#it’s not enough to make up for making napoleon feel bad once or twice by

[hudsonlowesbills]

Sir Hudson Lowe’s partisans have tried to represent his time at St. Helena as an enlightened proconsulship; they speak of the emancipation of to on of slaves, plantation of forests, improvement of the water supply…[But] …in dealing with the intransigent governor, the board of directors [of the East India Company] found it as difficult to get their authority respected as the Emperor did to preserve his dignity…

Gilbert Martineau, Napoleon’s Saint Helena

I’m sorry, “Hudson Lowe did a lot of good but the fact is that Napoleon Bonaparte and the Fucking East India Company both hated him so jot that down” is not the own against Hudson Lowe’s partisans that Martineau thinks it is

I’m like, if the East India company hates you…

…good?

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[yoonjinkooked]

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was. 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom

Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+  Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos.  Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3  - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base.  Hope you enjoy! 

Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.

It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.

Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.

Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.

There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.

You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.

Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.

As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.

“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.

“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”

“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.

“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”

“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”

“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”

“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”

A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.

“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”

“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”

“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.

By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.

Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.

You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.

You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.

But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.

Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.

You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.

As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood.  At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.

An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.

The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.

Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.

Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.

It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.

You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.

You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.

It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.

You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.

So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.

Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.

Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.

Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.

You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.

Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.

By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.

“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.

“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.

“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.

You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.

Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.

“Thanks, you too.”

You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.  

Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.

For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.

Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.

And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.

After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.

It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.

Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.

The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.

So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.

It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.

“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.

“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”

“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”

“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”

“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”

“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”

“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.

“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.

“Not yet, why?”

“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”

Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.

“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”

He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.

Why not?

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”

The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.

Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.

“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.

He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”

A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”

“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.

“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”

“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”

How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.

“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.

“Deal.”

He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.

And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.

“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”

“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”

“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.

“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”

Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.

“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”

“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.

If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.

God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.

This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.

“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.

“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.

“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.

“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.

“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?

“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”

“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.

“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.

“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.

Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”

“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”

“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”

You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.

“What else does destiny want us to do?”

You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?

“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.

First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.

He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.

You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.

And lord almighty, it is crowded.

You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.

You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger. 

Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.

It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.

For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.

He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.

The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.

It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.

Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.

You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)…  That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.

Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.

“That’s okay.”

You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.

“Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.

Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?

You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.

He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.

It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.

All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.

“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.

“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”

“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.

“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.

Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.

“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”

“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”

“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.

“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.

“Sure, let’s go.”

There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.

You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.

“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”

You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.

“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.

“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.

“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”

“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”

You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.

After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.

“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.

You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.

“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.

“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”

Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.

You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.

Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?

So you do.

You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.

Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.

You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.

You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.

You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.

You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“

With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.

It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.

You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.

He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.

And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”

Fuck everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.

Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.

You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.

You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.

Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.

He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.

The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.

“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.

The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.

Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.

“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?

“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”

“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.

“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”

“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.

“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.

It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.

“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.

“Thank fuck we’re already here.”

You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.

“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”

“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.

“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”

“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”

You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.

Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.

“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.

“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.

You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.

You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.

“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”

“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”

“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.

“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”

“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.

There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.

He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.

Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.

Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.

You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.

He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.

“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.

“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.

“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.

It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.

“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.

“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”

The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.

You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.

He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.

He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.

After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.

“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.

He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.  

“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.

“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.

“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.

“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.

You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.

No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.

“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.

“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.

You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.

Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.

Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.

You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.

“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.

“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.

“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.

You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.

Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.

“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.

He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.

“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.

“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”

It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.

The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.

You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.

You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.

His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.

It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.

You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.

You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”

“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.

“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?

“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.

“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.

“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.

“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.

“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.

“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.

“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.

You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.

“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”

With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.

You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.

He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.

“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.

“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”

“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.

“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.

Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.

But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.

Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”

“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”

You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.

How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…

“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.

“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”

“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”

“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.

You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.

“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.

“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.

Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens.  A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.

You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.

It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.

Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.

The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.

You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.

It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.

Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.

“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”

He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.

Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.

He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.

No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END

[tweetracer]

Hello, I love your work and writing style. I was wondering, since none of the Lost boys is what you could call a boyfriend material - how would they deal with being in a long-term relationship? What would be the biggest challenge for each of them? And maybe for you as their partner? I would love to hear your thoughts.

LOST BOYS + RELATIONSHIP STRUGGLES

DAVID

As an immortal, David lives his life fast-paced and reckless. The people he brings into his world (save for his boys of course) are there for kicks until he grows tired. It’s not the best model for a relationship of course but he never had to worry about anything being truly long-term.

That was until he met you, of course.

The moment he realized he wanted you to be in his life forever he panicked. He’d never wanted anything to be in his life forever- at least nothing he didn’t already have.

But you? You were special- and he wanted you to be with him.

You knew what he was- it was one of the things he loved about you. You knew and you still loved him, you still cared for him even though he was... a monster.

The second he realized he loved you he asked to turn you. He wanted you in his life forever and since he wanted it obviously you did too.

When you turned him down he was crushed. Why? Was it him?

Well.... no... but also yes...?

He was rough and tumble- and while you definitely dug the ‘bad boy’ aesthetic- you also wanted someone who wasn’t scared to be soft with you. David struggled to show his gentleness even when the two of you were alone and...

....while that was fine for a fling....

You expected the moping- hell, you expected him to dump you on the spot.... but he didn’t. He fucked off to the cave for a few days, sitting in his chair- unmoving and so deep in thought you’d think he was a statue.

When you finally spotted him at the boardwalk again, he made a bee-line towards you. Confused, you watched him stomp right up to you, grab your wrist, and pull you into a telenovela-style dip and kissed you right then and there.

He....He could be a bad boy and still love on his kitten..

While PDA and emotional communication still weren’t exactly.. his strong suit he was working harder to be more open about his feelings.

DWAYNE

At first glance Dwayne is everything you could want out of a long-term relationship.

He’s kind, courteous, considerate. He’s like a (sort of) living security blanket. His constant calmness is enough to calm even the worst of your moods..

The only issue is he’s always calm.

You have literally never seen this guy get angry- he always handles you like you’re made of glass. You know comparably you are considerably more fragile but god.

He keeps his feelings and opinions under such tight wraps you might as well be dating a fucking bedside table.

You kept most of your frustrations to yourself, not wanting to really shake the boat but all of these small annoyances built up slowly till it felt like you were going to explode.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was so small in hindsight it was surprising that it was the catalyst. You asked him what he wanted for dinner.

“Whatever you want to eat”

“Dwayne, what do you want for dinner”

His responding shrug and assurance that he’ll like whatever you pick made you fucking explode.

He stood there, wide-eyed as you chewed him out. ‘For god’s sake can’t you ever have an opinion on something?’ ‘You’re being a doormat- you’re a literal vampire have some fucking spine’

When you stormed off he still stood there, blinking and shocked as he tried to really process what you said.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the night and when you went home the cave was empty. Content to fume for a while longer you didn’t see him again until you were out on the boardwalk the next night.

The two of you discussed the previous night’s events, speaking in hushed tones in a quiet corner booth of Stoker’s Diner. You explained that him always agreeing with you put a lot of pressure on you to make all the decisions and how it wasn’t healthy for him to not voice how he was feeling.

He needed to know that you wanted to listen to him too. Both voices are important in a relationship- especially when you hope to be as.... long term as the two of you.

While he’s still more reserved than most people- Dwayne begun to actively communicate a bit more, giving you his opinion a bit more freely and always ready to preen anytime you comment on it.

PAUL

You loved Paul.

You really did.

But where Dwayne was a doormat- Paul was a bulldozer.

His brain moved at a million miles a minutes, constantly pulling him in different directions and making social cues hard for him to notice.

You knew this but good god it was frustrating- sometimes holding a conversation with him was like trying to talk to a moving train. Occasionally you’d have to actually grab him to get him to look at you and get an answer to the question you’ve been asking him for the past five minutes.

Finally, you’d had enough- you had already told him twice that you wanted to go home. That you were tired and your feet hurt and he hadn’t seemed to notice. Every time the two of you would start heading back to the bike he’d get distracted.

You yanked your wrist away from where he had been dragging you towards another carnival game- storming off in the direction of the bikes.

He followed after you like a lost puppy- “Doll? Doll what’s wrong?”

You said nothing until you were at his motorcycle, arms crossed and scowling.

You’d been asking for an hour to go home and he’d ignored you- and as you told him his eyes went wide.

The two of you managed a (rough but productive) discussion, eventually settling on some code phrases to communicate when you felt like you were being ignored or not listened to.

While there are still rough patches, Paul actively attempted to listen better- blue eyes focusing hard as he clung to your words. You could tell sometimes he was trying to fit a square peg in a triangle hole- attempting to force his brain to understand what you were saying.

During those moments you’d calmly repeat the question again, smiling and giving his hand an encouraging squeeze while the words took purchase in his brain.

Every once and a while he’d miss an ‘I want to go home’ but you knew he was trying and, more often than not, all it took was a flirty pick-up line and a far too chaste kiss to have him dragging you back to the cave anyways.

MARKO

Marko’s Napoleon complex was pretty obvious when you first met him. He paraded around with a puffed out chest and a willingness to beat the shit out of anyone who looked at him wrong.

While his edges were a little rough he was always gentle towards you- a little overly cautious, sure, but you knew he just meant well. After all, you didn’t really know how long he’d been a vamp and for all you knew life as a human might have only felt like a dream at this point.

It was sweet how carefully he tended to you.

At first.

After the fifteenth time in one night of being fawned and coddled you felt frustration begin to bud in your chest. You were a human not a baby bird, tripping isn’t going to kill you and you’re ninety percent sure you don’t need to be wearing sunscreen at night.

You tried to discuss it with him gently, you knew he only did this because he cared for you but you explained that it was getting a bit excessive. You were fully capable of doing things on your own and his constant hovering was getting overbearing.

What was supposed to be a civilized conversation ended in a knock down drag out screaming match, the two of you yelling at the top of your lungs and scaring off anyone in a thirty foot radius.

He was trying to protect you! Humans aren’t like vamps! They can get hurt, they can fall and break bones- they can die. And he doesn’t... he doesn’t even want to think about-

....... never mind... he doesn’t even want to go there...

Marko puffed up, furious, and got on his bike; leaving you on the boardwalk alone with a sore throat and red face from yelling.

The two of you fumed for almost a week before his resolve cracked. He poked his head in to the window of your apartment, waiting with a soft-browed scowl before you let him inside.

Your conversation was tense as you tried to explain your individual perspectives, eventually conceding to meet in the middle.

He would cut back on his helicopter-esque hovering anytime you weren’t doing anything but sitting and you would try your best not to get hurt..

...But you still weren’t allowed to ride the bikes with anyone but him. He just doesn’t trust the other vamps with such precious cargo.

[madam-mademoiselle]

The Ill Wind of Mozart's Horn Concerto No.4

It was one of those days where the rain was beating against the mansion, keeping residents at home. Normally those who are out in Paris at this time of day were occupying themselves in a little free time from their normal schedule. The weather being bad as it was, Sebastian forbade you to even take a carriage into the city to get what was on the grocery list along with the tenants' needs list.

You had more or less stuck with the same chores, wanting them to be done so tomorrow would be a lighter load on you and Sebastian. He had told you to make sure the windows and mirrors on the second floor were cleaned. The least favorite chore you had to do. There was that one smudge that resulted in a painful flick to the forehead. 

With Mozart's piano playing in the background, you swore you almost heard the same tune. You hummed along with it before realizing what it was! You snapped your fingers and smiled. Oh he was not going to like this, but! This was going to be worth it for you!

You waited as he played through an arrangement before coming to the one you knew quite well. Clearing your throat while cleaning the window next to his door. As soon as the first stanza began, you followed along singing.

"I once had a whim and I had to obey it

To buy a French Horn in a second-hand shop;

I polished it up and I started to play it

In spite of the neighbours who begged me to stop."

The piano stopped briefly from your… lack of the musical ability to carry a tune. You made sure the hallway was clear of any of the residents, starting your lovely melody as Mozart began his concerto again. You sounded off again much to his dismay.

"To sound my Horn, I had to develop my embouchure;

I found my Horn was a bit of a devil to play."

The sound of piano stopping suddenly had you quiet again while footsteps could be heard marching towards the door. You pressed your lips together to suppress the smirk that was trying to make its way on your face. Facing the window and focusing on the cloth, the door opens to have Mozart peering around to find the offender.

Those violet eyes were drilling into your person. You pretended to focus on the glass but turned to him. You gave him a smile, "is there anything you need Mozart?" The rag in your hand as you paused to give him your attention. Staring into your soul, he stepped fully into the hallway.

"Yes, I thought I heard someone butchering one of my concertos out in the hallway." You turned your head down the hall, making a show of it. You turned back to him with an expression of confusion. "I'm sorry, I haven't been paying attention. I've been trying to make sure the windows and mirrors are clean and streak free. Maybe some hot chocolate and sweets will help? You stayed up late last night working on your piece."

That part was true, he was frustrated when he described the music he heard in his head wasn't wanting to come through the way he was wanting it. When he did come to bed, he tossed and turned before getting up and returning to the piano. When you woke up to see him sleeping on the piano, you covered him with his blanket, and went to retrieve some Blanc from the kitchen to drink later.

Back to the current situation, he shook his head, "no. I appreciate the offer. Thank you for the Blanc and blanket earlier mein liebe.” His eyes softened as he reached to push back a stray lock from your face. Feeling sympathetic, you wrung the rag in your hand. “You know Wolf, someone once told me you need to focus on something else and whatever thought you were thinking of so hard before, will come in front of your mind. 

Seeing him looking indignant, you held up a hand, trying to soothe him. You started to tick off ideas for him to do. “Before you say you were playing something else, you still saw the notes in your head. Leave the music room for a little bit. Go to the dining room and get some lunch, I can make you coffee, or maybe go watch Jean and Napoleon spar, I’m sure Jean wouldn’t mind.”

He shook his head, “it's not that simple. It is at the end of my finger tips, the melody is there. Trying to convey it…" Placing the rag on the window sill, you take one of his hands in yours. You kissed the back fingers and squeezed his hand gently before letting it go. You knew he was a germaphobe and didn't want to push it too far.

"You'll figure it out and once you have it penned in the stanzas, it'll have its place. I won't keep you further, I have to get back to cleaning windows before Sebas finds out I am shirking work." You groan the last part. Thinking about any flicks to the forehead he may deliver if he catches a single streak.

He offered one of his private smiles for you before shutting himself back into the music room. You sighed and got back to work, listening to him play through his arrangements. Hearing the frustration in his playing as he tried to find the notes that eluded him. When you got to the last window and raised your rag to clean it, he started with that concerto again.

You waited patiently, keeping yourself distracted. Listing chores that you had completed, thinking of the shops you needed to visit in town, and even to the point where you were pursing your lips as you were mouthing along with it. He heard your God awful caterwauling for the first time. Mozart probably knew it was you singing and was too preoccupied with that tune to speak to you about it.

Taking it no more and ready to face his disappointment and horror when he realizes his significant other couldn't sing, you continued your song:

"I miss its music more and more and more.

Without that Horn I'm feeling sad and so forlorn."

Your voice had reached a deep pitch of the song when singing out forlorn. You coughed quickly to clear the tickle it had created in your throat. Quickly resuming where you had left off in your tune.

 

"I found a concerto and wanted to play it,

Displaying my talent at playing the Horn,

But early today to my utter dismay it had totally vanished away."

The piano had stopped abruptly. The rag dropped from your hand realizing what you had just sang aloud. Oh boy, that was probably the wrong thing to belt out when your composer boyfriend just told you he was having issues trying to wretch out that stubborn melody from his skull. You heard more than saw as the door to the music room swung open with more force than normal. In the doorway revealed Mozart, giving you an icy stare as he slowly walked toward you.

"MC? So it was you from earlier. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, I simply cannot forgive what I just heard." He placed his hand on the wall beside your head while you were staring at him with wide eyes. He moved to eye level, close enough to kiss him, his other hand moved to gently hold your chin in place. Maybe it was a bad idea to choose that song out of anything else? "Mozart, it's just that your music is so accomplished, that there may be some parodies of your work and that so happen to be one I overheard…"

He was silent, cool amethyst eyes watching your expression. Pondering about what to do with you. You had interrupted his time twice with what you called singing. No doubt everyone in the mansion had heard them. Grasping your chin, his eyes bore into yours, a small smirk started to grace his lips. "You had suggested I take a break. Come." Letting go of your chin and stepping away from you, he started towards his music room.

"Why are we heading towards the music room? I don't think it would be productive if you took a bre-!" Forgetting your momentary faux pas and getting slightly annoyed that you were still in your spot, he came back over to you to sweep you off your feet. "Your listening skills are as bad as your singing." That smirk got a little bigger as he carried you to the room. You glared at him for that little comment.

"I am going to take a break with mein liebe by giving her a voice lesson. That should inspire me." At the threshold of the door, he kissed you, teasing out a low moan from your throat. "Much better." With you still in his arms, he shut the door to start your "lessons".

*A few hours later*

Closing the door to the music room and hearing the piano's song flowing beautifully in the hallways you grabbed your cleaning supplies. Heading to the kitchen, you straightened up your clothes and hair. You happen to look at the wristwatch Issac had repaired for you, realizing it was 10 minutes passed the normal time the caffeine addicted vampires of the mansion took their coffee, Mozart included.

Arthur had beat you to the coffee grinder as he was drinking his fill of the precious bean water along with Leonardo present. His tool kit was sitting on the counter, putting away one of them. "Coffee grinder mess up again Leo?" Placing the bucket in the pantry and washing my hands, both vampires were silent, feeling their eyes on me. Drying your hands, you made eye contact with Arthur's sapphire ones. "What?"

"I didn't know Wolfie's bird wasn't much of a songbird. Was going to come out of my room and give you a standing ovation." Your cheeks were flushing red. You thought everyone had moved to the first floor, you had forgotten about the other residents that reside on the second floor. Arthur was probably writing instead of being with Theo. Leonardo chuckled, handing you the grinder. "Everyone heard you cara mia."

You groaned, hiding one of your hands. Arthur smirked at your embarrassment, "yeah. Mozart caught me singing to one of his concertos with verses that weren't really appropriate for it. He was trying to compose with a melody that wouldn't come to him and I told him a break would probably help."

Leonardo was silent, hearing the muffled sounds of piano playing. "It sounds like it helped cara mia or would prima donna be more suited to you eh?" You threw the drying towel at him, seeing him getting a laugh out of the teasing both of them were doing to you.

"It did, I'm just glad it helped. It finally came to him after he gave me some music lessons so I am happy he can get it on paper now." Placing the towel back on the counter, Leonardo left the kitchen, leaving you and Arthur. The smirk on his face grew the size of the Cheshire Cat's. "What? Why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?"

 "I think you enjoyed the lesson too, bird." His index finger tapped to the place where his shoulder and neck met. Miming him, you felt the dried blood from where you had ‘your lesson.'

"Arthur!" Furious, you placed the coffee grinder down on the table to chase after the laughing writer.

------

Thank you @aeoncryptic for proof reading and for the support for my first Ikemen Vampire fanfic shot!

The song MC is an actual song called Ill Winds by Flanders and Swann. Take this fic as you will, just wanted to have a little fun with Mozart.

[annetteblog]

I got a very long ask and wrote even longer reply, and now Tumblr for some reason doesn't want to publish it through asks. So I'm making a separate post, because what else can I do? 😀 I hope Anon wouldn't mind

Hi!

Thank you for such a long ask! I really enjoy replying those, although it may take some time to actually write whatever I have on my mind 🙂 However, I feel like for every question that you posed, it's possible to write its own big reply or even an essay, so this piece of mine probably won’t give them justice (but I’ll try my best.)

As usual, one big IMO.

1) Ethics, “gueer coding” and discussions

I believe I’ve already partly touched this subject here. Shortly, I think that everything the boys did (and still do) had its own purpose. They decided to put these "undertones" (or whatever one may call them) in their art. They made some statements with a very small room for interpretation. And it didn't happen once or twice. More like, it's been a consistent behaviour throughout years.

I don't buy this excuse some fans write - "oh, he just didn't know about this/didn't understand how it looked like/didn't..." So apparently, JK wasn't able to figure out shit about Troye, didn't give a damn about his GCF, didn't think how his tattoo looked like; JM didn't realize to what conclusions could lead his quite bold words about 4am or waking up and seeing JK; both of them didn't have second thoughts about the Black Swan dance; Bang PD is just a CEO who pays zero attention to BTS in general and KM actions in particular (which sometimes actually backlash, e.g. that stop gay fanservice thing after the Seoul concerts), because he clearly just doesn't care AT ALL; whatever PR service they have in BH is just asleep all the time... Etc etc etc, you got the idea

Well, if one wants to perceive JM, JK and BigHit as a group of complete morons with no brains, this "oh, they just didn't know" explanation may work. But if all of them were idiots, how would BTS become the biggest group on a planet? They are smart enough, deal with this.

And YET. KM still do what they do. It's their choice, so apparently they have their motives. You wrote it yourself too - "Jikook and BH put out all that stuff for a reason."

Keeping this in mind, I truly think it's fair to discuss queer undertones or KM's bond. It's meant to be discussed and speculated. They made it public, and they continue to make it public (and quite obvious, to be honest). Why? Well, I guess they want us to speculate.

From here comes the second point

2) Art and its interpretations

In general, I believe that any good art should allow various interpretations. That's what a good piece of art is supposed to do - provoke a thought. As well as it's quite customary to analyze and (sometimes) overanalyze art. Thousands of universities worldwide have programs which are focused on fine art, literature, theater, music, film, etc.

And why is it okay to write about Avengers or Madonna or whatever weird art you're able to find in the closest Contemporary museum (like a banana taped to a wall), but not okay to interpret BTS' songs and/or performances? Again, I strongly believe that art is meant to be discussed. Especially as cool as theirs 🙂

Actually, some popular fandom theories turned out to be true here. Since Spring Day release on Feb 2017, fans speculated about its connection to the Sewol ferry tragedy based on the song's lyrics, MV and choreo. We got this confirmation like when, December 2020? But before it was also just an interpretation.

Coming back to KM. Combining these with the idea that JM/JK/BH clearly know what they're doing and how it may look like, I don't see a problem in having various interpretation of their art. Including queer ones.

3) Escapism

Isn't all art targeted to escaping in a sense? We want to take a break from reality and/or mundane life or just gain some new experience. In this sense what's the radical difference between staring at pictures or sculptures in a museum, watching a movie, reading a book or scrolling through Tumblr reading BTS/KM centric posts? All of these are means to escape and entertain ourselves.

As for this "if they are a queer couple, is it okay to derive pleasure and 'what a beautiful love story' feelings from two members of systematically oppressed minority?" - and you would prefer doing what - ignoring them? pretending that they don't exist? 🙃 In case if they are a queer couple, I guess showing support and benevolence is even more important. Exactly because, as you mentioned, they are a part of the oppressed minority. And the hatred is/would be definitely in place.

4) Fanfiction

Oh my, what a controversial theme these days.

Firstly, some forget it was not invented in the 21st century. Even slash fanfiction (cough Star cough Trek). As for incorporating real people, it's been a part of literature for like what.. always? There are millions of different writings about emperors, nobles, military figures, lives of saints, etc. And it's not like personal opinion of people in question bothered those, who write or wrote about them. I clearly remember a scene in Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace, where Alexander I [Russian emperor 1801-25] after losing a battle against Napoleon, hits a birch tree with his sword while crying hard and just being kinda hysterical. Would real Alexander be satisfied with such image if he read the book? Idk 😄

About having "the right to comment on such [different from your own] experience". I suppose, if authors wrote only about what they had experienced, our literature would be 95% poorer than it is. How can one write books in historic settings if they didn't live there? How do books about future and space travel exist, if we live in 2021? Is it needed to be a part of mafia to write about mafia? What about other cultures? Should an American author write only about American people and American lifestyle or it's fine to have characters from other countries?

Writing is not about experiencing something and then making a fanfic or a book, it's more about research and compassion. If you have reliable info on your theme and are able to look at the world using different lenses, why not?

I don't perceive fanfiction as a worldwide evil. Sure, there are creepy examples as well as authors, who write fetishizing weird shit. But it doesn't mean that all fanfiction=bad and all slash fanfiction=objectification of male homosexuality. Fanfiction is just one form of fiction, it can be good or bad based on how it's written. But the label itself doesn't define anything, as well as reading it should not be a reason to accusations.

5) Jikook, shipping and politics

I'm among those, who perceive pretty much everything as a part of politics. We all exist within some political conventions and have certain political laws over our heads. And yes, it includes art. Even if an artist says something like "oh, I decided to stay away from politics, my work is beyond it". The decision to stay away from politics is also political, because apparently there was something within the political structure what made this artist say that and forced them to make this distinction between them and some institutional conventions.

And that makes me believe that shipping/supporting KM is also political. But I don't think it's necessarily bad? Basically, you decided to support potentially queer people from a country, which doesn't really approve LGBTQ+. It puts you in the opposition towards a particular government. You made a choice. You could google some SK stuff, read all that you mentioned in the beginning of your ask, and say something like "oh, that's not okay there? well, fair enough, I guess their government knows better"🤠 and forget that this KM thing even exists. But apparently you didn't

Imo, is it politics? Yes

Is it bad that it's politics? Well, no? 🙃

|

P.S. I hope I was clear enough with my ideas. Thank you again for the thought provoking ask, and I hope I'll hear from you again 🙂

And honestly, I don't think that you're problematic in any way :)

[heytheredeann]

Miscalculations

Tags: Post-Canon, (like directly after the movie), Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt Illya Kuryakin, Worried Napoleon Solo, (though he's bad at showing it LOL)            

Summary: In all fairness, Napoleon is new to this whole partnership thing.

Notes: This is based on the "Hidden injury" prompt from day 13 of Febuwhump. Just good old spies being dumb, feeling feelings and being very unhappy about it LOL.

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In all fairness, Napoleon is new to this whole partnership thing. He is good with people, mostly because he is good at sliding into the shoes of whatever character suits the moment best, and he supposes that ‘good and caring partner’ could be considered one such character and that Illya is technically a person that he could attempt to charm, but—well, for one, if he tried to mother him Illya would probably call him out on his bullshit, because he definitely doesn’t know him as a caring and thoughtful guy.

Secondly, he doesn’t really strike him as the kind of man who would appreciate all that concern to begin with.

Still, they are sitting on a plane, elbow to elbow in tense silence, and it’s literally impossible not to notice that Illya is shifting every few seconds, trying and failing at finding a comfortable position to sit in, his arm wrapped tightly around his middle like he’s trying to keep himself together. Napoleon even caught him grimacing once or twice.

Now, he’s pretty sure that making sure that your partner is not about to die is part of the social interactions expected in the context of a partnership, temporary an arrangement as it may be. He should ask him if he’s alright.

On the other hand, it kinda feels like it’s none of his business. Clearly the guy is well enough to function, he did get checked out alongside him and Gaby—no, wait, did he?

Probably.

He probably did.

Maybe.

Come to think of it, Napoleon isn’t really sure: he was a little concussed at the time, everything was a bit blurry and he was bleeding all over the place—he remembers grabbing the disk, and Illya fussing over Gaby, then fussing more, then there was that whole mess with the second warhead and—okay, there’s the slightest chance that Illya didn’t get checked out after all.

Which means that it probably is his business to make sure he’s okay, right? He’s his backup. What if he falls over in the middle of the mission? Napoleon doesn’t want to end up with a hole in his head because Mr KGB was too busy being stoic to ask for a doctor.

Yeah, he should probably say something. Possibly without pissing him off in the process. He can do it, it’s not like he doesn’t know how to be pleasant company.

He turns around, preparing himself to politely ask him if he’s alright, but he finds Illya already staring at him, evaluating him with what is either suspicion or annoyance, and what comes out instead is: “Are you done tossing and turning, Peril?”

Which, great.

[More on Ao3]

[nad-zeta]

Matchup (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

Hi, can i ask for a ikevamp matchup? I like listening to music, though it can go both ways, my mood affects my music or my music affects my mood. I’m super close with my friends since most of them are my friends for 3+ years, so I’m not that great with new people, though I’m fine with those I’ve met once or twice before. I’m surrounded by close friends and family, so I can be as mischievous and as open as I want to be. I will only be open like that with people I care about, so unless I like someone I will put up a huge wall around them until I feel like I could trust them completely. That being said, I’m pretty strong emotionally, like comforting grieving friends, calming people down without being affected in any way, etc, and people say I give advices that actually works. I’m used to get things on my own, so I can either be a leader or the advisor, which I usually do when I want to be the leader but don’t wanna take responsibility for what I do 😅 and I may know what to do in every situation, but that doesn’t mean I know how to do it 😅

I’m also a lucky charm lol I dont know how but I’m pretty lucky, so my friends often want me on their group for projects and stuff like that or when people open up a new business they will invite me and my mom because somehow people think things go well because I’m around. And an extremely bad habit of mine is that I often take everything lightly, whether it’s getting into a fight or getting failing grades or pulling a huge stunt where me and my whole class working together to skip to get home faster from school (we succeeded every time 👀) maybe it’s because most things in my life have been pretty easy and I feel like I’m always in my comfort zone, and even if I face difficulties, they usually get done on their own so I became pretty optimistic naturally, and because of this people can relax around me since I don’t panic easily, or people get annoyed with me because I don’t take things seriously enough, whether it’s good or bad. And finally, I can have a change of heart EASILY but with a reason. Like, I can think you as the most important person who I care about, but once you betray me or do something I hate, idc I will throw you out of my life. Idc of I’ve known you for years, I can easily act like we’re strangers if l don’t like you anymore, and I usually stand on my ground unless other people convince me otherwise. After years of dealing with so many good and bad things, I have a lot of experience in many types of situations, so I know if something is legit or is it a complete lie. And even if someone usually lies or hides something from me I can understand them whether they give me their reason or not, because I’m understanding and can know the difference whether they blatantly hate me or genuinely can’t tell me about something, which is absolutely fine. I can stay away from you for years and still care for you the next time we meet unless you have a change of heart ❤

I’m sorry if it’s TMI or too little information bc I don’t often send matchup requests 😅 and thank you for doing my matchup if you decide to do this 😊

Hi hi, love! Thank you so much for the request! I hope I didn’t make you wait too long for it! I hope you enjoy it love and I hope you have a wonderful day! Hehe honestly I struggled to figure out who to match you with as at least 3 different people came to mind, but at the end, I finally settled for this special boy! Hope you enjoy it! 

I match you with……….Jean

The two of you don’t meet for a few days the first time you arrive at the mansion. At the news of your arrival, Jean thought it best to lock himself away as he didn’t want to expose such a pure light as yourself, to a monster like himself. He took a liking to you, the first time he saw your radiant smile as he walked into the dining room while you were introducing yourself to everyone. Except you never got a chance to see him, he turned around and went back to his room immediately, however, this didn’t escape the notice of the mansions big brother Napoleon. 

You were rather quiet and reserved, not really engaging all that much with the boys, your walls were on high guard to protect you from potentially getting hurt, besides you were only with the strange group of men for a month and then you had to go back home, so you didn’t want to expose yourself to unnecessary heartbreak. You had however taken a liking to Napoleon who was named your protector after Arthur tried some funny business with you. You worked hard and honestly, Sabastian had been thankful for such a hard-working, diligent colleague

You had been in the Paris of the past for a few weeks now, but haven’t really left the mansion. Comte had invited you to a big lavish ball that one of his friends was throwing and you decided it might be a fun experience. You ran down the mansion stairs expecting to see Napoleon, who was instructed to take you out to town to buy in Comte’s words “a dress fit for a princess,” however instead you saw a beautiful man standing to wait for you. You had heard about Jean but you had yet to meet him and now here he was before you, offering you an arm to escort you to town. You took his arm and the two of you were off to town. Napoleon had already made commitments to teaching the street children, and something inside him told him that you and Jean would really get along, so he stomped his way up to Jean’s room and asked his old friend to escort you to town. He was not keen TBH, but he could never refuse a request from his friend. 

The two of you walked around in silence neither daring to say a word. That, of course, was until you heard some street performers playing the most upbeat music. You followed the sound of the music, Jean trailing slightly behind you, when you came to a stop in front of the performers. You felt like dancing, the music was so uplifting, you just felt like dancing, laughing and soon your mood turned bubbly. The people around you started to dance to the music, you turned to Jean with stars in your eyes, “Jean, would you like to dance.” Honestly, it was more of a rhetorical question as before he could answer, you took his hands and started dancing with him. Jean had been to enough balls and banquets with Comte and Napoleon to know the basics. 

Soon he got into the swing of things and started twirling you around, and gently leading you, cause it was clear that you didn’t really know the traditional dances, being from the future. When the last note echoed through the street, you were laughing in delight, having the time of your life. You looked up at Jean and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his smile, it was absolutely radiant the way the corners of his mouth lifted softly to show you a gentle smile, and little did you know, no one had seen Jean smile since he arrived at the mansion. You were honestly in the best mood, so for the rest of yours and Jean’s shopping trip you talked his ears off. Jean didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but listen to every word, all while wearing that soft fond smile. At the end of the day, the second Jean was back at the mansion his smile faded, and he reverted back as if remembering that he was a monster, he kissed your hand, “Good night mademoiselle, and thank you for a wonderful day.” You beamed up at him and thanked him for making the shopping trip so fun, you definitely didn’t miss that slight blush forming on his cheeks as he turned to move back to his room.

Since that day, strangely enough, you and Jean had run into each other quite often, although these run-ins were orchestrated by the former Emporer of France and the Lord of the mansion. Both had noticed a slight change in Jean after he went on that shopping trip with you and both agreed that you may be exactly what he needs.

For example one day you ran up to Arthur’s room as he yelled out in irritation. You burst through the door to see the most unusual scene before you, Arthur scolding a tiger cub. You looked around the room to see the manuscript of his latest chapters shredded on the floor, his curtains had been scratched to pieces, and the cub appeared to have been playing in mud before making his way into Arthurs room, as muddy paw prints covered the entire room. You placed your hand in front of your mouth to stifle a laugh, you never did take things too seriously, “Hey you, don’t you dare laugh, this is my life’s work”. You giggled a little and told Arthur to lighten up, but when Jean appeared behind you also trying to hold in his laughter at the way you never seem to take things too seriously, you burst out laughing. That’s when Jean couldn’t hold it back any longer and also started laughing, Arthur was sister shook he had never even seen Jean smile let alone laugh. You walked over to the tiger cub and scooped him up in your arms, then you walked over to the mysterious man and took his hand in yours. Before Arthur could even say anything, you bolted to the garden all while laughing. 

You and Jean then went on to bath the little tiger cub together, which ended in a bit of a water fight. When you were with Jean, all your walls were down, and your mischievous personality came out to play, especially when you saw this beautiful boy’s smile. By the end of the day, both you and Jean were soaked to the bone, both of you went to bath and retire to your rooms for the night. When all of a sudden you heard a knock at the door, it was Jean. He had brought you a cup of hot tea and thanked you for helping him clean up his tiger’s mess. You invited him into your room, he sat down awkwardly and looked around your room curiously, he legit had never been in a girls room before. It wasn’t long before the two of you started chatting, and soon dawn had broken, and you realized that you and Jean had been talking the whole night.

You never noticed it before, but you and Jean had spent every single day together since then, chatting and laughing about everything and anything. He loved that you seemed to possess all the luck of the universe and that you would always come to his aid when Arthur was beating him at one or other board game. You would legit team up with Jean and let your luck take care of the rest. Thanks to your incredible luck Arthur had lost a bet to you and Jean and now had to wear his underpants over his regular pants for a week. 

Jean was feeling so confused and overwhelmed with all these new feelings, he had never really known love before having met you and all of it felt so new. One day he decided to tell you how he was feeling, you were always so good at giving out advice, and your presence always had the ability to calm all his fears and anxieties. Once he finished telling you about how he had been feeling towards you lately, you gave him the biggest hug, “I love you to Jean.”

Jean loved your naturally optimistic personality and your ability to bring so much joy into even the saddest of moments. You were always there for him, to reassure him whenever he was having panic or anxiety attacks. He absolutely loved and adored you and had sworn his life and loyalty to you. 

He loved that you never took things seriously, as all he did was take things seriously, so it was like a breath of fresh air to have someone around to help him balance his overthinking mind. After the two of you got together, Jean told you everything, from his dark past to the fact that he saw himself as a monster, undeserving of your love. He legit thought that you were going to push him away and leave him but instead, you kissed him and told him how much you loved him. 

You loved that Jean was always open and honest with you and completely loyal to you. He was also your voice of reason when it came to cutting people out your life for wronging you. The two of you balanced each other out perfectly.

Both Comte and Napoleon were overjoyed that Jean finally found someone to open up to and who loved him unconditionally. You helped Jean heal from all his past traumas and made him a better man. 

Jean loved spending time with you, this soft sweet, sensitive boy would shower you with love and affection from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. He would often surprise you with breakfast in bed, or drop a small chaste kiss on your lips whenever the two of you run into each other in the hallways

The two of you absolutely love just being snuggled up together chatting about your day. Jean loves to hold you in his strong arms and nuzzle into your neck as you sit in his lap and read. Often the two of you can be found in a coffee shop holding hands and reading. On rare occasions, the two of you can also be found pulling pranks on some of the mansion residents as payback for the pranks that they would pull on the two of you. 

Ultimately Jean is most happy when you are resting in his lap after a long day of housework. He would pull his fingers through your soft silky hair and send up a silent prayer to God thanking him for sending him his own lovely guardian angel, to love, hold and cherish for the rest of his life

Other potential matches………… Napoleon 

I hope you enjoyed it dear! 

@miss-wish-a-lot

[popculturebuffet]

The Casagrandes Reviews: Operation Dad

In my first look at The Casagrandes, We meet Ronnie Anne and Bobby’s dad Arturo as Ronnie tries to get him to start working in the city to be closer to them.. and when a genuine honest appeal dosen’t work, shenanigans will have to do. Dad stuff under the cut. 

This is one i’ve had in the works since my labor day catchup binge of shows, but kept getting pushed back either due to regular coverage or specifically timed things like the bi visalblity day review of “What Was Missing.  And with Halloween next month, my time to cover this is running out a bit and I feel it’s a great place to start covering this show so, pitter patter.  The Casagrandes didn’t really hook me in at first: It did have two things going for it: An intresting premise A blended family coming together, with our heroine and her big bro being fish out of water in a new family situation. Wheras with the Loud House Lincoln, and by extension most of his sisters, is used to how his house runs, knows the score and knows how to manuvre around it, Ronnie Anne was being dropped into a new situation, with people she KNEW, but only likely from seeing them breifly. It’s one thing to see your cousin once or twice a year, as I did with mine at that age, it’s another to live with them. It had a lot of potential. The other thing was Bobby Santiago, Ronnie Anne’s brother, and one of my faviorite characters across both shows, an endlessly nice guy who while suffering from a terminal case of dumbass, is utterly likeable, helped by his VA Carlos PenaVega, with the spinoff and i’ts build up only fleshing him out more by giving him his job at the Mercado, and showing he has serious buisness acumen  in addition to his many other talents. 

But what made me wary was the lead: Ronnie Anne didn’t get the best intro on the loud house. You know this, I know this. We all know this. No sense beating around the bush: She was a bully, who had a crush on lincoln and masked it by pummeling him. And this was seen as okay by the show which isn’t as suprising in hindsight as Chris Savino clearly has messed up views about women and harassment, and is thankfully no longer part of this. She did get slightly better once she actually showed up, getting genuine chemstiry with Lincoln and being shown underneath the bully exteriror was a pretty nice kid who shared his intress. Granted it wasn’t perfect as the show madei t clear he was terrified of her, but it did at least also make it clear he no longer had a reason to be, and while she’d prank her boyfriend, or assits his sister during her dark time once a year in doing it, and if your wondering if i’m ever going to watch or cover the april fools episodes .. yeah i’m just waiting you know.. for april fools. 

My point is it was kinda mixed and their solution was to soften her up a bit but also act like she and LIncoln weren’t intrested in each other all of a sudden instead of you know, dealing with her past actions and having her make up for them. It was sloppy is what i’m saying and the character while not bad wasn’t in the best positoin to tkae the reigns of her own show. They did add some intresting depth with the move though, showing that Ronnie Anne and Bobby were often on their own, and that Maria moved them to the casagrande household simply because she felt her daughter would be happier NOT having to be the strong one or take care of herself all the time and actually have someone look out for her instead. It was a good emotional reason for hte move and both casagrandes showed up ocasoinally, mostly Bobbi whose still with Lori to this day as seen in the season 5 premiere.  It was an okay foundatoin but it would depend on what they did with her character.. and i’m glad to say.. they made it work. The show still has rough edges, mostly having the same problem ducktales and the loud house itself had during season 1 of juggling such a large cast: Most of them outside of Ronnie Anen and Bobby have only gotten 1 episode, and even then CJ feels underutlized despite being amazing, while the adults outside the grandparents feel underutlized.  Buuut the show is funny, intresting, has good pacing and unlike the loud house, having already learned that lesson, while Ronnie Anne does get more episodes than the rest of the family, it does feel more like an ensemble show and the focus on her feels less like the show not knowing what it has and more like easing the viewers into the rest of the cast by using her as a viewpoint.  Ronnie herself is better, the bully aspects gone. She can still take care of herself, and is still fairly indpentent and clever, but she’s got a sharp sense of humor and a clear love of her family and the fish out of water aspect I hoped for, while not used a ton, still comes up in intresting ways.  Overall i’d say the show is off to a good start.. and it has Melissa Joan Heart and Ken Jeong as a married couple and let’s Ken play a diffrent role for once: A dorky, kind dad instaed of any degree of lunatic. That being said given his character her’s last name is Chang, I can’t help but think this and community are in the same universe and that the Changs have just had to put up with whatever insane phase Senor Chang was going througha t the time every time he visted. I mean i’d love to hear Sid tell ronnie anne the time her uncle came over in a napoleon outfit and revaled he’d taken over his community college with the help of a bunch of children.  But i’m getting off topic, I gots an episdoe to cover and out of the ones I watched this felt both like a great re-introduction into the cast and was easily one fo the best with a great emotional core and great jokes and LOTS to dig into. So i’ve jawjacked enough, pitter pater. Again!

It’s with this episode we properly meet Arturo Santiago, Ronnie Anne and Bobby’s father, Maria’s ex, and owner of one hell of a beard. Ronnie mentioned him back in friended aka the pilot because fuck that airing structure but not the time or place for that moving on. 

We see he video chats his daughter once a day, though today she made hte mistake of doing so on a crowded subway while with her best friend and future wife Sid. NOW we can talk about Sid. Sid was introduced in Friended! over on the loud houd house as part of that mini arc I keep yelling about and will again and again. Sid is Ronnie Anne’s clyde: A best friend whose there as her sidekick, emotoinal support and resident goofus, being a bit of a weirdo and given i’m a giant ass weirdo, you can see why I like her/want to keep her safe from the nightmare that is at last half this fandom. Plus she and ronnie anne are adorable together and have more chemstiry than she and lincoln did.. thoguh the two do have OT3 energy together in his one episode, but that’s for another time. 

Anyways as Sid helps her rangle wifi by them by doing the mecha shiva we soon find out Arturo is coming home! Home lord he’s been off in Peru for too longggg. Point is Ronnie Anne is excited, Bobby is excited, everyone’s excited except for Hector who hates him.. and honestly I can see why the contrast. For everyone else, Arturo is a charming, friendly guy who genuinely loves his kids and only is away from them because he has a lot of important work to do and even with that is still an active part of their lives. Buuuut Hector likely sees it diffrently and is likely homing in more on the fact Arturo is barely there in person for his kids and left Maria to do all the raising them by herself, with her own demanding job.  It’s not a black and white situation is what i’m saying and.. I genuinely love that. It’s a complex thing to deal with: A parent who isn’t there for his kids but it’s hard to say if he’s being selfish or not. He’s not david from roseanne doing this so he can feel good about not wanting to deal with being a father or the death of his brother, Arturo genuinely just wants to help those who need him, even if he has to sacrifice a lot to do it.  Ronnie Anne naturally wants him to move here though and convince him during his visit, and her plan nicely shows off the duality of her charcter: She’s clever and can easily think things through, as his originzation has it’s home office in Great Lakes City so he could still help those in need, just more from the organizational end, as well as i’m assuming GLC’s own homeless and needy. But she also has an 11 year olds understading of complex issues and thus thinks the easiest way to convince him is to take him on a fun daddy daughter day that will make him love the city. Bobby is less optimistic about the plan though.. and that’s because he’s been through this with Arturo already. Granted his job for him was at weenier on a stick because it’s bobby, the boy is a peach of a human being but has the plkanning skills and common sense of a basset hound on qualudes.  He just sugest she enjoy the time. And this says a lot about BOBBY too: He’s used to his dad being out of his life, he’s probably been gone for most of it and while he loves him, he’s had ot get used to the fact he’s probably never going to be regularly in his life and while he understands why his sister’s trying this he wants to spare her the pain he went through. It’s interactions like this that to me show the series at it’s best and what it could be: deeper character interactions that really let the characters and voice cast shine, that still mix well with the usual nonsense.  Arturo arrives and everyone loves him.. and again it’s easy to see why: he’s kind, friendly and to the kids, he’s their cool uncle who lives in another country and as someone with one of those, It does feel neat. Hell he was my cool uncle when he just lived in chicago or seattle, but somehow he had to top those by moving to fricking ireland. So I get where they come from and really relate to it.. I mean I met mine in high school, my family tree is complicated, but still.  So while everyone but Hector is happily remeetinmg their uncle Maria shows up. And it’s awkward, the two not knowing how to greet each other, but it’s very obvious Maria and Arturo are on good terms, it’s just hard when theres so much history there.  Speaking of Maria let’s talk about her since this is one of her only scene’s this episode. Maria is one of my faviorites. She isn’t used a ton, but this is more excusable than it is with the Casagrande parents, as the whole point of Maria uprooting her kids to Great Lakes City was to give them company and someone to take care of them while Maria worked the long and varied hours of being a nurse. She’s a good parent, who just picked a rough career, and made the hard decision to uproot her kids, not for her sake, as it can’t be easy living with both your elderly parents, your sister and her husband not to mention 5 kids, a giant adorable pupper and an obnoxious parrot, but so they’d be happy.. which given Ronnie Anne went from having no friends and largely having to be the rock in the house, to having a sizeable friend group plus her cousins, as well as generally being happy while Bobby went from bouncing from job to job to running the family buisness and planning to expand it when he gets older. She’s a good gentle person who still makes time for her kids, and I wish we saw more of her with her spotlight episode, which was about Ronnie Anne trying to spend more time with her, being one of my faviorites so far. I also like the fact that for once in a cartoon a parent with a time sink of a career isn’t demonized for trying to put food on the table and rather than just quit or have a mean boss or the usual cliches, Maria just found a way her kids wouldn’t be alone. She’s awesome.  Ronnie Anne first tries showing him how great the city is with home cooking and a warm bed, but the first while nice is something he still gets, and the latter in a nice touch is just.. too soft for him. Ronnie meant well, but understadably he’s just not used to it and makes a cot under the stars instead.. he’s not trying to be ungreatful, he’s just sued to it. 

Anyways Ronnie indeed takes him on a montage, with some cab headbonks beacause why use an uber that’s cheeper and safer huh? Anyways our father and daughter do have a montage, and hector gets beaten up by a luchadore because this promotion apparently dosen’t get not to attack the crowd. They really need to stop booking that guy.

Ending on our article image, which is really sweet and a real beautiful shot, Ronnie Anne finally gets to her Ronnie Plan. First Arturo cycles through two diffrent assumptions about what she’s asking him about. He first thinks she’s about to tell him about a special boy or girl in his life, his exact words. He backspaces to include that. She says no which.. I guess okay you have other things in mind but you can’t put off him meeting Sid forever. That aside I do think it’s a good indication Ronnie Anne might be bi, and both her parents just easily accepted it which is great. I could be reading too much into this, and I probably am, but I’ve thought I was before on nickeodeon and look how legend of korra ended. 

The next is just hilarious as Arturo tries to let her down gently that he’s not getting back with maria which Ronnie Anne agrees with and was not remotely her point, but I do like as it shows their well and truly done, and it’s nice to see that sort of dynamic with a divorced couple in fiction where it’s not because of lingering sexual tension or anything, just that their apart but have kids to think about and presumibly the split was amicable if again still awkward. Finally Ronnie asks him.. but he gently refuses, since the people he helped need him as much as he wants to stay.. but part of what makes Arturo likeable, especially since he’s in the REALLY throny situation of not being in his kid’s lives in person despite having the opprountiy now, is that he genuinely tries to compromoise, saying he’ll try to up the calls to two a day, and he’ll visit more often. Ronnie Anne sadly and half heartdly says it’s fine and walks off.  So Ronnie Anne vents to that girlfriend she apparently dosen’t have that he cares more about her patients than him and Sid sidgests that part of that is simple: He dosen’t feel she and bobby need him since, as I pointed out earlier, their doing better than ever. So Ronnie Anne intitates a second Ronnie Plan: to convince him she’s a troubled youth and get him to stay and reasssmbles her cousins to help.  Before we move onto this plan that’s totally a good idea and not a borderline Zach Morris evil scheme, let’s talk about those cousins real quick. Quick fire: CJ is really great, a sweet kid and I wish they’d use him more and generally do nto get why they don’t, Carlota is fine but not all that defined at this point but Alexa PenaVega tries.. and why yes it is kinda weird Carlos PenaVega’s wife and the former star of spy kids is playing his sister. And Carl.. I don’t likes him. I just don’t. He did give me a really good episode, which we’ll be covering next month, but he’s just a little asshole with out the charm of fellow little asshole Louie Duck, who alsos cams people but actually gets consqeunces more often. 

That quickfire done Carl does a forgery which depsite me being eh on him, clearly, is a funny bit, to make Ronnie Anne look like she’s failing, but that fails as you’d expect when he can help her with that from Peru.  So it’s on to the actual plan: Which really boils down to this. 

I mean.. that’s essentially the plan convince him she’s running with a dangerous crowd and is breaking bad, dressing up in punk clothes and making a scene at breakfast. She also gets a really neat new haircut, similar to luna’s but spiky which.. why isn’t this her normal hair? and why dosen’t she at least keep the cool leather jacket? I always get annoyed when a character’s temporary costume change is even better than their default design and htey fail to realize it but whatever.  IT starts to work a little but clearly a breakfast tauntrum won’t be enough so Ronnie Anne enlists Sid.. who is frightend,d osen’t recognize her and dosen’t want to get shoved into a locker. .. who hurt you.. tell me.. I have a box to deliver. Just let me pop a quick H on there real quick. 

Anyways, once Sid realizes “Oh that’s not a bully come to shove me in a locker that’s just my girlfriend in the middle of a zack morris grade elabroate manipulative scheme”, which happens once a week their fine, she comes up with one last plan: Have her friends, who are neat but need more filling out, dress up like punks bullying her friend sameer.  This plan.. makes no sense. For one she was already a bully back home.. granted it was because she liked the kid, which no just no, but it’s heavily implied she did the same to the rest of the lincrew too. .which aside from Rusty isn’t a good look. I mean his face is punchable and he mocked hte idea of them being together despite next season hitting on Lincoln’s sisters, there’s a 1:1 chance he hit on her and she shoved him in a locker as is the natural response to anyone getting asked out by that goober. No matter how hard the show tries to pretend that didn’t happen it did. If her bullying kids didn’t get him to move home back in royal woods it won’t work now. 

So they had behind the fish market for their plan, Arturo is directed there.. and sees through it. I mean she’s probably sent him pictures of her friends, he knows who they are and no amount of costumes is going to fix that. I mean you really only changed Nikki’s hair. Why not just have a dance fight. i’m legitly asking dance fights are rad and this reminds me of the venture bros episode where hank, to impress his date, has billy and white pretend to be a street gang to impress his date. Just do that for sid instead of trying to gaslight your dad into staying.  But no while he pulls her into the car, Arturo knows this was a stunt and asks why. When Ronnie Anne tearfully reveals she just wanted him to stay.. he hugs his child.. and agrees. He realizes that if she’s willing to go to these lengths to get him to stay, she must REALLY miss her papa. So he plans to call the office to transfer.  But then while helping her dad unpack, Ronnie Anne finds something and we get another emotional scene: Ronnie Anne finds the letters he got from the various kids he’s helped, and is moved to tears. Props to Izabella Alvarez for her performance here as she reads the letter and realizes just what her dad’s work does ,and why it means so much to him. He truly helps those who need it and she decides she can’t take that awy from it: Sure her dad won’t be around.. but other kids need her dad more. She has a big family, she misses her dad.. but she can live without her dad. They need a doctor. 

So Arutro heads out with a tearful goodbye and Ronnie Anne leaves him a scrapbook of their time together. We then cut to the Santiago sibs playing cards, and being sad about their dad and all that.. when Arturo calls.. and then shows up in person. He took the Headquarters job after all, though a close friend of his we met earlier in the episode but I ddin’t mention will be taking over in Peru, and from earlier clearly wanted to get back out in the field, so it all works out. And it’s a nice character moment; Arturo realizes while his work is important, and as mentioned he does make sure a compient replacment will continue it.. his family can be too and it’s okay to think of himself and them for once. As I said he’ll still be able to help just in a diffrent way and there are probably needy kids who need him here too, if not in the same ways obviously as a doctors without borders type project. So eveyrone shares a group hug and even Hector bursts into tears. And Maria comes in wondering what she missed whiel Sergio asks who wants to tell her. oh sergio.. why didn’t you stay away when you ran away in a future episode.  Final Thoughts: Not much more to say. It’s a well done episode with high emotinal stakes, great acting and some great jokes I didn’t get to, and while the plot of “Make absent parent stay by pretending things are bad’ isn’t new, it’s done well enough here. Overall just a really good episode that shows what this show can do and why it’s unique family setup makes for intresting stories a lot of shows can’t tell, and validates this spinoffs existnace. The episode also really fleshes out Ronnie Anne’s character, and givne Arutro’s been gone since the divorce if not longer, it’s resonable to supsect her earlier bullying might have been lashing out at her parents divorce. It’s just good stuff. Keep an eye peeeld to this blog for my regular loud house and ducktales coverage , and some more casagrandes this october. ANd until then, Go Team Venture!

[kinkinwrites]

Pink Colored Love ~ Ramuda Amemura [Angst/Fluff]

Warning: idk bro, you tell me, it’s just really sad. Also, it’s after the most recent Drama Track, Fling Posse before the 2nd DRB, so I recommend listening to that first if you haven’t, but you do you boo.

-------------------------------------------------------

He breathed out the smoke from his lungs, the smell of cigarette impregnating his clothes. Out of the window of his apartment, he could see his beloved Shibuya. It was early in the afternoon so the streets were bursting with people, every single one of them living their lives without a care about what those above them could do. With one last puff, he pressed the lighted tip of the thin stick cancer against the ashtray.

It was completely unacceptable for his works to smell bad, so he always had to be careful to keep the smoke outside of his home and he did that by standing beside the wide open windows. Sighing, he used the remaining of his strength to close said window and move to the couch, kicking his feet on top of the coffee table. His entire body felt numb from the fight against himself, damn it, Chou-ku had managed to create subjects who were way stronger than he could ever be. They didn't have a single thread of humanity, unlike him they were perfect machines. 

A mix of guilt and something less bitter but more painful filled his chest. He couldn't put a name to it, that sensation, that feeling that had awoken inside of him the second that stupid duo stepped in to help, the moment Gentaro called him his friend. Ramuda's eyes fluttered closed. His delicate hands reached inside of his pockets to retrieve and unwrap one of the various lollipops Dice had found inside the jackets of the clones. The other clones, his brain didn't fail to remind him. He was no better than them… Actually, he was the failed experiment.

He had always hated it in silence. His cute face, his small and skinny body. He was a twenty-four year old man trapped inside the body of a child. It didn't matter how many women he fucked, he never came to terms with how disgusting it was every time he stood in front of the mirror. He wasn't a child for God's sake. Why couldn't he be like Samatoki? Or Ichiro? Or… God damn, he would settle for someone like Dice! And that child-like attitude he had to keep to make everything work like they needed him to… 

His blue eyes opened. And although he couldn't see himself, he knew their reflection showed how all he was could fall to pieces at any moment. Bringing an arm up to his face to choke the sobs that threatened to fall out of his lips, he used his free hand to pick up his phone. Well, the phone Gentaro so gently gave him after he smashed his own. It wasn't an issue really, he knew this number by heart and he needed it now.

You continued to climb the stairs that lead to the top designer's apartment. Were all the other floors sold when he came or was it his Napoleonic complex? Anyways, you were out of breath as you quickly jogged the last dozen steps. Ramuda Amemura was one of your frequent clients and although you weren't exactly fond of him when he wanted to play the idiot, he could afford your fees and then some. However, something felt terribly wrong as you picked up the phone, even though it wasn't unusual for him to call you out of the blue, he didn't use his usual playful tone and when he tried to call you "big sis" it felt off, like he was tired of playing pretend.

In your line of work it was part of your daily routine to deal with broken men and women that looked desperately for leftovers. Leftovers of whatever love they could get. But it sure wasn't something you had ever expected Ramuda to do. He already owned the hearts of multiple ladies with cleaner resumes than yours. You knocked twice instead of ringing the bell. "Come in." 

You gulped at the sound of his deep voice but decided to enter anyway. Pieces of fabric thrown everywhere, cigarette butts filling the multiple ashtrays scattered around the room, candy wrappers on the floor… what on Earth had happened to him? People could argue that you shouldn't care and that with the filthy job you had maybe it'd be a better use of your time to worry about yourself, but you had left society expectations behind long ago. In this fucked up world even someone like the pink haired man, who was lying on the sofa, could go up in flames and become nothing but dust in the blink of an eye.

He hadn't even bothered to look up at you. Head thrown back onto the backrest, both arms covering his face, the end of a lollipop stick sticking out of his closed lips. You took your sweet time taking off your jacket and shoes, leaving everything by the door before tiptoeing around the small pieces of plastic paper that covered every inch of the normally tidy apartment. Although you didn't bring it up to your conscience, you kept note of the unusual deep breaths Ramuda took, and the way his whole body trembled when he exhaled. 

"Can you prepare a bath for me, please?" His voice albeit shaky was clear enough for you to make sure you hadn't misheard. He was asking for it, not ordering you around. Yes, sir, you could. Making your way around the sofa to reach the bathroom door, you made a strategic stop behind him. Both your hands reached down to his arms, slowly moving them down his face. To your surprise he didn't offer any resistance which, to be honest, only fueled your theory of    something being wrong with him. You had never seen the short male look this tired. 

As soon as the idea came to life in your mind, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his forehead in a soft loving kiss. "I'll get the bath ready, you can relax here Mr. Amemura." His body seemed to stop shaking for a moment as a smile you couldn’t see creeped up his lips. “Don’t call me that.” But he liked it. You could hear the tension leaving him.

Warm, not hot. You swatted your hand slowly inside the half filled bathtub to check the temperature once again before closing the tap, the water tainted a soft pink. Without taking a moment to dry your hands, you stripped off your clothes and covered your naked body with one of the multiple satin bathrobes Ramuda kept in the bathroom.

When he heard you were done preparing his bath, the young man stood up, taking a moment to stretch his sore body before dragging his tired self next to you. He looked up at you for a moment trying to find a reason why it was your face, the one that came to mind when the world spinned out of control. At the end of the day you were just another girl on his bed… even more, he paid for you to be here. Why you, then?

Like almost everyone else, you were taller than him but he didn’t mind it. You were pretty but not like the models that tried on his works and posed for the cameras, you were attractive in a different way. He could recite by heart every single detail about your body yet he never got bored of it. You were a professional, he reminded himself, of course it was part of your duties to keep him hooked. Still, he caressed your cheek with the back of his hands, letting his fingers trail down to your chin.

Maybe it was stupid of him, maybe he should transfer the yen and tell you to go, maybe he should resort to the usual service, to tie you down and have his way but… that sweet bitterness he felt stopped him. You saw his eyes grow teary and tired and just a little bit hopeless. Your hands trembled but your skilful fingers worked through his clothes, taking off his blue coat, putting aside his white shirt and helping him with his black pants and underwear. As you straightened up after picking up his bottoms from the floor, you felt his arms around your waist. 

He didn’t want you to see, not yet. Ramuda’s bright eyes were closed as he buried his head in the space where your collarbones met, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the rose smell that came from the tub. Almost without realizing it, you found yourself threading through his soft pink locks. You were almost afraid of talking, of moving, of breathing in any way that could finally shatter what was left of him.

“Close your eyes for me?” The barely audible whisper made your heart ache but you obeyed nonetheless. He slowly raised up his head, making sure you weren’t looking and only then letting go of you. His hands made quick work of the bathrobe and tugged gently at your wrist, guiding you in the direction of the tub, making its way to your waist as he helped you sit down in the water. “Please, keep them closed.” He asked- no, begged you. He didn’t want you to see, he couldn’t bear to let you see a body that wasn’t that of a man.

He took a moment to admire the scene before his eyes and it took all of him not to break down in tears. You looked so calm, so serene, so… beautiful. The water pooling around your body, your head resting against the wall, your hair slowly getting wet from the dampness in the air around you. Maybe this was the reason he kept on calling your number, not minding how much money he had to throw away. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t see him as an ex-member of The Dirty Dwag, or the leader of Fling Posse, or even a fashion designer. No, you only saw a man. You saw past his walls, you saw the broken man inside cause maybe, just maybe, you were broken too. 

You rejoiced in the comfort of the bath for a moment, when you felt him enter the tub as well. His breath hitched, as if the simple effort of keeping his balance was too much for him but without receiving his orders, you kept still. You didn’t want to do anything that could potentially hurt him. But why in the world did you care about him? Tears stung your closed eyes at the feeling of him slowly resting his back on your chest, the back of his head finding the perfect spot on your shoulder. He moved your hands towards his torso, your brain picking up fast enough on it and holding him between your arms, a long sigh escaping his lips to be followed by the almost imperceptible trembling of his entire body as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“(Y/N)?” He muttered, between quiet sobs. You hummed in response, your heart breaking at the loss of his playful tone. There weren’t many things Ramuda was truly scared of, probably part of how he was programmed to be, and probably this one fear was the failure in his coding. The terrified faces of Gentaro and Dice filled his thoughts again, the fear they felt not by being in danger but by the possibility of losing him. 

As if he was worth the sacrifice.

He was nothing but a weapon. And useless weapons are supposed to be disposed of. A whimper crept unbidden out of his throat, making you spill the tears you were trying to keep at bay. In his pain, the real Ramuda had stepped out of his persona. He shifted his position so he could hug you as well, holding onto you like you were the only thing that kept him in this world. And for him, you were. He pressed an innocent kiss to each one of your cheeks, and then to each one of your eyelids, a sign you took to open your eyes. “(Y/N)...” He repeated.

He had accepted those feelings in his chest long ago but refused to put a name to them, he wasn’t supposed to feel them in the first place and name them would make them real. But when push came to shove, he wasn’t truly scared of dying. And he was certain that was also the case for everyone else. No one could stop death and therefore there was no point in fearing it, what feared was losing it all. Losing the world, losing his newfound emotions before having the chance to truly feel them all. His fear wasn’t dying, it was never getting the chance to live.

His turquoise orbs fluttered shut as his thin lips pressed a tender kiss to yours. Contrary to what you usually expected his touch was soft, like you were an illusion that could vanish in front of his eyes. Warmth filled your chest and this side of him. If only… no, it was impossible, he was just a client and- Ramuda interrupted your train of thought by licking your bottom lip oh-so-gently, just a touch of the tip of his tongue. His small but sure voice coming right after.

“Please… love me.”

[tortoisesshells]

Top ships (Like boats. Those kinds of ships)

nonny, you know me so well!

this list is the list I made after somewhat careful considerationover lunch break, and, to save everyone a lot of handwringing, I stuck to museum ships or ships you can still see/work aboard. Therefor, this is subject to change at any one point in time,depending on where I’ve been recently, what part of my diss. I’ve been focusingon, and whether or not I think fictional representations of ships (real orotherwise) are fair game.

(1) Charles W. Morgan. mon amour. Definitely thefirst ship of note I saw, at the ripe old age of probably four (there’s someembarrassing family photos lying around somewhere of l’il baby jamesknoxpolkalying around somewhere). I’ve heard that scent is a really powerful trigger formemory, and, before she was extensively repaired by the Seaport around2009-2012(?), I swear, you could smell the whale-oil. Mystic Seaport runs a24-hour Moby-Dick readingmarathon aboard the Morgan -do you know what it’s like to be lying on the deck of the last wooden whalingship in the world, staring up at the stars at 3AM, listening to someone readChapter 96, “The Try-Works”, where Ishmael compares the Pequod to Hell and gets disoriented in the long night watch? It’snot very academic of me, but the sense of lineage, of being part of a long lineof stewards and travelers holding and passing on the Morgan gives me the chills. A+ ship, will read Moby-Dick aboard it again.

(2)HMS Victory. Avery Long Trip for your humble narrator. A Spring Break trip, so’s we’re allclear on what my priorities were in college. I stood on the spot where Nelsonwas shot, and teared up. Horatio Hornblower was my maritime history gatewaydrug, and it’s a short hop from Hornblower to falling ass over tea-kettle intothe RN during the Napoleonic Wars. Wanna know how many biographies of Nelson Ihad on my bookshelf by the time I was fourteen? Seven (7). Victory is huge and beautiful and everything my little pre-teen andearly-teen self had imagined a ship-of-the-line to be. Oldest ship of war stillin commission, anywhere! I don’t know what series of events would lead theRoyal Navy to do anything with a 250+ year old ship, but I sure as shit wouldread that fantasy novel.

(3)USS Constitution.Despite being a US American, I do not have the same attachment to the Constitution as I do to the Victory, but the Constitution has(1) a much cooler design, h/t to Joshua Humphreys for the diagonal riders(? mynaval architecture glossary is weaaaakkk as hell) and building a ship that wassturdy enough to withstand (some) cannon shot as well as not hogginghorrifically over the past 210+ years & (2) a surreptitious role asinspiring the Acheron inthe seminal Western philosophical text, Masterand Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003). Owns onereasonably bad-ass nickname, “Old Ironsides”*, has a long and kind of weirdhistory after her fighting days were over. Like the Victory, is still, technically, in commission - but, unlike the Victory, actually still afloat!* addendum re: “Old Ironsides” - Constitution isnormally on display in the Charlestown Navy Yard across the pier from a WWIIdestroyer, USS Cassin Young. Ihave heard tourist ask the poor NPS rangers if the Cassin Young is “Old Ironsides”. Twice.

(4)USS Constellation. Ondisplay in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, and, for a very, Very, long time, allegedto be one of the sainted ~Six Original Frigates~ of the United States Navy (ofwhich I can only name five at any one point in time, because I always forgetUSS Congress existed,and that’s not even a comment on current US politics). One of my favorite bitsof drama in US maritime history, to be sure! For a long time, the Constellation on display in Baltimore was supposed to have been the one built in 1797, although that’s not actually the case! The ship on display was built at Gosport in 1854 … at the same time that the old frigate Constellation was dismantled for parts … some of which ended up in the new sloop Constellation. There was something hinky going on with the Navy’s books, iirc, too - I don’t think the Navy took the old frigate off the books, and just ended up keeping the new sloop Constellation under the old listing. There’s an apocryphal story I’ve heard that the subterfuge was because Congress would fund repairs but not the building of a new sloop which, while amusing, isn’t actually the case. Anyway, I love a good historical quandary, & the Constellation checks off a number of boxes! Bureaucratic sleight of hand! The perplexing weirdness of the antebellum Navy Department! Weird pissing contests about “which ship is older?”!

(5) SS John W. Brown. Apart from the righteous name (okay, so she’s not named for the John Brown, but for an early 20th century labor organizer, so solidarity forever! ahem), she’s one of two WWII Liberty Ships (out of 2500+ built, which is just … shit.  The US built and launched the SS Robert Peary in under five (5) days just to make a point - there was a lot left to do before the ship was functional, but, you get the point?) that are still afloat & functional. As in, the engine still works. The ship still goes out once in a while. Which I have yet to go on, but, some day! Anyway, the point in all this is the John W. Brown is neat and one of my favorite museum ships because there’s literally dozens of WWII subs and other vessels, but the history of the Liberty ship - the Ford Model T of 20th century shipbuilding - is cool and generally under-appreciated.(5b - because I flip-flopped twice) SSV Corwith Cramer. Not an old ship (she’s older than me, only just), but my first real sailing experience. I don’t think anyone ever forgets the first time they realize they can’t see land, anywhere? That if you fall overboard in the night, and no one misses you, you will die alone and never be found? The first time you go aloft while underway, that electric, anticipatory feeling in your hands, muttering “three points of contact, three points of contact at all times” to yourself? My bunk was in a part of the ship called “Squalor”. I accidentally got grease pencil on my face. I didn’t sleep for over a day because I was so excited! to be there! (& also watch) I heard whales spouting somewhere in the dark late one night, and it was one of the eeriest, most extraordinary things I can remember. on revient toujours a ses premieres amours.

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

[christinya24601]

Things about ‘Les Miserables’ which the musical doesn’t tell

This is going to be a long post. I love Les Miz the musical and that led me to read the novel. If you think the musical is dramatic, well, the book is tragic. Reading, I felt that kind of suffering that somehow heals. Of course a 2 and half hours production can’t comprise all the dept of over 1200 pages. The musical is magnificent, the book is sublime. If you like the musical and the problematic it presents, you are going to love the book, so I highly recommend: READ THE NOVEL. But, if you are not into reading, this list could help you make an idea about the profundity of this story. Note: there are too many details to can be put here, so I will resume the significant ones. Lots of them appear in the movie version though. And of course, SPOILER ALERT.

The plot:

-          The story doesn’t begin with the convicts. It begins with the bishop’s life (who, by the way, is named Myriel Bienvenue – the villagers prefer to call him ‘monsieur Bienvenu’, bien venu meaning welcome). He receives in his house anyone and the door is never locked (to the horror of his housekeeper). He receives much money but he lives in poverty because he gives the most of it to charity. The flatware and candlesticks of silver are the only objects of value that he keeps. He is all kindness, mercy, goodness, noblemindedness. So, when Jean Valjean, who was thrown out from hostelry, tavern, rejected by a family and even by a dog – he entered its kennel – is told by a women to knock at the bishop’s door, we can expect what is going to happen.

-          After the forgiveness given by bishop, Jean Valjean steals again. It is true that the theft is not like the one in bishop’s house, but it remains a theft though. Bewildered by the bishop’s behaviour, he puts the foot on a coin fallen from a boy. The child tries to take his money back but Valjean becomes angry and the child runs away frightened and crying. It takes some time to Valjean to understand what he has done but it is too late; the boy has disappeared. This is the moment when the change takes place in his soul.

-          The story of Fantine: she was a naive orphan in search of love and compassion and she made it bad. She entered in a group of 3 women and 4 men, she fell in love with one of them, but all 7 wanted just fun. As a ‘surprise’ the men left the girls and the only one who suffered was Fantine because she was left pregnant. She returned to her hometown and found a job in the new factory built there.

-          From convict to mayor (monsieur Madeleine): Jean Valjean is the one who has the idea of this factory. Through this, he succeeds to make the town prosperous. He refuses The Legion of Honor and to be the mayor until a citizen makes him realize (without knowing) that accepting, he can serves the good of the town. He becomes for this town what the bishop was for his village.

-          The event with the cart takes place long before Fantine’s arrest and it’s not the moment when Javert tells Valjean about the rearrested convict who seems to be the prisoner 24601. He does observe and speaks about his unbelievable strength seen at just one other. Fauchelevent, the man caught beneath the cart, has an important role later in the story.

-          Valjean isn’t there when Fantine is fired. She receives a letter and some money ‘on behalf of monsieur Madeleine’ but he has no idea about that.

-          After Fantine is arrested and then freed due to the intervention of the mayor, Javert tells monsieur Madeleine that he denounced him as Jean Valjean, but after finding the ‘true’ convict he felt guilty of his supposition and it is right to be dismissed. In this way Valjean finds out about the other ‘him’.

-          Javert is not present at the judgement. Everyone is so bewildered by Valjean’s confession and the moment is so grand that he leaves the court without facing any opposition.

-          Fantine has been in the hospital for 2 months and monsieur Madeleine visits her every day. When he doesn’t come (on the day with the trial) she thinks that he has gone to bring Cosette back to her. When he returns without her dauther they tell her she is not healthy enough to see her and they wait till she feels better.

-          There is no confrontation. Javert comes to arrest Valjean when Fantine is still alive. When she sees him, she thinks he has come for her. Valjean whispers to Javert he needs three days to bring the child to her mother and Javert refuses. Finding out from Javert that Cosette isn’t there and being frightened by his appearance, she dies. Valjean whispers something near her ear and then he surrenders and leaves with Javert. (We can assume that Valjean says her child will live within his care).

-          Jean Valjean becomes a convict again. He escapes from town’s jail, goes home, takes the candlesticks and the money he has earned and buries them in a forest. He is caught again after few days and condemned for life to hard labour. He becomes prisoner 9430.

-          Number 24601 appears just twice in the novel and it is never used by Javert refering to Jean Valjean.

-          Valjean falls in the ocean. Saving the life of a worker on a ship, a convict (who we know from the beginning that is Jean Valjean) falls off and he is considered dead. (but of course he is not).

-          Jean Valjean is almost caught by Javert again. After Valjean takes Cosette, they go to Paris and have lived for a few days in a remote flat. He finds out that Javert chases him secretly and he needs to run away. He is chased by a group of guardians on the streets of Paris. When he is almost caught he succeeds to climb a wall to a garden.

-          Valjean and Cosette have lived for 5 years in a monastery. The gardener is Fauchelevent and he helps ‘monsieur Madeleine’, who saved his life in the past, to hide and saves his life too. They pretend to be Fauchelevent’s brother and his granddaughter. He will help Fauchelevent with the garden and the girl will go to the school nearby. This part involves Valjean transported in a coffin and almost buried alive, but it is too complex to be presented here.

-          Marius’ life: Briefly, his father was a colonel in Napoleon’s army and his mother died. The father was dying on a battlefield when Thenarider found him, lifted him from the corpses and robbed him. He thought he owed this man his life. After restoration Marius was given to his grandfather, a royalist, by the colonel, fallen in disgrace, otherwise he would be disinherited. Marius grew up hating his father. Just after his death Marius researched and understood his father’s situation. He started to hate his grandfather, they argued and the boy leaves to live on his own. He became poor and his life wasn’t easy but he maintained his dignity. His aim is to find the savior of his father and reward him.

-          Marius and Cosette see each other multiple times before falling in love, on a street which both frequent.

-          Marius attends only once to the meetings in ABC cafe (actually ‘ABC’ is the name of the group and not the name of the cafe) and that is because he comes with a friend who is a member. After that, he meets that young men just at the barricade.

-          Valjean almost killed by Thenardier. This is another tense and complex part. After leaving the monastery, Valjean retakes his acts of charity. He keeps the name Fauchelevent. He arrives at a poor family, Jondrette, who revealed to be Thenardier. Thenardier recognizes Valjean as the man who stole Cosette. He sets a trap and catches Valjean. He succeeds to escape from Thenardier and the police as well, who come to arrest the lawbreaker. This also implies Marius, Javert, a black mail for Cosette and Valjean stigmatizing himself.

-          Eponine has a sister and 2 brothers. The third brother is Gavroche

-          Valjean doesn’t kill anyone at the barricade. He just takes care of the injured and aims twice the helmet of a spy.

-          Gavroshe dies trying to bring some thimbles from the dead soldiers to the barricade.

-          Valjean’s journey through the sewers was like a hell, much harder than it seems in the musical. He is almost caught by the police (who is in search of runaways from the barricade) and almost engulfed by a hole of mud.

-          Thenardier helps Valjean in the sewers. Well, not with the intention to help and Thenardier doesn’t recognize Valjean, but due to him, Jean Valjean succeeds to get out of there.

-          At the exit he finds Javert, who helps Valjean to carry the moribund at his grandfather’s home (as he has written on his notepad). As a last request, Valjean wants to arrive home. Javert waits by the door. Entering the house, Valjean watches from a window and Javert isn’t there anymore. He has left.

-          Jean Valjean participates at the wedding and he confesses the following day. The struggle in his mind is even stronger than the last time he chose to say who he is.

-          He doesn’t want to live with them but he wants to visit Cosette and Marius, at first, agrees, so Valjean comes every evening and waits Cosette in a dusty room downstairs. He becomes distant, he doesn’t call her Cosette, but Madam and asks Cosette not to call him father, but monsieur Jean or simply Jean, but he keeps coming, till one day when he sees that the chairs which are usually there for him and Cosette are missing. Marius has thought ‘better’ and has changed his mind. He understands the message. He must stay away from them. Still he keeps walking on the street to their house, but every day any less until he doesn’t leave his.

-          Thenardier comes to Marius to tell the event of the sewers, in exchange of an amount of money. Marius believes that Valjean robbed monsieur Madeleine and killed Javert but Thenardier reveals all the truth. He doesn’t have Marius’ ring, but a piece of his coat, rent when he met Valjean in the sewers.

 The characters:

-          Eponine is ugly and has a thick, harsh voice (I love Sam Barks, but now I find her too beautiful and her voice too soft for this character). She and Marius are not friends, Marius despises her till she helps him to find Cosette’s house. Marius is even blinder (if this is possible) due to the love for Cosette to observe her. On the other hand, Eponine wants Marius to die on the barricade for not to be with Cosette, none the less she sacrifices herself to save him (she stops a gunshot to arrive at him)

-          Enjolras despises Grantaire because he is addicted to drinking, unbeliever, fool and rowdy. Grantaire idolizes Enjolras because he is clever, righteous, dignified and a good leader. The only time Enjolras shakes hand with Grantaire is in the last moments of their lives, when Grantaire comes near him and asks to be shot together.

-          ‘Bring Him Home’ doesn’t exist, not even in Valjean’s mind. He hates Marius because he is the one who takes Cosette from him and breaks their bound. Still he saves him. For the happiness of Cosette. Valjean keeps his calm and goodness  all the time. Their relation remains cold till the end when Marius finds out everything.

-          Javert is not a religious man, as it might be thought from ‘Stars’. He sees the law of the man is the supreme law. He doesn’t serve the heaven’s law through the earthbound one, he doesn’t think he serves God, but the good of the society which depends just on its law.

There are so many things to be said about this masterpiece of literature. It has broken my heart in so many ways. If I wept at the end of the musical, I sobbed to the book. And Jean Valjean deserves his own post. Perhaps I will do it someday. After I am able to move on.

[ivarinleatherpants]

ok, OTP questions all of them. Or one through ten. Or one through five. You know what, I don't care. Gimme, I'm desperate.

Whelp, we’ll see how many of these I can get through! XD

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

-Ivar. Totally Ivar. He’s the one who has never needed to stick to a budget, and he loves spoiling Gwen with all the nice things she could never afford growing up.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

-Ivar wants Gwen to sit in his lap more, but she gets worried about hurting his legs. More often, it’s Ivar who ends up falling asleep with his head in her lap while she runs her hand through his hair.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

-Pfft. Ivar, obviously. The second he comes home the shirt comes off. Gwen doesn’t mind so much, but she needs to get stuff done, dammit! She can’t keep getting distracted by the... arms... and... the other muscles... and...

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

-It’s pretty equal. Though Ivar’s the one who’s more likely to actually be out all night. He loves to go to punk concerts or to play with his band, but Gwen doesn’t like the noise and crowds. Sometimes she’ll come pick him up, but a lot of times she just waits for him to come home.

It probably doesn’t help that he always gets very... erm... energetic... after all the adrenaline. Then he comes home with his full punk-regalia on, his makeup all smudged and his hair messy and... yeah...

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

-Gwen. She’s a competent cook, and can make a decent meal, but she has to have a recipe she can follow or else things can get out of hand. Ivar is just proud of her for trying to go out of her comfort zone, even though she can’t cook a steak to save her life.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

-Ivar doesn’t know what an OTP prompt even is, and teases Gwen horribly for reading fanfiction.

Ivar: *Gleefully* This is straight-up porn, Ging!

Gwen: GIVE THAT BACK THIS MINUTE!

Ivar: Metal arms? Really? Is that your thing, babe? Blue eyes and a bit broken?

Gwen: I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN!

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

-Gwen totally wears Ivar’s shirts.

It’s unlikely anything but Gwen’s most over-sized ugly sweaters would fit Ivar.

Not that he’s ever tried or anything... but there was that one pair of pants that would have gone SO well with his jacket...

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

-Again, probably equal. Gwen does a lot of the shopping early on, just because-again-Ivar had no clue how to shop frugally. But later on she ends up working at Kattegat U as a research scientist/teacher, and he has Heathen Hotrods so he can stay home with the kids, he ends up running a lot of the errands.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

-Depends. They both like to drive. There are some cars Ivar prefers to drive, but he categorically refuses to drive Gwen’s Subaru Mom-mobile, so it’s a toss-up. It also depends of in one is more tired, or if Ivar’s legs are hurting more than usual.

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

-Gwen is the only one who draws, but she doesn’t do people. Ivar does like to take pictures, though, and has quite the collection *wink wink nudge nudge*.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

-Ivar is the backflipper, while Gwen would be following behind, shouting at him to be more careful and STOP doing that he’s going to hurt himself!

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

-Oddly enough, Gwen is probably more likely to overdo it. She doesn’t know her own limits the way Ivar does. He’s good at keeping an eye on her and letting her have fun, but making sure she drinks water and stops before she makes herself really sick.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

-They’re both the sort to get little things just because it makes them think of the other. Ivar probably a little bit more, just because he’s more financially spontaneous. 

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

-Gwen hyphenates when they get married. Ivar proudly introduces them as Dr. and Mr. Wessex-Lothbrok. It gets to the point where he sometimes forgets he didn’t actually change his name. XD

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

-Neither of them are super bothered by spiders. Unless it’s a really big one and it shows up in the shower, then both of them are likely to shriek and cry for help.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

-Gwen probably spends more time wearing Ivar’s jackets than he does. She doesn’t even have to indicate that she’s cold, he just has this sort of sixth sense and immediately swoops in like some leather-clad savior.

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

-I think this is pretty obvious, considering it’s already happened. lol. It’s a long time before Ivar and Aethelred actually start to get along, and even longer before they can really be considered ‘friends’. 

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

-Let’s see. Ivar pretty much jumped in head first, but Gwen was the first to say “I love you”. It’s easy for him to be affectionate, but hard for him to talk seriously about his feelings. Whereas Gwen grew up in a family that was much more open about that sort of thing.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

-They both have their strengths and weaknesses. Gwen has less experience with kids, and is pretty uncomfortable with them when she first meets Ivar’s huge family. He’s the one who is the most gung-ho about having kids, but isn’t actually all that into kids that aren’t his own.

With their kids, Ivar is really good at handling the not-so-serious stuff, the tantrums over silly things that Gwen has a hard time being patient with. But it’s really hard for him if one of his kids is really hurt, whereas Gwen is very good at remaining calm during crises. 

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

-They’re both grammar Nazis, and mock Alfred for using numbers and other text shorthand.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

-They will both come in, guns blazing, if someone tries to hurt the other. They even aggressively defend each other against themselves. Self-deprecation is met with physical assaults with deadly plushies.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

-Ivar makes ALL the bad puns, and is SO happy when he’s finally able to legitimately use dad humor. Gwen pretends to cringe, but she actually thinks he’s really funny.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

-Gwen has come home to find a new animal many times. Many, many times. Once it was a daschaund puppy that had lost all it’s fur (Napoleon), another time it was a mini horse in their shed. Ivar argues that he tried to say ‘no’, but the kids insisted.

Ivar: No guys, we aren’t adopting the horse.

Judah (a.k.a Ivar Jr.): *Slapping his little four-year-old hand down emphatically* Daddy! He needs a famiwy!

Alyssa (a.k.a Gwen Jr): *Two and already running the world with an iron pout* Pony! Pony!

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

-Ivar: Are you tired? Wanna ride on my back?

Gwen: No.

Ivar: Giiing! C’moooon!

Gwen: No! Your legs are already going to be hurting from all this walking!

Ivar: Ging, get over her and let me carry you!

Gwen: No, you can’t make me!

*Continues, ad infinitum.*

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

-Ivar is more likely to play a sport, but really, he’s the shameless fanboy. Gwen’s maybe tried to leave him at home once or twice when she’s getting an award of some kind, because he makes that bad of a ruckus.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

-Ivar. He just can’t get enough of his cutie-patootie. Gwen protests that her drooling isn’t cute, and if he doesn’t delete that right now, so help her...

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

-Also Ivar. The few times Gwen’s gone with him to a show, she lets him give her a full punk makeover. Just in general he likes to pick out her clothes. He may know the contents of her closet slightly better than she does.

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

-Neither of them is really afraid of the other’s pet, but Gwen is deeply suspicious of Napoleon on occasion. She’s sure he’s not as innocent as he looks, especially considering the number of times he’s conned Ivar into letting him sleep in their bed.

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

-Ivar has a strong streak of chivalry, hammered into him since birth by Aslaug. She taught him how to behave in high society, and there’s certain things that he still does on instinct.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

-They’re both homebodies to a certain extent, so they wouldn’t be constantly travelling, but they’d still like to visit other countries. Especially Ivar, who loves history. They probably take a couple trips every year. Gwen plans out the itinerary and makes Ivar stick to it despite his tendency to wander off. They like to see historical sites and go to museums. Probably a good mix of exciting stuff like amusement parks, and just chilling in a nice hotel somewhere scenic.

Ivar, of course, brings two or three cameras along and uses all of them.

[stayathomesurveys]

026.

Before you take a survey, do you read down through to make sure there aren't any questions you don't wanna answer?:  Sometimes. I usually go by the first few questions to see if it’s a boring survey or not. If there’s ever any questions that I don’t want to/feel like answering, I just delete them, lol.

Rate your confidence level on a scale of 1 to 10:  -10.

Do you know anyone who does not like The Beatles?:  Probably.

For every sibling you have, name one food they don't like. If you're an only child, do you ever wish you had siblings?:  Rebecca - I’m not sure, I didn’t grow up with her. Samantha - meat on the bone. Sonic cheeseburgers. Jacob - onions, tomatoes, most any vegetable.

Did you have a friend in middle school that you're now enemies with in high school?:  I am not in high school. I never had “enemies.” But yeah, I had friends in middle school that were no longer my friends in high school.

What grade are you in anyway?:  I am not in school but will hopefully be going back to college in the fall if I can manage to afford it.

Do people have any reason to believe you're an alcoholic?: Nope.

What is one thing you hope your children don't inherit from you?:  My mental health issues.

Why don't you want that passed on?:  Because, who would want their kids to have mental health problems? They are mentally and physically exhausting and cause so much damage and hurt your quality of life. Who wants to have to worry about if their kid is eating too little or eating too much or making themself vomit or misusing laxatives or exercising until they pass out or thinking about killing themselves or hurting themselves? Who wants to see their kids lose friends and have no social life/social skills due to depression or an eating disorder or crippling anxiety? Why would anyone want that?

Hey! Enough with that bad self-talk! Tell me something you like about your body: I don’t like anything about my body but I guess I can easily get a dumpy... the only good genes I have :p 

Rap music: Yay or Nay?:  Yay, depending on the artist/song/etc.

Whoever invented post-it notes was a genius, right?:  Sure...

Does the price of gas outrage you?: YES. It is just about $5 a gallon here.

Please tell me you know the difference between there, they're, and their!:  Duh.

Are you obsessed with cleaning?: Yeah.

Where do you keep your shoes?:  I keep them in my closet, on a shoe rack in the hallway, and in a shoe thing from Ikea in my living room.

What do you think of dating websites?:  I don’t have an opinion on them.

Are YOU smarter than a 5th grader?:  I guess.

Don't you think its funny how people will wear those AC / DC shirts but when you mention one of their songs, they go, "What?":  Who cares? Also, you don’t know if they got that shirt as a hand-me down, from a thrift shop, etc due to financial reasons.

What's the strangest thing a complete random stranger has ever done to you?:  I don’t know.

When you said something naughty when you were little, did your parents wash out your tongue with soap?:  Maybe once or twice.

What do you think of spanking little children when they do something wrong? Okay or not?: I don’t know.

Y'all got a southern accent?:  I do.

Is it true that British accents are overrated?:  Uhhh it’s just an accent. People’s weird obsession with them is overrated.

How does it make you feel that most American families are failing?:  Sad.

When you get married, are you gonna stick out with your husband or get a divorce on the first argument that comes your way?: I don’t think anyone gets a divorce on the “first argument” but ok.

Did you know that in Japan they have sushi flavored ice cream!?:  Yeah.

What are your thoughts on the popular movie Napoleon Dynamite?: I’ve seen it once and it was okay.

What's your least favorite month?: Who cares.

Do you ever just break down and cry for no reason? And doesn't it suck when people come over when you're crying, wanting to know what's wrong, and you really have no clue..?:  Yeah and yeah.

Wouldn't it be EXTREMELY weird if someone fell in love with you after reading your answers to this survey?:  Yes...?

What color is your hair, naturally? Assuming you dyed it, why did you do that?:  Blonde. Because I like change.

Have you ever tried that vitamin water stuff? Is it any good?:  I think I’ve had a couple flavors. The first time that I had it, it was gross to me. I think I liked it the second time around.

Do you love anyone?:  Yeah.

What do you do when you're bored in class and not paying attention to the teacher?:  Daydream.

[wickerjulias]

okie dokie so i read all of the fics that you reccommended embarassly fast, do you have any long napollya recs i don't care if they're super angsty but I cannot deal with not a happy ending.... i'm sorry they were just so GOOD my favorites were toska and a literary manifesto !!! -your fic needing stalker anon

hey there anon!! i’m sorry for the delay. and omg yeah!! i love these two!! like wow!! 

unfortunately the tmfu fandom doesn’t a lot of very long fics, but i tried my best to find some for you. here you go, same format as your last ask, i hope you’re gonna have a blast reading them!

Tidings of Comfort and Joy by pinpointjudas (M)

Napoleon and Illya are sent to deepest, darkest Yorkshire to investigate a rumour that a THRUSH agent is spending Christmas at Castle Bellamy. Their brief is to hide in plain sight amongst other house guests. Napoleon is convinced it will be an almost enjoyable case, provided Illya cheers up, the ghost in his bedroom leaves him alone, and they catch the nefarious agent before anyone winds up dead...

Note: This one isn’t finished technically, because the epilogue is missing. I’d still give it a read though, because it’s written super well and because most of the issues the story deals with get resolved in the last chapter posted.

The Ghost War by manic_intent (E)

Aleppo was one of the oldest cities on earth, and once, it had been one of the most beautiful. Illya had been here before the war, when he was younger, young enough to be taken by wanderlust. He had walked through the very place he stood now, gawking at the crowds, the tightly packed stalls, listening to voices haggling in a language he did not understand, the market riotous with colour and laughter and spices. Now Al-Madina Souq was broken with rubble, its arched corridors blasted dark, its cathedral silence sometimes interrupted rudely by the distant staccato booming of artillery and gunfire, the ancient stone thick with the stench of rot and urine.

Note: This one is rather short in comparison to the others, but it’s so good!! I’d def rec it!

in sin + error by neroh, (M+E)

The mission is a simple one: retrieve a USB drive from a very bad man’s yacht off located in the Mediterranean Sea and confirm its destruction to HQ.Or another way Napoleon and Illya met.

Note: This one’s a series.

all that you have wished for, I know will come your way by janie_tangerine (E)

Napoleon isn’t quite sure he can put yes, because your superiors don’t get to see you gloating when you’re not playing chess against yourself, and they don’t get to discuss dumb opera plots with you, they don’t get to see you engrossed in cheap paperbacks and treat them like first editions because you care that much about what they say, and they don’t get to see that you have a personality and that it’s everything but unpleasant when one gets to know you, and I don’t understand why would anyone think it’s a good idea to treat you like an asset and not a person in words that might not sound completely ridiculous, never mind that he’s not even sure Illya would take such a rant seriously.

Or: where Illya has issues asking for what he wants if it falls under the unnecessary-to-his-job radar and Napoleon just might be a bit over in his head, but he's entirely willing to rectify that situation.

Wanting Too Much by Tallihensia (E)

A young soldier turned thief after the war, Napoleon goes to a black-market auction to sell a valuable painting... and comes away with something he didn't intend to buy – a Russian KGB agent. After an interesting night where they get to know each other, the next day finds them determined to do something to right some wrongs... but not all wrongs can be corrected that easily. As they work together, Napoleon learns some hard truths... but also comes away at the end with something more valuable than a painting.

Note: Technically speaking NOT with a happy end, but there is some sort-of sequel you can find in the endnotes of the fic.

By the Throat (T+E)

In which the KGB took some rather dubious measures to ensure Illya’s loyalty to Russia, and Napoleon doesn’t care for it.

Note: This is a series as well, but it’s restricted and only available if you have an AO3 account.

how certain the journey by Carthage (E)

Illya’s mark – Solo’s claim on his skin- is an ugly thing. In childhood it had shone like Solo’s, beautiful and good and bright, but then he had gone to the KGB, and there, they had tried to destroy the mark. To make him truly equal, and no one’s submissive. His mark has burned patches outlining it, thin crosshatches of scars, pockmarked pits of white skin- and yet, the mark returned, every time.

despite the passage by endquestionmark (E)

Illya has been waiting for something to happen for a very long time.

The Honey Trap by Mamalazzer (E)

"So congratulations, Peril," Napoleon drawled, looking so amused that he could see it was literally setting Illya's teeth on edge. "You have the supreme good fortune of getting to kiss me senseless. Now be a good sport and put your hands on my backside, would you? I'm beginning to feel neglected."

In which the boys have to go undercover as a couple, with Napoleon having a whale of a time while Illya isn't sure whether to knock Napoleon's teeth out or kiss him.

Spanning the Reaches byTallihensia (E+T)

Napoleon reflects on his partner while waiting to rescue him. Afterwards, Illya has a unique way of saying thank you for saving his life. Napoleon thinks it’s a good idea... and after Illya saves him, returns the thanks.

Note: A series as well.

The Trojan Affair bymanic_intent (E)

Ten minutes to go to ground zero and Artyom was still desperately trying to escape. “I have never attended little girl’s birthday party,” he pointed out repeatedly, and actually pouted, big blue eyes wide and pleading.

“Always a first time,” Napoleon said mercilessly, pulling on a charcoal Tom Ford blazer over his loose gray knit. “Mrs Siegfried invited us weeks ago, Artyom, don’t be a baby. You’ve had quite a while to gird your loins. We’re going to a party, not some sort of trench warfare. Smile.”

Artyom scowled, which was admittedly normally an adorable look even for a tall, blonde Russian giant of a man. “I do not like Mrs Siegfried,” Artyom declared, clearly intent on being as recalcitrant as possible.

The Gemini Affair by manic_intent (E)

In the first month of being co-opted into working with Illya Kuryakin full time at U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon stole Illya’s father’s watch four times, twice out of spite, once out of drunken curiosity, and once out of sheer boredom. After the fourth time, Gaby sprained one of Napoleon’s fingers and threatened to do worse if he did it again.

“You are not a spy,” she told him firmly, dangling the watch out of reach as Napoleon curled in a wincing, fetal position on his Le Corbusier couch in his upstate apartment. “You are a thief with the self-control of a child. Now give me back my ring.”

“What ring?” Napoleon asked innocently, even through the pain.

“How fond are you of your nose?” Gaby shot back blandly.

I am a part of all that I have met by ScribeofArda (T+M)

It's been over a year since Rome, since they stopped the world ending, since Napoleon made a choice and threw a watch across the room instead of pulling a gun. They've been spiralling together in that inevitable way, but neither Napoleon or Illya have been brave enough to take the first step across to the other.

Now it might all be too late, and Napoleon didn't think it would end like this: Illya lying in the street, ash and blood and Napoleon's name on his lips. There are a thousand unspoken words between them, begging to be heard before they become just another regret on top of the many they've already accumulated over the years, but the game never stops, not even for love.

Note: Again, a series.

Drowning Deep bySomedrunkpirate

Don’t follow the rabbit. He knows this. Don’t fall into the rabbit hole of memories. You’ll drown.

But Illya lives there, deep in the past, it’s the only way he gets through the day.

The Argonauts byleslielol

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin accompany one another on a journey.

[gaarfielf]

my list of lupin movies ive watched for the sake of keeping track and making sure i dont rewatch some

Castle of Cagliostro (10)

favourite Lupin movie of all time. Fantastic art, cast, plot, everything.

Blood Seal: Eternal Mermaid (8.5)

Really good animation and really interesting plot. Another ‘Lupin has to babysit’ movie but it was treated in such a way that set it apart from other ones. He gives her a lot of good advice and overall I really enjoyed this one even if it’s kind of underrated.

Burning Memory - Tokyo Crisis (8.5)

Surprisingly good like I wasn’t expecting a 90′s Lupin movie to come for me like this but the animation is really solid and the movie itself was really funny. I also liked that Maria and Zenigata weren’t a thing like that cleared my pores.

The Bloodspray of Ishikawa Goemon (8)

The animation is fucking stellar but there were odd gaps in the movie that were really inactive. I liked the two subplots going on though like they were both interesting.

Bye Bye Lady Liberty (8)

The classic convoluted subplots worked well here tbh and the Goemon romance stuff was gunshot noise gunshot noise cash register noise. The animation had this weird glow to it but it was (almost) the 90s lol

Hemingway Papers (8)

They really got me with Goemon and Jigen going against each other and Lupin being in a relationship with someone aside from Fujiko (a relationship that was genuinely romantic) was actually pretty well done. That whole bit at the end with the karaoke machine? Amazing

Return the Treasure (7)

Another one that was really close to being perfect. The only loose ends was that the “treasure” wasn’t really explained very well (but i mean, the lead up to it was very good) and i could’ve done with more scenes with the whole gang (it seemed like there was a lot of times where it was lupin jigen and fujiko or lupin goemon and fujiko, but not enough of all of them together)

From Siberia With Love (7) 

The usual amount of humour and action from a Lupin III film and the art is pretty standard. Goemon got a few nice quotes in and Fujiko talked to a woman. Could’ve done without Rasputin but thats just me.

Elusiveness of the Fog (7)

Lupin offering Goemon to the princess was kinda funny and I actually really liked OG Mamo (not the short freak) being revitilized bc his episode in the original series was really entertaining. The history of where they were was a little wonky but I’ll give it to them this time.

Pilot Film (7)

That shit was wild i liked how jigen was introduced as the gunman and then beat the shit out of 3 police officers with his bare hands. also goemon i guess dedicates his life to killing lupin so thats fun, like he’s on zenigata’s side i guess. could’ve done with fujiko making an expression at any given time but yknow what? it was funny and it was only 12 minutes long

Another Page (7)

Surprisingly not that bad. To summarize the film as a whole I’d say: it could have been worse. The plot made sense which is more than i can say about most lupin movies and they stuck to two subplots that were both interesting and meshed pretty good by the end. And the two lady characters that got introduced didn’t betray anybody AND didn’t die.

Farewell to Nostradamus (6.5)

The animation was pretty good and I liked the whole ‘we gotta protect this kid’ thing but I always mix up this one and Bye Bye Liberty Crisis like this movie is it’s less interesting twin. Both of them have kids they need to protect but Bye Bye Liberty Crisis was just better. I feel like this one had a really good ending but aside from that the movie wasn’t that memorable for me.

Fuma Conspiracy (6.5)

i liked Goemon being in a relationship bc it was really sweet, i just wish there wouldve been a better balance of romance to plot. Also terrible voice actors but that just affected my enjoyment not really the plot or anything relevant.

Sweet Lost Night (6)

I like time shenanigans and my only two critiques are the inconsistent art quality and they seemed really hesitant to embrace time skipping. Like “he’s limited to twice before he becomes brain dead” was a little bit of a small window. If anything they missed out on a good opportunity for a classic lupin montage of him time skipping way too often. Maybe if they changed it to “you skip time every 12 hours, to every 6 hours, to every 3 hours, etc” until he stops existing?? like that seems more in line with a lupin plot not to mention a little more suspenseful.

Dead or Alive (6)

The new art style is kind of neat and didn’t really affect the personality of the characters like I thought it would. The plot itself was complicated and hard to follow but I mean, it wasn’t awful. Nothing I really hated and nothing I loved.

Jigen Daisuke’s Gravestone (6)

Handsome Jigen was cool but tcm i’m begging you to drink your Respect Women Juice. Also Goemon wasn’t in this one what the fuck was up with that. Lupin looked like a crispy toenail in the new art style but again the animation is gucci so I can’t really complain on that front.

Napoleon's Dictionary (6)

Reminded me a lot of Mamo except with more respect in women. Just kidding Fujiko was kind of a crapshoot in the end and the ending was more or less just. cut off?? like they crashed into the ocean after lupin ruined zenigatas marriage and the credits started rolling. it was weird bc it had a lot going but i guess they ran out of time for a proper ending?

Mystery of Mamo (6)

Respect Women Juice needed and also why was Goemon purple. The pros to this movie was the overall aesthetic being really attractive BUT the plot was sketchy and didn’t make a lot of sense. The only remarkable scene I remember is Jigen shooting the can by Lupin’s feet like I wish that emotion would’ve carried through the film and not ended there.

Red vs Green (5)

Really good animation, no fucking idea what happened in this film.

Walther P-38: Island of Assassins (5)

They missed an opportunity to be a little more psychological and the lady of the week dying was meh but I will say the plot stayed on course like they didnt try to do too much at once like they tend to do. I wish they would’ve delved more into lupin’s past with the doctor because that seemed kind of random but the more lethal, edgy plot was handled decently. I’ll probably forget this one in a week tbh.

Dragon of Doom (5)

I like learning more about Goemon but his girlfriend was really distracting and uneccessary. Like, if you want to introduce Goemon’s childhood friend sure its whatever but she only showed up to either threaten lupin or flirt with Goemon. And it was very obvious she was going to betray him so all her build up was pointless. I will say though, the plot was pretty cool which was surprising.

Voyage to Danger (4)

tcm I’m begging you to let Jigen talk to a woman and not have it be like ‘this is Jigens girlfriend now’. Sometimes women be talking and they aren’t thirsting for a man triple their age. It just be like that sometimes. Thats literally all I remember about this film.

First Contact (4)

I remember being excited for this like ‘oh wow their first ever meeting’ and i s2g this film was boring. And also a giant plothole. With no real redeeming qualities. I don’t even remember the animation being that good.

Columbus Files (4)

This film was at least funny bad but my hand to god I’d never watch it again. This is the first time I’ve ever watched a movie and had to watch the dub bc the sub was boring me to death. It was just... so bad... Especially when you’ve seen Wings of Death like this ain’t the Fujiko I know please leave.

Seven Days Rhapsody (3)

The comedy in this one was so weirdly incorporated and featured another really good ‘here’s Jigen’s dead girlfriend’ that i just could not care less about and then finished off with this what like 13 year old girl asking to be Lupin’s girlfriend? fuck outta here. The ONLY good part was Goemon slapping Lupin across the face.

Alcatraz Connection (2.5)

Really, really boring. The content wasn’t necessarily bad but they had 4 subplots going on that were equally uninteresting and some scenes went on for so so so long. It deadass took me 5 hours to watch this movie bc i kept pausing to do literally anything else. The art was unpleasant and by the time they got the treasure i didn’t really care anymore. Not to mention the plot was way too complicated and tin-foil hat for my liking.

Missed by a Dollar (2.5)

Made very little sense and in general was really annoying. Between Goemon being a born again Christian and the plot briefly derailing so Lupin could establish an oil company it was like can we pick something to focus on? By the end of the movie I was like wait when did they get the broach? What does the broach do again? And then he gives it to someone random and its like??

Gold of Babylon (2)

This one if the definition of being cursed and Pink Jacket deserved so much better than this nonsense. Like Lupin III isn’t known for its coherence, sure, but this movie had absolutely no structure. Upon finishing the film I was trying to remember anything that just happened and my brain refused. It kept the good cartoonish animation but god at what cost.

Angel Tactics (2)

TCM PLEASE DRINK YOUR RESPECT WOMEN JUICE. The art was just. Stunningly bad. Bad to the degree where about a minute thirty in I already regretted starting it. Not to mention the classic “we don’t actually wanna draw this part so we’re gonna jam cgi in here”. Also the most awkward use of “hey heres 3 women hey heres 3 men lets shove them together”.

Harimao’s Treasure (2)

nazis and transphobia which was extremely unfortunate considering the opening was actually one of the stronger ones I’ve seen from Lupin but immediately after the villain was introduced the quality of the film dropped about 90% and i wanted to die for the entire last half of the film. if they had changed the villain it would’ve solved 90 of their problems.

Twilight Gemini (2)

this was one of the only films in the entire lupin series where i was rooting for lupin to fucking perish. not only was goemon only in this film for 26 seconds, jigen was there for about 30 seconds and im not entirely sure if fujiko was there at all. not to be that guy but when they make lupin to be the most intolerable piece of shit in the world for this movie, don’t give him all the screen time. having to stare at this asshole for an hour and a half was exhausting.

Princess of the Breeze (2)

How a movie where Jigen has to carry a baby around in one of those funny baby-carriers turned out this fucking goddawful I have no explanation for. This movie was like an AU where all these other characters no one cares about happen to exist in the same universe as lupin. and when lupin does show up, i want him dead. Just horrifically boring and lazy art mixed with bad cgi. The only upside is that it isn’t Return of the Magician.

Return of the Magician (1)

I’m giving it a 1 on the principle that this wasn’t even a movie. It was a little less than an hour long and my god i’ve never seen a film so full of pad-time that if i can be so bold, there was more pad time than plot. What little plot they had made absolutely no sense and the art used cgi in the most bizarre and ugly ways. i’m pretty sure the credits played twice at the end. if there was a world record for lowest budget in a film, Return of the Magician would win hands down.