, then shaped into balls.

Sweet boondi- fried gram flour balls soaked in flavored sugar syrup. 

Kaju katli- a cookie-like Indian sweet made from a dough consisting largely of ground cashew nuts; the name translates as "cashew slice."

Shikara- a wooden, flat-bottom boat

Ghunghat- head covering or headscarf

Vindaloo- Indian curry dish, which is originally from Goa, based on the Portuguese dish

Fish thali- complete meal consisting of Rice, fish curry, fried fish, and veggies

Feni- a liquor indigenous to the state of Goa, India. The two most popular types are cashew and coconut.

[hikkikoaubrey]

A global call to end all genocide in Gaza

Hello, wanted to let you guys know about the global strike for Palestine happening tomorrow (March 2nd specifically), this is very important. We should all unify together so our voices can be heard, so we can make a difference.

Try not to focus on posting about your interests and fandom stuff tomorrow, instead you should focus on spreading awareness however you guys can. Even if it may seem hard to some don't worry, this will only be for a day and you'll be able to go back to posting things you want tomorrow, I'll ultimately be worth it I can promise you that.

Here are some additional links that I think might help: (and I will post more about this tomorrow)

(20) sun! on X: "please actually avoid posting about interests tomorrow. its just one day u can save all ur fandom posts for the 3rd and focus on posting to spread awareness. there is literally no excuse for not being able to do this" / X (twitter.com)

(20) Megs!!🍉 on X: "Also use March 2 to talk about other oppressed nations!! Such as DRC, Sudan, Armenia, Ukraine, Hawai’i, West Papua, Kashmir, Lebanon, Syria, Yemen, etc!!!! LIBERATION FOR ALL!!!!" / X (twitter.com)

(20) double L system :3 on X: "its tomorrow btw if u survived 2 weeks of strikes you've got to be able to do it for a day JUST ONE DAY and we have to push harder last week wasn't the best the time before was better so we (or atleast I) have to make it up for last time ONLY PALESTINE AND OTHER-" / X (twitter.com)

(20) Alison Turjancik 🍁🍉🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿🇳🇴 on X: "TOMORROW IS A GLOBAL SHUT DOWN — DO NOOOOT POST YOUR INTERESTS/HOBBIES/ROLE ANNOUNCEMENTS/ VO PROMO ⚠️ I will be blocking WHOEVER I know that I see posting interests/voice over promo tomorrow. Because if you can’t even wait A DAY? I don’t give a shit who are you in my life 🚫🍉 https://t.co/dZ6kMb0SpU" / X (twitter.com)

[leupagus]

In my head I'm calling this "its glory is all moonshine"

In which the most feared agent of the IMF requests uppies.

~~~

'Just get in the goddamn car, you fun-sized pain in my ass,' Luther bellowed. Ilsa tried not to flinch, but Luther had an impressive set of lungs. He'd been accepted to the Manhattan School of Music to sing opera, she'd heard, but had elected to attend MIT instead. What a different world it would be if Luther Stickell had gone onto the stage.

She and Benji and Ethan would probably be dead, for a start.

They were standing (or sitting, in Ethan's case) outside the Sir Ganga Ram Hospital in New Delhi, where they'd all been unceremoniously deposited following the mission in Kashmir three days ago. Ilsa had a somewhat disoriented memory of the journey here — 'Spot of concussion, I should think,' a cheerful round-faced doctor had told her — but the last day and a half was clear enough: dozing in one of the chairs in Ethan's room, playing pinochle with Benji at a nearby cafe, arguing with Luther about which season of Call the Midwife was best while they floated lazily in the hotel pool.

'You're not really selling me on this,' Ethan was saying, rolling his wheelchair back and forth. 'The last time I got in a car with you, you drove us off a cliff.'

'You drove a helicopter off a cliff the other day,' Ilsa reminded him. Ethan made the face that she was rapidly associating with him admitting the point but being deeply unhappy about it.

Luther, meanwhile, had finished shoving the last of their things into the boot. 'Do I have to carry you bridal-style? Because I've done it before and I will do it again.'

Ethan gave him a long look, then lifted his arms. 'What did your daughter used to call it?' he asked. 'Uppies?'

'Fuck you, Hunt,' Luther said, stomping over to the car. 'I'm driving.'

'Do I get shotgun?' Ethan called after him.

'Up your ass, maybe.'

Ilsa glanced over at Benji. 'Are they always like this?'

'Usually worse, I'm afraid,' he muttered back.

'I thought they were just catty with each other because of — you know, the job.'

'No, he's been verbally abusing me for almost twenty-two years,' Ethan said, absently tilting his wheelchair until Benji, impatient, hip-checked the back of it and sent Ethan crashing back down to all four wheels. 'And this guy's been physically abusing me for thirteen.'

'Twelve,' Benji corrected. 'And genuinely, Ethan, please remove thine arse from the wheelchair and get in the car.'

'You haven't told me where we're going,' he said, tilting again. Ilsa was almost impressed by how deeply irritating he was. Three days ago he'd been half-dead on that mountain; now he was trying to get his own colleagues to kill him.

'America,' she informed him, righting his chair a bit more gently than had Benji; Ethan still looked outraged at the presumption. 'You are, according to the doctors, in need of rest and relaxation.'

'I don't know what you've heard about America, but it's not a very restful place right now,' Ethan observed.

Benji made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, like he'd swallowed an eggroll sideways. 'Please, for the love of all that is holy in this world, get in.'

'Well, since you used the magic word,' said Ethan, levering himself upright. It looked painful and ill-advised. 'Am I supposed to be doing this?' he asked, wobbling slightly.

Ilsa got under his right arm as Benji grabbed for his left. 'We'll have to ask Luther when the last time you asked if you were supposed to be doing something,' she said, and his soft chuckle was warm in her ear.

'I get no respect,' he murmured, then complained loudly when she shoved him into the backseat and took shotgun for herself.

~~~

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[readingsquotes]

"Last November, the Harvard Law Review made the unprecedented decision to kill a fully edited essay prior to publication. The author, human rights lawyer Rabea Eghbariah, was to be the first Palestinian legal scholar published in the prestigious journal.

As The Intercept reported at the time, Eghbariah’s essay — an argument for establishing “Nakba,” the expulsion, dispossession, and oppression of Palestinians, as a formal legal concept that widens its scope — faced extraordinary editorial scrutiny and eventual censorship.

When the Harvard publication spiked his article, editors from another Ivy League law school reached out to Eghbariah. Students from the Columbia Law Review solicited a new article from the scholar and, upon receiving it, decided to edit it and prepare it for publication.

.......

The apparent intervention by the board of directors surprised some Columbia Law School faculty. 

“I don’t suspect that they would have asserted this kind of control had the piece been about Tibet, Kashmir, Puerto Rico, or other contested political sites,” Katherine Franke, a professor, told The Intercept.

“When Columbia Law Professor Herbert Weschler published his important article questioning the underlying justification for Brown v. Board of Education in 1959 it was regarded by many as blasphemous, but is now regarded as canonical. This is what legal scholarship should do at its best, challenge us to think hard about hard things, even when it is uncomfortable doing so.” 

The article significantly expands on Eghbariah’s argument for Nakba as its own legal concept in international law. The scholarship is aimed at creating a legal framework for the Nakba similar to genocide and apartheid, which were concretized as crimes in response to specific atrocities carried out by Nazi Germany and white minority-ruled South Africa, respectively. 

[ladywaffles]

o dearest lamblord: ilsa faust + either 3 or 33 from the hand holding list, please! and feel free to dial up the angst if mood strikes >:)

thank you darling :D i hope i delivered >:)

spoilers for mi7 under the cut!

cold hands in warm hands + bandaging the other's hand and not quite letting go

send me a list, a number, and a mission: impossible pairing!

Of all the people to come to their rescue at the eleventh hour, she never suspected it would be Brandt.

He didn’t like her, from what she could tell of the few interactions she had with him, but he respected Ethan and had more connections than the IMF would care to admit from his time working under Hunley at the CIA.

It’s Brandt, of all people, who comes to the rescue via courier and provides them another safe house, where they’re able to spend a few precious hours licking their wounds in Venice.

Ethan and Benji leave her on the bridge. They usher Grace away to rest under Luther’s watchful, wizened eye. Ilsa waits another full hour before she stumbles away like a tourist drunk on la dolce vita; her appearance is certainly messy enough for it, at this time of night.

It’s not until she’s stumbling into a sinking bell tower that she collapses, back pressed against an aging wood door as she cries. Not twelve hours ago, she was smiling on a rooftop in Venice with Ethan at her side, the picture of a perfect couple on a European tour.

Now, she’s losing him again.

“Hey, hey? Are you okay?”

Hands on her shoulders, fingers under her chin. Probes looking for broken bones or bleeding wounds, a flash of concern in green eyes far too familiar with the sensation.

Ilsa falls into Ethan’s arms and lets him take the lead. He guides her to a plush, if somewhat dusty, settee and sits down with her.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“I’m fine,” she sighs, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m fine, I’m okay, I just—I hate this.”

Ethan smiles sadly. “I know.”

In those horrible hours in Kashmir while they waited for Ethan to wake up, Julia took her aside and told her to beware of Ethan Hunt.

“He’ll break your heart and smile while doing it,” she said fondly. “And he’ll have no idea what he’s done, because the only thing he wants is the best for you, even if it means shattering his own heart into pieces in the process.”

“You sound like you speak from experience,” Ilsa replied.

Julia smiled the same smile that Ethan wears now, and it’s no wonder they were married, because they’re two sides of the same coin. “Why do you think I let him go? Ethan’s too good for the likes of this world. He loves so much, and so deeply, and he doesn’t realize that he wears his heart on his sleeve, because that’s just how he lives. Take care of him, please, but for you,” she trailed off and squeezed Ilsa’s hand. “I’ve been in your place before. I know what it’s like. Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

“You’re freezing.” Ethan wraps his coat around her, then his arms, holding her as she stops shaking.

“Lying on a bridge in the middle of the night in Venice will do that to you,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat. “Where’s Benji?”

“He went to check in with Luther and Grace. He’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Ethan takes her hand, and he was right; he’s warmer than she is right now, and holding his hand feels like walking into a warm home, with a fire going and dinner on the table. Her knuckles are skinned and red from her fight with Gabriel. Ethan reaches over and grabs a black pouch out of his bag, then pulls out gauze, antiseptic, and a topical antibiotic.

He carefully cleans each scrape on her hand, sure not to miss even the smallest of nicks, then dots ointment on them and dresses the wounds. He doesn’t let go of her for a moment, working with only one hand at a time. It takes much longer, but they both know the sands in the hourglass are running low, and these may be the last moments they share together for the foreseeable future. She won’t begrudge him this.

They stay wrapped around each other until the sun starts to peek above the canals and Benji returns. Time waits for no man, not even the mythical Ethan Hunt.

It’s time to say goodbye. Time for her to die again and run to the farthest corners of the globe while Ethan, and Benji, and Luther, the closest thing she has to a family left, risk life and limb to do what she could not, to stop Gabriel and prevent the next world war.

“I—” she starts, but the words get caught in her throat.

I’m sorry.

I wish we had more time.

I’m coming with you.

“I’ll see you again,” Ethan promises.

She steadfastly blinks away her tears. “You better hurry, or you’ll miss that plane,” she tells him.

It’s a terrible joke, a horrible thing to say when her name is what it is, but it makes the corners of Ethan’s mouth turn up just a smidge, and that makes it all worth it.

He squeezes her hand one last time. Benji is waiting for him in the speedboat already. He needs to go and save the world now, and she can’t go with him.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

And then he’s gone.