#should this still be tagged as Cinderella boy?

[karabell]

Some of the last remaining evidence of Chase’s green eyes 😔💚

[munson-blurbs]

The ending was adorable 🥹 Everyone is going to ask for the proposal and the wedding and all that amazing stuff… but I really want to see the Disney trip and Wayne on Its a Small World 😂

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: The whole Munson clan embarks on their first trip to Disney World; as expected, it's filled with both magic and mayhem.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Also requested by @tvserie-s-world!

June 2002

The Munson chaos, as it turns out, is not limited to Hawkins. It tags along everywhere, including family vacations.

Especially family vacations.

“Babe, where’s the sunscreen?” “I wanna see Mickey!” “Ed, have you seen my hat?” “I’m hungry!”

Taking a deep breath, you toss Eddie the bottle of Coppertone, remind Harris that you actually had to get to the Magic Kingdom before seeing any of the characters, find Wayne’s ball cap in the bottom of his suitcase, and scrounge up a baggy of Cheerios for Hendrix. 

“Okay, are we ready to go?”

Your question is met with an emphatic chorus of yeses as the five of you leave the hotel room and make a beeline for the shuttle bus. 

Eddie tries to scoop Hendrix into his arms; try as he might, your two-year-old’s chubby legs just can’t carry him very far, very fast. He scrunches up his face and squirms out of Eddie’s grasp. 

“Wan’ walk!” Hendrix pouts, lower lip jutting out in sheer defiance. 

An exasperated sigh escapes Eddie’s lips. “There’s gonna be a lot of walking later, buddy.” But he knows there’s no sense in arguing, and he settles for holding the boy’s hand. He’s heard tales of Disney meltdowns, but he was hoping to avoid one before the day even started. 

The Florida heat is no joke. It envelops you like a casing, and you’re grateful for the air conditioned bus. Everyone sits down, Hendrix on your lap, and you lean in to discuss the day’s plans. 

“So,” you begin, “I really want to get a picture of all of us in front of the castle. After that, we can split up. I know Harris wants to ride Space Mountain—”

“And Splash Mountain and Big Thunder,” he interjects, a seriousness in his eyes. As though you could have forgotten—all he’s talked about for weeks are those three rides. 

You nod in acknowledgment. “One thing at a time.” The reminder is gentle, a nudge to keep him focused on a single goal so he didn’t overwhelm himself. Turning back to the group, you continue the rundown. “Wayne, you’re fine taking Hendrix on a few rides by yourself?”

The older man grins. “Can’t wait to have that damn doll song stuck in my head.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie raise his hand. 

“Yes?”

“I’m actually gonna sit Space Mountain out,” he says, sheepishness seeping into his cheeks. “So I can go with Wayne and Hendrix, and then we can all meet up after.”

Harris looks at his father in bewilderment. “Dad, are you afraid?”

“N-No!” Eddie sputters, sighing when you shoot him a glare that tells him to be honest. “I mean, yeah, a little. But you and Mom should still go on it.”

“It’s just you and me, kiddo.” You smile at Harris and return to the task at hand. “And then we’ll all go on the Peter Pan ride together before we grab lunch.”

Everyone nods in agreement, though you know that actually executing the idea will be much more of a challenge. You take the win for now, climbing off of the bus with Hendrix in your arms with the rest of the family behind you.

A jovial melody surrounds you as you enter the Magic Kingdom, putting some extra pep in your step. You feel the excitement building; not just from the boys, but from the adults, too. Neither Eddie nor Wayne have been here before, and they’re just as eager to start the vacation.

Your breath hitches as you make your way down Main Street, U.S.A. and Cinderella Castle finally comes into view.

“I’ll be damned,” Wayne mutters under his breath, his voice breaking slightly. “Looks just like the movie.”

You reach out and take Eddie’s hand, squeezing it gently as the five of you take in the sight. Tears blur your vision, and you can only imagine that Eddie’s experiencing the same.

We did it. We’re at Disney World with our family.

You manage to stave off the tears long enough to ask a Cast Member to snap a photo with your disposable Kodak camera. 

“Say cheese!” The woman chirps with a smile of her own, and you all comply–even Wayne.

As soon as the shutter clicks, the usual pandemonium resumes. Harris is tugging on your hand and dragging you towards Tomorrowland. 

“Remember, Har,” you say, “we might have to wait in line for a while.” It’s a concept you thoroughly went over prior to the trip, but it never hurts to remind him.

Since you’d started out early, the queue isn’t terribly long; nothing that can’t be handled with a few rounds of I Spy. Before you know it, you’re boarding your tiny rocketship right behind Harris. The ten-year-old is practically bouncing out of his seat, and you’re more than grateful for the lap bar holding him in place.

Harris squeals with delight at each banked turn, even putting his hands in the air as he gets braver towards the end of the ride. Adrenaline buzzes through him when the ride comes to a stop, and he darts for the exit.

“Wait for me!” You call out, and he pauses until you get your very not ten-year-old body out of the cramped vehicle. It used to be a lot easier to stand up when you were his age, but you eventually catch up with Harris to head to Fantasyland.

What you find there is the last thing you would have imagined.

Eddie walks out of one of the myriad gift shops, with Hendrix in his arms and Wayne beside both of them. Your younger son has a pair of Mickey Mouse ears on his head, and one in his hands–for Harris, you assume–but what’s out of the ordinary is what the men are wearing.

“Oh…my…god!” You cackle, and Harris joins you when he sees his dad and grandpa wearing matching tall Goofy hats, the floppy ears swaying against their cheeks.

Eddie grins, doing a small spin that proves more difficult when carrying a two-year-old. “How do we look?” He asks.

Stifling further laughter, you shake your head. “Incredible.” When you reach him, you give him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ve never been more attracted to you than I am right now.”

“I think that says more about you than it does me, Sweetheart.”

Harris takes his souvenir from his little brother and slides the string under his chin. Both of them look absolutely precious, and you snap another picture before either can protest.

“Oh, one last thing.” Eddie reaches into a mouse-printed bag and pulls out a gold plastic tiara, covered in glitter with a photo of Belle in the center. He carefully places it atop your head and you secure it against your scalp. “There,” he murmurs, “pretty like a princess.”

A warmth settles into you that is unrelated to the humidity. You swear you could gaze into his eyes for an eternity, losing yourself in the hazel flecks that accentuated the chocolate irises—

“It’s Mickey!”

You follow where Hendrix is pointing; sure enough, the world’s most famous mouse was walking to a designated spot, flanked by an entourage of handlers. It’s the opposite direction of Peter Pan’s Flight, but you’re not about to compete with Mickey Mouse himself. 

Hendrix’s jubilation wanes as he gets closer to the character, chubby fingers digging into Eddie’s biceps. When he reaches the front of the line, he begins outright wailing, face buried in his dad’s shirt. 

Frowning, you try to peel him away. “Hendrix, it’s our turn!” You tell him, trying to rebuild the excitement with no success. “Don’t you wanna meet Mickey?”

“Too scary!” He sobs, his little body shaking with fear. 

You look at your husband, pushing away the urge to freeze up and throw a tantrum of your own. “Okay, I’ll take Hendrix; you and Wayne stay with Har—”

But Harris is faster, nudging between you and Eddie to place a hand on his brother’s back. “Hen, you don’t have to be scared. I’m gonna be right there with you.” He glances at Mickey, then back at Hendrix. “I know he’s a lot bigger than on TV, but he’s not going to hurt you.”

The crying subsides, save for a few hiccups. Hendrix sloppily wipes at his damp cheeks and holds his arms out so Harris can take him. They walk hand-in-hand, the youngest Munson glued to his big brother’s side. 

Harris waves at Mickey, imploring Hendrix to do the same. He obliges, albeit timidly, but there’s no mistaking the joyful giggle that escapes him when Mickey returns the gesture. 

Eddie laces his fingers with yours, metal rings warm from the summer sun. “Can you get a picture of this?” You nod and reluctantly let go of him, forever capturing the moment with the click of a button. 

The rest of the day is spent waiting in line, riding attractions with colorful scenery, scarfing down Mickey-shaped food items, and taking a much-needed midday nap at the hotel. The sleep recharges you enough to head back out to the park after dinner.

The sun begins to set, though the temperature barely drops a single degree. Your group finds a bench right outside Liberty Square. Wayne sits with Hendrix on his lap, Eddie next to him, and you take a seat at the end. Harris stays standing, leaning against the wooden back only to help him get his jumps out. 

“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls!” A cheerful disembodied voice comes over the park’s sound system. “Our fireworks presentation, Fantasy in the Sky, is about to begin. Thank you!”

You dig in your bag and pull out some wax earplugs for Harris. Hendrix extends his hand for his own pair, always wanting to be just like his big brother. 

Fireworks light up the sky, bright pink and blue and green hues that leave wispy trails of smoke in their wake. Harris keeps his fingers pressed to his ears to block out any additional noise, but it doesn’t detract from the smile on his face. 

Perhaps the only person more enamored with the show is Wayne. The lights illuminate his awe-struck face, mouth agape, as though he’s in disbelief of the magic surrounding him. 

Eddie leans down to kiss your forehead and you rest your head on his shoulder. “Havin’ a good time, Sweetheart?” he mumbles against your skin. 

You nod, looking up and pressing your lips to his cheek. “Are you?”

He takes in the sight of his sons and his uncle, together in a place he’s only ever dreamed of visiting. And he has you by his side; more than that, you are the reason he’s here at all. 

“I’ve never been happier.”

--

[cinderellaboychallenges]

HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH!!!

Helloooo and welcome to another monthly challenge prompt!!!

Instead of spinning the wheel we were thinking about just giving you a double prompt for halloween SOOO

This months prompts will be...

HALLOWEEN COSTUMES!!

and

MONSTER/HORROR AU!!

AHHHH I LOVE THESE AU'S

As always!! everyone is welcome to join!! Writer, Artists, other creatives endevours, I don't know!!!

Should we still include that list of names? It's a bit outdated lol

FOR NOW JUST POP OFF!!!

We're gonna collect all the posts and put them into one big post at the end of the month!! Just remember to either tag us or use the cinderella boy halloween/october challenge tag on your post

All we ask is that you have fun :DDDD

NOW GO PUT THE BOYS (and Prunella) IN CUTE HALLOWEEN COSTUMES OR TRAUMATISE THEM FOR ALL I CARE!!

POP OFF Y'ALL✨✨✨🔥🔥

[nyoomfruits]

fics that are essential landoscar lore to you 3 2 1 go

[shoves the enitre contents of the ao3 landoscar tag at you] there you go :)

IN ALL SERIOUSNESS. this is so hard why would you ask this of me aaahhhh but OKAY.

(below a read more because uuuuh. this accidentally got really long)

how much can you fit (under your skin) by cloudcollector | E | 4,5k

Oscar has biteable thighs. Lando has teeth.

this one is self explanatory and what prompted you to send me this ask i think. anyway i've said this before but even if you dont like thighs you will come out of this a thigh lover. also 10/10 dynamic like everything is so!!! about this fic. introduced reading oscar to the world which i think should be a staple in all landoscar fics actually

Negative splits by leafmealone | T | 10k

So officially, Oscar Piastri, pretty good steepler and pretty bad pacer, was now a professional runner. They wanted him to steeple, mostly, though he’d be doing cross country in the fall, and Lando had pinky promised him, mid-distance guy to mid-distance guy, that if he wanted to get into the 3k flat indoor then he would get him in. Oscar didn’t really want to ask how he planned on doing that. Felt safer not to ask.

very important landoscar lore to me personally which if you've been following me a while you probably know why. anyway 10/10 and a must read makes me feel very insane every time. also leaf did put the sports boys in another sport as well which is also mandatory reading in my personal opinion.

only found by eisenberg | T | 7k

“Hey, well. No strings attached, right?” Oscar says, strategically. Lando smiles and says, “hell yeah. And now that that’s established, what’s your stance on aliens? Also, do you still want your cake?” -- cinderella soulmates au where whatever you lose, your soulmate finds. except: oscar has a soulmate and lando is a No-Match, a person who doesn't have a soulmate.

what is a mandatory reading list without a soulmate au truly. AND LET ME TELL YOU. 10/10. dynamic is of the charts fantastic, beautifully captures the differences between lando and oscar but why they work anyway and gaaahhh. sometimes i just stare at the ceiling for three hours and think about this fic no biggie

what would you do (if I went to touch you now)? by laceyamethyst | E | 30k

“Okay, so they both like each other. We need to get them together.” “How? Lando’s too freaked out to think straight and Oscar is the human embodiment of the standing man emoji.” Charles purses his lips for a moment before he snatches his boyfriend’s phone up from the other side of the table. “What are you doing?” “Initiating Mission Landoscar.” “Did you just make that up?” Charles waves at him dismissively as he begins texting, and Max lays his head down on the coffee table and prays for strength. *** In which Max tries to prove to an oblivious Charles how glaringly obvious it is that Lando is head over heels in love with Oscar. When Charles finally gets with the program, Lestappen go on A Mission™ to get the two idiots to admit their feelings for each-other, but it’s easier said than done.

first of all this fic is perfect, show stopping, laugh out loud funny. SECOND OF ALL this fic is the best way to bully your lestappen friends into shipping landoscar because it actually has a super sweet established relationship lestappen side plot. also this whole fic is from max's pov which means you get a beautiful outsider pov look at the complete chaos that is lando and oscar pining for each other. delightfull really.

Your Plans (And Those Slow Hands) by xxcelientje | E | 4k

He could probably fit both of Oscar’s hands in one of his own, he could for sure use one hand to hold both of Oscar’s wrist and an idea entered his mind. He smiled at Oscar. ‘You like my hands?’ Oscar’s cheeks reddened even more as he nodded, his eyes still on their joined fingers. ‘They fascinate me,’ he admitted, biting his lip. OR: Lando and Oscar have some fun (and share some feelings) after the Belgium GP

just like the thigh fic will give you a thing for oscar's thighs this will give you a thing for lando's hands. gaahhh their dynamic in this is just so!!!!!!!!! the way theyre so HORNY for each other 10/10

carried away by venerat | E | 22k

“Oscar,” Lando said. “Don’t hate me, alright, but I've—”

did you really think i was going to do a mandatory reading list without a venerat fic???? lmao. anyway all of venerat's stuff is mandatory but this one is my personal fave i think. TOP TIER dynamic truly, and its FAKE DATING. what more can a person want really

change the weather by sharls | E | 5k

Lando knows what a thong is, of course he does—but the team needs content, the team needs clicks, and he just so happens to be well-versed in the art of going viral.

is a mandatory landoscar reading list really complete without a thong fic??? i think not. and this is so!!!!!!!!! everything about this just Makes Sense. if you told me this had actually happened i would be like. yeah. that checks out. very incredibly in character and just !!!!!!! very hot and funny and perfect.

all right theres a lot more but??? i promised myself i would rec only 5 fics and this is already 7, so... i'll stop here. for now

[jinkookspencil]

a foggy path | jjk

what can you do when the person you love most seemingly backs up your biggest insecurity?

tags/tw/author's note: ~2.3k words / angst / established relationship / y/n is insecure in regards to her career, nothing related to insecurities about looks / a bit of a personal one and a hard one to write, but it's here. check of this post for a bit more background on it / any feedback is welcome <3 :')

Two hours of journalling and gathering inspiration for an upcoming writing project did nothing to help you actually write, but inspiration struck out of the blue. Before you even realized it, you were on a roll. Maybe it was the photo of Jungkook - your forever muse - on your desk, or perhaps it was spurred by a snide comment made by a family friend earlier in the day on your current career status. Nevertheless, you were finally writing and that’s all that mattered. You couldn’t even think straight, the words and phrases effortlessly came to you in a blur and made up some of the best writing you’ve done in ages. It felt good. Out of the many different hobbies, jobs, skills, and hats you tried out after graduating from university…. this may be the one that fits best. Your Cinderella’s glass slipper moment…. If it stuck.

You didn’t start down a fixed path in life, believing there was never such a thing. Being a doctor, a lawyer, or architect was never for you…. unfortunately for you, you never knew what your “thing” was in life. 

It’s something your family always teased you about, and seeing your friends and even your boyfriend just excel with talents or smarts in fields so far out of your reach…. It definitely made you feel behind and ‘less than' at times. Still, in the meantime, writing felt so good that you lost yourself in your words, only alerted by the passing time when the slam of a door interrupted your train of thought.

“Baby!!”

Not now

“Babyyyy!!! Baby baby baby baaaaabbyyyyyyyy!”, you hear your boyfriend call in a singsong voice from the other room. You don’t move, you can’t, not even when you hear his footsteps approaching…. not when you got to the most crucial part of your writing. You loved him, you really did…. but… boy could he get needy, you could just tell from his voice…. And fuck, what was that word you just thought of?!

“Baby?,” his voice is clearer now, standing by the doorframe, undoubtedly with his confused expression and habit of playing with his lip piercing  - you couldn’t confirm it though, your eyes didn’t leave your computer screen.

“You don’t even have headphones on, baby, you must’ve heard me… Are you okay?,” he asks.

“I’m busy, Jungkook.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“No?"

“No, Jungkook, I’m just fucking busy.” The words leave your mouth a little more sternly than they should have, you know that immediately, but you don’t get a chance to continue.

“Pff, busy with what? It’s not like you have a career. You just sit around doing nothing that goes anywhere."

For the first time since he came home, you look - no, glare - at Jungkook, but just as you caught sight of his demeanor changing, the vision of him gets blurry, watery…. the tears have already bubbled up.

“Fuck, no, baby, I didn’t m-“, he starts, stepping towards you.

“Leave,” you grumble.

“Baby…”

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook,” your voice breaks. “Leave me alone.”

You bury your face in your palms, wetting them immediately before you feel the tears roll down your arms as you hear the door shut.

-

Just as you had lost track of time writing, you didn’t keep track of how much time had passed since you stopped and left your computer that day. Your document was left on the last, half-written sentence as it had been when Jungkook walked in, and since then you could barely stare at the screen. Your palms, the inside of your eyelids, or the floor and the ceiling - whenever you could make them out through the tears, were the only places of rest for your eyes, as you kept repeating to yourself your biggest insecurities and fears, this time as facts.

You’re a loser. You’re a failure. You have no talent. You will never be enough. Look at all your friends, you will never get to where they are in life. Be content with being nothing.

Nothing you do ever goes anywhere. And YOU will never go anywhere in life. 

Your boyfriend once mentioned that these thoughts came from our own personal demons, the monsters who sat in the darkest corners of our brains and toyed with us. They were not a reflection of who we are nor were they true just because we thought them, he had said…. But he also confirmed that nothing you did ever went anywhere. Perhaps, even that you were never going to go anywhere in life. Your demon’s most hurtful saying. From your most trusted person.

He had been sitting on the other side of the door the entire time. You could make out his shadow through the slit underneath the door, and the different positions he took. Just as you wiped away a tear, your gaze falls on where his shadow would be, only to notice that it disappeared. You wait minutes for his shadow to return, but it doesn’t. It would have been too long for it to be a bathroom break, you think, before guilt overcame you at the thought of all the time he had spent sitting on the floor. Staring at your reflection in the doorknob in front of you, you reflect on your state as your hand hesitantly reached towards it.

You felt betrayed, alone, and vulnerable to say the least. And whenever you felt down, he had always been your safe haven. The person who greeted you without judgment, resentment, or anger. If anyone had ever hurt you, even if it was yourself, you wouldn’t think twice before running into his arms, which he always enveloped you in, so happily, so lovingly….. You needed that comfort, despite the sting in your heart.

You open the door expecting to see the living room empty, but Jungkook is there, turned away from you, crouched over a table with a pen in hand.

“What are you doing?”, you ask in a raspy voice. 

He turns around in shock, keeping his head down after taking a quick look at you. Looking over the few words he scribbled onto a post-it note, he fidgets with the pen in his hands. “I was writing you a note. I wanted to give you some space, so I was gonna spend the night at Namjoon’s."

For a moment that seemed to last like an eternity, all you could hear was the clicks and fidgets of Jungkook’s pen.

“Jungkook…”

“I know. I know I messed up and I’m sorry and -“

“Let me finish.”

Jungkook lifts his head and for the first time, nodding and finally looking at your face. At that moment, you didn’t know which urge to follow - the one to run into his arms or the one to turn around and shut yourself in your room again….. but your feet remained planted on the ground and words escaped your mouth before you could contemplate on your possible routes.

“I’m really hurt. You know how insecure I am about… myself and my future, and you went used that to hurt me. My biggest insecurity, Jungkook. You know this. You threw my biggest fear and insecurity right in my face, and for what? Because I was slightly annoyed? Just because you have it figured out and are talented at everything doesn’t mean everyone else is the same way. It’s tough as shit when you don’t know what you want to do with your life. Unfortunately, we have to figure it out and live with the possibility that we may not ever figure it out or be great at anything. That we won’t go anywhere, like you say of my projects."

There was no stopping the bubbling in your voice and the tears that stream down your face. “I thought you were my number one supporter.“

“I am!”, he exclaims, taking two steps towards you.

“You’re supposed to be the one person on this planet that doesn’t judge me….” you say. Unable to look him in the eyes, you stare at the floor in realization, noticing his toes rise and fall, a habit he never noticed he always did when he was nervous. “Jungkook, look I just… I am hurt and I need time to recover. I fucking miss you already but… I can’t look at you and believe you when you say that anymore. Now I’ll always doubt that that’s what you really think of me."

“It’s not,” he pleads. “It really isn’t. Everyone says things they don’t mean and I really really didn’t mean any of that, baby. I am your biggest fan. I support you from the bottom of my heart - in everything you do. No matter what."

Your lips ache, you hadn't realized you had been frowning.

“You know that right?,” he mumbles, carefully approaching you and pushing your hair away from your face before cupping your wet cheeks with his hands.

You’re not sure anymore. You’re about to tell him that.

“Please,” he whispers. “Please tell me you know that.” 

You don’t reply. It breaks him. It breaks you. 

A heavy sigh escapes you between your sobs. You can’t recall a time in your relationship you were ever this upset, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook this upset either. He’s upset you’re even questioning him, but he understands why. He messed up.

His grip on your face tightens for a moment before it softens and guides your head to rest against his shoulder, with him collecting all the tears and cries you sob into his chest and he strokes the gave the back of your head. An action so soothing and gentle, you almost feel it relieve your headache.

The sound of a broken breath catches you by surprise. You lift your head up slightly, only for a tear to drop from his chin and onto your forehead. When he gulps and finally stares into your eyes through his tears, you can’t help but wrap your arms around his torso, with him doing the same as you continue to wet his chest with your tears, him doing the same to your hair.

You’re the first one to be brave enough to give in, looking up at him again. His eyes and cheeks were as wet as yours, yet at the sight of you, he brings his hand up brushing away every drop that escapes your eyes.

“Jungkook….,” you mumble through sobs.

He catches his breath in response. 

“My baby….”, he whispers, his hands still in your hair. “Please don’t tell me this is the end of us, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t let that… I - I…” he takes a deep breath. “Can I tell you what I really think of you? The honest to god, full truth?” he asks, wiping away the final tears that formed in his eyes and visibly holding himself back. You want to nod, but you’re scared to… luckily, Jungkook doesn’t wait for you.

“I think you’re the best person I’ve ever met in my entire life. I’m a fucking idiot that doesn’t deserve you. I know… I know what I said and I didn’t mean it. Honestly I... I don’t. Hey, you didn’t mean it that time you were hungry and told me you’d stab me for a cupcake, right?” he smiles softly, but it disappears in an instant.

“But this is more serious than that. I know it is,” he sniffs. “I don’t care that you don’t have it all figured out, I actually like that you haven’t figured out what you want to do with your life. You know I like to try a million things and hobbies, and it makes me so happy that you’re the same. Didn’t you say that you like it when I rope you into my new hobbies? It’s the same with me. It makes me so happy whenever you show me anything, explain something you learned to me, or just let me be a part of it, let me be a part of your beautiful life."

You inhale, realizing it was hard to ignore the sincerity in his voice.

“Remember that time you wanted to try photography so you borrowed my old camera and kept making me pose for photos?"

“Which time?”

“Every time,” he smiles. “But that day in the park?”

You nod. 

“That was the happiest day of my life.”

You remember that day vividly… Thinking about it, it might’ve been one of the best days of your life too.

“And that day when you were working on your writing and wrote that poem for me on a tiny little card that you made yourself?”

You nod. 

He removes his hands from around your body and grabs his phone, taking off the black leather cover. Between the phone and the case, was the tiny, paper note on which you had written a poem about Jungkook’s eyes.

Staring into them now, through the tears, you briefly make out the stars within them that you wrote about, 

“I’m your biggest fan, y/n… I really am. No matter what you do. You’re my world.”

You pull him back towards you and he wraps you in a tight embrace. 

“I’m here for you every step of the way. Even if you don’t know what path you’re on, I’m happy to walk it with you. Til the end of the line. Til the end of the world. I’m with you.”

His lips quiver, aching to meet yours, but his head and hands remain where they are. You pull his head towards you to relieve that ache that you had been feeling too, and his lips tug at yours, unwanting to let you go.

“I’m with you too, Jungkook,” you say. “I can’t tell the way, though. I might not be the best guide.”

He lets out a smile and a sigh of relief. 

“Together,” he reassures. 

“Together.”  

[chaoscheebs]

It's Midnight, Cinderella, chapter 2

(Chapter 1) - (Chapter 2) - (Chapter 3) - (Chapter 4) - (Chapter 5) - (Fic Tag)

------------------

How did such a good night go so wrong?

Sure, it had been a little awkward at first; Otogi had promptly ditched him to flirt with (admittedly pretty hot) girls, leaving him stranded in a sea of stuffy people in suits he didn’t have the first clue how to approach on his own. But then Seto Kaiba—and boy, was it painfully obvious it was Seto Kaiba, even with the mask—approached him first! Without prompting! Because Kaiba’s apparently into the Ouji look? Regardless of why, it had been… nice. Very nice, to just leave all the drama and troubles and bad blood at the door and talk to him (flirt with him oh god why did he do that) like a normal person. Then it had led to card games in a private room and… Honestly, why should he have been surprised that it was like foreplay to Kaiba?

Leave the masks on, they silently agreed, let’s put aside real life for a while and enjoy the moment.

He could have revealed who he was at any time, but he didn’t. His thoughts were only how good it felt to be in Kaiba’s arms, how good it felt to have Kaiba’s attention on him and solely him for once in his life, how good it would feel to have those long, elegant legs wrapped around him, and thought absolutely nothing about the potential fallout afterward.

In short, Yugi Muto got carried away, thought with his dick, and that’s why he fled home as soon as Kaiba was asleep to go dye his hair back to normal at four in the morning, quietly thanking whatever deities existed that he hadn’t styled his hair like normal and left it in its natural state. No amount of trying out a different hair color would have hid that hairstyle, that’s for sure. Jounouchi’s gonna be upset that the perfect bleaching he helped Yugi with was already being covered up, but better covered up than the alternative.

Shit. The alternative. What was he going to do now, Yugi asked himself, slumping on the couch while he waited for the 20 minutes for the dye to set to be up. What if Kaiba figures out it was him? How is he going to react? Is he going to get fired? Or worse, barred from being involved with the major players in the gaming industry? Is he going to have to focus on the indie scene, or worse, have to take over the game store?! Is it too late to follow Anzu to New York and start over there?

“Yugi? What are you doing up at this hour?”

Yugi snapped out of his anxiety spiral-induced reverie at the sound of his grandpa’s voice behind him. “Wh-what are you doing up at this hour?!”

“I asked you first, m’boy,” Grandpa asked. He gingerly poked at Yugi’s dye-saturated hair, realized what he just touched, then wiped his dye-stained finger off on the towel around Yugi’s neck. “Didn’t you just change this the other day?”

“Oh, I, uh…” Yugi wracked his brain for a quick but plausible answer and mercifully found one. “I forgot I had a piercing appointment tomorrow and want to get this done now so I won’t forget about it being there and get dye in an open wound!”

Grandpa frowned, clearly still suspicious but unable to think of a good rebuttal at this hour. “More piercings? You’re certain your workplace is all right with that?”

Yugi smirked. “I have a company-wide e-mail from Seto Kaiba himself from the last time someone complained about someone getting piercings, telling all management that he, quote, ‘doesn’t care how much metal someone has in their face if it’s not impacting their ability to work, stop wasting his and everyone else’s time with this.’ Saved it to my computer and printed it out too~”

Grandpa laughed and patted Yugi’s shoulder. “Ho, ho! That’s my boy!” He paused for a moment, then let out a bit of a sigh. “Anyway, don’t forget to get some rest when you’re done with this, all right? Staying up all night isn’t good for you.”

“I will, Grandpa,” Yugi lied. Like hell he was getting any sleep when he was in panic mode like this. Thankfully, his grandfather took him at his word, but not without one more worried glance before leaving.

Once Grandpa was out of sight, Yugi started to flop down on one side on the couch, but suddenly remembered the hair dye and caught himself before the wet hair touched anything. His life was difficult enough at the moment; he doesn’t need Mom complaining about dye stains on the furniture on top of it. Again. He settled instead for slouching forward, staring at the floor, until it occurred to him to pull out his phone from his pocket and stare at that instead.

He really should talk to someone about this, but who? Anzu would commiserate with him, but it would be early afternoon for her off in New York; she’d probably be at a rehearsal or something. There’s also Jounouchi, but hearing him talk shit about Kaiba was not what Yugi needed right now. Honda, maybe? Yugi shook his head; they’re close enough, but not close enough to wake him up over this disaster. Bakura’s right out; he’s the god-king of wandering into trouble and making it everyone else’s problem himself. There’s always Hanasaki, he supposed, but he was prepping for midterms or something and did not need this added to his load either…

Finally, he asked himself, Otogi, maybe? It’s his damn fault he was even at the damn party anyway. But no, Yugi decided, remembering the circle of women surrounding the man before he went off with Kaiba. There’s no way Otogi was alone and he wasn’t interrupting that. At best, he’d get an invitation to join, and any other day that’d be tempting, but again, this was not what Yugi needed right now.

Yugi heaved a sigh and flopped backwards, leaning heavily against the back of the couch, head reclined back as far as it would comfortably go. He thought for a split second about what to do, but then he remembered. The hair dye.

FUCK.

He leapt to his feet and spun around to see a great big splotch of purplish pink, then bolted to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to hopefully clean it up before it set. Dye job first, he told himself, then worry about what to do next. It’s not like he didn’t have all day to figure something out, after all.

------------------

Meanwhile, back at the hotel room, Seto Kaiba was sitting on the edge of the bed, pondering his next move.

He had been sleeping more peacefully than he had in years, but when he turned over in his sleep, his arm fell onto… nothing. The other man’s lithe form was no longer next to him, nor any trace of his warmth left in his place. A quick check of the room and adjoining bathroom proved he was no longer there, period, and a brief check of his belongings showed nothing was missing, save for his mask—he presumed the man grabbed the wrong one in his haste—and, infuriatingly enough, the business card the man had given him.

At least corporate espionage seemed to be off the table as a motive for the man’s quick retreat, Seto thought; with everything that’s happened in his life, a honeypot operation targeting him wasn’t out of the question. Not that he thought anyone would be bold enough to try, with how utterly apathetic he was about… well, being with anyone that way, to be frank.

Which, honestly, was what made this hurt, and what he was blaming for the urge to fight his cynical first impulse to let this matter drop and chalk it up to a passing whim and people being shitty yet again.

He growled quietly, running a hand through his hair. What was wrong with him; why couldn’t he just let this go as an obvious mistake, a momentary lapse of judgment? The man clearly wasn’t taking this as seriously as he was, if the bastard could just run away like this. Still, something nagged at him, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on, but he was very clearly missing something in all of this and it was absolutely infuriating.

He picked up his pants from the floor, fished out his phone, and opened a notes app. He needed a guest list, he typed into it, and started typing out a description of what the man looked like and what he could remember the man saying to him. Also, a description of the man his target was the plus one for, not that he got a terribly long or clear look at him. Still, combined with the guest list, what he did notice could be illuminating. If he could find the “date” that ditched the target, maybe he could get the target’s damned name.

For better or worse, Seto Kaiba was a man who, when his personal curiosity took over, could not be stopped until it was satisfied, and this was going to be no exception to that.

[wyvernquill]

More Dreamling Anastasia AU

Because I must obviously be stricken down for my hubris if I say I refuse to write something. (Masterpost can be found here!)

This one’s an earlier bit, while they’re still trying to teach “Murphy” how to act like Dream, and first encounter The Corinthian - so please be aware that there will be Corinthian-typical mentions of stabbing and blood in this excerpt!

(Tagging @10moonymhrivertam again, and also open invitation for anyone who wants to be notified of new updates to tell me so, and I’ll tag you when/if I write other scenes!)

---

“Do the list again.”

“Hob…” Murphy sighs, visibly annoyed, hands stuffed in his coat pockets and face ducked into his scarf. There are snowflakes caught in the dark tangle of his hair, and Hob wonders briefly if he would accept Hob’s hat, or look at it with the same disgusted grimace he pulled when he was offered one of Gil’s spare cardigans.

“Come on. Again.” Hob encourages. “You’ll need to know it by heart, it has to be ingrained so deeply into you that I should be able to wake you up at three in the night and have you recite it perfectly.”

“Do not dare to wake me up at three in the night!” Murphy snarls, and they will really have to work on that temper - Gilbert is very insistent that Dream of the Endless’s fury was fierce, yes, but quiet, controlled, and merciless in its silence. These outbursts don’t befit a Dream King, and they’ll have to go.

“I was speaking metaphorically!” Hob laughs and holds up his hands defensively. “I know better than to disturb your sleep, rest assured. Matthew would peck my eyes out, for a start.”

(Judging from the look on Murphy’s face, the man would approve of that course of events, and possibly praise his raven afterwards.)

“But the list. Go on, Lord Morpheus, the list.”

Murphy sighs again, turning his face up to the snow-grey night sky. Hob is suddenly quite glad Gilbert shooed them out for a walk, to clear Murphy’s head after another long day of lessons - more lessons tomorrow, and then they’ll be travelling again over the weekend, always busy or on the move. It’s quite lovely, to have this moment of tranquillity, in the dark and the snow, and to see Murphy… well. Less frustrated and harried than he usually is, solemn and thoughtful and with chapped lips from the frost.

“Destiny, the oldest, in the maze, with the book.” He recites, only slightly sullen. “Death, the second, everywhere and everywhen, but always where she’s needed, with the ankh. Dream, the third-”

“Include the names.”

“Ugh. Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms, the Shaper of Form, Kai’ckul-”

“Kai-what?” Hob frowns. He hasn’t heard that one before.

“-Oneiros or the Oneiromancer, and the Lord of Stories.” Murphy continues, undeterred, slogging through the list just to have it be over quicker. “There, the names. Now: Dream, in the Dreaming, with the ruby - and sometimes the helmet and the sand. Always with a raven. Next, Destruction-”

.

“No, please,” drawls a voice behind them. “Tell us more about Dream.”

.

They both freeze.

Hob turns slowly, stepping to the side just slightly, just enough so he will be in range to shove Murphy behind himself, should it become necessary.

“I do so love bedtime stories,” the stranger who has approached them is grinning broadly, in a tan suit and coat much too thin for this weather, and dark glasses - sunglasses? At night!? - covering his eyes. “Though I always like ‘em best when they have gory endings. When the stepsisters cut their feet to fit into the glass slipper in the Grimm brothers’ version of Cinderella? Boy, I could listen to that all night.”

The man is holding a long knife in his hand, the sort not made for cutting anything but the flesh of your fellow man, toying with it - and Hob feels a prickle of fear slide down his spine.

“Who are you, to disturb us?” Murphy snaps haughtily, and Hob would be pleased at the excellent noble-arrogant cadence, if he weren’t suddenly fucking terrified of Murphy getting a knife in between the ribs for his cheek.

“Me?” The man laughs, throwing the knife up in the air, glittering, twirling, before catching it again. “You don’t remember little old me?”

The man’s teeth are too white, Hob notes, too bright, and too *many* when he smiles like this.

.

“I’m your worst nightmare, my Lord,” he says, still smiling - and then lunges forward, knife first.

.

Hob moves instantly, instinctively, without even a moment’s hesitation.

With his elbow, he shoves Murphy back, out of the way, and then bats the man’s knife arm off-course, coming in swinging with the other fist. It connects with an audible crack, but their assailant only laughs, giddy and breathless, and spits out half a mouthful of blood - is there some dripping from his eyes under the glasses, too - before evading Hob’s grip on his arm and dancing out of the way.

“Murphy, run!” Hob shouts over his shoulder, heart beating in his throat, blood up and boiling. He hasn’t gotten into alleyway fights in a year or two, but it’s familiar, the tang of blood, the rush of adrenaline. He’s always liked the brawls where there wasn’t a sharp object involved better, just two men and their fists - but if this madman wants a fight, he’ll damn well get one. Hob’s put better people than him in hospital.

Hob charges forward, goes for a grab at the knife arm again, and manages a short grapple, a kick at a shin, the tip of the knife wavering as they twist against each other, and slicing a red-hot line of pain along the side of Hob’s jaw - the man’s still grinning, holy shit, that’s unsettling - before the other twists himself free again with almost unnatural strength, and Hob has to jump back before that knife goes somewhere vital.

“Well, aren’t’cha quite the fighter, Hobsie?” The assailant says, with his dozens of bone-white teeth bared. “I’m glad. Makes it more fun to carve into you when you struggle a li’l bit.”

“Would love to see you try,” Hob spits back, wiping his cheek, his blood dripping red onto the snow.

They throw themselves at each other again, and the man is impossibly strong, delivering an almost casual punch against Hob’s sternum that knocks the breath out of him, forcing him back a couple stumbling steps.

And Hob knows he should run, too. The best way to win a streetfight is to not be in one, and he’s not keen on getting stabbed. Would be a waste, to die now, when he’s so close to earning himself immortality…

…but he needs to buy Murphy time.

The thought alone, of seeing Murphy dead in the snow, blood pooling around him in and coat spread out like broken wings - he can’t bear it. He’s got the man into this fucking mess, and he cannot let Murphy die because of his con. This is supposed to be a win-win situation for them all, not a threat to anyone’s life!

And if somebody’s life is threatened, it better be Hob’s own. Only fair - he gets the biggest reward in the end, he should shoulder the brunt of the risk as well.

Hob coughs one last time, eyeing the blood-red tip of the assailant’s knife. He won’t die here, he refuses to, and he’ll fight until the bitter end if-

.

“Wait,” Murphy says, and Hob’s heart stutters in his chest.

.

The idiot! The absolute fool! Hob told him to run, why the fuck is he still here!?

Hob gets barely more than a second of panic in before Murphy steps up beside him, glowering darkly at the man with the knife…

And then, in a movement quick as a flash, he throws a handful of salt-grit-sand mix - the sort the city keeps in large containers alongside the streets in wintertime, to make the snow and ice safer to traverse - straight into the man’s face.

The man screeches, voice strangely dissonant, as if it comes from three mouths at once, and jerks back sputtering, dropping his knife and covering his face with his hands.

Hob kicks the knife away, out of reach, on instinct - and then he feels a bony hand curl around his own, dragging him away, and he lets it, running hand in hand with Murphy for dear life.

(There are angry shouts behind them, threats, but Hob never looks back, only squeezing the cold palm against his harder.)

.

They run, and run, and run, until they finally reach the relative safety and familiarity of the street outside their inn, both gasping for breath as they lean against its walls.

“You… need not… have come…” Murphy wheezes, his thin chest heaving under his thick coat, even as his eyes are burning with indignation, “to my… defence!”

“Clearly!” Hob rasps, sliding to the ground, uncaring for the snowmelt soaking through his trousers. “Still… I didn’t want to be standing in front of the Endless alone, in a few weeks’ time.”

He grins up at Murphy - the wound along his cheek burning as he does it - and the sharp retort about being perfectly capable of handling himself in a fight visibly dies on Murphy’s lips.

He crouches down besides Hob, coat puffing up around him, and brings one hand up to cup Hob’s jaw, to turn it and inspect the line of red their attacker’s knife left there. Thumbs the cut, smearing warm blood along Hob’s cheekbone.

“You were hurt,” he murmurs, dark voice almost wavering with distress.

“Shallow cut.” Hob catches Murphy’s wrist before he can fuss any more with the wound, rubs a thumb soothingly over the thin bones there. “I’ll live.”

“Foolish man,” Murphy grumbles - but he’s very nearly smiling as he says it.

Their eyes meet.

They’re both still breathing hard, and for all his haggard, skeletal build and sunken face lined with long years of hardship, Murphy looks almost lovely like this, lips slightly parted and pale face flushed with exertion, looking up at Hob through his lashes as if…

As if…

Hob leans forward, and Murphy does too, something burning bright and smouldering hot between them, lips getting close enough to brush-

.

“ROBERT! MURPHY!” Gilbert slams open the door beside them, and they both jerk apart as if burned.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re here!” Gilbert flusters, wringing his hands on the grip of his cane. “I had the most terrible premonition that my two dear friends were in danger, most ghastly, so I rushed- Robert, are you bleeding!?”

“I’m fine, Gil,” Hob tries to wave him off - to little avail.

Hob is ushered up into their room, sat down, and then berated by Gilbert for his recklessness while Murphy is carefully, studiously, dabbing at Hob’s wound with one of Gilbert’s handkerchiefs and pointedly not making any eye contact.

(Though Matthew is more than making up for that, staring Hob down as if he knows exactly what almost transpired outside the inn’s door, and is rather firmly against the idea of letting it happen again…

Which it surely won’t. It was a mad impulse in the spur of the moment - they both know better, now.

Yes.

They both know better.)

[twstbookclub]

Cinderella’s Bet [Part 1]

Summary: A bet of challenge POV: 2nd person Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Pronouns: Gender Neutral Tags: Fluff, Romance, Comedy, Vil Schoenheit Word count: 1,194 Part 2 - Part 3

The pair of freshmen yelled out your name as they caught up to you through the halls of the Pomefiore dorm, laughing and smiling while making sure their dormitory uniforms stayed intact. You stopped in your tracks and turned around.

“Oh, hey guys! Good to see you made it in time for Vil’s birthday party,” you spoke in a cheery tone, waiting for them.

Deuce started talking after catching his breath for a few seconds. “Good thing we got here with you. I didn’t think we’d be on time, but for once we—”

Ace, clearing his throat, interrupts Deuce and gives him a cocky side look. “Only because Trey made sure we had everything for our uniforms handed to us.”

Deuce slowly turned his head towards Ace with his mouth slightly agape from previously talking. There was deadpan silence along with visible change into a scary expression from him, but not for too long. It was soon followed by, “Says the one who lost their hat even after the entire outfit was handed to him. Shut. Your. Trap.”

Ace stayed silent with his eyes wide, almost popping out of their sockets. His head moved to look at you again, smiling nervously and visible sweat soon appearing on his face.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Deuce spoke then cleared his throat. He turned to look at you and a cheery smile replaced the scary expression on his face from earlier. “We should head inside or we’ll be late! Let’s go!”

And there you went, dragged by Deuce as Ace was left to stand there. “H-hey wait!’ Ace said, once coming back to reality and going into the dormitory lounge. 

Greeted by views of the decorated lounge, balloons and streamers, chandelier glistening as always. Purple and magenta flowers covering the floor of the room, complimenting each other so beautifully. 

Your admiration for the details was put on pause when you heard a familiar voice call out for you and the two other boys. Epel hurried towards your small group with a few pins and small flower tiaras. “Thanks for being here. Vil hasn’t arrived yet, but he wants everyone to wear these.”

“I don’t see many people here. I thought Vil would’ve wanted the biggest crowd?” Deuce asked as he looked around, seeing the ones who they all usually hang out with excluding students from the Diasomnia dorm.

“He wanted to keep this one smaller. More of a closer group as a thank you to the ones who’ve helped him the most.” While talking, your group followed Epel who walked over to an area where everyone else was. He ushered the three to open chairs before going over to Rook quietly.

You watched as they conversed with each other. You tilted your head, but then paid attention elsewhere due to the sudden noise of a door opening.

“Everyone is here. Welcome, and thank you for coming,” Vil said as he walked to the center of the so-called circle. The chairs had been set up in a semi circle, letting the housewarden stand in between your chair and Rook’s. “I invited the people in this specific group because you all have helped each other under different circumstances before. Not to mention that some of you are friends of mine.”

Everyone patiently listened to Vil, knowing he doesn’t speak this much. You look around, feeling that something is off. Your eyes went to Leona, who sat across from Vil, and noticed his mischievous grin. You raised an eyebrow at this. Noticing something from the corner of your eye, you turned and caught Rook looking at you, but his eyes shifted to his housewarden when you noticed him.

“So I ask you all, as a token of my own gratitude, if you want anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask. Even if the favor is asked for right now. A one-time thing, anything.” Vil stopped talking and looked at everyone, waiting for any responses.

How could there be a response? Everyone was mostly surprised, yet the Pomefiore trio still acted like their usual selves. Ace’s jaw could hit the floor, while Deuce was so surprised that his face was devoid of any emotion. 

Leona suddenly stood up and cleared his throat, “I have something to ask from you in that case.”

He slowly made his way to Vil. The housewarden had a slightly raised eyebrow, glancing at his vice housewarden and Epel to see if they knew anything. The two stayed silent, looking just as confused as the senior.

“What will that be?” Vil asked, being cautious with his words. He was more concerned about Leona's next words than the fact that Leona wanted to ask him something.

Leona grinned and nodded his head a few times before speaking, as if getting ready to drop some bomb on everyone. "I'll give you a bet. A bet to make them—" he paused. "Make the lovely Ramshackle Prefect fall in love with you."

His arm raised and his finger pointed towards you, making you yelp in surprise and stand up.

"... What?!" Vil said with widened eyes, shocked to his core.

"Repeat that!?" Deuce exclaimed while Ace freaked out with a small scream.

"Come on, what's the harm? You said if there was anything, just ask. Don't tell me you're going back on your word, aren't you?" Leona laughed and took hair out of his face, then suddenly Rook stood up and placed his hand on his chest.

"Rui de Poison! We discussed what to do about these matters! There is no harm in trying something unique! Fresh!" Rook spoke as he gestured for Vil to calm down.

You looked around, trying to say something, but nothing would come out. All you could say was, "Why me?! Why would you ask for something like that?"

"Tch. Your deadline is tomorrow midnight. Good luck, pretty boy." Leona said and turned around to leave, yawning in the process. 

"Leona!" Vil yelled, held back by Rook and Epel, who were trying to keep their smiles under wraps.

“Vil, it’s fine. It's only one dang—ahem.. It’s only a small bet. How hard could it be?” Epel said and sat the housewarden down in a seat.

You stood there in shock, a shiver going down your spine and bringing you back to reality.

“Prefect.” You heard Vil say, making you jump and turn to face him. Rook and Epel had let him go, since he was completely calm, and he stood from the chair while fixing himself.

“Yes?” You responded and watched as he walked closer. Tension settled in the room as everyone wondered what would happen next. Silence filled the room. You could hear your heart nervously beating hard against your chest, as if it could burst right through. You watched as Vil took a deep breath. Was he nervous too? For what, is all you can question.

“I’ll come get you at your dorm at 10 am on the dot. Go ahead and head home to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Vil gestured for Ace and Deuce to take you home, ending the party there. What in the hell was going to happen tomorrow?

[sweetfirebird]

Multifandom fic recs!

I mentioned doing a fic recs list the other day, and since I couldn't work on my needlepoint for a while (in which I feel like Mr. Thorton's mother doing her linen embroidering in North & South), I actually did one.

This is a multifandom recs list because it was more fun to just skim through various fandom bookmarks than to do a concentrated list for one show or whatever. Also.. some of these are for fandoms I read in and some are just fics I stumbled across one day, so they could be representative of their fandoms or not I have no idea. {insert shrug emoji here}

These are also all m/m and I think.... fairly cis? I did consider doing some f/f and trans and Rules 63 stuff but uh my bookmarks are a mess. The only fandom where I set aside some genderfuckery aside in any sort of organized fashion is Les Mis with Rule 63 stuff which maybe should get its own post. ? If people wanted?

Anyway, read the tags for each story, etc

Recs across the starboard bow, captain!

Star Wars Rogue One

waaay before the movie. I've recced this before. Chirrut/Baze

A Monk in Good Standing (Must Be in Need of a Bro)

The Eagle

Marcus/Esca

What Big Hands You Have

modern au, Esca is a size queen

From the Depths of His Heart

Canon-era werewolf AU

Póga

Canon-era  Esca teaches Marcus to kiss slow

Devotee

Canon-era gay farmers with some yearning

The Losers

Jensen/Cougar

The First Eight Don't Count

Jensen is a cat sometimes. Like a house cat. Yeah it’s weird for him too.

By Daybreak We'll Be Gone

werewolf AU (sensing a recurring trope here lol)

Inception

(Obv Arthur/Eames.)

Breaking and Entering

Jeeves and Wooster

Misplaced

Bertie has lost something

Voltron (the… whatever the new cartoon’s subtitle was. Legendary Defender?)

(I know that fandom is a hotbed of strife) but I am not/was not involved in any of that. Yikes.)

the electric synthesized pop ballad of why keith can’t have nice things

a/b/o au... but like... he just wants to be good

The Vorkosigan Saga

This is Ivan/Byerly because that is the only ship that matters

Twenty-Year Man

Ivan's getting older and having some realizations despite himself. Also... side note but... carefully and cynically yearning Byerly is a delight.

Original, historical

Darling and the Cinderella Club

Teen Wolf --HOWEVER! These are all Teen Wolf/SGA fusion

Why? Because the space marine vibes are impeccable

All Sterek

Show You What All That Howl is For

The Ring of the Ancestors is Not a Euphemism

Faint is a Medical Term

What We Do in the Shadows

Something Here Will Eventually Have to Explode

Guillermo/Nandor

Venom

Venom/Eddie, obviously

Heartthrob

Good Omens

Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy

Get Religion Quick (cause you're looking divine)

The Hobbit

all Bilbo/Thorin

Rations

pre-adventure sexual tension

The Subways of Men

modern au, but still with hobbits and dwarves

okay and then because idk I just love them finding each other after things

Plant Your Trees

It's Been a Long Day Without You, My Friend

(slight au)

And then one just to be sad

Hold Onto Hope If You've Got It

Les Mis

Enjolras/Grantaire because I am basic aw yeah

The Laurels of Doing is Enough

modern AU

True Love's Kiss

modern AU but with magic

Adequate

The first in a small Star Trek AU series that is cute

A Reversal of Celestial Mechanics

Canon-era, Enjolras takes Grantaire up on his offers… offers Grantaire didn’t realize he was making lol

There is one where Grantaire is fucking Courf while they both discuss/hint at his feelings for Enjolras but I cannot begin to express the chaos of my bookmarks so.... couldn't find it.

And finally...

Check, Please

Dex/Nursey

Bless This Mess and Call It a Home

Magic AU

The Most Room in Our Hearts

Dex sees Nursey holding some kids and gets Feelings about it

(there is a small nurseydex commentfic with sort of a similar bent but like so many things, it was posted to tumblr then deleted so is now lost forever.)

ok this one is uhhh read the notes and tags. It is known to me and @vashti-lives as the one we don’t talk about  aka the 1950s coal miners AU

Strange Lovers

And to finish up, a Ransom/Holster kink/getting together fic that was actually the first thing I read for this fandom.

When You Got Skin in the Game (you stay in the game)

I will post this to pillowfort too but I need to stop and eat first.

[fluffypotatey]

Silly/Dumb Things that Make Me Irrationally Angry

disclaimer: the key words here are “silly” & “dumb”

The “Narnia Kids are the Founders of Hogwarts” theory

The “it was all a dream” theory

Thinking protagonist = hero

When fandom villainizes a character simply because they’re “in the way of a ship”

Character in relationship starts pursuing a different character (typically the MC) but doesn’t break up with the character they’re currently dating?????

Speed running enemies to lovers trope (that’s a trope for slow burns wtf are you doing put it down!)

Calling Disney’s Beauty & The Beast a story about Stockholm Syndrome 

Calling any diverse media “woke” to undermine it

Misunderstanding how tags work on ao3 (particularly the / and & for pairings)

Misunderstanding the purpose of tags on ao3

Calling Lucy Heartfilia weak 

Forgetting that Dick Grayson was a mathlete

Basing all of Jason Todd’s personality on his anger and ruthlessness 

Misunderstanding Jason Todd’s anger

The DCEU butchering my boy Batsy

The “I was accidentally eavesdropping and left believing they were talking shit about me but turns out I missed the most important bits” trope

Being a military historian who loves the Civil War (I don’t trust you)

Using the word “females” to sound smarter (you just sound dumb also “women” is right there)

Spring Break being colder than usual (IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF MARCH IN TEXAS WHY WAS I SHIVERING)

Calling me by a nickname that I already refused to (you gotta earn that shit)

Ep 2.08 is never really touched on again after it’s “resolved”

vld’s lost potential (while i have made my peace, i will still bare my scars)

text blocks in fics

dialogue with no quotation marks 

“Oh lookie, we got this wonderful fantastical world (that takes some inspiration from history) with it’s own politics and world building BUT we keep the sexism and racial prejudice bc the inspiration we pulled was medieval times :)” <- i will fight you for sport

mistaking rivals to lovers for enemies to lovers (similar flavor just R to L is slightly tamer. can they blend? yes, but they are not the same thing)

the blatant disregard for internet safety on tiktok (why tf would you announce your age, show your face, and air out your dirty laundry to everyone??? where is your caution? this is not vine, lil beans, y’all are stressing me out. did you miss the pbs episode about the dino agents and stranger danger??? or the fever dream computer game our 1st grade class had to play at school???)

if you have the sniffles, for the love of all things holy, please stand up and get a tissue. no one cares if you get up. i honestly prefer hearing you blow out your nose than hearing you suck up snot every 5 minutes.

taking the backstories told by Macaque and Azure about the Monkey King in lmk at face value (biased narratives are a thing! unreliable narrators are a thing! i will give the biggest sigh if Sun Wukong is placed as the sole character at fault in another fic i read with this)

“redemption” arcs

“sympathetic” villains

missing the fucking point about why Batman chooses mercy and rehabilitation over baseless violence (this also coincides with my issue with how some people view Jason as the Punisher 2.0 bc it suffers through the same fucking glorification of justifying apathy of human life and rejection of 2nd chances)

missing the fucking point about what makes Superman super (here’s a hint: it’s not his fucking power)

the fact that i missed most of Vine’s peak bc i wasn’t allowed a phone until middle school

i lost my post canon script of Cinderella in the prince’s POV that i wrote in 6th grade (rip, i should have created a personal gmail so much sooner, i could have saved you T^T)

understanding a motive does not equal justifying or excusing said motive. you just now understand why a person did what they did. maybe you find justification in it, maybe not, but it’s not absolute!

[southern-fried-simpin]

A Little Unwell | Jerome Valeska x SA survivor!Fem!Reader

A/N: Another request from @hhh—www, I hope I actually did okay and that you like it! Also I’m sorry for some reason tumblr won’t let me tag you 😭 I, myself, have never been a victim of SA, so I apologize if this is campy or just not great. 😓

Warnings: Mention of past abuse, mention of strongly implied past s*xual assault (not by Jerome), trauma, angst, fluff

Enough time has passed, or at least you feel it’s enough, for you to not have these moments. These little episodes. You’re still not sure what to call them, you’d probably know if you were still in therapy. When you told your parents what happened, they were quick to ask all the backwards questions you had heard only on television: “What were you wearing?” “Did you fight back?” “Were you drinking?” The police asked the very same questions and you just…couldn’t wrap your head around why this was happening. They were asking the wrong. Fucking. Questions. After the ninth… no, tenth time they asked you to repeat your story, some kind of switch flipped. You suddenly just started sobbing and screaming. You tried to leave the interrogation room and when they tried to calm you down you fought them. You fought them so hard, almost as if they were your assailants.

After that, it was off to Arkham, your parents certainly couldn’t keep you, you were obviously a danger to yourself and others! What if you tried to kill your father in his sleep in some fit of psychotic rage or attacked your mother like you did those poor policemen who were just doing their jobs?! You’re honestly still not sure why they did it, if anything you thought they would keep you around since you’re their maid and personal punching bag, but you supposed they had their own bullshit reasons. Either way, you were just happy to be away from them.

Yet…sometimes you almost missed the familiarity of what was your home, late at night when it was lights out and everyone was asleep. Or supposed to be. A week or two after your arrival, the voice of a boy would speak to you from the rusty vent in the corner of the room; Always after midnight, after the halls were silent, and the footsteps of guards patrolling the floors were long gone. At first you were angry. Why did it have to be a boy?! It scared you and annoyed you at the same time. Like those stupid dreams where all you saw were hands, desperately grasping at you. However as you eventually started to talk back to it, to him, you became more comfortable. He even made you laugh a few times, it was almost enough to make you actually want to go to the recreation room during the day. And so one day, you actually did.

You had told your therapist and they were very proud of the progress you had made, but they would be making sure a guard kept an eye on you just in case. Upon walking in, there was a moment where you felt like you couldn’t do it, you were sure everyone could smell your fear as soon as you stepped through the gate and warm tears began to prick at your eyes. Then, who should you lock eyes with but a boy with coppery red hair and piercing hazel eyes. Somehow you immediately knew that was the voice that kept you company all those nights. That was Jerome. He smiled at you and you did the same as you walked to where he was sitting, seemingly on cue. The exchange vaguely reminded you of the scene in Cinderella where Prince Charming saw the titular princess across the ballroom and was suddenly unaware of all the other women at the ball. Just as he stood to properly introduce himself to you, another voice, not nearly as nice as his, bellowed from across the room.

“GREETINGS, I AM ZAARDON, THE SOUL REAPER!”

A man, short and a bit overweight, announced himself before continuing on a rant that you have trouble recalling now, not that it mattered; He dropped dead mere moments into his rant and, as if the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre, a blue fog emitted from his mouth.

Next thing you know, you’re in a mansion and apparently apart of a gang. Which has lead you to this predicament.

Taking a shower at Arkham was easy: a female guard was always there to watch you while you bathed and occasionally made small talk with you to ease the awkwardness of the situation. Some would have thought it creepy but you found it comforting. Now, however, there are no female guards. Sure, there’s Tabitha and Barbara who have been nothing but kind to you but you weren’t about to ask them to monitor you while you bathed as if you were a child in a pool.

You briefly wondered if you could just go one more night without a shower or just take one in the morning. However, as you ran your hands through your (unfortunately oily) hair, it became very clear that you couldn’t wait another night.

You turned on the water faucet and gathered your toiletries from the counter when you noticed that you forgot the body wash you had previously purchased with Theo’s money in your room. With an internal groan, you begin to trudge back to your room, and there’s Jerome walking down the hall in his pajamas. Gosh, he must’ve thought you looked terrible.

“Hey, Gorgeous, whatcha doin’ up so late?” You blushed just slightly as he stopped to talk to you.

“Would you believe I’ve been trying to get a shower?” A tired chuckle escaped your lips.

Jerome furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean trying, is the faucet broken or something?”

“No”, you swallowed a lump in your throat,” I’m just nervous to use it…is all.” You felt embarrassed all of the sudden, he knew everything about the reason you had come to Arkham, but you hadn’t really told him about how badly the ordeal had affected you.

“Oh c’mon there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll sit on the floor and talk to you if it’ll make ya feel better!”

You were about to tell him that wasn’t funny when you saw that he had pulled a small sleep mask from his pocket. Hm. Okay…you could maybe work with that.

“Swear on my life I won’t peek!” He held up his hand as if swearing in court. You smiled.

“Okay…but ”, you said wearily,”…your…”

Jerome waited a few seconds before piping up.

“What is it?”

“Well what if you’re pajamas get wet?” Jerome laughed before wrapping an arm around you.

“I’ll go grab a raincoat, in the meantime, why don’t you go ahead and get in so that you don’t have to feel weird about getting undressed with me in the room.”

And so, you did. Just as you finished conditioning your hair, you reached for your body wash and realized you had somehow managed to again forget the very thing you left the bathroom for.

A knock at the door made you jump, which led to you almost slipping and falling on your ass.

“J-Jerome?”

“Is it okay if I come in?”

You paused for a moment before replying.

“Yeah…go ahead.”

The click of the door opening and closing told you Jerome was now in the bathroom with you. You looked down at your hands absentmindedly. They were trembling, you were trembling. You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

“Oh, hey!”

You gasped, and then mentally chastised yourself.

“What..?”

You turned and saw that your body wash was being held out to you by Jerome, who was in fact wearing a rain coat judging by the yellow vinyl surrounding his wrist.

“This was on the floor in the hallway, I had a hunch it might be yours,” said Jerome in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

You smiled softly.

“Yeah, it is, thanks…”

You went back to the task at hand while Jerome chatted with you about whatever came to mind. At one point it was what colors the two of you liked best. Then it was favorite foods and animals. Then finally you were done. Jerome was kind enough to hand you your towels and was holding your pajamas when you stepped out.

True to his word, he was wearing the sleep mask and a yellow raincoat. It made you laugh as you got dressed.

“Okay, you can take the mask off!”

Jerome eagerly did so, rubbing his eyes as he stood.

“See, told ya it would be fine!” He said with a grin.

“Okay, yes, you did…” you said grinning back and laughing a bit, “thank you, by the way.”

“Hey, don’t mention it! Now come on let’s get you to bed.”

As Jerome walked you down the hall to your room, you smiled.

You both stopped at the door to your room. He shuffled almost nervously before clearing his throat.

“Well, Sweetdreams!” Jerome said hastily. Before he could get too far away though, you hugged him.

For a second, you thought you had made him uncomfortable but then he gently wrapped his arms around you. It was the first time you had hugged someone since it happened. And the fact that you had said hug with Jerome couldn’t have made you any happier.

That night, there were no desperate hands grasping and lunging at you in your dreams. There was no flashback to the event that made you feel so broken and damaged. There was just the feeling of the hug, keeping you safe, and reminding you that your going to be okay.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

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[pars-ley]

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?" 

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab." 

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics. 

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is. 

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?” 

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm. 

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands. 

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented." 

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this? 

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there. 

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds. 

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave. 

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking. 

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside. 

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze. 

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?" 

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?" 

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building. 

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No." 

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

 "Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline. 

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before. 

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is. 

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie." 

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?" 

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after. 

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks. 

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade. 

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice. 

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

[aristocratic-otter]

OK, ok, I'll post something, sheesh! Lol, kidding. I wanted to post. Though I'm not sure who's left for me to tag 😂 Thank you for the tags and lots of love to @stardustasincocaine. @urban-sith, @moodandmist, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @captain-aralias

I've got (sorry!) a little angst from my erotic grope fest fic today:

A Fucked Up Cinderella Story

Baz

Without the chemicals of arousal flooding my brain, I can finally think. And my thoughts bring me no ease. I’ve spent ten hours with this boy. We’ve bared nearly every secret of our bodies to each other. And no few of the secrets of our minds too. I feel like I know him better than I know the people I’ve lived with or around for eighteen years.

And, two hours from now, he’ll be gone. I’ll never see him again.

It’s not to be borne. I don’t want to give him up.

But do I have the right to ask him for more than these twelve hours? The agency he works for has gone to great lengths to ensure that our identities are kept private from one another. I’d willingly shed my mask right now if he asked it of me. But is it fair for me to ask him to shed his?

He’s in arguably the more vulnerable position here. I’ve got family, money, and political power on my side if he were the type of person to come after me. If what he’s said is true, he has almost nothing. One friend, no money, no family.

I’d be risking a reputation of being gay (which is true) (and I don’t care if everyone knows it), and of being the type of man who hires escorts (which probably every man in the old families has done at one time or another. And no few of the women).

He’d be risking a reputation of being an escort. Prostitution may be the oldest profession, but it’s also still the most reviled, as unfair as that is. He could lose job opportunities, educational ones, and I don’t know his friend, but there are definitely some people that would discard a friendship with him over it.

So, I risk almost nothing by revealing myself, and he risks everything.

I feel a black cloud of grief rise up in me as I realize that, no, I can’t try to find out who he is.

To counter that, something good

from The Watford Games

Baz

Simon’s forehead is on mine, and our lips are a finger’s width apart. I can feel his hot breath washing over my skin, smelling of rat meat and something indefinable. It should be disgusting, but it’s not. I’m depraved, I know.

He’s saying I’m not a monster, and those are words I would have given anything to hear, before. When I was just a boy longing after another boy who hated him.

But now? Now that I’ve tasted the buttery fatty richness of Simon’s blood? He can’t tell me I’m not a monster. Not when everything in me is dying to sink my teeth into his neck and drink him dry.

“I am!” I retort, trying not to notice how my bottom lip actually brushes his when I speak.

I can’t see Simon’s eyes through the darkness, and that’s a tragedy. I want to know if he’s peering at me with suspicion, as I’m used to, or with the much newer and exciting look of interest he’s been giving me lately. I’m probably imagining the latter, though.

“Baz,” he whispers, “Shut up.”

And then he kisses me.

What? It's a classic line! 😂 Ok, tagging a few folks (for Sunday, since I'm gonna once again post at a minute to midnight🙄). @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @bloodiedpixie, @caitybug, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @im-gettingby, @otherworldsivelivedin, @prettylightsbigcity, @palimpsessed, @skee3000, @tea-brigade, and everyone mentioned at the top!

[vemuabhi]

Disney Romance - Cinderella’s Bird - 200 followers special

@littlesniggy​ said : Hey you! Now it's my turn to request something! Kida sad you don't write for Akainu but I can understand 😂 He's an asshole! If it hasn't been requested yet, would you do Mulan/Cinderella with Kid x female reader? I'm super excited which one you choose/ if you choose it at all! Thank you!

A/N : Omg thankyou so much for sending an ask @littlesniggy​ san!!! I am so excited to answer this for you! I loved writing for the grumpy boy. This was really a beautiful experience writing this for Eustass KIdd. Please don’t have high expectations for this.

Warning : A big fic written by me. But has a happy ending.

Word count : 2.7K

I hope you like it!

XOXOXOXO

“Why the hell should I get married now?”, you complained to your Robin who always was beside you, she was a maid but you always admired her and always treated her like a friend not like a maid.

Robin sighed and patted your head as she took the place beside you on the bed. “I should have the choice when I want to get married. Not some jerk who is randomly selected by my parents”, you scoffed and plopped back on the soft burgundy-coloured bedsheets. Robin gave you a sad smile and said, “That’s true. I too believe that marriage should be for Love”

Being a princess isn’t easy. Every girl dream to be a princess but its not as beautiful like the fairy tales are. You are a live example for that. Not once you could decide for yourself. Even the big puffy yellow gown you were wearing was not of your choice. The corset was killing you inside. You wanted to rip it off and throw it out of your window. With language classes, you always had dance classes, tea sessions, music classes. Everything that was chosen by your parents, was practically forced upon you.

‘What kind of lunatic needs to learn how to drink tea?’, you cursed the tea sessions when ever you were being called to it. All you did was brew tea and drink during the whole time. The music classes were always a hectic. You wanted to learn an instrument but when you were given another. Your wishes were denied because who cares about your dreams? In the beginning even dance classes were troublesome, But you tried to put up with all those demands of your parents. In return they are now trying to get you married as soon as possible.

“I’m done with this Robin”, you spoke and got up. “I’ll do whatever I want”, your voice was stern and Robin was curious on what you were about to do.

“Cancel todays classes, I’ll be going to visit the town to relieve my stress”, you announced briskly walking towards the closet.

“Are you sure your highness? But how can you go alone? You must have someone wit-”

“Robin! Its fine. I can take care of myself”, you didn’t let her finish her sentence. Throwing your corset on the floor and dressing up like a maid didn’t take long enough. You made your way towards the secret passage in the palace and exited the palace. Even though Robin was worried, she had to stay back in the castle to make sure no one notices your leaving.

The town and the market were as lively as ever and you walked around the place. As you kept walking, you saw a couple who looked very much in love. You felt a bit envious of them. At least the commoners had the freedom to do what they like. As you were walking aimlessly in the market, you bumped into a tall buff guy.

“Oh I’m sorry”, after apologising you thought of leaving but it didn’t go well.

“Hey! How can you go away like that?” the man started to fight with you. As you felt the very heavy scent of alcohol hit your nostrils, you knew that this man was heavily drunk.

“What? I apologised so what’s your problem now?” you questioned as your dominant hand slowly reached for the sword hidden in your skirt.

“You bitch how dare you speak back to me?” he raised his hand to land a hit on you but just when you were about to take out the sword, his had was stopped mid-air. You then saw a man who had red hair. As soon as the jerk saw that man, it seemed like his senses came back to him again.

“Asshole! Didn’t I tell you this is my shop and never make a scene in front of it”, the man shouted at the rogue twisting his arm. He winced in pain as he apologised and ran away.

The red haired man went into a shop, what seemed like a shop of vegetables and fruits. ‘Was he a farmer?’, you thought and followed him. Looking inside, there were so many fresh vegetables and also fruits in the shop.

“What do you want?”, a sharp voice questioned making you turn towards the owner of the voice. It was the same red head from before.

“Uh, I… I’m here to buy”, you said and looked around again trying to seem convincing. He huffed and sat on a chair fiddling with something which seemed like a machine. Your interest perked up and you asked him, “What are you making?”, moving closer to take a peek at the machine.

“Why should I tell you?”, he spat but as he looked at your face, he noticed that your eyes were sparkling with curiosity and interest.

“Tsk”, he clicked his tongue and explained about the way he wanted to make a machine bird as you listened to him carefully. He kept telling you how helpful machines would be if used in the correct way.

“But, don’t you think, this material you are using to make this bird is kinda… cheap and looks like its gonna break soon?”, you questioned for which he frowned and replied, “Don’t you think I already know that? I… I just don’t have the money”, mumbling the last part.

“Oh! I got an idea. Listen to me, uhh..”

“Eustass Kidd”

“So, Kidd As this bird is still in the beginning process, I’ll bring you the material tomorrow. Till then don’t touch this. Okay now I need to leave. I’ll be taking this basket here”, you said and took a basket of strawberries and tossed a coin to him.

“HEY WAIT!! YOU DIDN’T EVE- and she’s gone”, still with that grumpy look Kidd took his screw driver to continue working on the bird. But he remembered you telling him to wait till tomorrow. So he sat back in his chair and exhaled.

“Its not because she told me to wait. I… I want to continue this tomorrow”, he huffed and folded his hands. Then he remembered about the coin you threw.

He opened his palm and his eyes widened as he looked at the coin. It was a gold coin. A freaking gold coin for a basket of strawberries.

“No way. What the heck is she thinking?”, he carefully placed it back in the locker and thought to give it back to you tomorrow.

At the castle you came back and continued with your remaining day. You should leave tomorrow. So you need to make plans.

“Robin I need you to do something for me”, you explained how you needed high quality metal and also the timings of classes to be shifted. So, it did happen and you had continuous morning classes without breaks but, you were a free after them and it made you to take material Kidd wanted to make the bird. Changing out from your attire of a princess you went to the same shop as yesterday. There you found the man coming towards you as if he was waiting for you all along.

“I got the material you need”, you said as you placed it beside his table where the bird was supposed to be made.

“Were you waiting for me? Sorry I was late”, you said and he instantly replied, “Wha- Who was waiting for you?”

“Ah ok”, you muttered as you saw him instantly looking and taking the material with a faint pink shade on his cheeks. He looked just like a child exited to play with his toys.

“Where the hell did you even get these? These are clearly expensive?”, his sudden questions made your thoughts to break.

“Ah… I got it from the Kings dumpster”, you made the blankest expression trying to hide your lie.

“Kings Dumpster?! The King threw away this metal when it’s like this?”, he asked as his brows raised when you just nodded.

“Tsk… and here I am, trying to get re-rid of rust from metal. Using them for the 100th time”, he huffed.

You both sat opposite to each other and he worked on the bird as you learned about the work he was doing. Helping him with giving the appropriate tool at times, you had more fun than you ever had in your life. He tried to return the gold coin but you didn’t take it and made a deal to take vegetables or fruits in return, for which he agreed. You both fist bumped as an agreement of the deal.

From that day, you made your way out of the castle to meet Kidd. Surprisingly, he always waited for you to come to work on the bird. Meanwhile he somewhere started to call you little lady and you actually liked it. It became a routine for you to take a basket of veggies or fruits every time you left the shop. Sometimes he’d you’d tag along with him to his small farm. He was totally proud of his farm. His eyes showed it. Where you knew you never felt that feeling that he was feeling. Never once in your life you felt you were proud of something you did. He was living a complete different life than yours. You found your heart skip a beat every time Kidd smiled. You liked him.

Kidd was unique. He was terrible in showing his emotions but he was a good person. Every time you left the castle for him, seemed right. You actually felt happy seeing him and working with him. But of course, this happiness didn’t last long. Your parents wanted you to get married soon and told you to pick a groom for yourself in the ball that is going to be hosted next week. Bloody next week.

Because of the ball, you had to take even more classes for walking like a princess and also more fashionistas coming to find the perfect gown for you. Due to those, you couldn’t meet Kidd for 4 days.

Meanwhile, Kidd waited for you staring at the front door of his shop. Whenever the door opened, he met with disappointment because it wasn’t you. He couldn’t even continue on his bird. He had doubts on his feelings for you but now, it was clear for him that he liked you. Your thoughts haunted him. His heart earned for you. Only for you to return.

After a long hard day of work, you sneaked out of the castle in the evening and went to Kidd’s shop. You opened the door and your eyes met with Kidds. You both stared at eachother for a few seconds before he spoke.

“Come in”, you obliged and walked into the shop towards the desk where you both made bird. It was just like it was 3 days ago. “You didn’t continue to make the bird?”, you inquired as he just turned away and shook his head as he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“Kidd, its late and I have to leave soon so listen to me”, his vision shifted to you as he gulped.

“But you just came, why do you have to leave?” he asked as he approached you and placed his hands on your shoulder.

“Aww did you miss me?” you tried to tease him but this time, he neither denied nor looked away from you blushing. He stayed silent for a while before he said, “I did”

You didn’t even expect that from Kidd. His hands travelled down from your shoulders to your hands. “I did miss you. So much that I couldn’t even touch that bird”, He looked serious. He placed one hand on your chin and looked into your eyes.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think your thoughts would haunt me that much when you didn’t come. I… I didn’t know when, why or how. But I know that, I have feelings for you little lady”, his voice trembled as he spoke the last bit.

“Kidd are you serious?” you asked placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned into your touch and nodded. His eyes looked desperate for your answer. Pulling him towards you, you connected your lips with his. The kiss was gentle and with so much of emotion.

Both pulled away to look into each other’s eyes. “I have feelings for you too Kidd”, you smiled and Kidd’s face lit up making you smile in return. He leaned and touched your forehead with yours and exhaled with relief. “Can I request you something Kidd?”, you asked and he nodded.

“Can you come to the castle this coming Wednesday?”

“To the castle? Why?”

“There is a ball going to be held and I want you to come”, you said and stepped back, away from his touch. “Now it’s my turn to wait for you, I should tell you something. So please come”, the last part sounded more like a pleading and with that you left the shop.

Kidd didn’t knew why you had to leave so early. His heart was beating so fast. Confused whether whatever happened now was real or not. He sat on his chair unable to remove your pleading face from earlier. Kidd looked at the bird which was unfinished and took the screw driver to continue working on it. Its been a while since he alone worked on something. It wasn’t a new feeling for him but still, he preferred to talk and have you around while he made it.

The day of the ball arrived. You wore your outfit and looked out the window at the crowd of people came to the castle. Men and women from so many places arrived there. With the help of Robin you made sure that when Kidd comes, he wouldn’t be stopped by any of the guards. The time was almost running out. The first dance was supposed to be started soon but you couldn’t find Kidd anywhere.

Your parents were urging you to find a partner and start the first dance. ‘So Kidd isn’t coming’, you thought and tilted your head up to prevent the tears falling out from your eyes. You pinched your skin trying to distract the pain away. Stepping on the ball room in your burgundy coloured dress, you walked with a straight face. Then suddenly your eyes fell on a person, who was trying to not be visible in the crowd but, his hair was definitely saying otherwise. You swiftly made your way towards that person.

People cleared way for you and it didn’t take long for you to meet the person with the red hair. He was wearing golden coloured suit and his hair was combed back neatly. He looked different but it was him. His cheeks turned the same colour of his hair. You chuckled and took his hand, pulling him towards the middle of the ball room. You placed your hands on his shoulder and pulled him closer to you. His hand trembled before he placed it on your waist. With that the music played and you both danced, with other people also dancing.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“How could I? You are a princess and why didn’t you tell me you were a princess?”

“Would you even talk to me like you did if you knew I were a princess?”

“That’s… true but… now here I am, with the princess Y/N in my arms”, he said pulling you closer. You giggled and pushed back the strand of hair which was on his forehead. You both smiled at each other and continued dancing. After the first dance, he pulled you away from the ball room and you followed. He walked towards the garden where no one was and took out something from under the bench.

“What did you bring?”, you asked. He turned and showed it to you. Your eyes went wide looking at the bird that he brought.

“You made her at last!” you exclaimed as he looked down shyly. “Yeah kind of made it. I wanted to show it to you today”

“I love it so much”, you said as you took it in your hands. It was your memory. The time you spent making it with Kidd. It was precious to you two.

“Keep it. It’s yours now”, he said as he smiled.

“Really?! I will take care of it so well”, you replied and jumped on him making him catch you quickly. You looked at him and leaned in for kissing him again. Now, it was passionate. No one to intrude as you were alone. Smiling you pulled back and leaned your forehead with his.

You now found a grumpy man, who would understand you and would really be the reason for you to smile.

Made with picrew

XOXOXOXO

I hope you liked it. Thankyou for reading.

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So Far Away (part 2)

Part 7 of the Boys with Luv series

Pairing: Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook and Jin x reader; Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook and Jin x Yoongi, Jimin, Jungkook and Jin; Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung x Hoseok, Namjoon and Taehyung

Summary: We have some make ups, some losses, some fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Warnings: Mentions of smut, some swearing

Tags: @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @fic-recs-by-moon​, @luvtaeha, @aretha170, @xicanacorpse​, @kookieebangtan, @fangirl125reader, @seoul9711, @channiespup​ ​​​​​, @lindsayjoy444​ 

AN: I decided to make this a 3 part chapter because I like leaving y’all in suspense. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and what you think of the series so far :) I purple you guys!

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Yoongi POV:

As soon as the words left Y/N’s mouth, my eyes widened and my grip on her hand tightened. This was not going to be good. For all I knew, they could yell at her and make her feel like she was unwanted, which is completely untrue.

“Jungkookie, take Y/N to the food place and get yourselves something to eat.” I said, making Jungkook frown at me in confusion. “If it is them, I don’t want her getting hurt by any argument that might happen.” I explained. “Now go and get some food, and I will meet you both there later.” I kissed Y/N’s forehead and Jungkook’s cheek before watching them walk off hand in hand. I let out a breath and readied myself for the confrontation, knowing that there was going to be arguing that we may not be able to come back from.

Jimin was pouting slightly. “Pretty boy, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“I hate all of this fighting.” Jimin admitted. “I just want all of us to go back to normal... Or as normal as we can be.”

“Well, we just need to talk to them and see if we can sort out this mess.” Jin said, rubbing Jimin’s back. “So let’s go talk.”

We approached them slowly. They didn’t realise we were behind them until I cleared my throat. 

The three of them turned around, eyes wide. It was then I realised Taehyung looked awful. He had bags under his eyes that were still visible under the concealer and his lips were drawn in a small permanent pout. Whatever was going on between us had to be sorted now. 

“Hyung, w-what are you doing here?” Jimin asked, playing with his fingers as he attempted to try and start the much-needed conversation.

“Fuck, Yoongi hyung, I am so sorry.” Namjoon said, looking down at his shoes in shame. “I should have never kicked you out of the dorm. I should have let you explain and let you make the decisions. I never wanted to make you feel unloved and unwanted by us, or to make our whole dynamic awkward.”

“And I should have stood up for you and said something against what Namjoon said. Fuck, hyung, I should have come to you the second I knew something was wrong and we had upset you.” Hoseok apologised, his eyes wide and pleading. I bit my lip, my eyes sliding towards Taehyung who was trembling, his eyes filling with tears.

“Hyung, we’re so sorry-” Namjoon started to speak again.

“Just shut up you two and come here!” I allowed them to come towards me and I leaned up and kissed them both. “I accept your apologies, but I don’t fully forgive you yet. I’m just going to need some time. What you said really hurt me.” I said. 

“Of course, hyung. Of course. Take your time.” Hoseok said, hugging me again. He released me, going over to Jimin, who still looked unsure. “Hey baby boy.” He said, making Jimin let out a small sob and jump into his arms. Hoseok sighed in relief and held him close, his face buried in his hair.

Namjoon was embracing Jin, leaving Taehyung stood there, looking unsure of what to do.

“Taehyung, let’s go somewhere else to talk, okay?” I said, extending my hand for him to take. He gingerly reached out and took it, allowing me to lead him to a more private place.

We ended up at the food courts. I led us over to a small cafe and stopped just outside. I sat him down in a chair and sat down opposite him. “Why do you look so sad?” I asked.

“I’m a horrible, disgusting person. That’s why.” Taehyung said, not making eye contact with me.

“Taehyung...” I reached over and grabbed hold of his hand. “You said some things that were hurtful and not nice but you will never, ever be a disgusting or horrible person.”

“Yes I am, hyung! I told you to reject your soulmate, knowing full well how much pain it would cause both you and her.” He said. “I didn’t give you a chance to explain what you were going to do, and what your plan was, and I’m sure if I had, I would have heard that you had planned to do something that made both parties happy. And to make matters worse, I lost my soulmate. After I saw you both in the mall, I could suddenly see colour. Me, Joonie hyung and Hobi hyung could.”

“Tae, you know that someone can have multiple soulmates, right?” I said, making him cock his head to the side, tears dripping down his face. “That’s what happened with me, Y/N, Jiminie, Kookie and Jin. It happens when people are very close.”

“So, me, Joonie hyung and Hobi hyung could be her soulmates as well?” Taehyung asked, his voice small.

“Yes, Tae baby. We are all soulmates with her.” I said, making him slowly smile and sniffle slightly. 

“I missed you calling me that.” He whispered. “I missed you so much, hyungie, I’m so sorry for what I said to you.”

“Baby, come here.” I stood up and opened my arms, allowing him to run into them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said over and over again.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.” I said, stroking his back. “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

“It’s not okay. I was jealous.” He said, his head resting against my shoulder. “I didn’t want to lose you or have less of your time.”

“Taehyung baby boy, you were my first, you are so important to me. You’re never going to lose me.” I held him away from me for a second to look at him. “You’re so beautiful.” I said, stroking his cheek. He leaned into the gesture. “My beautiful baby boy.” I leaned forward to kiss him gently. He made a noise as our lips connected, sounding like a needy whine.

As I pulled away, I wiped away his tears. “I want to apologise to Y/N.” He said. “And I want to meet her properly and let her know that I don’t hate her.”

Y/N POV:

I sighed as I stirred the straw around my empty milkshake glass, my head resting in my hand. I stared over at Jungkook, who was sat opposite me, looking equally as bored. 

“Do we have to stay here?” I asked, making him look at me slightly confused. “Like we’re at Disney, let’s go on some rides. I don’t want to be stuck in a restaurant all day.”

“I don’t know, gorgeous. They might get annoyed.” Jungkook looked unsure. 

“We’ll be fine, Koo.” I got up and tugged on his hand. “Please.” He still looked unsure. “Please, oppa, I will give you lots of cuddles when we get back.” I said, doing an aegyo. He chuckled.

“Okay, fine. Fine.” He allowed me to pull him up from the table. “I’ll text Jimin hyung and tell him what we are doing.” He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text before pocketing his phone and grabbing hold of my hand. “Where to first?”

It was then I got a sneaky prank idea to pull on Yoongi, Jin and Jimin oppas. “Let’s start from right at the back of the park and ride every ride there and take our time. But don’t tell them where we are going exactly. Let’s prank them.”

Much to my surprise, a cheeky smile flooded Jungkook’s face. “That sounds like a great plan!” He said. “Let’s go!”

After we had been on a few of the rides in the Magic Kingdom, Jungkook led me to the Cinderella castle and sat down on a bench, pulling me down beside him. The sun was beginning to set, the light reflecting off his necklace that was settled just under his collar bone, between the tips of his pectorals, that were exposed from his half-buttoned shirt. 

“Are you having fun?” He asked, cupping the side of my face in his hand and stroking my cheek. I smiled gently as his soft, brown doe eyes made a comfortable contact with mine.

“Yes, thank you.” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Good.” He said, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. I leaned into the gesture, his hand supporting the weight of my head. “You look so pretty in the sunlight.” He took hold of my hand and pulled me up. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” He set up his phone and stood us in front of the castle. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine before kissing me gently.

“Kookie.” I breathed as he pulled away, resting our foreheads together. My stomach felt weird, like there was a nest of butterflies living there. I cleared my throat, pulling away from him slightly, not liking the unfamiliar feeling. He frowned at me, trying to decipher what was going on with me.

“What’s wrong, carrot?” He asked, making me raise an eyebrow at the nickname.

“Nothing’s wrong. Just worried about the others.” I replied. They had been gone a long time and I knew it wasn’t because they were looking for us; they would have called us if they couldn’t find us.

“Yeah, they haven’t tried to find us. Maybe they have forgotten about us?” Jungkook shrugged. 

I hummed. “What was that nickname before?” I asked him.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to call you that, because hyungs call me bunny, and bunny’s like to eat carrots, and I like to eat you out so...” My cheeks flushed red as I thought back to how he had woken me up that morning, with his head buried between my legs and his tongue inside me. He chuckled when he saw my expression. “Aww is my little carrot embarrassed?” He teased, making me slap his chest playfully. He looked at me in surprise, making me giggle.

“You look like a lost bunny.” I commented, making him laugh. I looked around for a second. “You know what I am really craving? A churro.”

“Me too.” Jungkook rubbed his stomach. “Shall we go back and get some food, we haven’t really had lunch.”

“Mhm.” I agreed. “Don’t forget your phone.” I reminded him. He grabbed it and smiled at the screen.

“We’re cute.” He said, showing me the picture of us kissing in front of the castle. “We might be the cutest pair.” I giggled and kissed his cheek before holding his hand as we walked back to the food court.

Jimin POV:

Yoongi hyung was in a state of panic. We had all met up at the food court, but Y/N and Jungkook were nowhere to be found. Yoongi had tried calling them both, but neither of them had replied. 

“Where could they have gone?” Yoongi sat down on one of the chairs, pulling at his hair in frustration. I knew why he was so worried - Y/N’s abusive ex could have found out where she was and taken her, hurting Jungkook in the process.

“Maybe try calling them again?” Namjoon suggested. Yoongi opened his phone and called Jungkook again, but it went straight through to voicemail. I bit my lip as I checked my phone to see if I had any messages from either of the youngest ones.

“Ah hyung!” I said, waving my phone around. “Jungkookie texted me about an hour ago. He and Y/N have gone on some rides because princess was bored.” I said, reading the message aloud. 

“Did he say where?” Yoongi asked. I scanned the message again and shook my head. “Of course he wouldn’t.” He rolled his eyes and tried Y/N again. Still no answer. “Well, at least we know they are safe...” He blew some air out through his mouth. “I’m going to go and find them.” He said. 

“I’ll come with you.” I volunteered, standing up and taking hold of his hand. Yoongi nodded and together we walked out of the food area to try and find the missing two.

We didn’t have to go very far as we found them walking together, hand in hand, laughing with each other. They froze when they saw us, knowing that they were in trouble from the look on Yoongi’s face.

“And what do you two think you have been doing?” He asked, his voice deep and dangerously calm. 

“Going on rides...” Jungkook said slowly, knowing that he was going to get punished for this. Y/N looked between the two of them, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

“And what is the rule about answering your phones?” Yoongi folded his arms across his chest.

“Always answer them when they ring, but hyung, our phones didn’t ring, so I really don’t understand why you are so mad.” Jungkook said, shrugging. 

“You don’t understand why...” Yoongi scoffed. “Both of you take out your phones now and check them.” They both did it, shaking their heads.

“No calls from you to either of us.” Y/N replied. “Oppa, really, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Yoongi hyung has been calling you for the past hour.” I replied, making her frown at her phone. 

“Then there is something wrong with my phone.” She said. “I have signal, I’m connected to the park wifi, but it’s not picking up your calls or texts...” She frowned as she tapped the screen a few times. “Or your contact...” She tapped and scrolled a few more times before she started shaking her head and murmuring no under her breath. 

“Princess, what’s wrong?” I asked, rushing to her side. I saw that it was open on a contact who had sent a picture of her getting buckled into a ride. She was smiling and the sun was giving a golden hue to her skin. She looked beautiful. But I knew it wasn’t Jungkook who had taken the picture because I could see his hand on her thigh.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asked, walking over to us. “What the hell? Who is this?” He looked at Y/N, his eyes softening once he saw how traumatized she looked.

“It’s my ex.” She said, her voice shaking. Yoongi’s jaw set in anger. “I think he was here in the park. Yoongi he has my number and my location. I’m scared.”

Yoongi wrapped an arm around her waist protectively. He turned off her phone’s location and blocked the number. “Jimin, go tell the others that we will meet them back at my apartment. We’ll talk to them there. Jungkook go with him, make sure he’s okay.” As Jungkook and I walked away, I heard Yoongi talking to Y/N to comfort her. “I promise you, jagiya, no one is ever going to hurt you again, I promise. Not while I’m around.”