#what if i enchant him and he falls in love with me and we fu--

[sovaghoul]

I need to know if Per is touring with Katatonia. I need to know if I need to buy tickets to the Denver show. I need to know if I need to take time off work. I need to know

[taegularities]

colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck. 

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving. 

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at. 

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order. 

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress. 

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[sandpumpkin]

Heeeeeeey !😉 Can i request 4 with Cora pls ? Im weak for proposal 😔

OF COURSE YOU CAN!!! I am here to deliver this softest angel!

Hug-A-Palooza

4 - because they said YES

Corazon

Crazy In Love

Rosinante knew how clumsy he was, even in his mind he had messed it up. Sighing deeply he ran a hand through his messy blonde slumping down into the armchair. 

What am I going to do? 

He jolted suddenly hearing the door open, noticing the little box still on the coffee table he lunged forward to grab it only to fall off the chair and head first into the coffee table. “Fu-”

“Rosi…” you peered into the living room to find Rosinate clutching his face rolling about on the floor “Are you alright?” you asked, kneeling beside him, managing to pry his hand from his face.

“I fell-” he mumbled, making you chuckle softly. 

“What's new?” you leant in to plant a little kiss to the tip of his nose which made him blush wildly. “Don’t forget we were going out for a meal tonight.” you noticed the vacant look on his face “you forgot..”

“Yes. NO! Maybe…” he  rambled waving his hands about “I got the date wrong..” he groaned flopping back onto the floor. 

“I need to go shower anyway. We have plenty of time.” you said, pulling him up into a sitting position. “No accidents whilst I go shower okay?” Rosinante nodded

“I will try. “He laughed, watching you hurry out of the room. “I can’t believe I forgot.” he looked at the box that had been well hidden by his leg and frowned “Tonight...yes..at the meal…” he nodded and quickly stumbled to his feet only to trip over them within seconds “good start.”  he groaned. 

After successfully changing and making sure he looked presentable, Rosinante waited downstairs in the living room for you to finish. 

“I’m ready!” you called stepping into the living room. He gasped, you looked stunning. The hair, the dress, to him you were always beautiful and radiant but tonight was a reminder that a goddess had chosen to love him, a mere mortal: a clumsy one at that. 

“You look stunning.” he sighed rising to his feet crossing the room to you. Reaching to take your hand kissing it softly “A night of enchantment awaits my lady.” he smiled, making you blush and pat his chest playfully. 

“You’re such a fool I swear.” you chuckled linking your arm with his. 

-

Rosinante was cursing his terrible luck. A romantic dinner ended up being a family meal when Doflamingo and the others turned up crashing the whole evening. Managing to escape after over an hour of suffering. He walked beside you with his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m sorry.” he said, 

“You didn’t know,” you replied looking at him with a soft smile “It wasn’t terrible. I think your brother was quite well behaved: for once.” He thought you must be a saint to even consider that ‘well behaved’. Glancing up at the sky as the full moon crept out from behind the darkened clouds. 

It has to be tonight…

He reached to take your hand squeezing it tightly “Come with me,” you tilted your head quizzically “trust me.” he said with a bright smile. You walked a little further reaching one of the parks that had a large flower garden. 

“The park?” you looked around curiously, though as the clouds parted and the moon shone down on you, as if the world was a stage and you its lead lady. You watched Rosinante take a deep breath getting down on one knee before you. “Rosi?”

“My sweet angel,” he started swallowing the lump in his throat “I don’t know what compelled you to want to love a man like me but..” he pulled out a little black box his hands shaking “I- Would you be willing to love this fool forever?” he asked opening the box to you, showing off the beautiful gold ring within “I love you more than anything in this world and I want to keep you by myself...as my wife..if you’ll have me…” he rambled. 

You were shocked, speechless. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest. You wanted to reply but your mouth just stopped working. 

“My love?” Rosinante looked up at you nervously waiting for your response. You nodded quickly before finally managing to conjure forth the ability to speak

“OF COURSE I WILL!” you clamp your hands over your mouth embarrassed by the volume “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout-” you yelped as Rosinante jumped to his feet and embraced you tightly.

“Oh my darling..you don’t know how happy this makes me!” he nuzzled your hair excitedly and pulled you closer to him “my wife...you’re going to be my wife!” he cheered loudly squeezing you even tighter. You chuckled and returned the hug resting your head against his chest listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“Rosi..what happened to the ring?” you asked, suddenly realising he wasn’t holding a box. 

“I DROPPED IT!” he panicked pulling and rummaging around in the dark for it. You blinked and laughed loudly, he was doing so well. 

“I’ll help you look...dear husband..” 

Rosinante turned to you with a dorkish smile on his face as he squirmed in delight at being called such things. You smiled softly. A lifetime with this clumsy softhearted man..you were going to need lots of bandages..but the future looked bright..even if it was Rosi setting himself alight again.

[marinetteplztakeabreak]

Art Reflects Life, and Lying is an Art

CHAPTER ONE

Chat Noir just wants to be a good friend, Ladybug just wants to be a good person, and it would be so much easier for both of them if they could actually talk.   Instead, they’re stuck navigating a web of secrets.   But sometimes, a half-truth is better than nothing, and sometimes lies are closer to the truth than anything else.   

Pairing: Ladynoir

Word Count: about 2000

Notes: this first chapter is basically just 2,000 words of Ladynoir hurt/comfort, taking place about two weeks after the season 3 finale

Warnings: copious amounts of angst, anxiety, mentions of nausea, self-depricating thoughts, characters having unhealthy amounts of repression as a direct result of akumas being a thing, death mention, sickness mention, crying, it ends on a fluffy note but there’s still a lot that’s not resolved

  “Milady?”    “What?”    “You know how earlier today, you chose to have Carapace help us out?” Chat asked, leaning against the railing that Ladybug had just climbed on top of.      “Yeah, we were facing an akuma that was surrounded by a wall of enchanted hail.   We needed a shield.   Why?  Were you disappointed?”    “Oh, no no no, I love working with Carapace, I just thought, maybe, y'know...”    Ladybug turned back to smirk at her partner, resting a hand on her hip, which was probably unwise while perched on such a tiny ledge atop a six-story building.  “No, I don’t know, kitty, so you’re going to have to tell me.”    Chat Noir had turned bright red and was looking anywhere but her eyes.  He muttered something unintelligible that ended in a squeak.      She had no clue what he was so embarrassed about, but couldn’t help feeling amused that her infuriatingly smooth partner was currently tripping over himself.  Especially because he was also grinning so widely that it was contagious.    “I thought maybe... one of these days... we could... maybe...” he took a deep breath. “team up with Multimouse again?”  The way his eyes were sparkling with hope would’ve been adorable if Marinette had been functioning properly anymore.      Marinette honestly had no idea what emotion it did spark inside of her, but she knew it wasn't the right one.  She tried for a smile anyway, fighting nausea and the sudden exhaustion and trying to pretend like the ambient light of the sky hadn’t just become physically painful.  She was pretty sure she failed at hiding it, though, based on Chat Noir’s guilty expression.      “Listen, I know you told me to just drop it, but-”    “She compromised her secret identity, you know the rules.”  Ladybug could do this.  She could have this conversation.  She just had to stay professional.  She was fine.  She was totally way more than 15 seconds from throwing up.  She was- oh God, Chat Noir was still talking and she had no idea what she had missed him say.    She caught onto his tone, rushed and desperate before she managed to tune into the actual words.  “-and a couple of weeks ago you let Ryuuko come back even though actual Hawkmoth knows her identity, which is honestly so much worse, and then there was-”    “Chat!” she interrupted, wincing at how harsh she had sounded.  She tried to lower her tone to something that resembled a rational human.  “Please, just let it go.”    “OK, but-” he stopped short at her glare, and his ears twitched back in agitation, which would have made her feel worse if she had any further to go. “Okay, I’m not going to mention her if it bothers you that much, but can I ask a different question?”    “Go ahead.”  Her voice sounded way more hollow than she intended.  She desperately needed to get a grip.    “Why do we still need the secret identity rule at all?”    “What?”  She jerked up to look at him, stumbling in the process, and he leaped to catch her before she fell off the roof,  Chat Noir gently helped her sit down, hugging her close in the process, which felt unfairly good.  And then he scooted back a meter, which she knew was just to be respectful. Despite her common sense, she desperately wanted to grab his arm and pull him back against her.   She fought down that impulse and watched him chew on his lip as he tried to sort out his thoughts.    “Why does it matter if one of us finds out someone’s secret identity?  Who’s going to stop us?  Because I’m sure you’ve noticed that Master Fu isn’t going to be taking away anyone’s Miraculous anytime soon.”    “Kitty...”  Seriously though, why was she so cold now?   When had he gotten so warm?  She had hugged him before, she would’ve noticed if he’d felt like a heated blanket.       More importantly, when had she gotten so terrible at paying attention to anything?  She groaned, which Chat seemed to take as a sign that she was mad at him.      “I’m sorry, I’ll stop asking now, I promise I won’t ask again, I just-” His voice cracked and he took a shaky breath. “It’s fine,” he said. And then, of course, he immediately started sobbing.    She didn’t think.  She didn’t even have conscious control over her limbs.  All she knew was that Chat Noir was crying and it somehow made her feel even worse than the constant ickiness of the past few months, and then all of a sudden she found herself with Chat Noir in her lap, squeezing him more tightly than she probably should and pressing her face against his hair.      “Shhh... shhh... Minou... It’s okay, I’m not upset”    He was shaking with his sobs and hyperventilating and she had no idea what had caused this, except that it probably had something to do with her.  Thankfully, he pulled himself together after less than a minute, before they had to deal with any purple butterflies.    There was no way she would have been able to handle that.   Still, whatever she felt when he caught his breath and faked a smile was less “relief” and more “filing away the image to a mental folder of reasons she was going to kill Hawkmoth.”     Marinette kept petting his hair and muttering nonsense until he was purring with his head on her shoulder.   He smelled really nice, she noticed, and his hair was way softer than she had thought.    Also, she was pretty sure that she was losing her mind.       "Such a pretty kitty," she cooed.   "You're such a gorgeous little kitty, so sweet and precious."     Her mouth refused to listen to her brain begging it to stop.     Chat Noir hummed.   At least he looked a lot calmer now.   "love you, milady," he finally said.     "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, and his expression was immediately added to her "reasons to murder Hawkmoth" list.     "I- I want to, but I don't think I can.   I really don't want to get myself akumatized, and besides, I don't think I can explain anything without compromising my secret identity.   It's not your fault though, it's just civilian stuff."     Except it kind of was her fault, because she was the one who refused to let him talk about his civilian life ever.       "Okay, um, what about if you just kept it really vague, and left out the parts that would give up your identity?   Or you could change some details so it can't be traced back to civilian you?"     Chat Noir nodded, and she could feel him tense up as he prepared to speak.       "My-" Adrien stopped, searching for an explanation that would be close enough to reality.   How was he supposed to explain that he hadn't seen Natalie since the day that they had fought Hearthunter and Miracle Queen, and that everyone was dodging questions about it?   Where could even begin to explain the craziness that lead up to this being his life?       "My, um, my stepmom is really sick," okay, good start, "and I'm scared, and I-"     He realized, with what was definitely an unhealthy amount of numbness, that he was hyperventilating again.   He couldn't get akumatized; he couldn't do that to Ladybug.   He buried his face in Ladybug's shoulder and focused on the way she was tracing abstract patterns across his back with her fingertips.   "My dad won't tell me anything, but he's gotten really tense, and he's snapping at me even more than usual."   He didn't even realize how stressed he had become until he realized that he could hear the scratchy sound of his tail whipping back and forth across the pavement.   "And," he whispered, "this is the same thing that happened with my mom, before she-"       Back to the breathing exercises: breathe in for four counts, hold for eight counts, breathe out for eight counts.   He was strong.   He could say what he needed to without causing the end of the world.   He wasn't going to let a little something like his body's reactions to unbearable stress get in the way.     "My friends are all avoiding me, not on purpose I don't think, but they're all busy studying for finals or working on projects or whatever they do, and my dad is refusing to let me out of the house anyway; it's gotten even harder to sneak out for akuma battles, and I-" another few deep breaths.   "I don't want to go home, but I'm also so scared to leave ever because I think she got a lot worse during an akuma attack a few weeks ago and I'm so scared that I'll miss something."     He was expecting to feel terrible and hopeless.   He was absolutely not expecting to feel calmer than he had in weeks.   But with Ladybug petting his hair while he listened to her heartbeat and the wind swirling against him, and his worries finally out in the open, he felt almost content.    Whatever the opposite of claustrophobia was, this moment was flooded with it.       "I'm so sorry," Ladybug said.   "I had no idea..."     "You couldn't have, I never told you."     "Still, I'm really sorry.   You don't deserve-"     "Life isn't really about what people 'deserve' though, is it?"     She fidgeted with her fingers, avoiding eye contact with him.   "I'm not trying to pry, but if money is an issue in your family, my family would always be willing to help out."     Adrien burst out laughing.   "Don't worry, that's not a problem."     "But really," he said "I am okay, I feel much better already just because we talked."   He didn't even attempt to fight the urge to sweep one of Ladybug's flyaway hairs behind her ear, and he may have actually swooned when she leaned into his touch.           "I really should've talked to you sooner, we have to do this more often."    Ladybug tilted her head up to look straight into Chat Noir's eyes.   "Next time something big happens, you can tell me, okay?   Even if it's the middle of the night, I'll be there as soon as you call."   Her eyes were shiny.   "You're always there for me and I want to be there for you too."     She was looking at him so intensely and seriously that Chat Noir didn't have any other choice but to nod his head just as solemnly.     And then they were back to cuddling in silence.   Adrien was brimming with restless energy and needed to do something with his hands, so he found himself braiding Ladybug's hair without any memory of starting.   She closed her eyes and they leaned against each other and let the conversation hang in the air.   Church bells started ringing across the street, announcing that it was already 5 o'clock.     "I'm really sorry," Adrien pulled himself to his feet, discovering in the process that his legs had fallen asleep, "but I really have to go now.   Thank you so much for-" he gestured wildly in the air "-everything."    "Thank you, too, for everything that you always do for me."     Marinette could see the light coming back into her partner's eyes and it made her heart flutter.       "It was really CAThartic, don't you think?" he smirked.     "Oh my God."   She rolled her eyes, but she was giggling uncontrollably and her hands still rested on his hips.     "It's nice to take a PAWS every once in a while"     "You're so dumb, I love you"     She only realized what she had said after it was out of her mouth, and then resolved to wait for another day to figure out her emotions.   Now was really not the time.     "We're definitely meeting up like this again, though, right?" he asked     "Oh, absolutely"     "Next time, are you going to tell me what drama happened between you and Marinette that made you hate her?"     She smiled slyly.   "I guess you'll have to wait and see."     And then, with one last hug goodbye, they swung off into different directions, ready to face their everyday lives.  

[eliyah-de-dark]

Two Lies and A Truth chapter 4

If there was something more irritating than small glass marbles digging into your ribs, Marinette couldn't think of it. She grabbed the desk first support as she stood up. To her amazement, she had no injuries other than possible bruises. Those would vanish with the Cure. She turned to glare at Lila.

Scorch marks. All around her, where there had been students, large angry black burns in the wood and plastics of the room. Her jaw fell slack. She looked to the floor again. All the marbles were in their exact positions, except the few she had disturbed.

Why? Why was she okay?

She looked for Kim. Kim, who had tried to jump from Chloe's desk to Madame Bustier's. Kim who had slipped, stumbled, moved one marble and left in a blinding flash.

What about Sabrina? The poor mousey Sabrina who had tried to clear the traps away from Chloe and got blown up for her trouble.

Mylene, who'd tried to balance through? 

Nino who saved Alya from falling?

Nathaniel?

Juleka?

Anyone?

Marinette struggled to breathe. Her lungs felt like she was underwater and couldn't get out. Desperate for answers, she searched the classroom. Her search found her under the desks where black and red diamonds had been hidden. They appeared broken now that they were spent.

She stood back up. Her watery eyes fell on the board. On its message. It changed.

YOU HURT MY FRIEND

The writing was more erratic, less controlled than even the first with its wild penmanship.

My friend?

The echo of Felix's voice came back to her. "What better way to prove this Lambert girl isn't Ladybug than to throw a terrifying akuma at her?" He'd been so vague about it all, so calm and settled, no obvious anger, she didn't think he meant -

Marinette stifled a sob. "What did you do?" She asked the empty room.

Tikki set a kind touch on her wielder's shoulder. She didn't speak. 

"Tikki, spots on."

-

My word, his lady was clinging to him more tightly than she normally did. Maybe she was concerned since she was out of her suit? 

Chat Noir kind of enjoyed her squeezing him like a lifeline while he leapt from roof to roof. Master Fu's window was open. He must have expected their visit.

In the teens came to see a very shocked Tibetan man. "What are you doing here?" Master Fu asked, his gaze shifting from Suzette to Chat. 

"I'm sorry to bring her like this, Master, but she needs her miraculous." Chat Noir said as his lady clung to his arm. 

Master Fu stared at them in confusion. "You must have the wrong place," he said slowly. He shuffled to the window. "Perhaps who you seek lives nearby?" He gestured to the window, an invitation to leave.

Chat Noir shook his head. What was going on with the old man? "Master Fu, we need the ladybug out in the field. Suzette needs her miraculous." He stepped closer, ignorant of a little red figure in the distance. 

"I'm telling you, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what I'm talking about!" He couldn't help but yell. "Please, it's us. See? Plagg-"

"Don't!"

"-claws in." The black leather traded off with a white jacket and blue jeans. Suzette squeaked in surprise. "I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you, milady." He offered an apologetic smile to his stunned girlfriend.

"Chat Noir, what are you thinking!?" The old man yelled with surprising force. "When I gave you the black cat, I expected better of you!" His fury was only matched by Wayzz. The little turtle dragged Plagg by his large ear over to the side for what could only be assumed as a chat. 

"Look, I'm sorry, but it's important!" 

"This is unacceptable."

"No, taking Ladybug's miraculous is. You have to-"

 A loud thump caught their attention. Suzette laid on the floor, passed out. Adrien dropped to his knees and shook his love while Master Fu looked on.

A red and black polka dotted hand seized Adrien's wrist. He jumped and stared wide eyed at Ladybug, who now held his ring between her forefinger and thumb.

"I can't believe I didn't see it sooner." Her voice was like distant thunder, low and angry. It caught every available ear like a spider's web. 

"Milady, I…"

"You clung to her because you thought she was me."

"I didn't know."

Ladybug gave a short humorless chuckle. "You know Lila Rossi is a liar. Why would you believe her friend?" She turned to Master Fu and bowed. Adrien watched as his ring was laid in the old man's palm, his lady now pointedly not looking at him. 

She gave him one sideways glance before heading back to the open window. "I'm sorry, but you've revealed your secret to a civilian. And to me." She swung out the window just as Suzette woke up.

Adrien wanted so desperately to hide, to run, to escape this nightmare. Instead, he listened as Master Fu spun a story to his girlfriend.

 

 

TAG LIST ((need to find a better place for this ^_^;))

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[sasuhinasno1fan]

The cursed statue- Luktober Day 2

I know the stories are supposed Luka centered and I hope this is centered around him but I’m a little worried it’s not. Let me know. This prompt came from @write-it-motherfuckers, whoes prompts I’ve been using for a few ML stories I’ve written. I can’t help it, they’re good. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.” Curse

It wasn’t often that Adrien got drunk, but it had been quite some time since he and his friends managed to get some time together like this. The group of them had gotten rather pleasantly tipsy when they came down to see him and were now enjoying dancing around and giggling hysterically in the rain, most of the dreary little town, already shut for the day. He would probably wouldn’t be hearing the end of it when it came to him and his friends loud obnoxious singing, not for some time at least. There weren’t many people under fifty in this town and complaining was practically an Olympic sport around here.

As Adrien passed through the old park, one of them noticed the large old statue, partially hidden, just a little way off the beaten track. No one in town quite knew its origin, but it had been there as long as the town had been, and it was doing no harm where it was. Most chose to ignore the bizarre nameless statue.

One of his friends whistled appreciatively at the figure and they all laughed, dancing and stumbling their way into the tiny clearing. Adrien’s friends started joking around, eventually convincing him to climb up onto the statues base and give it a kiss. Drunk and enjoying being silly and carefree for once, he gave a dramatic bow and clumsily climbed up the slippery base, his friends hooting and whistling at him the whole way. 

Reaching the statue, his friends cheered and teased him over their height differences, laughing as he only flipped them off. Wrapping his arms around the statue’s neck, he paused briefly, finally noticing how sad the statue looked up close, its face partially concealed from any other position. Something about it made his heart twinge painfully. Shaking the surprisingly sober thought off, he used his grip around its neck to stand on the tips of his toes, kissing the slightly bent over figure directly on their cold unyielding lips.

Instantaneously, lighting struck somewhere else in the park, disturbingly close by, the following boom of thunder loud enough to make his ears hurt. His friends shouted and screeched in alarm, before running back onto the path, laughing loudly, headed the short distance back to his place. Unfortunately, they were all too drunk and giggly to notice that he hadn’t followed.

Having been startled by the thunder as well, he lost his footing on the slippery base of the statue. He barely managed to fall an inch before a powerful arm was locking around him, lifting him just enough to keep his feet off of the slick ground. 

Wide eyed, he snapped his gaze back up, shocked to find himself meeting the wonder filled aqua blue gaze of what had previously been a statue. Now they were flesh and bone, their skin and hair soft against his hold, his arms still locked around their neck. They seemed in awe of him, and in full honesty, the feeling went both ways. There was no question that their beauty was beyond human, their now living form radiating with power and grace and their eyes tugging at something deep inside him.

“Thank you.” a calming voice said, escaping the person in front of him. The rain was starting to weigh down his dark hair, the blue tones in it shining in the moonlight. He gently pulled one hand away from his neck, his warm lips pressing a kiss onto Adrien’s hand. Adrien’s eyes just caught a snake tattoo wrapped around his wrist, the head just resting on the bottom of his hand.

Adrien was sure he had a million questions, but the alcohol in his brain and the sudden appearance of the man, cause that what he was, had made his brain mush. He then heard voices, familiar ones. It sounded like his friends finally noticed he wasn’t with them and he had the only key to his apartment.

He felt his other hand being taken off of the guy in front of him and was gently pushed back. Not to knock him off, but to encourage him to step down safely. He did so, his eyes not really leaving the aqua blue eyes that had his locked. He watched the guy come down as well, his white shirt flat against his body mildly distracting him.

“Goodbye.” He said before he turned and walked away.

Adrien stood there staring at the figure as it disappeared in the rain when he felt a firm hand on his back.

“Woah, dude. Did the lightening fry the statue?” Nino asked, dazedly looking at where the statue had once stood.

“No. I’m cold, let’s go.”

                                              _______________

Adrien was right about the town’s residents not letting the singing at early hours ago. He’d taken his friends to eat at his favourite café, one that wasn’t hounded by those living there and he happened the bump into one of the more influential members. If it wasn’t for his life with his father before he moved here, he wouldn’t have found a way to end the conversation quickly and move on.

“My head is pounding.” Marinette groaned, as she tried to become one with the table top. Kagami didn’t look any better, a change in her usual quiet and calm demeanour. Nino was surprisingly ok, but Adrien played that off to his usual late nights as a DJ.

“Tell me they have coffee.” Alya begged, flipping through the menu.

“It’s before 12 pm, so it’s bottomless.” Adrien said, watching them perk up. He’d be happy too, but his mind was still on what happened last night. He kissed that statue and then it came to life. Had he just imagined it? It would be his luck that a guy who looked as perfect as that guy did, enchanting blue eyes, dark hair and a practically perfect face, would be a figment of his imagination.

“M. Agreste?” Adrien looked to see another influential member of the community standing next to his chair, practically glaring at the whole table. “When you came to this town, we welcomed you after hearing about your life with your father. You told us you wouldn’t cause any trouble. The minute your friends arrived, we have loud, raucous laughter and singing at early hours of the morning and now a beloved statue is missing. M. Agreste, I truly hope you have nothing to do with that.”

Missing statue? “The one off the hidden path?”

“Yes.”

Had he not been dreaming? “I don’t think even drunk me has the power to pull an old statue. Neither could my friends.”

The woman narrowed her eyes before letting out a huff. “I had better not hear anything about you getting into trouble.”

“Rude.” Alya said, watching the woman walk away. “What statue is she talking about?”

“The one you guys drunkenly dared me to kiss last night? I didn’t say anything cause I was pretty sure I was so far gone it couldn’t be real, but I think it had to be now.” His friends all leaned in to listen to what he had to say. “Remember when I kissed it and that lightning and thunder suddenly flashed?”

“We kinda turned tail and headed back to your place.” Nino said.

“I know.  When you guys did, I almost fell but I didn’t cause something grabbed me. That statue, I think it came to life. Like actual flesh and bone. He thanked me, helped me down and then left.”

They all looked disbelieving – understandable – but Nino remembered what he said.

“I asked if the lighting had messed it up.”

“It was kinda like in a movie, when something magical happens and thunder and lightning crash?”

“So, what do you know about the statue?” Kagami asked.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know anything about it. I was just told it’s been there as long as the town’s been standing and this is one of the older towns in France.”

“Could we look it up? Is there anyone who might know anything?” Alya asked, getting ready to pull her trusty phone out.

“Actually…there might be someone.”

He felt a bit bad making them all take their coffees to go, but he wanted to get to the massage shop before it got to full. He easily found Master Fu, as everyone called him, behind the front desk, his eyes trained on a paper map. Adrien noticed where the statue once stood was marked, lines leading to a few different places within the town.

“Master Fu?”

“Very busy, we’ll be open soon.” He said, not looking up.

“It’s about the statue.”

That got his attention. “Ah, Adrien. The statue? I hear you and your friends were very loud last night.”

“Ok, I get it. I was really loud and drunk. Which is why I thought that when I kissed that statue and it actually stopped me from falling, I was losing it. But that isn’t what happened, was it?”

“My dear,” Master Fu asked Marinette, “Would you flip the open sign for me?” once it was marked as close, Fu pulled a book out from under the desk and opened it, pushing it forward. “Our town was known for magic once. We used it for good and were a safe haven for those running from the witch trails. One of our well-known ones was him.”

In the book was a drawing of a man playing a lyre. It was the tattoo on his wrist that made him realise who it was.

“His name was Luka. Could understand the truest feelings of a person. He found the truest feelings of the wrong person. A girl who lied her way out of the trails and away from any danger. She warned him to keep out of her attempts to gain power. He wouldn’t listen, not wanting anyone to suffer under her. She saw his truest feelings, letting the things he loved slip away just to keep a person happy, including a person he loved. Right when he got her to reveal her true colours, she cursed him into stone, becoming a statue that was overlooked, to stay that way until someone with a similar heart could break his curse.”

“Letting things go to make someone else happy. That sounds familiar.” Nino said, looking at Adrien.

“Nino. Where would he go? He just left after, well, when it broke.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. All the places he’d know would be gone; he has no relations in this time. His sister had married a woman and they never had children.”

Adrien looked at the picture. It seemed so detailed, like the person who made it truly took the time to really look at him.

“Where was this picture drawn in?” his favourite picture of himself was him at the grand that was at his childhood home. He might not like the home, but people knew they could find him at the piano if he was ever stuck at home.

“Well, it used to be the land behind his home. Now though,” Fu consulted his map before pointing to a place. “Here. It’s now the library.”

“Which has a garden. Thanks.” Adrien said, ready to head out the door.

“Adrien? The fact that you managed to break his curse means you two understand each other. I’d keep an eye on him. That girl, she wasn’t known for not tying up loose ends.”

                                                 ______________

Everything he knew was gone. It was clear much time had passed. What was once open areas was now paved roads and tight corners. It still felt the same, felt like home, but it sounded different, down to its main core. He couldn’t hear the ever-present sounds of his family. They were also gone. How long had he been stuck in stone, the cruel words of that, for lack of better words, witch had been shouting reverberating in his head.

‘You’ll never be free, until someone with the same heart as yours breaks you out!’

But who would have his heart, would give up all they wanted to make another happy? He knew it would never be possible, that he couldn’t protect the people he cared about, felt it in his heart as he became stiff and unable to move. Then he felt lips press against his and it was like everything shifted back into place. He felt him stumble and grabbed onto his waist as quickly as possible. He stared down at slightly glazed green eyes, framed with wet blonde hair and the sweetest song he’d ever heard. He wished he could have stayed but he had to go. Now, he sat in a place that held the faint song of his home, wishing he’d stayed.

Feeling someone staring at him, he looked over. Standing, with this scarily familiar smirk, was a girl. Her auburn hair flowed down her back, waving in the non-existent wind. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and he saw the faint marking of a tattoo, a fox with its fangs showing. The tattoos marked a person who used magic, their familiars. He’d only ever seen 2 people with a fox familiar. The last one was the one who scared him the most.

“Luka!” a voice he didn’t know called. He looked to see the person, the one who broke his curse running towards him. How could someone with such a kind song have a heart like his, be willing to make himself unhappy to help others? He looked at the girl to see him glaring and for a moment, he felt the urge to use his magic to protect the blonde one, the one who set him free of the horrible words and feeling of stone. But she turned away and left, disappearing into the building. His attention was drawn back to the one who called his name.

“I don’t believe I introduced myself.”

“No. you didn’t, but you disappearing cause a bit of a stir. I heard from someone what happened to you.”

“And you broke my curse. How?”

The blonde man sat down next to him, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “My life before I came here wasn’t the happiest. I had my friends but life at home was…hard. It was just easier to make everyone else happy. It’s only been recently that I’ve started to do things for myself. Last night, I decided I wanted to get drunk and I did. We were on the way back to my house when we found you and they dared me to kiss you. I remember thinking you looked so sad and it hurt me. Then you saved me from hurting myself and you were so, I don’t know, normal, I thought I just imagined it all. When I found out, you were kinda like me, how you risked everything to make sure people knew who that person was, I wanted to help.”

He meant every word. Luka didn’t have to hear the sound of his heart to know that was true.

“What is your name?”

“Adrien. Adrien Agreste. It’s nice to meet you.”

“My name is Luka. I’m in your care.” Over Adrien’s shoulder, he saw a fox with the same fur as was that girl’s hair. It seemed Adrien was more in his, if that omen meant anything.

[permanentcrossfics]

Secret // h.s.

He’d warned you, wearily, about the difficulties as best he could. For the first few months, he’d gone to painstaking lengths to apologize and assure you nothing had happened and nothing would until you’d clapped your hands to his cheeks and looked him in the eye to declare you either trusted him or didn’t, and he had to trust in which way that fell. The rumors and whispers and hopeful speculations couldn’t rule your life together, especially if neither of you were going to do anything to set it straight.

But nobody’d warned him about what it would be like for him to be kept in the dark, and he was beginning to like it less and less. Nobody told him whispers and eyebrow raises from your friends alone and your friends together would pinch and nibble and have him holding his breath until you were chasing him for kisses in front of his stove with the knobs pressing into his back when he let you pin him to catch them between giggles.

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You were the secret girlfriend, yeah. But he was the secret boyfriend.

He was the secret boyfriend who had to let go of your hand before getting out of the car. The secret boyfriend who had to keep from interjecting when you were telling a story you’d already told him because, “Y’forgot the part when….” He was the secret boyfriend who had to hang back when you were leaving and make smalltalk with any and everyone to make it look like he wasn’t waiting for you, jangling his keys nervously in his pocket.

The secret boyfriend who looked on in horror and confusion when you both joined your friends for a night out and someone neither of you knew was there and people were all too quick and insistent to introduce you to them while running down a list of facts that you had in common. It didn’t take a mathematician to figure out that one plus one didn’t equal three, but there they were trying to force their way in, completely unaware to his simmering rage that was seconds away from a boil. 

He was the boyfriend who watched, in secret, all night long while you were chatted up and asked to coffee or dinner in front of him. He was the boyfriend who wanted to say no for you and instead had to watch you mumble and fumble your way through a non-committal answer.

“We both had this idea,” you reminded him when he was tapping his fingers against the wheel at a light, brow permanently furrowed. It was pitch black on the road except for the traffic lights and neon streams from the shops on the side of the road, and small dots of the first beginnings of rain dotted the windshield. You were wrapped tightly in one of his cardigans you’d thrown in the car for after dinner because you knew you’d be cold and his jumper was pushed halfway up his forearms.

“Yeah, we did,” he said shortly. “Didn’t know that included watching someone actively trying to make a move on you over burrata.” 

“Now you know what it’s like.”

Harry pursed his lips and scratched his chin, nails scraping through his stubble. He’d warned you, wearily, about the difficulties as best he could. For the first few months, he’d gone to painstaking lengths to apologize and assure you nothing had happened and nothing would until you’d clapped your hands to his cheeks and looked him in the eye to declare you either trusted him or didn’t, and he had to trust in which way that fell. The rumors and whispers and hopeful speculations couldn’t rule your life together, especially if neither of you were going to do anything to set it straight. 

But nobody’d warned him about what it would be like for him to be kept in the dark, and he was beginning to like it less and less. Nobody told him whispers and eyebrow raises from your friends alone and your friends together would pinch and nibble and have him holding his breath until you were chasing him for kisses in front of his stove with the knobs pressing into his back when he let you pin him to catch them between giggles. “I win, I win, I win.”

“Maybe it’s time we give it up,” he said. The light changed and he pushed his foot to the gas. 

“Give what up?” you asked. Street lights passed over his face in various patterns and he looked at you from the corner of his eye. 

“This thing.”

Your stomach dropped like you’d fallen through to Wonderland. “This?” Us?

“Yeah.” He glanced at you again and he must have seen how you were recoiling because he blinked and shook his head. “Not this!” he said. “This like… secret shit.” 

You closed your eyes and laid your head on the back of your seat, licking your lips and willing your heart to slow down. 

“I’ve never—” He stopped to flick the windshield wipers on, and they squeaked and squeegied their way over the glass. “It’s fu—” He hiccuped on his breath and you listened to his harsh, heavy pulls. “That was humiliating,” he said at last. “Tonight, at dinner, that was… I’ve never—”

“Nobody knew,” you whispered.

“I knew,” he said and you opened your eyes. “I knew, and I couldn’t….”  The car rolled over a speed bump and you bounced. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dragging one hand over his face. “I’ve never felt less… in control than I did tonight. It was just happening in front of me, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t.” His shoulders slumped and the car slowed, blinker clicking. “Christ….” 

“Did you think no one would ever show interest in me?” you asked dryly and he shook his head, mouth pulled into a sullen line.

“That’s not it,” he muttered. “S’not it at all, and you know that.” 

Not fair, and you knew it. Hadn’t he had a panic attack when he thought he was going to have to let you go to spare you from the baggage that came from being with him? Clutched you close when you stood between his legs? Pressed his face against your hip where your jumper rode up, dry sobbing into your skin because he didn’t want to put you through the inevitable? All that, even though the idea of giving up on a chance at happiness he’d never felt before made him want to be sick. 

Girls — women — like you didn’t wait around, nor could he ever ask you to, but he’d had a feeling if he let you go… that’d be it for him. He’d caught a mermaid in his net somehow, and you had him under your enchantment. If he kept you, you’d wither and die in his arms from the scathing heat that would be thrown your way, but throwing you back to be fished out by another wasn’t fair to him. 

Not again — not again, not another, and not you. He was so damn exhausted from giving up on chances because he knew — he knew, he swore to you when you you were stood between his knees and his face was pressed into your stomach, what they would put you through. It’d get ugly — everything anyone could possibly find on you would be turned up, along with your family, and he babbled as much to you while clutching you through your jumper with so much force it was painful. “S’been years,” he’d mumbled. “S’been… and they don’t… they just keep, an’ it’s… I don’t know what to do, I—” 

So much of his life was a secret, what was one more thing? These curveballs, though, hadn’t been anticipated. 

“They’re going t’eat you alive,” he said. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He rubbed his forehead. “I do.”

“I don’t care.”

He shook his head — how many times had he heard that before? 

But none of them had been you. 

“I love you.”

Yeah. There was that, too, wasn’t there? He swallowed convulsively and nodded. “Love you, too.” Blindly, he reached out to the side, opposite hand still on the wheel, and you clasped his hand in both of yours, rubbing the cross on his hand. When he came to a stop again, he lifted your hands to his mouth and kissed them repeatedly, eyes still on the road ahead of him. 

“Pull over,” you whispered. “Pull over, please.”

He was already nodding when he veered off to the side of the road. The rain was falling in thick sheets by then and the neon lights of the chippy just outside cast a strange glow on the sidewalk, but the streets were absolutely deserted. When the engine went dead, you unbuckled your seatbelt with a click and his followed suit just before you shed his cardigan and crawled over the console.You teetered forward, teeth bumping his with a painful clunk, and he groaned as your eyes watered. “Sorry!” You kissed him. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry….”

Harry drew his hands up your side, bunching your shirt up at your ribs before slipping his hands under. You hissed, his warm hands somehow a touch chilly for how hot you were burning, and you opened your legs wider to slot more firmly against him. “Where’s the…?” 

You squeaked when you found the lever you were looking for and his seat went back, and he chuckled heartily. “I hate that,” you moaned under your breath before kissing his jaw repeatedly. He smelled warm and musky, like his cologne, and you sighed before trailing a path down his jaw and pulling at his jumper. “But I love you.” 

Harry moaned and squeezed your rib cage. “Love you, too,” he said. “Love… so much.” He made a choked sound that had your hair on end. “I love you so much an’ I want… I want them to know.”

“They can know,” you whispered. “They can.”

“I wanted to deck them,” he said. “I wanted to—“

“I know.” You kissed him in hopes of pacifying him. “I know and I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t.” He shook his head. “Y’don’t have any idea….” You squeaked when he squeezed your ass and brought you closer. His jumper was soft but you still pushed it up to get to his skin and, with the same idea, he plucked the buttons on your blouse to open it up. He traced the lace edging on your bra with his fingertips and you sighed before he leaned in and sucked patches of skin into his mouth. 

The horn beeped at some point in your joint attempts to get your jeans past your knees so you could straddle him properly, and you both dissolved into fits of breathy giggles and laughter. “Come and see, everyone!” he shouted under his breath. “Harry Styles has got himself a girlfriend!”

“Shut up!” Laughing, you covered his mouth, but he pulled your hand away by the wrist before kissing you. You slipped your opposite one between you both and pulled his belt, the soft leather slipping easily through the buckle, before unzipping his jeans. “And I’ve got a boyfriend.”

He snuffed a laugh but his certainty burned when he said, “Yeah, you do.”

He was already firm on the inside of your thigh, and when you pulled the elastic of his underwear down and wrapped your hand around his cock, tugging gently and teasing him, he groaned.

“Oh, God,” he choked when you pulled and twisted. He pulsed in the circle of your thumb and forefinger and you smiled shakily. “Got no idea what y’do to me,” he said. “No— oh, God.” He grunted weakly when you thumbed the tip, drawing the pad of it through the slick, silky precum gathered there. 

“You wanna get inside me,” you murmured and he nodded. 

“I do… I do, you don’t even k-know….”

Even with his headrest back, the angle was such that you had to lean forward and lift up to be able to slip his head inside you. When you sat back slowly, you did so with a sigh, each new inch of him spread you open that much more. You whined under your breath and he rubbed your lower back in circles with small mumbles and whispers of I know and take a minute, love, while you took short, shallow breaths. At last, you lifted up and dropped back down with a throaty whine. 

“Nice and slow,” he murmured. “No rush, love… cunt always feels so nice, know that?” 

“Mmhm….” You bore down on him with your next rock backwards and his guttural groan was your reward. “You’re so—“ You pressed your forehead to his temple, gulping. “You’re a-all the way in my—“

His warm palm spreading wide and applying gentle pressure on your abdomen had you moaning loudly and unabashedly. “Yes!” You heaved. “There, yes… oh fuck, Harry…”

Gradually, you picked up your speed and force, guided by his hands and long, drawn out groans. “Don’t hold back,” he said between his teeth. “Know y’got more to give me, love. Know you can— oh….” His groan was deep and rumbling when you slammed back on him and ground your hips. 

“Are you going to make me cum?” you breathed against his skin. “Or am I going to have to do it myself?”

Harry sputtered and you smiled slowly. “What’s that…?” The hand on your belly slipped lower until his thumb caught your clit. “Shouldn’t let you cum for that,” he said even as he stroked. “Should tell y’no and make you miss it.”

You gasped when his thighs tensed and he thrust up sharply. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Can’t you cum? Said y—“ He swallowed harshly. “Said you wanted to cum.”

You cried out when he thrust again and again with that same sharp staccato, knocking you breathless and making you double over into him, forehead pressed to the leather of his headrest. “Ha— oh my God—!”

He breathed harshly through his teeth and pushed repeatedly, rain whipping against the glass. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled. “C’mon, love… said y’wanted it, so go on and get it—“ 

It was quick and deep — the ache grew and you felt dizzy, the instinct to stifle noise strong, and you nearly lifted right off him when your stomach muscles tightened and your back went ramrod straight as you shook all over, cunt pulsing on his cock.

“Fuck!” you whimpered wetly. “Oh my God, H-Harry….”

A second smaller one overtook you when he thumbed your clit quickly and you pushed back on him, panting with ringing ears. 

“Keep going!” he rasped. “Keep going, please… please, love, please….”

Whimpering, you rolled and bounced some, but your shaking thighs only had so much to give. 

“Just a little,” he whispered. “Just a little, only need a—“ He rocked up, breathing heavier and harsher, and his cock pulsed before he groaned helplessly and warm, wet streams of cum filled you. “S’good!” he wheezed. “‘S so good! Oh, God—!”

He winced, spluttering, and you relaxed against him, face buried against his neck. Bit by bit his breathing lulled and it wasn’t until he planted a kiss to your hairline that you realized you’d started to nod off. 

“Ok?” he rasped. 

“Mmm….” You nodded and nestled closer.

“We should probably get moving.” His lazy drawl contradicted his words, though, and your lips quirked. 

“Probably. In a minute.”

He laughed once and rubbed your back with another kiss.

“We don’t have to, you know,” you said. 

One breath… two… three… four.

“I want to.” He squeezed your waist. “I don’t want a secret, m’so… so fucking tired of secrets.”

You nodded. “Me too.”

“Glad I can tell people to keep their hands to themselves.”

You snorted. “Only if I get to, as well.”

“Might be nice. I’ll fight for you if you fight for me.”

“As long as that means I get to punch the lights out of the next person who tries to say they feel a connection with you in front of me, it’s a deal.”

Dismounting was discombobulated and… messy. Mumbles of you’re disgusting and speak for yourself passed between both you and quiet laughs, and you kept your jeans around your ankles when you buckled up and he started the car again. 

“That was—”

“Yeah,” he said. “Our little secret, yeah?”

[16th-cornelia-street]

just a jumbled mess of stream of consciousness thoughts while listening to folklore: (alos heads up i don’t know any of the song names so i’m just going mostly with the lyrics that stood out to me. but it is mostly in order of the songs as they play out.)

I remember when first listening ot lover thinking how melancholy all th songs were. i don’t feel it as much anymore, it just must have been my state of mind at the time. but listening to the first two songs of folklore i’m getting that feeling again and i don’t feel its going to go away. haven’t listened to rest of this ,but hte wishing and longing for htings to go back to how they were seems like its going to be the theme of this album

song after american dynasty gave me chills. that guys voice: beautiful.

same song gives me vibe of this is last time on red, which is a good song, couple having conversation about not listening to each othe rand feeling like neithe is being heard and thngs are falling apart. its my sisters favorite song on that album wonder how she’ll feel about this one.

mirror ball song makes me think of that dress she wore to award show for lover. and remember when joe and taylor posted that wine photo i wonder if thats the day they were working together on the song peopel theorize he worked with her on.

because i like to crazy theorize what if the three love sotry is about forbidden love stories both taylor and the cowriter had not together but with other people. i’m just in writing mode so creating all kinds of wild theories.

mirror ball also gives vibes of miss americana how she just wnats to be liked and shows various aspects of herself ot be accepted and the ball showing the viewer various aspects of themselves reminds me of how the fans talk about seeing themselves in her writing, parts they didn’t know aobut or parts tehy don’t show others. how they see thsemlves in her songs so in a way she is a mirorball to her fans not just her lovers.

folksong song sounds like a first love childhood before the singer learned to what was proper and accepted how to act like a “lady” back when her love was wild adn free pacing up her dolls and swaeter (cardigan) so they could run away together and be free in teh way they wanted to be. 

sometimes its easier to talk about aspects of ourslves by putting on othe people on othe stories slipping in fiction with truth so no one knows what was real or imagined (august)

august gives me back to december vibes.

man taylors vocals this album just i’m so speeechless so many ways she’s never sung before, a new side of her and her vocals so haunting nad beaitiful and breathy its enchanting. i don’t know how to describe it.

it doesn’t have ot be an affair to feel this way to feel like the perosn you’ve broken up with is someone you’ll never find agan never feel that way agin with who created worlds with you and then tears them all apart hwne they leave you.

invisible string i take it this is from male perspective talking about a girl and not realizing at time tehy liked you back and finding connnection years later. that yes they did like you.

gold string and dive bars gives me reputation feels.

really liking all the instrumentals in teh scong calm and soothing of course becauase thats the theme but i like that taylor changes up her sound each album not alwaysa rocky or poop or coutnry, its nice ot get the narrative beauty that is taylor but have the story told in different genres, if you will

when i saw that hte album was explicit i was like taylor is going to say the f word and when she id i was not ready for it espcialy with teh full sentence i think she said of mouth-f so ya that was boht unexpected and jarring and...wow, taylor. when you decide to use that word you go all in. good for you.

madwoman seems like sequal to the man. the man’s “crazy” sister

does he beat kind of pick up at the end of madwoman, either i was getting anxiety or the beat picks up when its just the insturmentals to give it a kind fo manic feeling

ther is a lot of mention fo dead nd peopel wishing someone was dead and funeral.s are you okay taylor. i just need to chck in with you.

the song about the soldier is giving me soon you’ll get better and will probably end up being the song i skip the most like all taylors songs about her mom becuause i can’t always handle those  feels.

betty’s garden. james girl drives up in car talk abou summer i was thinking august the whole tiem that maybe this song is tied to august song liek she said three songs tie togtehr in love triangle so that confirms it so is the third song the one about running away togetehr with suitcase of dolls and sweaters?

idk why as soon as i saw taylor message about love triangles i didn’t think the usual he loves her but she loves him, i was thinking he loves her and she loves her and she loves him. like a circle but it guess th twoudln’t amek ti a triangle then. but was totally thinking forbiddne and secret love and not realizing that she actaully liked you while you wer in love with her best friend. idk. i’m a mess.

sometimes i when i listen to taylor i think her voice hasn’t changed i listen to old songs and they basically sound the same but this album you really get to see her range and a new side of her voclas and tones and its nice ot hear the old and new together working togteher to make this album. 

okay this song cardigen is giving me vibes but then thers is the laughter at the end that pervades the cardigan song so betty garden seems tied to that.

bety garden is like book when he arrived at party at end its like ia rrived at your paryt i ws like what what di she say how did she react.i need to know.

 idk i just rally like this album i know its different in a good way and its really i really like the storyteller in me is squeeling.

brittle heart seems like a mess of phrases when first impresion but listening closer but its like youre trying searhcing for he word prhase thing syou need to say finding the right words finding the right combinaton of words either your own or someone else’s to get them to listen to hear you to accept you and let you be a part of their life.

hoax started and i knew it was the last song and it jsut felt like thigs wre getting starrted and alreayd its over. i’m not ready for it to be over. play it again sam.

edit; like this wasn’t long enough, here are more jumbled notes from the second listen.

unrequited love. missed opportunities. young love. mistakes taht could never be fixed.

what happesn when you take out all the prhases that seem out of place, like kissed two girls and lost the one. later in teh story you find out about james and him doing that and it seems like a hint taht he lost betty.

be a friend to all be afriend to none also seems out of palce seesm like taylor speaking from hr own experience

i can’t tell how much of this is narrative insertion? is that the word. and how much of it is just the narrative.

cardigan really feels lke this is betty’s song when he left for the summer and ruined everything.

he did come back to her but i don’t know feels like it might have been too late but maybe not. mixed readings on this one.

dynasty is a bop and i have many thoughts on it like that i love rebecca she is my life goals.

also get black widow vibes from her when couple dynasty with mad woman and teh idea that waht happend to the dog might have happened to her husband.

do you tay, you do you. ruin everything ebcause evertyhing is already ruined and its time they realized that and that its not really your fault.

not really any woman’s fault. 

some of the songs seem like they are about othe poeple but then likewith  lemony snicket it feels liek teh narrator is telling his own story in his own words or through the characters.

the couple fight song gives me miss americana nad heartbreak proince both as a romance and the current state of our country

ricochet what is that jumbled instrumental jazz mess that happeesn after the first mention fo her tears

sweet tea does it mention braids idk it just keeps giving me vibes of two girls in love but that could be because i’ve been on a supercorp writing stint.

the insturmentals just take you to another plane of existence

mentions a girl and talks about guys she gives their babies present (strign song) don’t know what to make of this song. gives me many feelings and so much to unpack

where is centenial parrk and do they ahve a yogurt stand there where someone worked. it makes me wonder if songs about not realizing how many times your paths crossed with someone utnil the moment you finally collide and have your first official encounter

mad woman almost seems like its tied to american dynasty hinting at the reasons she went mad after her husband died

when i heard mouth f*ck in madwoman i had teh same reaction as i did when i heard taylor sing “only bought this dress so you could take it off” in dress. adn i am reminded yet again, our girl is growing up. is grown up. she says fu and everything.

betty’s gardne mentions being 17 and not knowing anything and in cardigent we were young and they said we don’t know anything like she was calling BS on his excuse. you knew exactly what you were doing

btrittle heart maybe its like snatches of conversations memoires of meoments togteher things that were said that wer promised that weren’t said things you wanted to say

hoax mentions number one bringing it all back to the first song

[fiddle-styx]

on-going jikook fics

come and enjoy that wonderful moment of receiving an update notification

psa: i am sharing these wonderful stories because i love them and they deserve more recognition. please do not hassle the authors about updates because it is a terrible feeling and they don’t deserve that. we can just enjoy the wonderful anticipation of updates and share love for stories together!

go tell these authors how amazing their stories are instead!

(my tastes are all over the place, so enjoy variety too)

college/uni au and/or social media aus:

International playboy (don't answer) by blt_prf | 119k, 21chp oH I FUCHKED UP I FU UCKED UP YOUR'E NOT NAMJOON yeah what I've been trying to tell you or the one in which Jimin manages to mess up everything in one night and accidentally texts the guy he has a crush on

HIM by blt_prf | 99k, 14/16chp Jungook falls in love with the color red when he sees Jimin. Every single time a little bit more. In which Jimin has motion sickness and travels way too much, Jungkook is good at everything but relationships and Taehyung simply wants everyone to be happy. Hoseok and Yoongi are a mess, Namjoon takes too many philosophy classes and Jin makes sure nobody gets arrested. Everyone's in love and no one wants to grow up.

travel au:

until then, sink slowly by flitter | 46k, 8chp After a breakup, Jimin needs to get away. He ends up in Santorini, 5.4k miles away from home, eager to distance himself from anything remotely related to love. Too bad fate has other plans, in the form of a tour guide named Jungkook.

magic/supernatural aus:

Maelstrom by Charmander | 6k, 1/8chp It's been one year since Jungkook ran away with the circus, one year since he learned of the angel blood that runs through his veins. He thought he had learned everything about the supernatural world by now, but he's barely even touched the surface of its darkness. series here: Silk

a room inside your heart (you'll be okay here) by ohbutter | 26k, 2/3chp “Hyung, there’s something horribly, horribly wrong here.” “I’d say so, yes. You destroyed our bathroom.” Jimin mhms. “Right… why though?” All Jimin can manage is, “Orange.” Yoongi nods slowly, “Yes Jimin, orange.” “Green.” Now Namjoon and Jin are huddled behind Yoongi, peering inside. Jimin sits up and sees Namjoon’s cotton candy pink hair. “What’s the date today?” “December 18th 2016.” alternatively: jimin wakes up two years in the past, he has horrendous orange hair, his friends are in love and here, so is he

The Art of Drowning by Kookies_N_Jams | 45k, 22chp Jeon Jungkook doesn't want to die; he's just tired of living. Park Jimin is surrounded by death, but all he wants is to live. When their worlds collide, everything changes.

For and Against Us by thefifth | 18k, 11chp Jungkook trusts fate. Jimin? Not so much.

idol/celebrity aus:

Faking It by little_star_in_the_universe | 16k, 6chp "Jungkook, are you listening to me?" "Yeah." "You're lying." - Jungkook is tired. He's tired of being told what to say, what to do, how to act, how to respond, how to write his own fucking music. He's tired of it all. All he wants is a break. He doesn't expect to find someone who'd be more of a break than being home with his parents.

depth of field by petrichorian | 30k, 4chp “You’re seriously telling me you just spontaneously took a hella good picture of Suga and now you’re being called Jeongguk masternim?” or Jeon Jeongguk accidentally becomes Suga's new popular fansite, makes famous friends and tries to avoid how much he wants to kiss BTS' maknae, Park Jimin. 

The Last of Them All by dglrd | 9k, 13chp dyspraxia [/dɪsˈpraksɪə/]: a developmental disorder of the brain in childhood causing difficulty in activities requiring coordination and movement. in which jungkook has to juggle the difficulties of having dyspraxia and being an idol at the same time.

The Voice by Pinkworld | 25k, 6chp Jimin is a veteran ASMRtist, spreading the tingles through Youtube. He never shows his face. He's been low-key (Taehyung: I'm pretty sure drooling falls under HIGH-key, dude) interested in Jeongguk, a popular cover artist on Youtube. Completely against his confident character, Jimin doesn't find courage to reach out and just stalks Jeongguk's channel and instagram for a year. They finally get to messaging each other (Thank you Taehyung and Jin), then texting, then talking.... and that's when it gets a bit problematic...

smut focused:

Switch It by ashina | 75k, 17chp this is a series where jungkook and jimin are fucking. how original.

the chains that bind us by busanpjm | 19k, 3chp “You are not simply some flashy accessory, Jeonggukie. You are mine to use as I wish as long as I want. Whether you are twenty or forty; it makes no difference. You are that lithe and lewd slum mongrel who fawns on no one, and I am the slave knight of Midas who holds the chains to your collar. How could you imagine I would let you go at this juncture?” Jeongguk, a slum mongler and Jimin, an elite, find themselves wrapped up in a relation neither of them could have seen coming. or the Ai no kusabi au with a hint of something else and more.

soulmates au:

hard candy by jiminlogy | 25k, 8chp Jimin douses himself in colours every day and then he meets black and white. 

Shatter Me by lostinjungkook | 19k, 16chp »There were things Jungkook wanted to tell Jimin. But he knew they would hurt his hyung. So he buried them inside and let them hurt him instead.« 19 year old Jungkook lives in a world where 25% of the world population is born with a soulmate mark on their wrist and supernatural powers running through their veins. But he never had a chance to see the beauty that the world bears as he grew up in the fangs of Omega, a facility led by humans who try everything to create the strongest inhuman possible. What will happen when he meets six boys in the middle of the woods and discovers his soulmate among them?

abo dynamics:

Howl by Ravennest | 17k, 4chp Taehyung was convinced wherewolves existed — he only had to prove it to his best friend Jimin then he’d get bragging rights for years! But he never expected to be one of the wolves mate.

let me love you by Thejenn | 12k, 2chp the one where jungkook is shamelessly in love with his shy mate jimin

Guide Books are for Suckers--or Life is Like Trying to Build a Lego Death Star, but Some Fucker Burned the Instruction Book For lols by Momochii | 26k, 7/9chp He never expected to be an alpha. He also never expected to present in the middle of dance practice. He definitely never planned for what would happen if he, maybe, accidentally, tried to claim his best friend only seconds after presenting—in the middle of fucking dance practice. But hey, predictability is over-rated, right?

Leave Your Mark by snarcsics | 112k, 7/15chp Out of the three patients within Namjoon's lab, Jungkook is the one Jimin finds the most frightening, yet shamelessly intriguing. Even as a beta, there’s something distinctly animalistic about Jungkook that does not bode well for Jimin.

mafia au:

The Fire Was Screaming Out Your Name (And I Watched You Burn) by JungkookieBiased | 8k, 4chp “Jungkook...come here." Jimin crossed one leg over the other, arms folded across his chest. The taller male strode over in two long strides, head bowed down. Jimin tilted his chin up and Jungkook followed the movement like Jimin was controlling a puppet with a twitch of his fingers. Jimin leaned in right beside his ear, "Eliminate him." OR Jeon Jungkook belongs to him. Jeon Jungkook lives for him. Park Jimin, the most feared mafia leader, belongs to him just as much but won't say so.

spiderman au:

little do you know (i love you 'til the sun dies) by stellars | 7k, 1/2chp jeongguk is spiderman and everytime he comes back from one of his adventures, he goes to jimin to get patched up, spinning white lies about how he's out saving kittens from getting run over.

cute/fluffy/domestic/smut:

A Wicked Miniseries by Charmander | 30k, 4chp A collection of moments and flashbacks from Jimin’s and Jungkook’s life together; from back road street racer and tired, night shift police officer to spoiled, domestic boyfriends. series here: Chase Me, Race Me, Taste Me 

tattoo au:

Damp nights by vanillajae | 20k, 5chp Two years later and history repeats itself. Jungkook pops back into Jimin’s life on a rainy day under a bus stop, and whether Jimin wants it or not the storm is back. series here: Thunderstorms

some ot7!

A Hint of Magik. by moonchildleigh | 35k, 7chp Jeon Jeongguk is the son of two powerful evil Warlocks. He's lived his whole life in Busan inside the Warlock community, and hasn't come into contact with anyone else in the Magik world. This changes, however, when his parents are arrested and jailed for the murder of a Witch. Being the son of two of the most dangerous people in the magical community, The Council of Magik has to decide what to do with him. Jeongguk isn't like other Warlocks though, as he doesn't have the Calling to darkness like the rest. He's abnormal. His fate seems sealed, until two interesting men show up at his court hearing and demand to adopt him. or Ot6 lives in an enchanted forest in America and take young Warlock Jungkook into their home because they're absolute sweethearts.

Late Bloomer by LulaWrites | 91k, 25/26chp Given that he’d made it into adulthood without having ever experienced any dynamic-related instincts or pre-heat symptoms, Jungkook (and the rest of society) had naturally assumed the maknae was a Beta. Turns out they were wrong. (Or, the one where Jungkook goes into heat unexpectedly and subsequently gets coddled by his affectionate hyungs.) The Last of Them All by dglrd

[rumpledgoldenweaver]

A Bear In Need Of Rescue

Written for the January @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt “How on earth did you get up there?” It kind of got away from a bear in trouble but I hope you enjoy anyway! Read on my blog https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2020/01/09/a-bear-in-need-of-rescue/ 

Rumple had never felt so relieved as when he pulled into the car park of the hotel, almost immediately finding a space. Switching off the engine he let out a small sigh. Gideon had fallen asleep at some point and Rumple was loath to wake him. Fishing his phone from the glove compartment, he sent Belle a text message saying they were finally here. He decided to wait for her reply instead of getting straight out of the car. He had a slight headache so a couple of minutes quiet wouldn’t hurt. Closing his eyes he gave a small thanks to the car park gods.

Maybe he could book a head massage.. maybe Belle would give him a…

Tyres squealed, an engine roared then a car screamed through the previously silent parking bays jolting both Rumple and Gideon awake.

“What the ever loving fu..”

“PAPA! You sweared! Mama won’t.. PAPA! Look!! it’s a police car!!!” Gideon bounced in his seat.

Sure enough an unmarked squad car hurtled after the first vehicle, disappearing towards the rear of the hotel.

“Your Mama takes us to all the best places Gideon.. come on m’boy, lets go find her before either of those lunatics come back”

“Gideon keep your voice down, the whole hotel doesn’t need to hear you” Belle admonished gently “I know it’s all very exciting but..”

“It was Mama it was! The police car went MEEEMAW MEEEMAW VRRROOOOOOM”

Rumple shook his head “There’s a children’s area in the grounds of the hotel, would you like to go play for a while son?”

“It’s nearly bath time” began Belle

“You really think he’s ready for a bath and bed? He’s bouncing off the walls, he napped on the way here. Let’s take him, it might tire him out”

“Can I take Bear please? Can I? Can I?”

“Okay okay” groaned Belle knowing she was already defeated “but don’t lose him”

Gideon’s over excitement at the police chase was swiftly replaced by over excitement at the play area

“IT’S A PIRATE SHIP!!! C’mon Bear we’re going to sail the seven seas and chase booty!”

Belle nearly choked “He’s going to what did he say?”

Rumple chuckled “Let’s find a bench and sit down, I’m far too old to chase after him. As long as we can see him he’ll be fine”

“Don’t need to see him, we’ll hear him”

Lucy was bored, she’d been at the play area for fifteen minutes with her doll Tinkerbell. There were other children there but they just wanted to play house. Lucy preferred adventure. She spotted a boy, slightly younger than her, chasing round, pretending to sword fight and clutching a teddy bear. Now he looked like fun.

“Hello. I’m Lucy. This is Tinkerbell, she can fly!”

Gideon stopped his sword fight “I’m Gideon. This is Bear.. he can fly too”

“Bears cannot fly”

“Yes they can. Watch!” Gideon threw Bear up into the air with all his might.

In the middle of the pirate ship was a tall mast. Near the top was a mock crows nest. It wasn’t big enough for a child, but it was big enough for a bear. Which was just as well because that’s where he landed with a soft thump.

Lucy looked in horror. Gideon stood with his mouth open “Oops”

“I can’t believe they got away” Weaver strode through the hotel reception. He needed fresh air.  

“They can’t have got far. They have the advantage of knowing the area, we don’t” reasoned Rogers “I’ve asked the local police to put out extra patrols and.. did you hear that? Sounds like a kid in trouble”

Weaver snorted “Kids are always in trouble, it’s what they do”

“Look - over there, in the play area. There’s nothing we can do about the case for the moment. Maybe if we help then the hotel might forgive us for tearing up the car park”

“Okay Batman let’s go save the day”

As is often the case with parents who’s children have got themselves into a scrape, Rumple and Belle were verging on the kind of full scale public row generally conducted through gritted teeth and harsh whispers

“I cannot climb up after him Belle, let me use mag..”

“NO. I’ll go up after him”

“Not in those heels you won’t”

“No shit Sherlock. I’ll take them off”

“And certainly not in that skirt”

“EXCUSE ME? What is wrong with my...”

“Hi” said a dark haired young man who had suddenly appeared by Belle’s side “I’m Detective Rogers and this is Detective Weaver” he indicated a surly looking older man who reminded Belle slightly of her husband “Can we help?”

“It’s our son – he’s stuck. He’s too scared to climb down”

Weaver followed her line of sight, Sure enough there was a young boy clinging on to the mast of the wooden ship “How on earth did you get up there?”

“Bear flew up here. I came to rescue him”

“Oh I see” Weaver nodded sagely “That was very brave, but now you need rescuing?”

“Yes please” whimpered the boy

“Well you’re in luck because Detective Rogers here is the best rescuer I know”

Rogers looked at Weaver “Me?”

“Yes you. Off you go”

“Right then mate, let’s get you back on dry land shall we?” Rogers smiled as he started to climb the small rungs that were set into the mast. He reached Gideon easily “Now then, where’s this errant bear? In here?” he reached into the wooden bucket and retrieved the teddy.

“Thank you” sniffed Gideon

“No problem. I’ll climb back down a little and you follow. You won’t fall, just keep going”

Slowly the two of them made their way toward the ground.

“What’s your name son?”

“Gideon”

“Nice to meet you, I’m..”

“Captain Hook!” exclaimed Gideon suddenly noticing his prosthetic “Mama! Papa! I’ve been rescued by Captain Hook!”

Weaver tried hard to contain his laughter however it exploded out of him in a coughing fit.

Belle and Rumple were mortified “I am so sorry” they both began at once.

Rogers waved it away “It’s fine honestly. If it makes the lad feel better I don’t mind at all”

Rumple handed over a business card “If there is ever anything I can help with, just call”

The two officers started to head off when Weaver’s phone rang.

“Yes” there was a pause then “When? Which direction? Okay” he snapped the device shut “They’re on the move Rogers, come on”

The Gold’s watched the men hurry off in pursuit of their quarry. Rumple presumed it must be the boy racers from the car park. Out of sheer nosiness he used his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on their conversation. It seemed the reprobates in question were headed out of the city with the local police force giving chase. A germ of an idea took root in Rumple’s mind. Would it be so bad if he gave a helping hand?

“Are you listening to me” Belle’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Sorry.. I was just..”

“Thinking of using magic. I know that look Rumple. Why?”

“I want to help them” he’d learned the hard way about not telling his wife the truth “they got our son to safety”

“Okay.. but there’s no magic here so how can you do that?”

“I don’t need magic as such. Just the dagger” he tapped his jacket where the blade lay hidden “You take Gideon back to the room, he’s had enough excitement for one day. I promise to tell you everything when I’m done”

Belle wanted to argue, but she’d learned some hard lessons during their relationship as well so she simply nodded and did as he asked. It wouldn’t stop her from worrying though.

Rumple waited till she was out of sight then found a bench to sit on set far enough back into the gardens he wouldn’t be disturbed. He didn’t need long. He took the dagger from his jacket, closing his eyes, reaching into the very depths of his soul to give the darkness a prod.

“What can I do for you Dearie”

“Would you like a trip out?”

“Ooh lovely! Where are we going?”

“Not me. You”

“Put your foot down Heller! The cops are gaining on us”

“I’m going as fast as this heap will go. If you wanted faster you shouldda got a car with an actual engine in it instead of a hair dryer!”

“Just get us out of here and onto the main highway” Hades growled

“Hello Dearies!”

The two men shot round to see the weirdest looking man.. Was it a man? sitting on the back seat. He had wild hair, green skin and reptilian eyes.

“What the f… shit!” Heller swerved the car, across the road, to avoid rear ending the vehicle in front then back again to miss an oncoming truck. Horns blared and language flew from the other drivers in their wake.

“I don’t think much of your driving skills” the imp huffed. Waving a clawed hand he took control of the car bumping it up onto the pavement, driving straight into a large overgrown hedge. Heller and Hades made to get out but the Dark One was too quick, a snap of his fingers sent both of them to sleep. Finally he took a small pouch from his waistcoat pocket, emptying the contents – some of the more exotic mushrooms the Enchanted Forest had to offer – over the back seat then disappeared.

Weaver had just got back to his car when the phone rang again. He frowned as the officer related the details of the arrest to him.

“A what in the car? A green skinned imp… mushrooms? That explains a lot. We’re on our way. Thank you Officer Humbert”

“Say what now..?” laughed Rogers “Oh my..”

Weaver grinned “Come on Captain Hook, we’ll wrap this up and go raise a glass to our little green friend”

“Less of the little if you don’t mind Detective”

Weaver looked round in surprise “Did you hear that?”  

Worry started to gnaw it’s way from the pit of Belle’s stomach to the forefront of her mind. Almost an hour had passed since they’d left Rumple in the gardens to do who knew what using means she probably wouldn’t approve of. Gideon was sound asleep on the sofa bed, clutching Bear tightly.

Picking up her phone and putting it back down again did nothing to make it ring. Unable to settle she decided to take the towels left on the bed by housekeeping and stack them in the bathroom. In order of size. Anything to distract herself.

She had just finished reorganising the pile into a pyramid when she thought she heard something. There was a faint knocking sound coming from outside the room. She walked quickly to the door and put her ear to it

“Belle.. Belle it’s me. I can’t.. I can’t get in”

“Rumple! Hang on.. just hang on!”

She turned the lock, pulled open the door only to have her husband almost fall on top of her. He looked very pale.

“What on earth happened? Rumple? Rumple! Are you okay?”

She manoeuvred him to the bed, sitting him down before he fell again.

“So tired Belle, need to sleep..”

“I’ll get you a glass of water and then help you into..” A snore cut off the rest of the sentence. “Bed” she sighed.

At least he was there and in one piece she told herself. So much for this fun family weekend. She supposed she should get him undressed even if the sheer number of clothes he had on meant that would be no easy task. Certainly there were more agreeable circumstances to peel off the layers one by one.

Rumple wasn’t the largest of men but in such a deep sleep he was a dead weight. It took her almost twenty five minutes to complete the task. “Why” she muttered as she put his suit back in it’s bag “can you not wear jeans and a shirt? I bet it doesn’t take that detective’s wife half an hour to get his clothes off”

With her husband a little more comfy, Belle decided a glass of wine was in order. A glint of metal caught her eye, the dagger was lying on the bed next to it’s owner, almost winking at her. Before she could stop herself the blade was in her hands “Dark One I summon thee” she whispered.

Rumple turned on his side and snored even louder.

“Y’know Dearie” a familiar voice trilled behind her “of all the humans I’ve been attached to over the centuries, your husband is easily the most charming”

Belle couldn’t help but snigger “Will he be okay?”

A green skinned hand touched her shoulder “He’ll be fine. Promise”

“What did you two get up to?”

The Dark One giggled “Well Dearie, I got to drive a car, catch some rather pathetic miscreants and I may have left some of those mushrooms from the forest that you were told never to touch as a memento”

“Sounds like fun”

“Oh it was” he grinned “Now I must be going and you Dearie need to get some sleep” he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Belle felt the tingle of magic, she was now dressed in her nightie, all the lights except Gideon’s small bedside lamp had been turned off and the bed covers turned down. Rumple was underneath them. Belle couldn’t help but giggle when she realised his underwear was now on the floor. Snuggled up against his back Belle soon started to drift off.

“Love you”

“Love you too Mrs Gold”

[bensdump]

forgive me?

∷ When you noticed your best friend Hoseok getting close to one the belles from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, you started experiencing feelings you didn’t want.

Hoseok x Reader

Words: 8,220

∷ fluff

∷ hp au … f2l au

“Hurry up Y/N,” Hoseok snatched your hand away and dragged you to the great hall, “we’re not going to miss this because you overslept!”

Hoseok was a few tugs away from ripping your arm off, “are you trying to pull my arm off!” You whined as you tried prying your wrist away from his grip.

“Don’t you want to see their entrance,” Hoseok pushed open the enormous doors and showed yourselves to more than a few 1,000 expectant eyes. Once all of the student body saw it was you and Hoseok being late -as usual- they dejectedly shifted their eyes back to the table and waited, impatiently.

The clicks of tongues and rolls of eyes from different students was nothing new; being late was a given for you, so with Hoseok joined at your hip, it wasn’t strange for students, and professors, of Hogwarts to see you two turning up late to, basically, everything.

This time, you were the one to nearly pull off Hoseok’s arm, as you dragged him over to the Hufflepuff table which was currently in anarchy awaiting the anticipated guests.

“Did you see how they arrived?”

“That carriage and boat!”

“It was amazing!”

“The girls from Beauxbatons are really something huh?” All of the shouts of excitement melded together; you could no longer match the voice to the face.

Tilts of excitement behind every voice, encouraging each student to raise their voice and squeal, causing a commotion. An eager buzz filled the room of what was to come over the next year.

“Quiet everyone!” Headmistress McGonagall stepped up to the podium with a voice that could bring even the loudest students to silence, “as you all may know, this year, we will be a home to some very special guests. After much consideration, Hogwarts has been chosen to host the Triwizard Tournament once again,” an echo of the headmistress’ words came from students, whispering and murmuring about the once permanently discontinued game.

It had been 10 years since the last Triwizard Tournament and Cedric’s death.  Some forgot, some never forget, and some didn’t even have a chance to remember. You, who hadn’t even been attending Hogwarts at that point, already knew of his death. The Triwizard Tournament was always something you heard stories about from your parents; how deadly the challenges are; how many great wizards got hurt; how much strength it took -emotionally and physically- to pass each task; how it was permanently cancelled.

So you can imagine the shock of most when it was revealed another Tournament would be held at Hogwarts. Other than being overjoyed, you were incredibly worried. The last tournament -even though they took safety precautions- ended terribly. Much to the dismay of many students, the age ban was still a rule and the new trials weren’t as deadly, but just as hard.

With ‘you-know-who’ finally gone, there seemed to be no one in place to sabotage the trials- apart from the champions themselves of course.

“Without further ado,” the headmistress held out open arms towards the illustrious doors, and with a swish of her finger, the doors peeled open, “please welcome the students of Durmstrang Institute.”

Students come barrelling through the doors in straight lines, walking in with confidence to assert dominance like an animal in the wild. Trying to show they were the competitor to look out for, they collectively whack their sticks to the ground in unison, sending a harsh pulse through everyone as you watched the sparks dance off the ends of their batons and die on the floor.

Looking over to Hoseok, you had noticed he has tensed up even just looking at the competitors; you knew he wanted to step forward for the tournament and he was already apprehensive of the competition. Placing a friendly hand on Hoseok’s shoulder in reassure, you send a warm smile to calm him down. You felt his muscles relax under your hands and you see him send his famous smile your way- you were the only one who really appreciated it.

The boys of Durmstrang had already found their seat with the headmaster at the front of the hall before McGonagall introduced the other school, “and now for the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.”

The doors open once more, you and Hoseok simultaneously turned your heads towards the door to see a bunch of girls grouped together in silks of blue. They entered the room in a courteous manner -unlike the Durmstrang boys- and sighed their way past tables of students. With one last big sigh, the girls let small paper butterflies fall from their fingers in blue sparks and separated to sit at their table with their headmistress.

The girls from Beauxbatons got a larger applause than Durmstrang. Albeit, it was mostly the boys clapping and wolf-whistling them.

You twisted your neck to look at Hoseok to roll your eyes, unamused at the boys ‘maturity’, but was caught off guard to see him ogling the girls too. Well, one girl. The small blonde near the back, shyly hiding behind her fellow classmates. Interesting.

Hoseok hadn’t noticed you blatantly staring at him, too preoccupied with the girl at the front to even spare you a glance. Normally, this wouldn’t even get a spark of anger from you, but something felt different this time. You puffed, crossing your arms and facing the front with a pout Hoseok couldn’t see.

“Now everyone is settled- the feast may begin!” Headmistress McGonagall raised both her arms and like a gust of wind, food appeared in front of you. Roast potatoes, Roast beef, Roast chicken, Yorkshire puddings, vegetables. Foods blending together in an array of colours decorating different elegant plates. Turning to Hoseok, you saw him digging into the food already.

’So food will distract you from the pretty girl but your best friend won’t. Glad to know where I am on your list of priorities,’ you knew your thoughts were overreacting, but you couldn’t help it.

Your plate was immaculate; you had scoffed down everything you could fit in. Clutching to your stomach, you groaned at the stretching feeling around it, “I have such a big food baby!” You leaned your head against Hoseok’s shoulder and grinned at him also crying out from eating more than he could handle.

“I’m food sweating. Like, I’m literally sweating because of too much eating,” you chuckled silently, laughing with your body instead and felt your eyelids slowly close. Hoseok’s comfortable shoulder, sweet scent, and his low rumble of a laugh was lulling you to sleep.

“Are you really that stuffed to be falling asleep right now?” he giggled at you squeezing your eyes tighter.

You and Hoseok kept complaining to other Hufflepuffs and friends about your individual food babies; they got tired of it so you were reduced to just groaning at each other as a form of communication.

You were about to respond to Hoseok’s 'hhuuhhuuh’ with a 'urrrgghhhhhh’ but was silenced by all the half eaten food and clean plates disappearing and reappearing as cakes and puddings.

“Have I ever told you I’m a cow. I have four stomachs. This is child’s play,” Hoseok laughed at your goofiness and commitment to eating everything you could but just couldn’t eat anymore.

“Y/N I can’t go on; you will have to leave me behind,” he grabbed onto your arm, gathering your robes in his hand as he dramatically whined.

Laughing with each other, you reached for an eclair in front of you.

“Wait, everyone. Before we finish off the feast with dessert, I would like to show you something,” McGonagall walked forward towards the golden tower; details on it were intricate with jewels of contrasting colours were weaved into the tower and sparkled if the light hit it right. With a light tap of her wand, McGonagall made the tower crumble away, it melted to the ground and revealed a large chalice, “most of you know what this is, but to those who don’t- this is the Goblet of Fire.”

As if by command, as soon as the words fell from her mouth the goblet erupted blue flames inside the cup. It was enchanting watching the deep blue flames waltz with one another, crackling and sparkling as the blue reflected in the iris of your eyes.

“Students who are over the age of seventeen and wish to participate in the Tournament will have to write their name upon a piece of parchment and discard of it in the fire by this hour on Thursday night. But be cautious, once your name is burned in the fire and chosen, there is no going back. The Triwizard Tournament has begun.”

McGonagall waved off the students to finish eating and went back to her seat. As soon as headmistress’ voice was no longer heard, students of every school break out into mumbles of hysteria or hesitation.

You whipped around to face Hoseok; you weren’t expecting to see an emotionless face, “what’s wrong? You’re not thinking about backing out, right? Don’t let your pussy show now,” you shoved his arm playfully to stop his daydreaming; darting his eyes around, Hoseok finally looked at you.

“I may be slightly worried,” you could see how visibly nervous he was.

“It’s okay Hoseok- if you get chosen, I’ll always be there in the stands cheering for you,” you patted his back in comfort and beamed back at you in thanks.

“Thanks Y/N, but there is a chance I won’t be picked when I put my name in the goblet,” you shrugged your shoulders at him. You were so sure that boy would be picked.

People were beginning to finish eating and exiting the hall. You were gradually munching on Battenberg cake while leaning on a patient Hoseok; he had been waiting for you to finish for a while now.

“Can you hurry the fu-”

Hoseok’s insult on your slowness and punctuality was put on pause. Confused on why Hoseok stopped short, you looked up to see him staring ahead- he never misses an opportunity to scold you.

You follow the path of his eyes to see what he was gawking at to see the same blonde girl from Beauxbatons he was staring at before in his sight. You watched as she shyly smiled at his hard gaze and ducked behind her classmate as she walked out of the great hall. Shifting your eyes to look at Hoseok, you saw a smirk creep up on his face.

Not really wanting to see any more, you slammed your half-eaten Battenburg cake onto the plate in front of you and lifted yourself from your seat suddenly, “I’m done now, let’s go back.”

Hoseok looked a little taken back, but still smiled and stood up, “finally. I could feel the wrinkles forming,” he sighed -overacting again- and you slapped his arm to shut him up.

Making your way out of the great hall and to your common room was unexpectedly quiet- you and Hoseok were never quiet.

'Maybe he’s thinking about that girl,’ you found it hard to shake off the thought that Hoseok would rather be getting to know the shy girl instead of walking with you, trotting behind Hoseok you bowed your head.

“Why are you following me like some creep. Stand next to me,” he stopped abruptly so you crashed into his back.

“Sorry…” you scampered next to him, keeping your head lowered.

“Now it seems like I am forcing you into something you don’t want to do.”

“You are!” you retorted with a laugh, “who would want to walk with you?” feeling slightly more comfortable -not sure why you felt awkward in the first place- you looked up at his face to see the famous grin and soft eyes.

“You will always stay with me Y/N,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and rested his head on top of yours. Being close with Hoseok was never a problem before, so why is it now making your palms sweat.

Finally, you had made your way downstairs and into the Hufflepuff common room. It was late when you two left the dining room, so now you were ready to pass out in bed.

“Goodnight Hoseok,” you waved your hand tiredly as you tried walking towards the girls’ dormitories, but it was snatched away from you. Hoseok grabbed your hand and kept you in place to talk.

“Can you promise, that if I put my name in the goblet and I get chosen for the Tournament, you will always be there in the crowd?” he had a tight grip on your hand and seemed serious. It was rather cute.

“I will promise to go to every event if you promise to come to the yule ball with me,” you couldn’t help but smile, “I don’t really want to go with anyone else.”

“I promise.”

“Okay, well then I promise too,” you giggled at him and let go of his hand so he wouldn’t feel how sweaty they were, “I’m really going to bed now,” you waved him off once more as he still stood in the middle of the common room.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You woke up the next morning feeling strange. You had got jealous and sweaty palms over Hoseok. The same Hoseok who had knocked you down the stairs and broke your arm on the first day. The same Hoseok who was your best friend. The thoughts of feeling something different towards him were brushed off immediately. You have held hands with Hoseok and watched him flirt with other girls many times, having this feeling now was just a passing thing.

Wishing not to pry over it, you got out of bed and ready for your classes, remembering you had to meet Hoseok on your free period to be there when he put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Yawning, as you walked alone to the hall for breakfast, your steps were short and slow as always, this time Hoseok wasn’t there beside you. It felt strange not having a puppy following your exact steps as usual.

Curious as to where Hoseok was, but not bothering to find him, you stepped into the great hall seeing some students sitting around tables and finishing breakfast. You pulled your heavy feet over to the Hufflepuff table and your familiar seat to see it was taken by some blue silk and Hoseok sitting next to it.

“Uh… Morning?” You were unsure if you should make your presence known and interrupt their conversation, but your petty self did anyway.

“Oh Y/N hi! Sorry I didn’t wait, but I ran into Manon on the way,” he showed off the girl in your seat and once she turned to look, you recognised her instantly. It was the shy girl.

“Hi, I’m Manon. You must be Y/N?” she held out her hand and you were reluctant to shake it. She hasn’t done anything to you, so you shook it and decided to sit opposite them. Manon hasn’t done anything to you so why were you so standoffish; you didn’t want to become that type of girl, so you stayed quiet while they got on.

“Are you putting your name in for the Tournament Manon?”

“No! I definately couldn’t do anything like that,” her awkward laugh was cute. Dammit, “are entering yourself Hoseok?”

“Yeah! Y/N and I are going there in a free period, near lunch. But I bet you would complete all the trials with ease,” what a way to not make it obvious Hoseok. You rolled your eyes.

“Can I come with?” Her puppy eyes and soft voice was hard to reject. She wasn’t even trying to be cute on purpose, which was all the more annoying as she seemed genuinely nice. You weren’t going to be that jealous best friend.

“Sure you can!”

You suddenly boosted yourself off the bench by slamming your hands on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” you stepped over the bench and avoided all eye contact, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

You didn’t make an effort looking back, knowing they weren’t looking at you either, as you stormed out of the great hall with an empty stomach.

Strolling out of your last class, you cradled your empty stomach and whined; you hated being hungry. Expecting to see Hoseok outside waiting, you looked up and was about to start speaking but saw no one there. The words got caught in your throat as you looked around the hallway for him.

'Bastard was supposed to wait for me,’ you tutted, knowing he forgot due to being too excited, so you made your way over to the hall where the Goblet of Fire was held.

Upon entering, you saw many students gathered around the blue flame, which was one of the only sources of light in the room. Blue was bouncing off the walls and onto familiar faces, Hoseok’s in particular.

You ran up behind him and slapped the back of his neck as punishment for not waiting, “I thought you wanted me here!” you teased him as he moved to face you and reveal the girl from breakfast, Manon, standing there.

'Bastard ditched you again,’ you shook it off.

“I do! Sorry, I was just too excited and walked here with Manon without thinking, but you are here now,” his apology didn’t seem so sincere as he turned his back to you after he finished.

“Sure you’re sorry,” you muttered under your breath in a sarcastic tone that Hoseok wouldn’t hear before tapping his shoulder and speaking louder, “you going to put your name in there then?”

Hoseok looked at you as if he only realised now that’s what he was here to do, “yeah I should,” he grabbed some paper and a pencil from his pocket and leaned on the nearest bench to scribble his name out.

You followed Hoseok’s figure with your eyes as you saw him shyly walk up to the blue flame and drop his name into the embers. Cheers and applause came from the students surrounding the goblet and as Hoseok walked towards you again, you went on your toes to wrap your arm around his neck and mess up his hair.

“Alright, alright Y/N!” Didn’t take much strength for Hosok to push you off as he laughed at your teasing gesture.

Hoseok didn’t spare a second glance as he walked past you and up to Manon and smiled at her clapping her hands for him.

'What was the point of me coming anyway,’ you hated how bitchy your inner thoughts were.

“I’m going back to the common room… I have homework and stuff,” you didn’t want to stand there like a lemon any longer so you tried to make your leave.

“Wait,” Hoseok stopped you from walking out, you hoped he was asking you to stay, “could you give me the answers when you’re done?”

'Bastard.’

Thursday came slower than expected. Maybe because time goes faster when you with Hoseok and he was MIA for the past few days. To you, Hoseok is the kind of person you miss two seconds after you finished speaking to them, but now, it was starting to feel one-sided.

The strange feeling you had for him evaporated after he started ditching you more often. You didn’t know if you were unhappy about it or not.

Even though everyone around you was shouting, it felt so quiet. Hoseok was right next to you, but he felt miles away. Hoseok was your best friend, but he didn’t feel like that close any more.

“You alright Y/N? You’re spacing out,” a hand was waving in front of your face, blocking you from the trance you were in. Gathering a smile, you turned to him.

“I’m just nervous for you, that’s all.”

“If you’re nervous then I’m going to start getting nervous so stop,” he pushed you away and onto the student sat next to you, after apologising to them, you jokingly punched Hoseok as retribution.

“Alright will everyone please quiet down, we will be selecting the champions,” everyone shut up right away so the only audible thing was the headmistress herself. Everyone’s eyes glued to one thing- the Goblet of Fire.

Instantaneously, you eyeballed the fire as it turned from a deep azure to a harsh crimson and coughed out a piece of paper. It shot up into the air and drifted downwards into the hands of McGonagall. Peeking at the slip of paper, she smiled to herself before speaking aloud.

“The champion for Durmstrang is… Emil Pedersen!” Roars of encouragement came from the boys of Drumstrang and their table; you had never heard a louder sound.

You watched as Emil waltzes up to the front and stands there proudly, sticking his chest out.

The headmistress silences the shouts with just one hand and waits beside the goblet. Not even a few seconds pass before it turns red again and shoots another piece of paper out. Cinders fly off the paper as it floats down into McGonagall’s hand.

“And the champion for the Beauxbatons is… Lucie Bonnet!” More cheers for the Beauxbaton champion was from the boys in your school. Lucie gracefully smiled and sauntered up to the front.

Starting to feel nervous, you turned to take a glimpse at Hoseok. You thought he would be as worried as you, but he was just staring at Manon happily clapping for her friend. You audibly scoffed, not really caring if he heard and looked back at the flame blazing red spitting out the last piece of paper.

The air was thick as Hogwarts students glared at the parchment floating- you were the same. When the paper hit the meagre skin of the headmistress’ palm you felt a strong grip on your hand. Startled at the sudden contact, you whip your head to see Hoseok’s hands on top of yours and squeezing it tightly as McGonagall raised the paper to read it.

“Finally, the champion for Hogwarts is… Jung Hoseok!”

Students around you, mainly Hufflepuffs, begin cheering and shouting at Hoseok. You excitedly slap him on the back and push him to stand up, ecstatic he was chosen. Hoseok rotated his head to look at you and that dazzling smile, smiling himself, as he watched you excited.

Time seemed to come to a standstill, but the pace of your heart increased as Hoseok stared straight into your eyes. Your smile slowly faded; you came to a realisation, as Hoseok winked at you teasingly and walked up to the front of the hall.

'Dammit, you just might like this bastard after all,’ you wanted to throw up after your brain voiced this; you have never even thought about Hoseok in that way, so seeing him in a completely different light felt strange and new. But a nice strange.

You proudly watched as he made his way up to the front and stood where he should be; standing amongst the champions as one himself.

It seemed as if once you got your heart finally figured out, it was broken all over again. Hoseok stood up at the front as a champion, but all he could focus on was Manon who stared back at him.

‘No you didn’t like him. Never mind,’ the notion of liking your best friend was in one ear but out the other. You felt yourself digging the emotions deep down and replacing the hole with happiness for Hoseok- like it should be.

“Wait so you’re telling me you have no idea what the first challenge is?” You slam your hands on the table located in the middle of the common room; Hoseok was sitting on the sofa, scared.

“Well I-I I just- I haven’t really thought about it!” Hoseok backed up on the sofa, fearful of the look in your eyes.

“Hoseok! These trials are dangerous! If you find out what the trial is beforehand you can prepare yourself to ensure your safety! What have you been doing these past weeks! The trial is tomorrow! Aren’t you worried!” You waved your hands in the air, scared for your friend’s safety.

Once Hoseok figured out you were just worried about him he softened immediately and smirked at you freaking out more than him.

“I don’t need to worry when you’re doing it for me,” he spoke with a laugh in his voice, “you better keep your promise by the way.”

“Promise?” Hoseok got up from the sofa to stand in front of you.

“You promised you would be in the crowd for every trial,” Hoseok watched his own hand graze up your forearm and land on your shoulder. Hoseok’s eyes darted from his shoulder to your eyes and saw the blank expression on your face; he couldn’t read the emotion in your eyes and you couldn’t read his.

You both held the gaze for a second too long, so Hoseok cleared his throat and walked back over to the sofa, “you have to be there to cheer me on then.”

“Of course I’ll always be there Hoseok.”

It was finally the day of the first trial. Everyone was tightly packed inside the arena, no one had room to even relax their muscles. That didn’t really bother you as you were already tense and stressed enough. Staring at the champions' tent every now and then, wondering if Hoseok was getting himself worked up like usual.

'Of course the bastard is worked up, he just found out he is going up against a Cockatrice,’ you shook your head at him, 'I knew he should’ve found out sooner.’

The object of this particular trial was to go up against a Cockatrice -a magical creature resembling a rooster with a lizard’s tail and wings- and somehow lead into a cage with just your wand in hand; there was also a key hung around its neck that you had to retrieve. You were guessing that would somehow be the clue for the next trial.

“Hey Y/N do you mind if I sit with you?” You no longer pondered over your worries as you had company. Company named Manon.

“Sure,” you moved up the bench so you were uncomfortably pressed up against the person next to you, “here.”

Manon timidly sat next to you. Over the past few weeks, Manon had been hanging out with Hoseok a lot, so that meant she was also hanging out with you- Hoseok and you were a buy one, get one free deal. Due to this, you and Manon had got to know one another past acquaintances and she was really nice, which was kind of annoying.

“I wonder who is up first-”

Manon was cut off by the booming voice of headmistress McGonagall using the Amplifying Charm to mimic a microphone, “Attention, please. This is a great day for all of us,” a large screech from the Cockatrice being led out into the main area was the only thing that could put the headmistress on pause- it was much scarier than you thought, “each of the three tasks involves very considerable danger, please keep to your seats at all times so that there won’t be any risks of anyone getting hurt. I’m sure we wish our three champions the greatest of luck. Now, let the first task begin!”

Roars of cheers explode in the crowds after the last words and you watch as the headmistress of our school and headmasters of the other schools disappear into the tents.

It didn’t take to long for the canon to go off, signalling the first champion to emerge. Coincidentally, it was Hoseok. Your heart sped up as you watched him scan over the crowd, but it stopped instantaneously when his orbs landed on Manon and not you.

Another deafening screech vibrated in the throat of the Cockatrice as it was now let out of its cage.

Hoseok sprung into action, a smirk on his face to hide how frightened he really was. Pulling his wand out to the side, Hoseok stared down the Cockatrice and it glared back, kicking back its feet like a bull ready to charge. And that was just what it did.

It was sudden as the Cockatrice shrieked once more before charging head-on at Hoseok’s small figure; Hoseok finally lets his fear show on his face as he dodges and rolls out of the way- just in time as well.

“Hoseok! Your wand!” You heard the loud bark of the small, normally feeble, girl next to you- to say you were shocked a girl that petite could shout that loud was an understatement.

Everyone watches, some silent, some screaming so loud their throats could rip out, as Hoseok happily holds out his wand in front of him with a smile. Everyone also watches as the wand is snapped in half when the Cockatrice swipes his strong tail at Hoseok, barely missing him and only getting the wand.

Hoseok only thinks to run away as the Cockatrice goes in for another swipe. Clambering over the terrain, Hoseok made it to a flat surface and the Cockatrice wasn’t far behind him.

Even just a minor slip up could change everything in this game. Unfortunately, that is just what Hoseok did- he took his eyes off the Cockatrice to lock eyes with you for one second.

“Hoseok you idiot!” You got up on your feet and screamed at him with hands either side of your mouth, hoping it would make your voice more detectable.

Your voice wasn’t loud, nor quick enough for Hoseok to notice the Cockatrice charging at him once again.

You watched in horror as the Cockatrice flipped Hoseok’s limp body high into the air and across the arena. You heard the gasps of people around the arena; you wanted to scream but the lump in your throat blocked you from saying anything as you saw Hoseok brutally crash onto the ground and not get back up.

'Get up, get up, get up, get the fuck up!’ the only way you could voice anything was all in your head.

Hoseok was still not getting up or moving, and you were getting more and more anxious. You didn’t care if he won this trial anymore; you just wanted him to get back up.

Choking back the lump in your throat you shouted again, “for god sakes Hoseok! Get up!”

As if by magic, Hoseok started showing signs of movement after hearing your shouts. Everyone cheered as they watched Hoseok struggle to get to his feet; stumbling to his feet, Hoseok found his footing and was once again face-to-face with the Cockatrice.

As the Cockatrice prepared itself to charge once again, Hoseok took this chance to glance at you and your oh-so-familiar worried face. It was a look on your face he was always delighted to see.

Hoseok was always known for doing the unexpected, so running, head-on, at the Cockatrice was definately unexpected. The whole audience was on the edge of their seats as they watched what they thought would be a brutal collision.

You always needed to repeat this to yourself, 'Hoseok was always known for the unexpected’. You should’ve kept this in mind when watching him sprint at the creature because when he was only a few steps away from the Cockatrice you covered your eyes. Not wanting to see him being thrown in the air again.

Howls of screams of joy and amusement screamed in your ears. Curious at what they were shouting at, you slowly lowered your hands from your eyes to see something unexpected, what else would you expect from Hoseok.

Hoseok’s hands were clinging onto the feathers of the creature as he rode on the back of the Cockatrice through the arena. You started clapping while jumping up and down in sheer relief.

You observed as Hoseok tried leading the creature back into the cage; Hoseok pulled on the feathers to direct the Cockatrice into the cage. Once the Cockatrice was heading straight towards the opening of the cage people began shouting at Hoseok to get off. But he didn’t.

Hoseok trained his determined eyes on the cage before him and wanted to wait for the last second to jump off for the wow factor. The creature was a mere few centimetres in front of the cage before he untied the sting the key was hooked onto and lifelessly fell off the side.

The Cockatrice smashed into the side of the cage which caused the door to slam shut on it.

All that was heard in the stadium was cheers. They all continued to cheer even though Hoseok was still not getting back up. Looked like you and the headmistress were the only one who noticed.

You watched from afar as the headmistress whispered in several teachers ears and saw as they swung into action and ran out into the arena to move his drooping body to safety.

“He’s okay Y/N; he needs time to rest,” the nurse placed a hand on your shoulder and tried to look you in the eyes; you kept your head down, still worried for him no matter how many times she says Hoseok is fine.

“You can see him now- he’s awake,” you didn’t wait around to listen to the end of the nurse’s sentence as you were already throwing yourself through the doors.

You looked across the room and locked eyes with Hoseok. He should have that scared look on his face as you stomp over to the side of the hospital bed he was in.

“How many times do I have to walk into this hospital room this bloody month!” You scream at him as you take one of the two pillows he had under his head and smack him with it, “you ridiculous bastard!” You continue smacking him with the pillow.

“Y/N! Y/N I’M SORRY! STOP!” Hoseok whined and you eventually stopped hitting him, “I’m wounded!”

“Do I care?!”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Hoseok huffs at your worried state, “I’m going to be fine Y/N,” you saw Hoseok’s hand twitch slightly, ignoring it, you looked at the table by the side of Hoseok’s bed.

“Is this the clue then?” Hoseok was used to your constant mood changes by now. The key you had picked up was definately gold; you run your fingers over it, tracing any details you could find on it, “figured out what it means yet?”

“No. You’re the smart one out of us,” Hoseok says.

You giggled because that was true. Smiling you turn over the key and examine the other side and see a small inscription in the gold.

'Handle with care; if dropped, will smash to pieces.’

“Have you even looked at this thing.”

“I thought you would figure it out and tell me anyway,” you fake-laughed in his direction before chucking the key at his face.

“The trials are testing you not me- figure it out yourself,” you stand up from the chair by the bed and head for the door, “I know you’re alright so I can leave now then yes?”

Hoseok was about to protest, but he got distracted watching you walk out of the door.

“You told me you had this figured out weeks ago!” you added stress onto the word 'weeks’ just to prove a point.

“If you would’ve just help me I would’ve figured this out weeks ago!” Hoseok also added stress on the word 'weeks’ and tried to make you feel guilty.

You flicked his forehead and got up from the communal sofa in the full common room, “you coming to breakfast?”

“No go without me, I’ll stay and try and figure this out,” he held up the key and pressed his lips together, hiding the cut that was still there from the Cockatrice fight.

Shrugging it off you exited the common room, saying goodbye to a few students as you leave. The hallways were just as busy, students walking back and forth, some you don’t even recognise.

After walking up the staircases, the dining hall wasn’t too far away. Observing other students talking and joking with each other made you miss the presence of Hoseok even though it’s been a few minutes.

Entering the hall, the smell of the variety of foods hit you. Toast, eggs, and hashbrowns decorated the table and your stomach rumbled at the mere sight.

“Y/N! Over here!” A boy you were familiar with, Jake, waved you down. Having no one to sit with, you smiled and strolled over to the table. You noticed a Gryffindor girl -you can remember as Amy- sitting next to him.

“Oh sorry Y/N, this is Amy,” you sat down opposite them and nodded your head as a greeting, “we’re going to the Yule Ball together,” they snuggled into each other and you fake threw up in your mouth.

Jake rolled his eyes at you, “guessing you don’t have a date for tomorrow then?”

“Actually… I’m going with Hoseok,” you smiled proudly, genuinely excited for tomorrow.

“What? Does that lucky bastard have two dates?” Jake scoffed and shook his head.

“Two dates?” You questioned him, confused.

“He told me he was going with Manon.”

'Bastard.’

You didn’t talk to Hoseok for the rest of the day, ignoring him when you got back from breakfast, not talking to him during the lessons you had together, and not even looking at him when hanging out in the common room. You weren’t mad at him for taking Manon; you are just furious he didn’t even tell you and broke that stupid promise.

The worst thing about it was that Hoseok didn’t even ask why or question it. He just let you get on with it.

'Bastard can forget about me that easily,’ It was the next day and you were now sat in a bathroom in your PJs tearing up over the fact you couldn’t go to the ball.

“God I feel like an idiot,” you spoke aloud for the first time and threw your arms at nothing in particular.

“What’s wrong with you dear?”

The feeling of a strong presence in your chest and the sudden voice got you to squeal and jump off from the bathroom floor. A ghost had definately passed through you. And the only ghost that harbours these bathrooms was Tie.

Tie wasn’t the nicest of ghosts, she was rather unfriendly and died from a prank that was supposedly innocent, but turned horrific. So now she goes around and does the same to others.

“What’s a pretty girl like you spending the night of the ball inside a dingy bathroom? Stood up?” Tie came dangerously close and her finger lifts your chin; you didn’t feel her touch however.

“I guess you could say that,” you backed away from her, starting to feel a little intimidated.

“What a jerk! We should teach him a lesson,” she floated closer towards you with a smirk on her face.

“I’m not that mad,” you back up into a wall as she gains in on you.

“Oh but you are,” Tie leans forward and kisses you on the nose. A strange tingle travelled from the tip of your nose to your fingers. The small spark from your nose was enough to strike a match in your stomach and the fire burned strong.

“But I am.”

“Good, because I have an idea on how we can ruin the Yule ball.”

You felt the adrenaline rush as you tap your finger on the box that was positioned in front of the door. You weren’t actually sure if it was adrenaline, but it was the only reason you even thought about doing this.

“You ready darling?” Tie tried playing with your hair, but was unsuccessful even picking up one strand of it.

“Yeah let’s get this over with,” you push open the two double doors to reveal the ball. The almost ball. You could’ve been wearing a fancy dress; you could’ve been dancing; you could’ve been dancing with Hoseok.

Instead, you were looking from a distance as rhinestones from dresses and silks from suits merge together in dance and song; the students enjoy themselves.

How disgusting.

“Do it! Do it now!” You waste no time opening the tops of the boxes and releasing the monstrosities inside.

The plan that Tie had come up with was to release a small amount of pixies into the ball. Although it may not seem like a lot, the amount of trouble they caused made up for it.

It happened so quick you didn’t know how they managed to do so much in such little time.

Darts of blue flash past you as they overtake the party. Hair was pulled, dresses were lifted, buffets were destroyed, lights were smashed, fires were somehow started, and people were even lifted into the air. You were afraid to go into detail as it too appalling for most people to watch.

Looking over the mess you had partially created, you felt slight remorse once you saw a poor kid swinging from the ceiling. The room was only filled with maniacal laughs, screams of kids, and what sounded like a lot of arguing budgies. You had the front row seat to the disaster of the Yule Ball.

A boy -not that much younger than you- dashed across the ballroom, screaming as his coat jacket had caught on fire; flames past faces and lit up two familiar ones. Manon was stood in shock, hiding from the devilish pixies behind Hoseok, who has probably been staring at you this whole time. There was a dead look behind his eyes as he watched you and then excuses himself from Manon.

'Shit he’s coming over!’ You make a U-turn and start making a run for it; you couldn’t be caught by anyone, not even Hoseok.

You knew you were doomed when you started running away- Hoseok already knew all the places you hang out at, so he would find you one way or another.

Thinking it was the best decision, you stop to take a breather in the courtyard, coming to the conclusion he would find you one way or another.

“Y/N! Stay there!” Bingo.

“What!” You spin around, acting defensive and having a reason to.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hoseok paraded across the courtyard towards you, “why didn’t you come to the Ball, why did you release all those pixies? Was it even necessary? Why- wait why are you in your pyjamas?”

“The fact that you even have to ask why makes it worse,” you roll your eyes at him; you knew that someone would end up getting hurt by the end of this.

“Well then tell me! Also, while we’re at it, why have you been ignoring me?”

“Because you have been neglecting me and went to the dance with someone else when you promised to go with me!”

“Oh my god Y/N; you sound like a jealous girlfriend,” his words make your head twitch to the side- getting this annoyed because it really did feel like that, “are you seriously this childish to pull a stupid prank like that?!”

“Is there something wrong with being jealous?” you lifted your eyebrows and showed a dangerous smile, “something wrong with wanting to spend time with my best friend?”

“Is 'best friend’ really how you see me? Because I have a feeling it might be more than that,” your expression does a 180 as your eyes bludged and you were backing away; your mouth and heart were stuttering.

“W-what has that got to do with ditching me you bastard.”

“You didn’t answer my question Y/N.”

“Wha- If you must know… yes… maybe… I don’t know,” you sigh and place your face in your hands.

“Well… whatever you feel it’s too late!” Hoseok suddenly got worked up and stormed away from you and shouted, “you’ve ruined the ball for no good reason and expect me to find it okay?! NO!”

“What? Too late? Hoseok!” You tried calling for him, but he was already too far away.

Once again, you were stood alone.

You were sat upside down on the sofa in the common room, reading a book- not at all interested in it. It was completely empty as it was the day of the second trial, which you still didn’t know was about. Your mind was drifting to Hoseok every now and then, worried about him and the trial.

You shook your head, 'he walked away that night,’ you hated you thought about that night all those weeks ago so often; mind stuck on his cryptic words, emotionless expression. It had been weeks and neither of you had talked about it like unhealthy people.

Hopefully, Hoseok had figured out the clue by now; you had to smash the key to figure it out apparently.

You groan outwardly and throw the book away, turning around and sitting up you rub your face in your hands; you needed to get out of here, the trial is probably ending around now so Hoseok would be back here to celebrate. Ignoring him was best for now. Ignoring everybody would be best for now as everyone found out it was you who caused the ruckus at the ball. You felt like such a child and you deserved whatever was coming your way.

Taking a breath and gathering yourself, you get up and head outside. The halls were bursting at the seams, students were pushing past each other, conversations combining together and there were only a few words you could pick out.

'Hoseok’ 'Staring’ 'Manon probably’ 'Fell’ 'Disqualified’ 'Hospital’

The last word you heard pierced through your ears and you snapped out of it, “Out of my way!” Pushing past students, you sprinted towards the hospital. Again.

Heart in your stomach, throat dry, and panting like a dog, you arrived at the hospital doors just as a nurse was walking out. You run towards and grab her shoulders, manhandling her.

“Hoseok! Is he in there?!”

“Oh! Y/n? Yes, he is,” the nurse only became panicked when you got in her face.

A few steps later you were inside the hospital room and saw Hoseok laying down in the far bed.

'Why is he always in the hospital,’ you don’t make your presence known and marched up to his bed.

“Y/N…”

Hoseok didn’t have time to talk as a pillow came in contact with his face, and continued hitting him. Holding out his hands, Hoseok whined for you to stop.

You were the one to do something unexpected this time as you push the pillow into his chest and pushed your face into it.

“Hey…” Hoseok held the back of your head and brushed through your hair.

Small whimpers left your mouth, muffled in the pillow and your hands started to shake.

“Y/N… are you crying?” Hoseok stopped petting you and wrapped his arm around you.

“You could’ve died Hoseok… and I wouldn’t have had time to apologise…” you slowly raised your head from the pillow to look at him in the eyes for the first time in weeks, “I hated how we left things. We can just forget and be friends again.”

“Okay..” Hoseok let go of you as you fell back into the seat and the normal friendship facade. You didn’t want that awkward silence or feeling gargling in your stomach so you try your best to act like nothing had happened before you wiped your eyes.

“I heard you got disqualified,” you smirk as Hoseok rubs his neck awkwardly, “someone said you were staring at Manon in the crowd or something… what an idiot,” you didn’t mean for it to get awkward again, but it did. The pause was too long or your liking.

“I wasn’t looking for her,” you couldn’t help but let your heart speed up, “You broke your promise. You weren’t there.”

Sighing, you roll your eyes, “I was mad at you okay? You broke yours too.”

“Do you know how hard it is getting over someone you see every day?” Hoseok’s change of subject shocked you, “it’s so hard to look at the same smile you see every day and think that it’s not what you want anymore. It had taken me so long to get over you, I was nearly over it, but then you started throwing 'I don’t know’ at me and I got confused and mad all over again.”

You tried your best to listen, but the pounding of your heart was an overpowering sound. He was confessing to you… in a hospital bed. It couldn’t be more Hoseok.

“Manon is great… but if you tell me you do have real feelings for me, some things may change.”

You paused, not giving him an answer straight away. Mostly because you were scared and wanted to scare him too.

“Maybe I have caught a little something for you,” you fiddle with the hospital bed sheets and peek at Hoseok; he was showing off his dazzling smile again. The one that could make anything dark, light and every frown turn to a grin. It looked as if he had just won the lottery.

“So… now that’s all cleared up; how was the trial? What was it about?”

“Hang on a second,” a finger was pushed in your face as Hoseok leaned forward and forcibly pressed his lips into yours. You would think he would be a little shy, but he wasn’t. Shocked, you just decided to move your lips to be in sync with his, enjoying every last bit of it.

As quick as he leaned in, he leaned back and acted like he didn’t steal a kiss, “I’ll just say two words about the trial: Dragons and a broomstick. As an adrenaline junkie myself, I was so pumped for this, but when I got knocked out of the sky looking for you I just blacked out,” Hoseok kept talking as you held one hand over your mouth in dismay. Your best friend had stolen a kiss from you and it was causing fireworks to explode in your tummy.

Hoseok was cut off by another pillow hitting him square in the face.

[cl0udcastle]

I married Marcurio first. I don't know what that says about me but I loved his sass and he was one of the few spellcasters you can wed so I went with him. We did a few adventures and adopted some children and then I let him become my house husband at Lakeview Manor. Things were going really well -- until the Skeevers moved in. We all know about the random event where Skeevers can spawn in your cellar and scare your children. Well I went down there and killed em all easy, and the kids seemed alright. So I go to sleep to get that Lover's Embrace bonus and when I wake up, there are freakin Skeevers in the cellar again. It seemed every time I did anything -- slept, waited, fast travelled -- the Skeevers would return. Marcurio was useless as a home defender, so I gave our daughters a pair of enchanted daggers, one fire one ice, so they could kill the Skeevers themselves. That seemed to work for a while, meaning they stopped crying about the Skeevers and instead, whenever I went downstairs, there were more bodies on the pile. So many bodies got crammed into that small space that the game must've triggered a failsafe, or maybe the excess of Skeever death coupled with the necromancer alter down by the lake tore a wormhole open in my house. Either way a bottomless pit appeared in my cellar. I threw a Skeever corpse in and that was the end of it. Every time I returned home now I would kip downstairs, help my daughters dispose of the Skeevers and their bodies, then we'd have dinner and play. The girls were pulling their weight and everything was alright... until the bandits came.

I guess the girls were down in the cellar, fighting off the millionth Skeever, when bandits raided the house and kidnapped Marcurio. Returning from questing, I found a note pinned to the door saying as much, and also that they were gonna have "some fun with him". Now my brain instantly leaps to rape or torture, so I steel myself up and set out to rescue my husband from these bandit bastards. I get just beyond the necromancer alter by the lake and see a figure in the distance, walking in place? I cautiously approach and realize - it's Marcurio! My useless excuse of a husband managed to fight the bandits off and was returning home! But there was a problem: his legs were moving like he was walking, but he wasn't moving forward. Truly just walking in place, not a care in the world. I tried Healing Hands, I tried waiting, returning home and waiting, asked him to follow, nothing would get him to budge. Finally in a frustrated rage I shouted him off his feet with a Fus-Ro-Dah and did that all the way home. He wouldn't go inside, he just stood out by the garden, walking in place. I decided to take what I couls get and turned in for the night.

When I awoke, I noticed Marcurio beside me in bed. At this point I knew not to assume all was well, so I waited there for a moment, see if he would get up. He didn't. I tried to speak to him, but all he could say was "Yes my love?" over and over again. I moved to the other side of the bed to see his face and his eyes were wide open. He was awake, just too fucked up to get out of bed. Whatever those bandits did really did traumatize him.

He didn't get out of bed for several days, and when he finally did, he would walk backwards all over the house. He couldn't walk up stairs, but he could open doors and cook and stuff. Thought I'd just have a crazy husband forever, what can you do.

One day he got into the cellar while we were throwing more Skeevers down the hellhole. He looked at me with a smile and started walking backwards, towards the pit. I tried to stop him, tried to save him, but all he said was "Yes my love?" as he stepped backward into the abyss.

That character never saw Marcurio again, and every new character knows not to fall in love with the sassy wizard in Riften.

Everyone says who you first marry in skyrim says a lot about you but i married that homeless guy in windhelm the Once Honored guy w the bald ass head bcs I read that unless u do he dies in the civil war and so i married him thinking i could divorce him on friendly terms and help him get back on his feet  but you cant get divorced i learned too late and he keeps asking my DB for a gold coin every day despite living in her house and yelled at meeko and then i met serana and fell in love thinking i could marry her if I got old baldy out of the picture bcs he never even changed out of his raggedy ass robes anyway so lure him into the small room in lakeview manor and close the doors so the kids dont see and one hit mercy kill him but the kids hear anyway and start screaming and the bard hears too and attacks me and I have to kill the bard and the kids are still screaming. but every time i come back the bodies wont despawn so theres just my dead homeless husband and bard in the house making the kids cower in the corner so i cast reanimate and try to walk my husband outside but that just makes things worse bcs hes making those zombie moans and as SOON as i load outside the door he turns into a giant ass zombie ash pile and goes “thank….. you….” so the rest of the game I just had my dead bald husbands goo ashes right on the front steps of my home and Seranas not even marriable 

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

...if you would be willing to write a lil something for Angus.... Would you be alright with something like him and the reader are being set up by the other septic egos? (Anti tripping reader so Angus has to catch them/Marvin locking them in a closet together, Chase and Jackieboy at one point shoving them into each other) without realizing they are already together in secret and getting so much amusement out of the whole ordeal. If that's alright with you of course I just miss my Hunter boi lol

Omg this is a sweet idea xD More love for the hunter boi on the way~!

“So this is what it’s come to, huh?”

“Yep…”

You and Angus sighed as you both sat down on the floor in the closet, wondering when you were gonna be free and how long the others were gonna keep playing this game.

Least to say, it was amusing how they were trying to get you two together in any way possible….without knowing that you two were already dating to begin with.

Either you lived with a bunch of airheads or you just kept it a secret that well.

But regardless, neither of you felt like calling them out just yet, as you were actually entertained by the whole ordeal and the fact that they “shipped” you two to the max.

Heck, even Anti himself took a part in it earlier when he tripped you and Angus had to “gracefully” catch you so you didn’t fall. Of course you played along with it, although you kept pretending to deny the fact that you were into each other.

Which ultimately led you both to begin locked in a cramped closet with the door sealed by Marvin’s enchantment.

“So…” You began, your voice in a hushed whisper as you knew for certain the others were within earshot. “..how long do you wanna keep this up?”

“Till they go bonkers,” the hunter chuckled in response. “I gotta admit, love..this is the most fun I’ve ever had somewhere besides in the wild.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty-”

“WAS THAT A “LOVE” I HEARD?!”

You both nearly jumped at the sound of Chase’s boisterous voice. “Can we just get some fuckin’ privacy in this bloody house?!” Angus shouted back.

“Vhat’s going on here? Vhy is everyone crowded around zhis closet?”

Now you heard Henrik enter the room, and remembered that he was the only one who didn’t take part in the egos’ shenanigans. He didn’t really understand “shipping” and why the others would force you two to get together.

“U-Uh we’re just trying to-” Marvin began, only to be cut off by the doctor.

“Are you serious?! You resorted to locking zhem in a closet?! Honest to Gott if zhey don’t vant to get together you shouldn’t force zhem to!!”

“C-Cmon, dude. It’s all in good fu-”

“Get zhem out..now.”

Then there was silence, save for a few groans of protest, before you saw the magic barrier surrounding the door vanish. Henrik then opened it as you both stood up. “I am so sorry about zhat,” he sighed. “Come on out of zhere.”

“Thanks, doc,” you sighed in relief as you walked out with Angus in tow.

Henrik was still giving the egos a lecture, but in that moment you saw Chase and Jackie exchange mischievous glances before they slowly walked on either side of you.

Before you knew they pushed you two into each other, cheeks being squished together. 

“AH!”

“SERIOUSLY?!”

“Yeah seriously!” Chase fumed. “You two haven’t got the hint yet??”

“Honestly there’s a bunch of signs in the air that you two are perfect for each other!” Jackie exclaimed. “We’ve been trying to show you them all damn day!”

“Even I can tell you two lovebirds got something you wanna say to each other,” Marvin chuckled from where he sat on the couch. “It’s perfectly fine. We’ll leave you be once you’re ready to~”

Chase and Jackie finally released you both, stepping back and waiting in anticipation.

The hunter sighed and wrapped his arms around you, his expression telling you that maybe you should tell them the truth before someone aka Henrik had an aneurysm. 

“W-Well..um..the truth is-” He began.

“-we have been dating for several weeks now.” You finished, trying not to laugh as each and every one of their faces turned from confusion to utter shock.

“Yeah,” Angus chuckled. “It was a secret till ya’ll started gettin’ up in our business..so I guess that’s out now.”

“We just found it hilarious that you guys were trying to set us up so we just..went along with it. I gotta say you dorks were pretty desperate, huh?”

However, nobody spoke a word.

His eyes flickered to yours. “It probably hasn’t sunk into their minds yet,” he whispered, “till it does let’s high-tail on outta here.”

You nodded. “Agreed.”

And with that, you two quickly escaped the living room and headed out into the woods, leaving several speechless egos.

“Wait.... ARE YA TELLIN’ ME I TRIPPED [Y/N] FOR NO FUCKIN’ REASON?!!”

[petri808]

Karaoke Kraze

Lucy, Cana, and Levy have been friends since childhood.  Home for the summer from college they head to their favorite club to drink, sing, and just party the night away.  Levy’s boyfriend Gajeel brings his friends along but Lucy’s lyrical enchantments quickly leaves his younger cousin Natsu spellbound....

Chapter 1 of 10: The Voice

It’s nearly 7pm on a Saturday night in June as the three best friends all stand around one of the mirrors in Lucy's bathroom.  Sure, there are others they could use in her changing area but it's always more fun when they get ready together.

This is the first time in about 3 months since they’ve been able to hang out like this; each busy with college.  But every summer break when they come home to Magnolia their focus is on catching up and having fun like there were no cares in the world.  And tonight, was no exception, nothing was gonna stop them from heading to their favorite hangout spot; the Fairytail Karaoke Bar & Nightclub.

"Lucy quit hogging the mirror!" Levy whines, "It’s not like you need it."

Her friend was right; the beautiful blonde could turn heads just wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.  Over the years her girlfriends just put up with all the attention their friend received because they knew her better; she's never really cared for any of the guys who've worked up the courage to ask her out.  Not because many weren't handsome or rich since most of them were, but mainly because they only looked at her appearance and that's not what she was looking for in a real man.

"Levy your just as adorable."  She pinches her friend’s cheek eliciting a squeal from the girl.  "Besides, you've already got a boyfriend so who are you trying to impress?"

Humph!  She crosses her arms, "So, maybe I like it when guys still check me out!"

"Uh, you Naughty girl!" Lucy shrieks

"Isn't Gajeel gonna meet you there tonight?  Or are you trying to make him jealous?"

Levy smirks, "Maybe...   It makes the night games even spicier."  Cana and Lucy's jaws drop; their mousy, bookworm little friend sure has changed since she started dating this guy.

"My hero!"  Cana puts her arms around Levy’s shoulders.  "Where have you been all this time!"

Blushing, "So, um, he's gonna have a few friends with him too."

"Oh yeah, are they hot friends?!" The brunette wiggles her eyebrows

"I’m not sure whose coming.”

"Well I hope so, maybe Lucy here will finally get some action!"

Tch  “You might be getting too much action Cana!  Try settling down for once."

Placing a hand on her hip, she cocks it to the side, "Oh please, life's too short, I'm still young, and I wanna have fun."  She retorts in a serious tone.

Levy and Lucy look at each other smirking when all three start singing and waving their hands in the air, "Oooh, Girl's just wanna have Fu-un, Ooohh girls just wanna haaave fun!"  Erupting into a giggling fit at the end.

Turning back to the full-length mirror, “So, do you guys think this is too revealing?”  Lucy inquires of her friends as she smooth’s down the skirt and checks herself over.  “I still wanna be able to dance without anything bunching.”  

“If anything, I think it’s not revealing enough,” Cana not so coyly replies as she pulls at the halter top and pokes at Lucy’s breasts.  “Show off more of these!”

“No way, I don’t need those falling out!”  Sigh, “They are such a pain sometimes.”  Turning back to the mirror she poses a couple more times.  The simple but elegant red halter top dress she chose was cut in the middle and with her sizable boobs, plus an open back, there was plenty of skin up top to reveal.  The skirt was loose fitting, good for dancing, but short barely reaching her mid thighs.  Lucy worried it was too short but as long as she was careful she should be okay.  With a pair of black 5inch heels at the end of her long silky white legs the girl was stunning.  

As Lucy and Cana primp and strike poses in the mirror Levy’s cell phone rings.  “Hey Gajeel… Yeah we’re leaving in a few to head to the club… Alright we’ll save a booth… How many..  okay.  What time are you guy’s…  We’ll see you there… I Love you too.  Bye.”  

She turns around to let her friends know about the group when she sees them making kissy faces at her.  “Ooh I love you Gajeel.”  Cana wraps her arms around herself and starts to imitate the sounds of sloppy kisses.

“Cana!”  She shrieks; her face heating up as images of her and Gajeel making out pop into her mind.

“Ah” Lucy points out giggling, “She is thinking about it!!”

“Guys quit it!  You better not mess with me tonight, I don’t wanna be embarrassed!”

“Oh, lighten up Levy!”  Lucy teases her friend, “It’s just us in here.”   “So, what’d he say?”

“They’ll get there around 8:30-9, and there’s 5 of them so he said find a big enough booth.”

“I don’t think we’ll all fit in one booth, but I’m sure Mira will just give us the VIP section, I’ll call on the way there.”

“Sooorry, Miss influential,” Cana snickers

“Whatever, we’re all friends and she always take’s care of us.”

“Then why are we still standing around in here!  I wanna get my drink on!”  The brunette puts her arms around her friend’s shoulders and leads them out of the room.

“I’ll text Gajeel on the way there to find us in the VIP section.”

“It’s Time to party girls!”  Lucy squeals

As the black Bentley limo pulls up in front of Club Fairytail, one of the security guards named Al Connell opens the car's door for them.  Lucy instructs her driver Capricorn that she’ll call when they’re ready to leave.  He nods and wishes them a good evening as the three girls exit the vehicle.

“I can never get used to riding in that thing.  Lu I don’t know how you mind the attention.”  

She shrugs her shoulders, “I just grew up with it being normal.”

“Well I looove the attention,” Cana grins and waves her fingers at a few decent looking guys staring at them.

“Come on,” Lucy drags her drooling friend towards the door’s bouncer.  “Hey Elfman!”

“Hey girls; back for more I see.”

“You know it!”

“Mira’s already got the VIP section ready for you guys.  Is there anyone else in your group still coming?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend Gajeel, do you remember him?”

“The guy with the facial piercings?”

“That’s him,” Levy blushes, “and four more of his friends will be with him.”

“I’ll direct 'um to you guys when they get here.  You girls have fun tonight.”  He opens the door for them.

“Thanks, Elfman.”

They head straight for a roped off section that has a reserved sign next to it.  A girl with short white hair reaches them just as they are about to sit down.  “Hi Lisanna, how’s everything going with you and Bixlow?”

“We’re doing great, he finally proposed to me last month.”

“Really, congratulations!”

“Thanks.  So, what can I start you off with?”

“I think our usual’s, right?”  Lucy looks at the other two and they nod, “Oh and could you bring us the karaoke book?”

The girl smiles, “Already got it.” She hands the book to Lucy.  “I know your routine already, Karaoke then dancing.  I’ll be back shortly with your drinks.”

“You’re the bomb Lis!”  Cana yells after her.        

Lisanna puts in their orders with the bartender, her brother-in-law Laxus.  It doesn’t take long since he also anticipated their usual’s and soon the girls are half way into their first round.  

“So, what should we sing?”  Levy asks with the paper and pen in her hand, “We’ve got about an hour till they get here so we need about 7-10 songs.”  She enjoys hanging out when they come here to sing, but she rarely participates, saying that Lucy has the nicest voice and Cana, well Cana just likes to be a part of any action.

The three girls huddle around the song book and start pointing out songs for Levy to write down.  Mostly fun ones to sing but Lucy pick’s a couple of slower love songs as well.  Her friends tease her that those are All hers as usual.  She tries to plead for them to at least sing back up, but they reply no guarantees.  “Fine,” she huffs, “I still don’t know why you won’t sing them with me.”

“Because we can’t pull them off like you.  Duh!”  

Lisanna returns with their second round and they hand her their list of songs.  This section has its own karaoke set up so Lisanna programs the songs for them.  Cana and Lucy eagerly grab the mics and stand up in front of the screen ready for the first song to come on; ‘Love Shack’ by the B52’s.  “Okay you got the girls part.”  Cana winks at Lucy who giggles, “Kay.”

C- “If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says 15 miles to the…” L- “Looooove Shack!  Love Shack, yeah, yeah.  I’m headin down the Atlanta highway… Lookin; for a looove getawayyy.  Headed for the looove getawayyy.”

Both girls start imitating 70’s & 80’s styles of dances like the disco finger, the bump, and of course the ‘Love Shack’ dance move; bopping around and having a blast with the music.  Even Levy can’t resist, joining them during the choruses.

C- “Knock a little louder, baby.” L- “bang, bang, Bang, on the door baby…” C- “I can’t hear you.” L- “Bang, Bang, Bang, on the door baby…” C- “Knock a little louder, sugar.” L- “BANG, BANG” C- “On the door, baby.” L- “BANG, BANG” C- “On the door baby!.” L- “BANG, BANG!” C- “Your What!?” L- “Tiiiinnn roof, Rusted.”  “Love Shaaack, that’s where it’s at.  Love Shaaack, that’s where it’s at.” C- “At the Lo-o-ove Shack…”

Levy starts clapping enthusiastically as the two girls plop down on the couch and gulp their drinks; luckily Lisanna anticipates their routine and is already on her way with the next round.  Over the next hour they sing to their hearts content, even growing a small crowd of mostly guys cheering them on.  

Gajeel and his friends all pull up around 8:25pm and head into the club.  Elfman opens the door and directs them to the VIP section, “Just follow the singing, I can hear Lucy right now.”

“Who’s Lucy again?”  Questions Gray

“She’s one of my girl’s best friends.”

“Are they nice, Juvia hopes she will get along with them?”  

“Oh yeah, their cool, you already know Levy so just talk to her if not.  I’m pretty sure the other two will be dancing most of the time anyways.”

“Are they hot?!” drools Loke, their playboy friend.

“Gehe, you’ll like Cana, she’s just like you, loves to party and isn’t looking for a serious relationship.”

“Sounds like my kind of woman!”

As the other four in the group just chat along the way, Natsu’s pace slows.  Silently wrapped up in his own thoughts, soaking up the words and her voice wafting through the air; ‘So this is Lucy we’re hearing....My God her voice is just so beautiful….’

“… Two by two their bodies become one…….  I see you through the smoky air.  Can’t you feel the weight of my stare…  You’re so close but still a world away…..  What I’m dying to say, is that I’m crazy for you.  Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true.  I never wanted anyone like this….”

Gray turns to say something to Natsu when he realizes his friend is trailing behind, “Oi Natsu, you coming?”  Looking more carefully he sees the dazed expression in his best friend’s face. “Dude, what’s the matter with you?”

“Her voice is just….  There are no words to describe it…”

“Huh?  Oh, you mean that Lucy chick whose singing, you don’t even know what she looks like; she could be ugly...”

Natsu cuts him off.  “With a voice like that….”  He looks at his friend, “You don’t gotta wait up for me I’ll catch up.” “Slowly now we begin to move.  Every breath I’m deeper into you… Soon we two are standing still in time.  If you read my mind….”

“Whatever man.  We’re heading to the bar first to grab our drinks.  I’ll see you at the table.”

“Yeah sure,” Natsu mutters as he continues towards the voice, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.   “It’s all brand new, I’m crazy for you.  And you know it’s true…”  

Making his way through the small crowd she finally comes into view.  His heart stops and feet plant locked to the floor.   He can’t believe what his eyes are trying to tell him… This girl, with the entrancing voice is drop dead gorgeous too!  A striking blonde with a flirty little red dress; his favorite color by the way, holding the microphone to her luscious looking pink lips… and those long…silky smooth legs…  “Wow…” he softly breathes out leaving his lips parted.  Her big bright brown eyes sparkling when the lights hit them; he listens spellbound as she drags out the last line.     

“…I’m crazy, crazy for you…”

[tazzykiki]

Just Some Trollhunter ideas to fuel your brains.(Spoilers for season 1&2)

Au’s and Prompts:

-Evil!Jim au: Gunmar succeeds in corrupting Jim.

-Evil!Jim au2: Gunmar succeeds in corrupting Jim, but since Jim is human the effects are much different and Jim goes haywire and on a rampage(destroying everything, corrupting others to join him and killing Gunmar, ruling the dark lands and when let out while his friends still think he’s okay going on more rampages)

-Alternate Universe Evil!Jim(I love dark stuff okay!?) : Where a portal of sorts is somehow created and Evil/Corrupted Jim who has conquered his world comes through creating havoc.

-Alternate Universe Evil Counterparts: Evil!Jim, Evil!Claire, Evil!Toby and etc. They come through a portal of sorts and create havoc.

-Secret Trio Crossover: The Secret Trio is a fandom made group, the main members being Danny Phantom, Jake Long and Randy Cunningham(It’s like a smaller scale ROTBTD[Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons]). Doesn’t even have to be all members, can be one or even two. Just imagine the interactions between the characters tho.

-HTTYD crossover: Come on! All those easter eggs? They can travel back in time and meet some dragons and their riders. Imagine Gobber realizing trolls are real and then instantly demanding for his missing socks. omg.

-Ben 10 crossover: Have fun with this idea(I am referring to og Ben10-Ultimate Alien)

-Twin Au: In which Jim[or someone else if you like] has a missing twin brother/sister who comes to Arcadia for whatever purpose you decide. They may even have special powers. Or Au where Jim has a twin or sibling. Imagine Jim’s twin being kidnapped so many times because he gets mistaken for the Trollhunter.

-Troll!Jim: quite a common idea but not present enough, could go in many directions. From being born a troll, from turning into a troll via magic, potions, puberty, whichever. 

-Split in two: where Jim somehow gets split in two(No not literally! I ain’t THAT dark!) kinda like when he cloned himself. But it’s good Jim and bad Jim. Good Jim has the daylight armor and bad Jim the eclipse one. Could go in any direction. (I thought of this when thinking of the Kung Fu Panda episode,”Good Po, Bad Po”)

-College: In which we fast forward to the future(best placed before the s2 finale) where the kids of Arcadia(quiznak I almost called it Arcadia Bay) Oaks are in college now. I imagine the Reckless Club being a super bonded group(up to you if they all know of Jim and the other’s secrets or just the Creepslayerz) who hang out and have all types of misadventures. This is where Steli has its time to fully shine! Same for Jlaire.

-Into the Multiverse!: In which our heroes are separated and placed in different worlds(whether it be alternate versions of their own or other shows) and must find their way back.

-Potato Rain: It has mysteriously begun to rain potatoes. Why?

-Roleswap: Common, usually the idea of the amulet choosing another human or the kids being trolls and the trolls being kids or our heroes being villains and the villains being heroes...yeah you get it.

-Sick Au: In which Jim is constantly sick and finds the amulet that changes his life.

-Monster/Hybrid Au: In which our heroes are different types of monsters or animal hybrids or whichever. Kinda like the Gravity Falls Monster Au(this is where you see that I am really quite assorted when it comes to fandoms)

-Pure Insanity: In which Jim, or any others, somehow lose their quiznaking minds. Amusing things can happen or very very dark things can happen. Depends on how you do it.

-Teensy Weeny Little Fleshy Kiddies: In which the amulet chooses Jim, but he is much younger. Or where they get turned into kids. Could be all the teens being kids or just Jim and Toby is his babysitter, whichever way your mind leads you!

-Halfway Bratz Pixiez crossover: The Bratz don’t have to be present, but I keep thinking of how the pixiez hypnotize people with music(Look up Bratz Just Let Go Now) and the many things that could happen should any of our heroes become enchanted by their sweet tunes(forget I said sweet tunes). Imagine Claire and Toby following a-recently-odd-acting Jim into the woods to find out he’s been partying with pixiez(or faeries) who came right out of Hot Topic.

-APOCALYPSE: In which Arcadia and the rest of the world is a horrible wasteland with all types of adventures and perils.

-Band au: In which our heroes are in a band. They can compete against other bands(i.e. Trollhunters vs. Creepslayerz), be one giant band(Reckless Club) or whichever way your imagination leads! They can be famous or just school level, they can still have powers and fantasy or have regular lives with the trolls being humans or be a band that entertains both humans and creatures of myth.

I’m not sure if anyone will use these, but if you do and it’s inspired by this it would be nice to be credited or at least send me what you create! -insert innocent smiley face here- Will be updated with new ideas if any present themselves

[anitabyars]

Oh, Fudge, an all-new irresistible small-town romance from New York Times bestselling author Erin Nicholas is available now!

Paige Asher likes her men the way she likes her coffee: hot, slightly sweet, and only to-go.

The hot friend-of-a-friend she had a scorching single night with was just about perfect--tall, rugged, with a sexy drawl...and on the road out of town by six a.m. the next morning. Long before her mom could start picking out wedding flowers.

But now she can't stop thinking about the Louisiana boy. His texts make her smile and she suddenly has a craving for gumbo all the time...hot and spicy and far from home.

Mitch Landry had no idea Iowa would be so hospitable to a visitor. He knew the Midwest had a reputation for friendliness but his welcome gift--a sassy, sweet blond who is as no-strings-attached as he is--was a dream come true six months ago.

But why is he still texting her? And why did he jump at the chance to come back to Iowa? And why is he so annoyed by her obvious phobia to commitment this time around? And why is he pretty sure leaving Paige this time is going to be one of the hardest things he's ever done?

Damn, is this what falling in love feels like?

Oh, fu...fudge.

* a cross-over between the Hot Cakes series and Boys of the Bayou series

* a prequel to Boys of the Bayou book 6

Download your copy today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2H6im1J

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3dy3zbX

Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/ohfudge

Nook: https://bit.ly/351EEdc

Kobo: https://bit.ly/31ecs5P

Add OH, FUDGE to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3meK9fD

Excerpt

“You’ll do anything I want?” he asked, his voice rough and his eyes hot.

“Definitely.”

“How hot is the fudge?”

Her eyes widened. “Hot. Too hot for smearing on body parts,” she said, reading his mind.

One side of his mouth curled. “Damn.”

“But,” she said, “I have some fudge we could heat up a little.”

“You have some already made?” he asked. “Why was I waiting for you to stir that up?”

“The fudge I’ve already got is for you.” She felt her cheeks get a little pink. She was shy about this? She was naked at the moment, and he’d done a lot of intimate things to her already, but admitting she’d made him fudge made her blush?

“You made me fudge?”

Dammit. He looked pleased by that. He was so going to get the wrong idea. Especially when she told him the whole story. She sighed. “Yeah. I made it around Christmas. I was going to mail it to you but then… I changed my mind.”

“You were going to send me fudge for Christmas?” he asked, his grin growing. He lifted a hand to her cheek.

“Yes. But then I realized that you’d think it meant I liked you and was thinking about you,” she said with an eye roll.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping and that drawl becoming more pronounced. “I know you like me and have been thinking of me.”

He was cocky. A little. Not overly. Not obnoxiously. But enough to be… hot. She did like confident men. “Well, you can not think that the fact that it’s chipotle fudge means anything,” she said.

His grin definitely grew with that. “You made me spicy fudge?”

“Spicy and sweet go together really well.”

He nodded, his grin turning into an almost smirk. “They sure do.”

“But it was just something I wanted to try, and since you eat all that crazy spicy food I thought you were someone I could send it to.”

“But then you realized that I’d think it meant you liked me.”

She blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

“Do you normally make chipotle fudge?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

“You’re thinking it, aren’t you?”

“That you like me? Yeah, I’m thinking it.”

About Erin Nicholas

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Erin Nicholas has been writing romances almost as long as she’s been reading them. To date, she’s written over thirty sexy, contemporary novels that have been described as “toe-curling,” “enchanting,” “steamy,” and “fun.” She adores reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines, and happily ever afters.

Erin lives in the Midwest, where she enjoys spending time with her husband (who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books), her kids (who will never read the sex scenes in her books), and her family and friends (who claim to be “shocked” by the sex scenes in her books).

Connect with Erin

Website: http://bit.ly/2NkB2uF

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My Review

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Spicy & Sweet With A Lot Of Heat!

This was so entertaining and sexy! I just couldn’t get enough of the sizzling chemistry between Paige Asher and Mitch Landry and boy oh boy...do they bring the sizzle. After meeting six months ago through a friend, and spending a no strings night together, these two seemed to be on the same page. Now after texting for the last six months, Mitch shows up in Appleby Iowa for more of the same, but now he just can’t get enough of Paige. Could this be Love?

This is a crossover story that will lead the reader back to the Bayou bringing both of these series together. Will Paige’s Family and friends finally leave her alone for her to make up her own mind and decide what she really wants? Will the heat in the Bayou kick up their sizzle and help these two find their HEA? Eagerly waiting for the next book in the Bayou series!

Received a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.