#idol Sweden

[traavailler]

Nyo!Sweden Nordic Idol Group Prototype!!!

[thenerdysimp]

Idol (series)

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summery: Y/n is a 19 (going on 20) year old girl who finally got the courage to apply to Idol with the hype and love from her boyfriend Franco.

Authors note: This series is based and play out in Swedish Idol, so it’s mentioned that they actually speak Swedish and that Y/n is from a city in Sweden called Lund, but for the purposes of the writing it will all be written in English.

Also, when the real competition starts in the program it’s 14 competitors. Since I’m making up a completely new person I’m gonna pretend like the first person that left never competed. Which means I’m gonna be changing around a little in who’s leaving when. Everyone is gonna be leaving in the same order but one week earlier in this than in the real competition. (The program will always be one week ahead of the story since I need to know who’s leaving)

And with Franco, he will be mentioned more in some chapters and less in some. I also want Y/n to interact with the people around her which means there will be a lot of those interactions every chapter. Just so nobody thinks that I’m forgetting our love Franco, absolutely not. He’s a very supportive boyfriend in this!

And yes, all names mentioned are actual people in this years Swedish idol.

Last but not least, the song she sings in that chapter is going to be tagged if anyone wants to listen to it!

Hope you like it!

Idol series - official playlist

Character introductions

Chapter 1 (pilot) - The auditions

Chapter 2 - End auditions day 1: chorus line

[baesuzypics]

[190610] pt 1. Bae Suzy in Denmark🇩🇰 / Sweden🇸🇪

she's so girlfriend material💓

[thestellarsage]

A commission I ordered from practicepotato.

It’s Sumire Heanna wearing a dress based on the prinsesstårta, or Swedish princess cake. It’s a cute dessert, and the color matches her motif perfectly. Also, happy birthday to the galaxy girl!

[405blazeitt]

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A post shared by 香取慎吾 (@katorishingo_official)

posting this in the seventeen tag because i haven't seen it there and i feel like their fans may like to know that this photo exists if they didn't already

they're collaborating with katori shingo (SMAP/Atarashiichizu) to make the theme song for kusanagi tsuyoshi's (also SMAP/chizu) upcoming tv drama

[at1r1-p4rk3r]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AVICII!!

RIP my guy, fly high

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Janet Jackson - If 1993

"If" is a song by American singer-songwriter Janet Jackson from her fifth studio album, janet (1993). Jackson co-wrote and co-produced "If" with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, with Harvey Fuqua, John Bristol and Jackey Beavers receiving songwriting credits for the sampling of their composition "Someday We'll Be Together", performed by Diana Ross & the Supremes. "If" was released as the album's second single on July 13, 1993. It fuses various genres, including rock, trip hop and industrial music, with elements of new jack swing and hip hop.

It received a BMI Pop Award for Most Played Song and was also ranked among Slant Magazine's "Best Singles of the 1990s" list. It peaked at number four on the US Billboard Hot 100 and was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America. It reached number three on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart and peaked atop the Hot Dance Club Play chart. It peaked at number 3 in Canada and 14 in the UK. It reached the top ten of Sweden, the Netherlands, and New Zealand, also peaking within the top twenty in Australia.

The accompanying music video for "If", directed by Dominic Sena, portrays voyeurism, sensuality and intense choreography, while depicting technology that was unavailable at the time, such as touch screens and web cameras. The video received various accolades, including Best Female Video and Best Dance Video at the MTV Video Music Awards, and a Billboard Award for Dance Clip of the Year. It was also voted the second best female video of the decade by Idolator.

"If" received a total of 63,1% yes votes! Previous Janet Jackson polls: #146 "Got 'til It's Gone".

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing! 

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜  → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (soon) →

When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence. 

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine. 

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you. 

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1��@ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

[solaris-amethyst]

💫Classroom shenanigans💫

✨Pairing: Yunho x gn!reader ✨Prompt: The two of you are teachers who are bonding over their classes in the teachers room ✨Word Count: 0.9k ✨Genre: fluff, non idol au, slight humor (?), teachers au, secretly married au ☀️Authors Note: All I can say is that I remember the horse is a fruit debacle and had to bring it into this one shot! Question was that a thing all over the world or just in Sweden way back then??

"Do your kids decide that it would be a good idea to argue with you about the fact that horses does not exist and that they're fruits?" Yunho asks as he sit down with his coffee mug in the sofa looking absolutely exhausted.

"No they don't. Is this something I should be worried that my class will pick up and start arguing with me about?" You groan, not liking the idea of your class of thirty eleven year olds arguing passionately about this.

"Someone brought it up and when I told him that no, horses are in fact real and an animal he just said noooo they're not real and they're actually fruits. The whole class just agreed with him and when I showed them videos of horses they said they were animated?!" He vented before taking a big sip of his coffee.

"If it makes you feel better my students seriously thought that the moon was made out of cheese. One said she had seen it in a movie and the others nodded along. Guess which movie they were referencing." You said glancing at Yunho who shrugged, not knowing what movie they could have possibly thought of.

"Wallace and Gromit, A Grand Day Out!" You exclaimed causing your colleague to laugh almost getting coffee everywhere in the process.

"No way."

"Yes way!"

He laughs again shaking his head, he goes to take another sip of his coffee but can't due to the giggles escaping him as he clearly thinks about what you just told him.

"I love my kids but sometimes they exhaust me beyond reason." You admitted thinking back to all of the times they have done things to test your patience.

"Yeah I love my kids as well, they're kind and mean well and I have to say their passion truly is something else." Yunho said whilst patting the seat next to him, wanting you to sit next to him.

You gladly moved over to him. He wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder casually, his hand gently caressing your shoulder, tracing small patterns.

"Do you think they've figured it out yet?" You asked curiously glancing towards Yunho

"That we're actually married? No. Absolutely not. I got questioned today actually why I hadn't taken you on a date yet." He confessed, the tips of his ears turning slightly red.

"Wait, really??" You turned towards him in shock "They're really asking you that?"

"Yeah, your kids don't?" He looked at you with a smile causing you to melt a little bit.

"I mean they do tell me why we would be the perfect couple. Ever since I helped you when we went on that trip together with our classes they've been obsessed with telling me how we should get together and that there definitely is a spark between the two of us." You told him with a chuckle

"Well they're not wrong about the fact that there is a spark between us both." He said giving your cheek a light kiss causing your face to heat up, you quickly turn around and give his cheek a kiss as well smiling when Yunho get that bashful and shy smile on his face, his eyes avoiding eye contact as his cheeks grow rosy from the intimate display as if he hadn't been the one to initiate the first kiss.

"I cannot wait to see the stunned look on all of their faces once we tell them we're actually married." He says shyly causing you to take a hold of his hand which is still on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"I'm surprised none of them have noticed we wear similar wedding rings you know. Some of my kids have mentioned they think it's pretty and I think someone said it was similar to yours but none clocked that it was an actual wedding ring." The two of you sat in silent for a while, enjoying each other's presence. Today was a rather calm day and the two of you had been lucky enough to not have recess duty today meaning you could sit in the teachers room enjoying each other's company. Yunho had eventually put away his cup of coffee so he could bring both his arms around you capturing you in a relaxing hug.

"When do you have your last class today?" He murmurs quietly

"At 15:00, but I am staying until 16:30 to plan my next few lessons for the class. What about you?" You look up at him from your position in the hug.

"Yeah me too. Can't wait for the day to be over so I can take you out on a dinner date." He says giving your head a light kiss.

"Mhmmm I can't wait to see the place you have picked out for us to eat at. You always do such a good job at picking out restaurants." You murmur quietly closing your eyes as you lean back against Yunho.

"Take a nap. I'll wake you up a little bit before our classes start again love." Yunho says giving you another kiss on your lips before picking up a blanket on the sofa to wrap the both of you up in.

"Thank you Yunho. I love you." You whisper as sleep takes over you and the last thing you hear is Yunhos fond voice whispering a soft I love you too.

[woso-dreamzzz]

The Teens

Teenage Dirtbag

Dirtbag -> From Teenage Dirtbag and Teenage Dirtbag II -> Norwegian -> Ingrid's little sister -> Vincent Van Gogh the cat 🐈 -> Artist

Head in the Clouds

Mcdreamy -> From Head in the Clouds and Head in the Clouds II -> English/Spanish -> Fries the ferret and Ham Sammy the Hamster 🐹 -> Former Chelsea Academy Player -> Barcelona Professional Player -> Striker -> ❤️ Sniper

Proud

Sötnos ->From Proud, Proud II, Proud III and Proud IV -> Swedish -> Asexual -> Aromantic -> Magda and Pernille's daughter -> Former Linköping Academy Player -> Former Arsenal Professional Player -> Bayern Munich Professional Player -> Sweden National Team Player -> Centre Forward

New Girlfriend

Pumpkin -> From New Girlfriend and New Girlfriend II -> English -> Lucy's daughter -> Lara Croft, Princess Zelda, Clementine and Ezio Auditore the mice 🐁 -> Future Game Developer

Wiped Out

Klumpig -> From Wiped Out -> Swedish -> Frido's cousin -> Brick the Guinea Pig 🐹 -> Barcelona Professional Player -> Sweden National Team Player -> Left Winger

Sisters

Hermana -> From Sisters -> Spanish -> Irene's Sister-in-Law -> Barcelona Professional Player -> Centreback

Leaving

Menor -> From Leaving and Leaving II -> Spanish -> Alexia's little sister -> Tennis Player

Icy

Tontos -> From Icy -> Norwegian -> Toast the bearded dragon 🦎 -> Former Brann Professional Player -> Barcelona Professional Player -> Norwegian National Team Player -> Right Winger -> The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Nagging

Mignon -> From Nagging and Nagging II -> French -> Former Olympique Lyonnais Academy Player -> Barcelona Professional Player -> French National Team Player -> Attacking Midfielder

Foster

Chipmunk -> From Foster -> English -> Beth and Viv's foster daughter

Different

Clover -> From Different -> Irish -> Katie's daughter -> Future Wildlife Photographer -> Dyspraxia

Prodigy

Sniper -> From Prodigy -> English/French -> Former Chelsea Academy Player -> Olympique Lyonnais Player -> Centreback -> ❤️ Mcdreamy

Idol

Cielo -> From Idol -> English -> Former Bristol City Player -> Barcelona Player -> Playmaking midfielder

[heartbreakprincewille]

Erik is a metaphor for the Monarchy

This season has given me so much to think about Erik and Wilhelm's idolization of Erik, and how it plays a dual role in Wilhelm's arc as a character.

I think Erik represents Wilhelm's motivation to carry forward the legacy of an institution which is slowly crumbling in its relevance (in the fictional Sweden atleast, I have no idea about the geopolitical scenario of the real-life monarchy in Sweden). Yes, Wilhelm does come from a lineage of a family relevant in history, but not only he is too young to understand that burden but he is also someone who does not feel a personal connection with that burden, unlike August(which ironically also stems from his love for his father). But he does feel that personal connection to Erik, not only because they are brothers but also Erik seems to be the only one Wilhelm can fully be vocal about his thoughts until he meets Simon. Erik is what separates Wilhelm from that burden of legacy and responsibilities.

But then Erik dies. Erik's death not necessarily represents the death of the monarchy, but it's still the death of the stability that the system thrives on. Royals want everything in control, and we can see that a lack of control runs everything berserk in that system. Erik's death is the beginning of the legacy weighing down on Wilhelm in full force, how the monarchy is just a system that thrives in perpetual succession and does not care if a spare fills the shoes of an heir unwillingly. He is expected to mould himself in the image of Erik, and the personal connection Wilhelm lacked with the Monarchy takes the shape of Erik in his mind- he believes that he is doing good to Erik's memories if he steps up as a suitable Crown Prince, but in the end, he's just catering to the system, not Erik. Even if the system is full of lies and secrets and he is forced to part ways from his authentic self.

But then he realizes that he does not want to part ways with himself, and how he stands apart as an individual when he is with Simon. Trying to get Simon back was also an attempt to reclaim his individuality, and the more he tried to gain everything back by the easiest way possible, the more he lost Simon and got pushed to the deep end. The Monarchy still loomed on the horizon, he still wanted to uphold Erik's memory by complying with the mould his mother and the Royal Court has been preparing for him. But when he gets Simon's love back, he also gets back his individuality, and how it leads to an epiphany only his free self could have made in his speech.

The illusion reigns supreme even in his relationship with Simon, because Wilhelm thought that he can be a Crown Prince and Simon's boyfriend at the same time, but the more they progressed with the burden together, it became clear that what Wilhelm wants to be is at clear odds with the system he is being prepared for.

Then the illusion shatters with August's confession. It's utterly heartbreaking that Erik and his homophobic actions put deep cracks in Wilhelm's illusion because in the end, he was still his brother. But he will forever remain scarred by the possibility that maybe Erik could have not accepted his individuality and his love for Simon. His first safe haven he found as a child, and which continued to be one when Wilhelm's grief became too painful, all shattered by a revelation he had no answers to. And suddenly all the comparisons with his older brother became a suffocating chain around his head, and he explodes in a rage of fury to his parents.

Erik was not only a literal figurehead of the institution, but he was also a phantom manifestation of the Monarchy for Wilhelm's character. The ever-present apparition of a system he does not thrive in.

[whencyclopedia]

Viking Prophecy: The Poem Völuspá of the Poetic Edda

The Völuspá (Old Norse: Vǫluspá) is a medieval poem of the Poetic Edda that describes how the world might have come into shape and would end according to Norse mythology. The story of about 60 stanzas is told by a seeress or völva (Old Norse: vǫlva, also called spákona, foretelling woman) summoned by the god Odin, master of magic and knowledge. According to this literary text, the beginning of the world was characterized by nothingness until the gods created the nine realms of Norse cosmology, somehow linked by the World Tree, Yggdrasil.

At the same time, the fate of everything was set in stone by a group of seeresses. In the very beginning, two families of gods were involved in a war, ending with a truce and a wall around their divine citadel of Asgard. However, they would not live in peace forever because the universe has been doomed since the very moment of its creation. Every god has a specific enemy with whom they will do battle and many will be slain, including the chief god Odin.

Context

The Northmen of the 8th or 9th century CE whom we usually call Vikings did not really have any written sources for their religion. They carved some images in stone, they made some wooden idols, and they rather recited poems about what they thought the world was like. A few centuries after the age of these daring seamen, traders, and explorers, some Icelanders wrote down such poems remembered from ancestors. This collection of poems is called the Edda, and it is our most precious source of information about what the myths of the Northmen might have looked like.

It is written in Old Norse, the language people used to speak in Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark up until the 15th century CE. These poems are found in two manuscripts, the Codex Regius (King’s book) and another book called the Hauksbók, but the order of the stanzas, the groups of four lines making up the poems, seems more logical in the first book. The first poem of the collection is the Völuspá, meaning the prophecy of the völva. Snorri Sturluson, a 13th-century CE Icelandic scholar, also wrote a version of these tales, quoting much of the poems in his book. The version he knew, however, seems different, indicating that the poems of the Edda were very popular among the Vikings.

Continue reading...

[thenerdysimp]

Chapter 1 (Pilot)

The auditions

Words: 2,5k

Warnings: None, only potential spelling errors,

Series masterlist

It was quite early on a spring day when you arrived for your audition. It wasn’t due until in a few hours but you wanted to be there early so you could meet some of the others there but also so you could feel it all in.

Your boyfriend Franco was fortunate to be free from racing just in time for this, so he had come with you as support and of course as your personal hype man. He was one of the main reasons why you applied, he loved to hear you sing and he was always in awe. He was almost shocked when you first told him that you’d never been on stage before. With your voice he was convinced that you would’ve competed in something like this before.

More and more people were dropping in as time went on. After being there for about an hour a guy came up to you, he reached his hand out and introduced himself in Swedish. “Hi! I’m Lukas. I just saw that you had an audition number on and I wanted to invite you to maybe play some cards while we wait?” He said. You took his hand shaking it, “Hello Lukas, I’m Y/n! And I’d love to!” He smiled at you, “Great! Me and a group other people are sitting over there, feel free to come over!” He told you as he pointed to a table with a few other people also wearing audition numbers. As he turned to walk away Franco tapped your arm lightly, “What did he say?” He asked curiously. You smiled at him, “He asked if we wanted to play cards with that group over there.” You told him pointing to the group from where you sat. He turned his head to look in the direction you were pointing, then turned back to you, “But I don’t understand Swedish amor.” Your smile widened as you stood up from your seat, “That’s okay, I’ll translate. We can play together!” You told him before taking his hands in yours and pulling him up from his seat as well.

You dragged him with you through the crowded room over to the group at the table. When you reached them you stopped and gave a little wave to the group before introducing yourself to all of them, “Hi everyone, I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Franco” you said as you pointed to him standing beside you. Everyone said their hellos back before Lukas spoke up, “Oh I didn’t say hello to you before I’m sorry about that.” He said, still speaking Swedish, not knowing Franco couldn’t understand him, he looked at you silently asking for help, “He said that he’s sorry for not saying hello to you before” you explained calmly. “Aha, thank you mi amor” he said before turning to Lukas and reaching his hand out to him, “Sorry about that, I don’t understand Swedish. But it’s all good!” He said as Lukas took his hand. “Oh I didn’t know” Franco smiled at him, “It’s okay, you couldn’t have known.”

After that interaction you and Franco sat down at the table with them and everyone started playing cards together. A little while later Lukas got called away to film outside, when he then came back inside he walked past you quickly announcing that he was first to go sing in front of the jury. You turned around slightly to give him a fist bump on the way, “Good luck! Go get that ticket!” You said smiling at him, he gave a smile back as he saluted and walked away.

The group around the table continued playing cards until Lukas came back out jumping and waving around a golden ticket. Immediately everyone started applauding him, when you heard the commotion you turned around and saw the scene. You joined in to applaud him as he walked over to the table to high five everyone. “Congratulations! What did you sing?” You asked him. He walked around the table getting congratulated by everyone, “I did lose control by Teddy Swims.” He answered with a wide smile. “Oh that’s a tough one! You must have done that good! How does it feel? The first one to get a golden ticket this year.” You said looking at him, “Oh my god, it feels amazing! What song are you going to do?” He asked, stopping beside you. You looked up at him and answered, “I’m going to sing ruin my life by Zara Larsson.” He leaned forward against the table, “That is also a good one, I’m gonna have to stay for that. I need to know if you get a ticket or not.” He said, “also, I completely forgot to ask, how old are you?” He added. You turned to him to have a proper conversation, “I’m 19, turning 20 later this year!” You answered happily, “and you?” He sat down beside you, ”I’m 23” he took a little pause before switching to English and asked Franco, “and you? How old are you?” He asked. Franco lifted his gaze from his phone that he’d been on while you were talking. He put the phone down and turned to look at Lukas, “I’m 20, my birthday is in just a few weeks though.” He answered. Lukas continued, wanting to get to know you, “Ah, I’m gonna have to congratulate you then! And how did you guys meet?”

The question lit up your eyes, you loved that question. With a wide smile you started telling the story of how you met, while you were talking Franco was quietly watching you in awe. He thought it was so adorable when you got so happy talking about it. He also loved to tell people about it but when you were together he always allowed you to do it because he knew you loved to talk about it. When telling the story you never directly brought up that Franco was a racing driver, but there was some hints included in the story since it’s a part of how you got together. Lukas seemed to pick up on those and got curious, “Okay, so I picked up some things in that story and I’m just curious. What do you do?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested. You turned your head to look at Franco silently letting him know that he could tell him himself if he wanted to. He gave a little nod before speaking, “I’m a racing driver. I drive in Formula 2.” The conversation between you three went on for about an hour before your name was finally called, your nerves kicking in almost immediately. As you and Franco stood up Lukas spoke, “I’ll be keeping an eye out for when you get back. Now, go get that ticket!” He said giving you a fist bump.

You walked hand in hand with Franco to the hallway where you met Pär, “Hello! What’s your name and who do you have with you?” He asked, shaking your hand. “My name is Y/n and this is my boyfriend Franco” you answered, fiddling with your fingers to calm your nerves a little. Pär spoke again, “Aha, and is he the reason why you are here? Are you nervous?” You chuckled a little before looking up from your hands, “Yeah, he’d be the main reason. And I’m so nervous.” Pär chuckled back as he put a hand on your shoulder, “Well you’re gonna have to deal with it because now it’s your turn.” He said before asking “Are you ready?” You took a deep breath and straightened your back, turning on your confident personality. “I’m ready” Pär opened the doors in front of you, “Good, you go in there and when the escalator starts moving you just go on to it, then the door is to your right at the top.” He explained. You turned to Franco before bringing him in for a comforting hug, you pulled away slightly and he planted a kiss on your lips before whispering, “You got this, good luck amor.” You gave him another quick kiss before letting go of him and walked through the doors to stand in front of the escalator. You turned your head to look at the two men on the other side of the door, “I’m closing the door now, good luck!” Pär said, and with that the doors do close behind you.

The cameras surrounded you to follow your every move and get the best shots. The escalator started moving and you took another breath before stepping on it and going up. As you reached the top you took a step of the escalator and walked towards the door, you pushed it open and your eyes immediately landed on the jury. When they say you walk in they perked up and were completely focused on you,

“Hi! Who do we have here? Tell us a little about yourself and why you’re here today!” The woman whose name is Katia said. “Hi, my name is Y/n, I’m 19, going on 20 later this year and I’m from Lund! I’m here today mainly because of my boyfriend. When we first got together and he heard me sing he thought that I would have already done something like this, he was completely shocked when I told him that I hadn’t. So he really just told me that I should apply because according to him I’m amazing. I sing a lot of different stuff, I’d like to say I’m quite good at adjusting to different genres. My boyfriend says I'm a “do it all” type of singer. I also grew up watching the program and dreamt about this, so maybe it was time.” You said with a little laugh at the end. They smiled and laughed with you before the other woman, named Peg, asked, “And what are you gonna sing for us today?” You looked at her and smiled, “I’m gonna sing Ruin my life by Zara Larsson!” The two women in front of you leaned back into their chairs with impressed expressions on their faces. The two men didn’t say anything but Anders, who's sitting next to Katia looked excited. Ash, who's at the other end of the table, just leaned forward and was ready to listen. “Well then we’ll let you get on with it!” Peg said, waving you on. You looked down to the floor and took a deep breath before looking up again, giving the guy who’s playing the cords a look to say that you’re ready. He started playing and when you started singing the jury was immediately stunned, while singing you were just trying to relax and not think too much or get too nervous.

Down in the hall Franco is standing with Pär and watching you sing on a screen in front of them, “She’s incredible!” Pär commented turned to look at Franco. He nodded, “Yes, she is.” he said under his breath. When you smoothly ended the part of the song all nervousness for that disappeared. You looked at the jury with a hopeful look in your eyes, the only nervousness left was if you were getting a ticket or not. Katia spoke first, “That was amazing. What are you doing here? Why are you not already on a stage?” She asked. Anders nodded agreeing with her, “I agree, that was basically perfect. It was like clockwork all the way through. I loved it!” He said. Peg pointed to you, “I’m floored, that was beautiful. You are beautiful! Like what? And you said you’d never done anything like this before?” She asked, you just shook your head as a no. “I barely believe you.” She added, then turned to Ash letting him speak. “You know, I may not say this to many but I’m saying it to you. I see a future world wide star. With this you could do anything, you sound like someone I would want to work with.” He said, smiling at you. Your mouth fell open, you were too shocked by their words to speak. Katia spoke up again, “Is your boyfriend here with you today?” You nodded, “Yes he is, luckily.”

Just as you said that the screen down in the hall turned black. Franco was so nervous, the poor boy could barely stand still. Up in the audition room Katia told you to go get him, you walked out the room and down the escalator to get him. You opened the big doors to the hall before speaking, “Baby, they want you to come up.” You said calmly, he was anything but calm. “What? Really?” He asked nervously, ”Yep, come on.” You answered, taking his hand and pulling him with you up to the jury. You walked in holding his hand and stood in front of them, Peg started speaking, “Hi there! What’s your name?” She asked in Swedish. You translated for him to understand, at this point it was just a habit. But you also always forgot to inform people that he doesn’t understand Swedish. “Thanks cariño” he whispered before turning to the jury, “sorry about that, my name is Franco.” He said to them. Peg spoke up again, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t speak Swedish. But we all just really wanted to thank you for getting her to apply. We love her and we are so happy that she’s here. Since you were the main reason for that we wanted to tell you thanks in person. And also have you see in person when we give her this” she ended off with picking up, not a normal golden ticket but one of the limited special ones. “Now this is a special ticket, which means that you will have an advantage in the end auditions.” You let out a gasp as you covered your mouth and Franco immediately brought you in for a tight hug, lifting you up and spinning you around. When he put you down again you excitedly walked over to the table and took the ticket from her, thanking them over and over again, giving all four of them a high five.

You and Franco walked out of the room and went down to the hall, practically jumping through the doors and met Pär on the other side. “Well would you look at that, congratulations!” He said happily. You who were still excitedly jumping around thanked him before he spoke again, “Now go out to the others!” He said, smiling at you. You nodded and thanked him again as you and Franco walked hand in hand out to the others. As you emerged everyone started applauding, Franco picked you up again spinning you around as you lifted your ticket into the air showing it off. He slowly lowered you down and brought you in for a sweet kiss while everyone was still applauding. When you broke apart Lukas came up to you to congratulate you, “Congratulations! I’m excited to hear you sing at the end auditions, see you there!” He said as he offered you a friendly hug.

[baesuzypics]

[190610] pt 2. Bae Suzy in Denmark🇩🇰 / Sweden🇸🇪

Click here & here to watch suzy's vlogs during her trip 💗

[gshina]

When I think about the difference between Finland and Sweden in Eurovision, it has always been clearly different for me.

Sweden knows how to be that factory-like perfect machine that creates songs. I myself have never liked Swedish representatives that much, I disliked Måns Zelmerlöw’s as well both Loreen’s songs with the simply reason - its boring. In the last decade I can name only two Swedish songs that I have liked which are Frans’s If I Were Sorry (2016) and Benjamin Ingrosso’s Dance You Off (2018). I've been of the opinion for a long time that swedish songs are the same, it’s the same perfectly sound pop machine song what you can hear every day on radio. it's like playing the same old record over and over and always the jury eat the same old smelly cheese and it's not fair. The problem with that is that it encourages countries to send in non-offensive pop music in order to appeal to the professional jury, most of which will be very mediocre and boring to watch. If the people didn't get a vote, we wouldn't see entries like Finland or Croatia. Those kinds of performances are what people watch Eurovision for! Nobody (should not) wants to see a non-offensive pop music contest. We want originality! We want fun! Eurovision is about the fun, this is not The Voice or Idols.

When I think about Finland, the success has been variable, but what I'm proud of is how at least Finland doesn't send the same old garbage every year. We have taken risks, risks which certainly not every one of them has been my favorite but I think that daring to take risks is one of the most appreciated quality what you can have. The last night Finland had one of the most unique songs ever and now I am not afraid to say how I feel I have been cheated. And before anyone has time to comment that "Finns are just bitter when Sweden took the victory in front of their noses" this is about much bigger than national cheating.

Käärijä's popularity among the international Eurovision nations has been extraordinary. During the five-day week polls, comment fields and reaction videos were filled with green emojis, Finnish flags and Cha Cha Cha shouts. The reactions of the live audience at the finals were also incredible. During Käärijä's performance, the large audience wildly sang along. The greatest moment, however, was when the impatient audience got tired of Sweden's growing neck in the town hall votes and burst into shouts of protest.

Three minutes later, in the midst of all this ecstasy, the rug was pulled from under our feet. The situation was simply awkward that all felt wrong in every blood cell of me. This can't go like this. The public had made Käärijä a phenomenon. The audience cheered Käärijä in a way that has not been seen before in the history of Eurovision but the professional jury made all of that look like nothing.

There are five music professionals in the jury of each country. So 185 councilors have been given the same power as hundreds of millions of viewers at home. council whose task was originally to prevent favoritism from neighbors? Nevertheless, year after year, it is precisely the "professional jury" who, by chance consider their own border neighbors and language partners the best of all. How is this fair?

The audience was just entertained by Käärijä. So much so that viewers wanted to use their own money to show their support for their favourite. Who is the show even made for if the audience doesn't get to choose their winner?

My not-so-unpopular opinion is that jury votes must be abandoned or at least reduced in weight. The Finnish Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu has already taken a great step in this regard, when in the finals of the competition, the public votes had a weight of 75 percent and the international juries only 25 percent. By renewing the voting system, the power would be given to those for whom the program is made to those who listen to Eurovision songs.

Today, Sunday, Finnish flags fly in Finland, of course, in honor of Mother's Day. But in my heart, the blue cross flags have been hoisted equally for Finland's victory.

Because that's who we are. Real winners.

In bitter disappointment I'm hovering right now and I'll be hovering for a very long time my mind also brushes with thoughts like how I would like to deny yesterday's results, abolish the jury vote praying so hard something shady happened with the jury votes and the result will be declared invalid oh and a bit also ban Sweden too, but especially the juries.

unfortunately I have to bring it up as well how we all know that Eurovision voting is also a bit shady..? It's Abba's anniversary next year? Doesn't seem suspicious at all. To win twice and bring back the trophy on an important year? yeah it does seem fishy. A lesser known artist catapulted into stardom? Loreen been internationally known for years. A country getting a chance to host after never/rarely doing so before? Sweden’s had it 6 times already. An underdog taking the crown by being an audience pleaser? She was the bookies’ favourite from the start. Eurovision being one of the biggest, most exciting things they’ve ever done? She’s done it all before.

None of these things are personally Loreen’s fault, and I actually feel bad for her that this win will be remembered as one that the public clearly wanted to give to someone else and being hated by so many people now and most won't even remember that she won. But it does all feel extra slimy and calculated on Sweden’s part, especially given the 50th anniversary of ABBA’s Waterloo just happening to be next year. It all feels very hollow and it will become pointless to argue.

I think that at this point it has become clear to everyone that I am from Finland myself yes and I really love my home country. My intention is not to bash Loreen this was not her fault nor to take away opportunities from any country. Sweden is my dear neighbor despite all this, but I hope that everyone understands the disappointment and even anger that I feel right now. I want to get justice that belongs to my country and was decided by the public and audience. For my country but also justice for every country that gets discriminated just because the jury think they know ”better” than the audience who is supporting, dancing, cheering, breathing and loving Eurovision air more than anyone else. Power belongs to the audience.

[floorworm]

Trying to explain the phenomenon that is Björnzone to people outside of Sweden is such a task.

So. This is Björn Gustafsson

In 2008 he appeared on Idol, which is basically american idol without the american part, performing a humoristic serenade for one of the judges, Carina Berg

Now in 2024, the two were reunited as hosts for Melodifestivalen. This is the swedish prelude to eurovision where the people vote on which song gets to represent sweden.

The intermissions are filled with jokes about Björn being horrible at flirting and the like, but then something baffling happens.

Björn shows up with nine other famous swedish men in the strangest boy band the crowds have ever seen. All dressed in white are figures such as: hit singer Viktor Leksell, eurovision winner Måns Zelmerlöw, and..

Supermarket-chain frontman Ica Stig⁉️

Even more baffling, the song they perform is AMAZING. 10 men outshining the entire competition in the best act melodifestivalen has seen in years

And finally, 16 years after the fact, Björn reprises his serenade to Carina during the last intermission. The crowds are floored.

It turns into a duet, ending in Björn being friendzoned. But what does a friendzone matter, when you have Björnzone?

This befuddling boy band wasn't even a one time thing either. They've returned to bless our holiday season

This is not something that should be contained within one country. They are a phenomenon, a wonder, a treasure. Know Björnzone.