#Fortune Procurators

[cursedyuri]

WILL YOU SHUFFLE ME, SPREAD ME APART?

summary: in the slums of zaun, you’ve carved out a life for yourself which not many would envy. you spend your nights in the arms of strangers, trading coin for hasty touches and labored breaths. and since such a line of work isn’t always enough to keep yourself fed and clothed, you have a second service to offer: fortune telling. 

or... two times vi comes knocking, and a third time you let her in.

18+ only! smut below. cw for fingering (r! receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of sex work, brief mentions of blood. 7k words.

The heels of your boots click against damp cobblestone, wet thumps echoing through the dingy alleyway leading to Babette’s brothel. It’s a particularly humid night, even despite the chill in the air - the humidity makes it worse, you think. It feels like the cold is seeping into the very marrow of your bones. 

You pull your cloth coat tighter over your torso, thankful when you rap on the brothel’s wooden door and are allowed in almost instantly. One step through the threshold, and the biting cold melts like early-spring snow. The air is thick here, too, but warm and smoky. Tobacco stings sweet in your nose, a cocktail of too-strong perfumes mixing with ribbons of incense that linger suspended midair. It’s an intoxicating kind of smell, one that makes weak women and weaker men feel more inclined to spend their hard-earned coin on a night with a stranger. 

Part of you is hoping none will choose you tonight. It’s not that you’re opposed to it - gods know you’d be in the wrong line of work if you were. Rather, you’ve got plans to eat the meager dinner you’ve purchased for yourself, sip some red wine, and rifle through your cards for answers about what’s been going on topside lately. You’ve heard murmurs of an attack, rebellion… You’re not exactly sure what to believe, so as you often do, you look to the cards for clarity. 

The deck sits idly by a thicket of half-burnt herbs on your desk, stacked precariously where you’d last used them. You shed your coat and hang it on a brass hook by the desk, then slide into the seat in front of it. Still thawing, you sink into the velvet cushion and reach into your knapsack for the paper-wrapped sandwich inside, also procuring an unmarked bottle of wine from beside it. You’re wiping an iron goblet clean with the fabric of your tiered skirt when a familiar voice calls your name from the doorway. It’s one of the other workers here, Nina. She’s been here just about as long as you.

“You might hate me,” she says, a preface that makes your lips turn downward in a frown. 

You grunt, uncorking your wine and pouring a hearty serving into your goblet. By the sounds of it, you’ll need the liquid courage. “I just sat down, you know.”

Nina’s delicate brows pull together; maybe she’s feeling apologetic, or maybe she’s just laying it on thick so you’ll take a job before you’ve even had dinner. 

“I thought so, but… I think you’ll like her, peach.” She pauses for a beat. “And if you take her, I may have some chocolate I’d consider parting with.”

“Bribery,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips as you roll your eyes at Nina’s offer. “But fine. Send her in.”

“Will do, peach,” Nina practically squeals, disappearing from your doorway just as quickly as she’d come. 

Cursing under your breath, you take a swig of wine and turn to the tarnished mirror behind your desk, examining yourself. By some stroke of luck, you’d had the sense to put on a layer of makeup before you’d gone out earlier. Blemishes are covered, your eyes are rimmed with kohl, and a smear of rouge emphasizes the pouty shape of your lips. That’s all you ever need, paired with the eye-catching swell of your breasts against the low-cut linen of your blouse. This will be easy enough.

You’ve drained half the wine in your cup by the time your client knocks at the open door. You turn your head to greet her and, before you can get a word out, the door slams closed with a heavy thud. At first, you gawk at the client because of her notable entrance - but then, you gawk because Nina was right. You like her.

This girl looks like the undercity chewed her up, spit her out, then chewed her up again. She’s all sharp edges and leather and lipstick, black makeup smeared from her eyes to her cheeks. Her hair’s black, too, though you can see patches of red exposed from an uneven dye job and a few heavy-handed washes. She’s certainly achieved the menacing look she’s sought out, and though it’s a mighty contrast to her pale complexion and piercing blue eyes, it somehow works for her - she’s the kind of girl you wouldn’t mind getting dirty for. 

“Good evening,” you say, because it’s all you can seem to think of to break the silence. “Would you like a drink?”

The client surveys you up and down with those icy blue eyes, working her jaw. She nods. “What do you have?”

“Wine, whiskey, gin,” you tell her, gesturing to the makeshift bar cart beside a loveseat at the entrance of your suite. Different colored liquors fill antique, mismatched bottles at different levels. The client glances over at them, steps up to the cart and surveys that, too. Then she turns to you, gestures to your goblet.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” 

You nod. “Wine it is, then. Have a seat, I’ll bring it to you.” 

She obliges, lowering herself onto the plum fabric of the loveseat. Her legs are spread just so - enough to make it obvious that this woman is used to taking up space, and unafraid of what that kind of confidence might imply. Your eyes linger on her parted knees, but not long enough to get caught. After you fill up a goblet for her and refill your own, you glide across the room to hand her the drink. She accepts it with a nod of thanks, her fingertips brushing against yours in the process. You take a seat beside her.

“What’s your name?” You regard her behind fluttering lashes, sipping from your freshly filled goblet. The wine is sweet on your tongue, bitter around the edges. You can already feel it loosening your muscles, relaxing your inhibitions. Piquing your curiosity, even. 

The client takes a swig from her own drink and says, “Vi.” 

Vi. Her name is tattooed on her cheekbone, you muse, gaze sweeping over her face once again. There’s a silver hoop pierced through her nose, a scar etched into her upper lip. A healing bruise on her left jaw catches your eye, blooming faint shades of purple, yellow, and green. You’re afflicted with an urge to reach out and touch it - to touch her. But when she catches your gaze with those steely eyes of hers, you’re frozen. Like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar, your cheeks flush hot. Vi seems amused by your appraisal, cracks a smile that looks somehow natural on her war-torn face. 

She cuts through the tension like a spearhead, one hand reaching forward to readjust the sleeve of your blouse, which had fallen down your shoulder. Her fingertips are cold and calloused, but the touch fills you with uncharacteristic warmth. “What’s your name?” 

You tell her and she repeats it, that sultry voice curling around every syllable of your name as if she were tasting it. 

However intoxicating Vi’s voice might be, it dawns on you again what she’s doing here. She’d paid for your time, paid to sip your wine and touch you with those split-knuckled hands of hers. You have the sense to wonder why - a woman like Vi should have no trouble warming her bed for free, yet here she is.

“Well, Vi,” you say, pausing briefly for another sip of wine, “how do you want me?”

If your straightforwardness bothers her, she doesn’t show it. She brushes dark locks of her out of her eye-line, seemingly considering your answer. Then: “I heard you tell fortunes.”

You quirk a brow at her. “I—yes. Is that what you want?”

Something flashes in her eyes. “Among other things.”

“It’s extra for that,” you clarify. “The fortune-telling, I mean.”

“I have enough.”

And that settles it. You uncross your legs, stand up and move to retrieve your deck of cards from the desk. There’s a table in front of the loveseat where Vi still sits, and that’s where you lay out an ornate silk cloth to spread the cards upon. You gather the thicket of herbs from your desk, too, along with a match. Vi watches you set fire to the sprigs, a stream of smoke billowing upwards and filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent. 

“What questions do you have?” You ask, settling down upon a floor pillow on the opposite side of the table from Vi. After you set down your goblet of wine, you pick up the deck and begin to shuffle; the fluttering sounds of cards fills the silence before Vi can answer.

“Do I need to ask questions?”

“No, I guess not,” you respond, shoulders shrugging. “I can just see what the cards say about you.”

Vi nods her assent, tossing her head back to finish what’s left of her wine. One by one, cards fly out from the deck as you shuffle, some upright, some inverted. When you’ve circulated through the deck once or twice with no other cards presenting themselves, you stop. 

“Five of cups,” you read aloud. The card’s illustration depicts a figure in a black cloak, turned away, three emptied cups at her feet. Behind her are two upright cups, unnoticed. “Loss. Mourning.”

Vi inhales sharply through her nose, and when you look up at her, she’s white-knuckled with her hand around the stem of her now-empty goblet. You lift your brows in a wordless question - should you continue? 

She nods.

“Something didn’t work out as you’d planned it, and you’re too stubborn to let go. Instead, you lament the loss and let it hold you hostage.” 

There’s a sound like Vi humming, a quiet acknowledgement of your words as you move to the next card. 

“Four of wands, reversed - this tells me you’ve been separated from loved ones. This is what didn’t work out as planned, maybe?” 

When you look at Vi this time, she’s leaning forward in her seat, forearms braced against her strong thighs. 

“Maybe,” she echoes. “What else is there?”

You show her the next card, another inverted one. The illustration depicts a man in ornate clothing, a flower plucked between his fingers as he prances confidently towards the edge of a cliff. “The fool, reversed.” 

“That’s me?” Vi asks. “The fool?” 

“Hm, not always. But with the other cards… You are the fool, Vi, I’m sorry to say it.” You hope she catches the tinge of playfulness in your tone, serious as the reading feels. Heavy as the tension feels.

“Well,” she starts, “the cards don’t lie, I guess.”

You hum in agreement. “The fool, reversed this way, tells me that you’re reckless. Lacking caution, you’ve opened yourself up to betrayal.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” Vi laughs without humor, tries to drink the last crimson drops of the wine in her goblet. “Can I get some more?”

You move to get up and fetch her the bottle, but she waves a hand to dismiss you. She’s up and across the room in a flash, refilling her cup and taking a swig before she’s even made it back to the loveseat. 

“But…” You hold up her final card - judgement. The art depicts an angel blaring into a trumpet from the heavens, the humans below rejoicing. Her eyes assessing the card, Vi looks to you for an explanation.

“Judgement tells us that renewal and transformation is possible,” you finish

“Renewal, transformation... Right. What’s the catch?”

Smart woman, you think. There’s always a catch. 

“You have to be willing to let go of what’s held you stagnant. Accept what’s behind you and focus on what’s ahead, because wallowing in misfortune does you no good.”

That seems to resonate, because Vi’s expression turns shadowy, thoughtful. She drinks again, her lips nearly purple from the wine. You take a moment to drink from your own cup, ready to ask Vi if she wants you to undress yourself, or if she’s the kind of client who wants to do it for you. 

Instead, you’re stunned into silence when she polishes off her drink, slams the cup down onto the table, and stands. Her jaw is locked again, tense. 

“Vi?” Your brows lift in question. 

“Thank you,” she says. She moves towards the door, then stops when she seems to remember something. One bandaged hand digs into her jacket pocket, emerging with a handful of coin. She places it on the nearest surface, a small table with a lamp glowing atop it, and only glances back towards you before she vanishes out the door. 

There’s a draft in the room, suddenly. You curl into bed, pull the covers over your goosebump-afflicted skin, and think.

The days following Vi’s visit dawn bleak and cold as ever. Nina asks about your client the following morning, and you let her bask in the satisfaction that you had liked her, but you politely break the news that she’d been nothing particularly special - a white lie to keep the questions at bay. You’re not one to run your mouth; besides, rumors spread through Babette’s brothel like wildfire. 

Some of the latest rumors? There’s a man with magical abilities lurking in the shadows of Zaun, with a touch that heals the sick. There’s a blue-haired revolutionary forming a significant following in the undercity, those of whom claim she’ll free them from Piltover’s brutality. You’re not sure what to believe, but there must be some truth to the rumors, because your cards sense something afoot: the tower, ten of swords, ace of cups. 

Still, business continues as usual. Degenerates and saints alike seek your company, and you need the money to survive, so your bed is always warm. 

Because you’ve had dozens of clients over the years who visit and never return, you don’t expect to see Vi again. Still, your mind keeps returning to her - you wonder why she’d stormed out so suddenly, why she’d paid you for sex without laying a finger on you. The curiosity lingers in the back of your mind, but you counter it with reality: she’d probably chickened out. Heard something too striking in her reading and couldn’t follow through, but decided to pay for your time anyway. At most, it was a kind gesture. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about her? 

Weeks pass, and your routine continues. Tonight’s another late night, and you’re relaxing after several clients in a row. You’d bathed in water treated with salts and oils, the scents still clinging to your skin as you rub salve into your aching muscles. The last few clients had been rough - twisting your limbs, working you into positions that tested your flexibility and endurance as they used their tongues, fingers, and other appendages to chase their pleasure through your body. None of them had made you come, though, so in the momentary solitude of the bath, you’d slipped your hand between your legs until your release pulsated through your tired frame. Now, you’re feeling pleasantly warm and at ease, perfumed and ready if there may be a late-night visitor. You’d be grateful for the extra money, if you’re being honest.

When there’s a steady knock at the door, you saunter over to answer it in nothing but your lingerie, lacy black and surprisingly comfortable. Who knows? They might pay extra for such ease of access - and a nice presentation. 

The flirty smile on your lips disappears when you realize who’s on the other side of the door. 

“Gods—Vi?” You try not to express your shock, schooling your features to the best of your ability. Vi, however, turns a pretty shade of pink when she takes in the sight of you: tits pushed together and decorated in delicate lace, the soft hair over your sex barely obscured with thin fabric. Your thighs are plush and glowy with moisture, hips hugged beautifully by the high-waisted panties that match your elaborate bra. 

Vi’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m… Sorry to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interrupting,” you assure her, opening the door all the way to allow her entry. You try to ignore the way her gaze first moves to the empty bed, something like relief washing over her features before she turns back to you. The door shuts with a soft click. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I thought you were a client.”

After wrapping yourself in the first robe you find by your bedside, you move to the bar cart to pour Vi a drink. She scoffs, an almost-laugh that’s low and soft. “Well, I am a client.”

As the wine sloshes into her goblet, you fix her with an admonishing look. “A client looking for sex, Vi.” 

That shuts her up. Her cheeks are still pink, you notice, as you take in her appearance: most of the dye has faded out of her hair, leaving it a patchy canvas of black, maroon, and fuschia. She’s still sporting a cut and a bruise here and there, but more wounds are covered with bandages than last time. Notably, she’s not drenched in black paint, though there is a ring of liner around her eyes. 

“Thanks,” Vi says when you hand her a cup of wine. She shoots back a mouthful and moves to the loveseat, lowering herself into the same spot as last time.

“So?” You arch a brow at her. “Here for another reading, I take it?”

She nods. “Yeah, sweetheart. If that’s okay.”

“I thought I scared you away last time,” you reply with a smirk. There’s a hint of truth to the statement, though, teasing as you might be - you hadn’t expected to see her back so soon, if at all. 

“Oh, you did,” she admits. “But things have changed, and now… I’m curious what you have to say. I could use some advice.”

“Your wish is my command.” 

Just as it was last time, Vi’s attention is honed in on you. You shuffle the cards with expert precision, and she watches the way your hands dance over the deck, fingers grazing the careful illustrations of each card with easy familiarity. This time, five cards leap from the deck: seven of cups, the chariot, eight of wands, four of wands, eight of pentacles. It’s a story unfolding beneath your fingertips, all the more interesting when you think back to Vi’s last reading.

“You’ve made progress,” you tell her. “But the hard work isn’t over. You’re prone to wishful thinking, which is a good thing, sometimes, because your determination is a powerful force.” 

Glancing up at Vi, you offer her an encouraging smile. “When you fight, I get the sense that you almost always win.”

Vi snorts, wiping a burgundy smear of wine from her mouth with the back of her hand. “That’s what the cards say?”

“Not exactly, but, well… I’ve gathered some things for myself.” You hold up the chariot card. “This one tells me you need an ironclad will to move forward. One I don’t doubt you have.”

Is it just your imagination, or does Vi turn pink again?

“And these,” you say, holding up the two cards from the wand suit, “show me fire. Creation, destruction, volatility. You’re dealing with something that can be useful or detrimental, depending on how you proceed.”

Vi’s eyes are alight, not unlike the fire you’ve just discussed. What you wouldn’t give to know how her life aligns with these cards - what fire is she playing with? What challenges is she facing?

“And the last one?” Vi’s voice cuts through your internal musings as she gestures to the final card on the table. You pick it up and show it to her - the eight of pentacles, depicting a man hard at work, hammer in hand.

“It’s very much in line with the others,” you explain. “Diligence, focus, hard work.”

She hums, nodding. “Got it. So, any chance there's a card that’ll tell me what I should do?”

Her tone drips with sarcasm, but you can tell there’s a glimmer of sincerity in the question - and in those pale blue eyes, swirling with emotion. 

You press your lips into a firm line, setting the eight of pentacles card down. “I wish I could tell you exactly what you want to hear, Vi,” you say honestly. “But that’s not how the cards work.”

“Yeah,” Vi responds, voice bitter around the edges; somber. “I figured as much. Thank you, uh, for the reading.”

In the silence that follows, you imagine a braver version of yourself: one that isn’t too hesitant to ask questions. One that would feel comfortable offering a listening ear to this riot of a woman, whose scars and bruises tell you just as much as the cards you’ve splayed out for her. You wonder where she goes after she leaves here, if that home holds a family, friends, a lover. But all you can do is wonder. You don’t go sniffing for information - like the brothel dweller you are, information finds you. And if it doesn’t, perhaps it’s better to wonder.

Vi rises from the loveseat, readjusting one of the tattered blankets strewn across its surface. She finishes the remainder of her wine and, gently, sets it on the table. 

She says, “I’ve gotta go.”

Her hand dips into her jacket pocket and emerges with far too much coin, which she sets out on the table for you.

“That’s too much,” you counter with a furrowed brow. “We didn’t—you only had your cards read.”

You reach forward to collect the extra cash, ready to push it back into Vi’s palm, but she backs away with her hands in her pockets. 

“Nah, sweetheart,” she replies, ambling towards the door and prying it open. “Keep the change.”

The next time you see Vi, her knuckles are bleeding. 

It’s been weeks, maybe even months, and you’re surprised to find her at your door again, much less in her current state: battered and bruised, her knuckles raw and red. Her shoulders sag, that proud, confident air about her entirely deflated. She’s a shell of the woman you’d first met months ago; all that brazen confidence she’d once had has burnt down to dying embers. 

When she looks at you, her eyes are forlorn, watery. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Vi…” You open the door further, ushering her in with a gentle hand at the small of her back. 

Inside, you pour her a drink - water, this time - and instruct her to lie down on the bed, draping a thin blanket over her frame. 

“You’re hurt,” you say pointedly, gesturing to her bleeding knuckles. “Can I help?”

Vi’s expression doesn’t change; her eyes are distant, her skin so pale it’s almost grey. But she nods her assent, so you get to work - you swipe a wet cloth over her knuckles to clear away the blood, then cautiously apply a salve to her wounds. Through it all, Vi hardly even winces, a fact that doesn’t exactly surprise you. Even now, with her brazen confidence stripped away to the bone, she’s tougher than most. It’s an attribute that runs through her to the core. 

“Don’t you want to ask what happened?” Vi asks, suddenly. Her voice is raw, and to avoid looking her in the eye, you focus on wrapping her knuckles with layers of soft gauze. “Wanna know how I fucked up this time?”

You frown. “I’m not one to pry.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause before Vi speaks again. “That’s what’s different about you,” she says. “Everyone else just… Wants something from me.”

Brows knitting together, you fix Vi with a look that you hope reads less as pitying and more as understanding. You’re certainly familiar with catering to other’s desires over your own; it’s been this way for longer than you can remember. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, genuinely. Finished dressing her wounds, you let go of her hands, still kneeling at the side of the bed. You stand up with the intention of refilling Vi’s water, but as you reach for the cup, she catches your wrist in one bandaged hand. 

“All those times I saw you,” she starts, “when I had you read my cards… You never asked about my life.”

You nod, wrist burning from her touch. 

“Why? You never wondered?”

“It’s not my job to wonder.” You swallow. “Just to give people what they want.”

Vi’s gaze is intense, holding you in a trance. You’re frozen there, standing at the side of the bed, entirely in her grasp. “But do you ever get what you want?”

Do you?

You’d been working for Babette for years, longer than most - and before that, even as a child, you’d always understood that bending to the will of others is the easiest way to move through life. You can slip through the cracks that way, get enough coin or food or clothing to live another day. You wanted that, you suppose. To live. 

But you’re not sure that’s what Vi’s talking about.

“I have enough,” you say. “There’s not much I want.”

Vi nods. “But there’s something.” 

You smooth your free hand over hers, and she lets go of your wrist. “I’ll get you some water.”

As you refill her cup, you feel her eyes on you, and your mind races. Why does she care about what you want? You’re a stranger to her, a fortune teller living on scraps in an undercity brothel. First, she’d paid you for sex she’d never had, and now she’s in your bed, asking you questions you barely had the wherewithal to ask yourself. Gods, this woman is something else. You wish you could read her mind - crack open that beautiful skull of hers, sift through her thoughts, learn what had led her to you not once, not twice, but three times. You wish you could know everything about her, read her like your favorite book with its pages dog-eared, its cover well-worn.

Maybe that’s what you want, after all.

Returning to the bedside, you hand Vi her cup and stand by as she takes a long drink, then sets it on the nightstand. Her hair has grown a few inches since the first time you’d met her, you muse, and you like it this way - long locks of pink-crimson fall in jagged layers just past her shoulders, her bangs framing her face nicely. You wonder what it would feel like to reach out and run your fingers through that hair, to brush it free of knots, to hold the back of her head in your palm. 

“It’s late,” Vi says, interrupting your train of thought. “I should go - you should get some rest.”

She peels back the blanket you’d settled over her, sitting up. You hesitate, then reach forward to touch her forearm. “You can stay, I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” Vi says, “or… Keep away any business.”

Something in your chest tightens. “You won’t.”

“I shouldn’t—”

“I want you to stay,” you interrupt. “You need rest, too.”

Vi’s mouth hangs open for a moment, stormy blue eyes assessing you. Then, she settles back into bed, pulling the blanket up over her chest again. There’s a long pause, only the muffled sounds of laughter and salacious moans from other rooms filling the silence. You’re debating setting yourself up on the loveseat when Vi murmurs a quiet hey to capture your attention, then pats the space beside her in bed.

There are candles still burning on desks and tables and dressers throughout the room, lamps shining in shades of yellow and orange. You’ll lie down for only a moment, you tell yourself, long enough for Vi to doze off. Then you’d turn off the lights, blow out the candles, maybe sneak off to find a client looking for a fortune teller. You sense that Vi needs someone beside her for now, though, so you climb into bed, wrapping your frame in a velvety purple blanket. 

Once you’ve settled in next to her, Vi turns on her side to face you. Her lips, rosebud pink, are chapped, and you watch her moisten them with a swipe of her tongue.

“Thank you,” she says, voice hushed. “For letting me stay here.”

I didn’t know where else to go.

You turn over to face her, too, the corners of your lips pulling upwards. “Of course. I’m glad you’re okay, Vi.”

There’s a softness in Vi’s expression, now - one that you hadn’t seen before. The tough facade has melted away, as has the hurt, the pain. All that’s left is her rounded, wide eyes, her relaxed jaw, the curve of her lips. You catch yourself staring too long, and when you look up again, Vi’s already watching you.

She raises a bandaged hand to your face, where it hovers an inch away. Her expression asks for permission, and when you lean into her touch, Vi’s hand cups your cheek with a gentleness you’d never think her capable of. Not with those scars, not with the cuts and bruises that have become a permanent fixture on her skin. Her thumb skates over your cheekbone, and the touch feels electric.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

Your breath hitches; you hope she doesn’t notice.

“I’m sure you hear that a lot,” Vi adds. And it’s true, you do. 

You hesitate. Then: “Not from anyone who matters.” 

Vi smiles - it’s a soft kind of smile, one that you wish you could take a photo of, frame it and hang it on the wall to return to when you need a reminder of the warmth in this moment. Her hand leaves your cheek and travels down to your arm, then finding your hand beneath the blankets. Your eyes feel heavy, suddenly - so must hers, because she doesn’t speak again. You fall asleep next to her, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing, her hand warm and heavy in yours.

When you wake up again, the room is a dark, inky blue. 

You sit upright, back straight, memories of the night before slowly filtering into your mind. Half-expecting an empty space where Vi had once been, you glance to the side, finding her sleeping figure curled under the blankets. Chest tightening, you look down at her in the black dark, eyes straining. 

Her eyes open, lashes fluttering, and you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” she murmurs back to you. One of her arms snakes around your waist, encouraging you to lie back, and you oblige. You’re closer than you were when you fell asleep, Vi’s steady breaths tickling at your shoulder. 

You’re suddenly very aware of her skin on yours; your shirt has ridden up your stomach in your sleep, and Vi’s arm, wrapped around you, burns against you. Your stomach is warm with something delicious, something dangerous.

It doesn’t help when Vi pulls you closer, palm opening against the flesh of your hip. You’re frozen for a moment, wondering if she’s still sleeping, somehow. 

“Vi?”

“Hm?” You feel her draw back, as if waiting for you to turn over, so you do. Eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you peer up at her. 

“I think I know what I want.” 

Vi’s quiet, her gaze steady on you. You’re about to take it back, whisper never mind and turn to sleep again, when she brings her hand back up to your cheek, cupping it in her hand the same way she had the night before. 

“Tell me,” she whispers in the dark.

“I…” You hesitate. “I want you to touch me.”

There’s a long pause, Vi’s eyes flickering over your face, analyzing your expression. Your body is tense with anticipation, and when she finally, finally leans in to press her lips to yours, the tension seeps out of every muscle.

Like everything about her, Vi’s kiss is different - her touch is different. She holds your face as her lips move against yours, soft and wet and sweet, thumb stroking the soft skin of your cheek as her tongue traces the part of your lips. You open your mouth for her, let her lick into you to deepen the kiss. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve been kissed like this. You’ve grown accustomed to hasty, messy kisses, foul breath and rough touches, far too many clients eager to skip past the kissing and get to the fucking. But Vi tastes like heaven as she takes her time with you, tongue soft as it pushes against yours. Every kiss leaves you aching for more, the warmth in your lower belly growing hotter with each smack of your lips against Vi’s. You pull back, catching your breath, and Vi peers at you with bleary eyes. 

“You okay?” She asks, thumb still stroking at your cheek. You nod and pull her in for another kiss, drawing a soft moan from the bottom of her throat - one that goes straight to your cunt. 

You’re not sure how long you continue like that, trapped in a heated kiss, bodies moving closer with every languid sigh and pleading moan. But eventually, the layers of clothing between you is a burden you can no longer bear. You pull back to work your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor before Vi tugs you close for another searing kiss. Your hands slip beneath the thin fabric of her tank, and she shivers, a full-body chill that makes you flush impossibly hotter. Once her shirt is discarded, too, Vi gently pushes you to lie flat on your back, climbing over you in nothing but a thin pair of shorts. You realize through the haze of lust clouding your mind that she must’ve woken up before you - she’d turned the lights off, taken off the stiff pair of pants she’d arrived in the night before. 

Hovering over you in the dark, Vi’s an absolute dream. Tattoos decorate her pale complexion, inked into her arms, her shoulders, her neck - you’d already noticed that she’s heavily inked, but it’s more striking when she’s half-naked like this. You don’t have much time to look, though, because Vi leans over to tuck her face into your neck, warm lips latching to the sensitive skin and littering kisses in an imprecise path. You keen high in your throat, leaning the opposite way to grant her more access, your hands finding purchase on her narrow hips. When you dig your nails into her skin, hissing as she parts her lips over your neck and sucks, her hips buck forward, grinding her thinly-clothed heat over your pelvis. You nearly see stars.

There’s always been a cold draft in your room, in the brothel, and in Zaun as a whole. But here, now, you’re on fire. You lift your hips and push Vi down against your pelvis again, encouraging her to find that friction again, and she emits a muffled moan against your neck when she does. It’s heavenly, that sound - you want to hear it again and again and again, until it’s forever etched into your memory. 

“Gods, Vi,” you gasp, her teeth scraping against your neck. She works her way further south, leaving kisses and bites in her wake, until she reaches the peaks of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty, fuck,” she murmurs, dazed. Both hands cup your tits and squeeze, her thumbs playing with the buds of your nipples until they’ve hardened from her touch. She then leans over to take one nipple into her mouth, moaning around the flesh as if she’d been dying for this. Her tongue draws wet circles over the sensitive bud, her cheeks hollowing out when she sucks at it until you’re gasping and writhing. You need her further down, where your cunt throbs and gushes in anticipation, but she takes her time with your other tit before she even considers undressing you further. 

Still straddling your waist, Vi sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She flashes you a wicked smile, eyes twinkling, and lifts her hips to reach for the waistband of your shorts.

“This okay, pretty girl?” 

You nod, biting your lip. Pretty girl.

Vi rolls your shorts down your thighs, pulls them off with ease and sets them to the side. Your panties are next - a simple, cotton pair that wasn’t anything flashy - and she tosses those to the edge of the bed, too distracted by the sight of your naked body to care much about where they landed. 

Typically, you weren’t shy about your body. In your line of work, you couldn’t be shy - you had to know your features and work them to your benefit. But with Vi eyeing you like you’re a meal and she’s a woman starved, your stomach flutters with excitement and, somewhere, a glimmer of insecurity. The need to impress her. 

And gods, does she seem impressed. She curses under her breath, her rough hands smoothing over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips and your thighs and your ass, licking her lips like she’s parched. You realize, as she settles her hands on your knees and works them apart for you, that she’d taken off her bandages, too. The thought evaporates as quickly as it had come, though, because now Vi’s settling between your spread legs, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” she tells you between kisses. “You gonna let me eat you out, sweetheart?”

The question sends another cascade of butterflies through your stomach. You take in a deep breath, enjoying the sight of Vi between your legs, looking up at you with pleading eyes. You might die if she doesn’t make you come soon.

A whispered “please” from your lips is all Vi needs - her mouth is on you in a moment, tongue splitting through your folds, warm and firm and wet. She licks at you languidly, takes her time spreading your arousal from your hole up to your clit. You’re drenched, you just know it, and Vi moans as if to confirm your suspicions, lapping up your wetness with every flick of her tongue. Just like she’d taken her time with her mouth on your tits, she takes her time with your cunt, sucking on the swollen bead of your clit until you’re whining her name between sharp breaths. It’s all you can manage to say, your hand tangled in her scarlet locks of hair, tugging at her scalp each time she circles your clit with her tongue. After she’s worked you up enough, you’re suddenly so empty - you need more, and you tell her as much, chest heaving.

“Vi, I need—fuck, I need your fingers,” you cry out.

She answers with a gratified hum, and the vibrations have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Just as you’d asked, though, Vi swipes a finger through your wetness; there’s hardly any resistance when she sinks the digit into your entrance, groaning again at the feeling of your walls around her. 

“So wet for me,” she comments, grinning. “This what you needed?”

You nod, face twisting with pleasure. Vi just chuckles under her breath, working her fingers up to a steady pace. Once she has you moaning again, all high-pitched and needy, she latches her mouth back onto your clit, and you’re gone. You come hard, clamping down on Vi’s fingers and tossing your head back, eyes squeezed shut through every wave of pleasure - it’s only once you’ve come to that you finally open your eyes again, gazing down at Vi starry-eyed.

“Can I be honest, sweetheart?” She sits up on her heels, licking her lips. “That was hot.”

“You think so?” You ask, reaching out for her. She moves closer and kisses you, lets you taste yourself on her lips. 

You pull back only to murmur, under your breath, “I’m not done with you, Vi.”

You’ve had sex with plenty of women in your lifetime, but few have made a real effort to make you come - and none have done it so fast. You’re determined to return the favor. So, with a pointed glance, you instruct Vi to lie back on the pillows, plucking one from behind her to set under her hips.

Vi had called you beautiful, but she’s utterly divine. All sharp edges and lean muscle, she’s a vision, and you’re almost convinced you’re dreaming as your hands smooth over the tattoos inked into her arms. You imagine yourself tracing each of those tattoos with your mouth, sucking bruises into the dark ink - but you’d do that later. Right now, all you want is to bury your face in the patch of red hair between her legs, lose yourself in the taste of her arousal.

Vi’s vocal, you conclude, because as you prod your tongue inside of her, nose bumping against her clit, she won’t shut up. 

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so good,” Vi moans, sitting up enough to allow her to watch as you lap at her pink cunt. An endless chorus of praises and curses leave her lips, punctuated with wanton moans. She’s needy, too - before long, she’s gripping a fistful of your hair and directing you with it, tugging you closer, to the side, to the other side, as she grinds her cunt down against your mouth. You revel in the way she’s using you, pleased when her stomach tenses and your name spills from her lips, warning you of her impending orgasm. She rides it out on your face, and when you finally pull back, you’re wet with her from nose to chin. 

“You’re way too good at that,” Vi tells you when you crawl up beside her, rubbing the wetness off your nose. 

“You’re just as good,” you respond. You move to lie down beside Vi, but when you see her frown, you arch a brow at her.

“Hm?”

“Sweetheart,” she coos, “I’m not done with you.”

She pulls you into her lap, lets you straddle the toned muscle of her pelvis. And after you’ve ground your pussy against her until you’re shaking with another release, she’s still not done. It’s a long night.

At the table in the corner of your bedroom, your deck of tarot cards lies spread face-down. There’s one card upright, though: two of cups.

[reasonsforhope]

Green energy is in its heyday. 

Renewable energy sources now account for 22% of the nation’s electricity, and solar has skyrocketed eight times over in the last decade. This spring in California, wind, water, and solar power energy sources exceeded expectations, accounting for an average of 61.5 percent of the state's electricity demand across 52 days. 

But green energy has a lithium problem. Lithium batteries control more than 90% of the global grid battery storage market. 

That’s not just cell phones, laptops, electric toothbrushes, and tools. Scooters, e-bikes, hybrids, and electric vehicles all rely on rechargeable lithium batteries to get going. 

Fortunately, this past week, Natron Energy launched its first-ever commercial-scale production of sodium-ion batteries in the U.S. 

“Sodium-ion batteries offer a unique alternative to lithium-ion, with higher power, faster recharge, longer lifecycle and a completely safe and stable chemistry,” said Colin Wessells — Natron Founder and Co-CEO — at the kick-off event in Michigan. 

The new sodium-ion batteries charge and discharge at rates 10 times faster than lithium-ion, with an estimated lifespan of 50,000 cycles.

Wessells said that using sodium as a primary mineral alternative eliminates industry-wide issues of worker negligence, geopolitical disruption, and the “questionable environmental impacts” inextricably linked to lithium mining. 

“The electrification of our economy is dependent on the development and production of new, innovative energy storage solutions,” Wessells said. 

Why are sodium batteries a better alternative to lithium?

The birth and death cycle of lithium is shadowed in environmental destruction. The process of extracting lithium pollutes the water, air, and soil, and when it’s eventually discarded, the flammable batteries are prone to bursting into flames and burning out in landfills. 

There’s also a human cost. Lithium-ion materials like cobalt and nickel are not only harder to source and procure, but their supply chains are also overwhelmingly attributed to hazardous working conditions and child labor law violations. 

Sodium, on the other hand, is estimated to be 1,000 times more abundant in the earth’s crust than lithium. 

“Unlike lithium, sodium can be produced from an abundant material: salt,” engineer Casey Crownhart wrote ​​in the MIT Technology Review. “Because the raw ingredients are cheap and widely available, there’s potential for sodium-ion batteries to be significantly less expensive than their lithium-ion counterparts if more companies start making more of them.”

What will these batteries be used for?

Right now, Natron has its focus set on AI models and data storage centers, which consume hefty amounts of energy. In 2023, the MIT Technology Review reported that one AI model can emit more than 626,00 pounds of carbon dioxide equivalent. 

“We expect our battery solutions will be used to power the explosive growth in data centers used for Artificial Intelligence,” said Wendell Brooks, co-CEO of Natron. 

“With the start of commercial-scale production here in Michigan, we are well-positioned to capitalize on the growing demand for efficient, safe, and reliable battery energy storage.”

The fast-charging energy alternative also has limitless potential on a consumer level, and Natron is eying telecommunications and EV fast-charging once it begins servicing AI data storage centers in June. 

On a larger scale, sodium-ion batteries could radically change the manufacturing and production sectors — from housing energy to lower electricity costs in warehouses, to charging backup stations and powering electric vehicles, trucks, forklifts, and so on. 

“I founded Natron because we saw climate change as the defining problem of our time,” Wessells said. “We believe batteries have a role to play.”

-via GoodGoodGood, May 3, 2024

--

Note: I wanted to make sure this was legit (scientifically and in general), and I'm happy to report that it really is! x, x, x, x

[written-in-knife]

Dressing for the Cloudcall

Leona Kingscholar x fem!Reader, pre-relationship

Word count: 4680 (dialogue heavy to start, stick with it, I find a rhythm in there somewhere)

Category: one-shot, fluff, angst if you squint really really hard

Leona's family is sneaky and knows him very well, and you get roped into some Cloudcalling dress up. And maybe Leona is into that.

I loved Cloudcalling on the Savanna but I was a little disappointed we didn’t get even a hinted outfit, and this idea has been bouncing around in my little walnut brain for MONTHS and it finally spilled out in the span of like two hours. Tried to keep Yuu ambiguous, female, hair long enough to braid and put into a bun, and she’s shorter than Falena’s wife. Your Yuu is six feet tall? Cool, Falena’s wife is taller 👏AS👏SHE👏SHOULD👏BE. Reading back, I think I have a crush on my own version of Falena’s wife, as I should. I just imagined the most beautiful woman I could.

Kifaji had to step away to take a phone call while everyone was checking out the food stalls and Leona almost looked grateful to see his back disappearing into the crowd as he handed you one of the baobab hibiscus teas. You thanked him quietly before sipping on the drink, as refreshing as promised. Grim was just about to pull everyone over to a meat vendor-- surprise surprise-- when Kifaji returned, a sly looking smile on his face.

"What's got you so happy, ya old bird?" Leona huffed as Grim drooled over the meat.

"My apologies, but I need to borrow Miss Yuu for awhile." Kifaji said simply, turning his ominous smile to you.

"What for?" Leona practically growled, putting a hand on your shoulder before you could even think to step away from the group.

"On such short notice, we could not procure an outfit for her." Kifaji explained, folding his hands behind his back. "I, however, did not want her to feel left out, so I made arrangements which are now ready. I will return her at your next destination."

"It's fine, Leona." You tried to assure him, patting his hand gently. "I do feel a little left out of the fun."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance before releasing your shoulder and crossing his arms.

"We're headed to Ivory Springs after this. Do not be late." He directed the command at Kifaji rather than you.

"B-But, Yuu look at this! And these!" Grim was actually drooling over the meat in the stall, turning back to you with tears in his eyes that practically begged you to let him stay.

You sighed heavily and shook your head. "Vil, can you keep Grim out of trouble for me? I won't be long."

"Of course." Vil nodded, glancing down at the direbeast as he cheered and danced around in a little circle. "I'll try my best to not let him eat through Leona's entire fortune."

"Good enough for me." You chuckled before turning to Kifaji, who smiled again and held an arm out for you to lead the way out of the markets.

You walked side by side with Kifaji to the entrance of the market, only for him to place a hand on your upper back to direct you towards a waiting black car just up the street. As you approached, a beastwoman in full guard regalia opened the back door for you to enter. You thanked her quietly before stepping into the blissfully air conditioned car, Kifaji getting in on the other side.

"It's not that far to the hotel," you chuckled as the driver reentered the car, "and I'm not as prone to heatstroke as Jack is."

"Oh, we aren't going to the hotel." Kifaji said, as if just remembering he "forgot" to tell you about it.

"Oh?"

There was a minute of silence as he didn't answer your unspoken question. A few turns through the city, he broke it, turning to you with a pleasant smile.

"Tell me, Yuu, what is the nature of your relationship with Prince Leona?"

You were shocked for a moment at the bluntness of the question. "Is this because I'm the only girl? Because I can assure you, we're all friends--"

"My apologies, that isn't what I meant." He cut you off with a small chuckle and a lift of his hand. "If you'd humor me?"

"I mean... we're friends? Friendly, at least." You explained, wringing your hands in your lap. "He's helped me out of a few tough spots, I've helped him. We hang out on occasion. He's nice, I dunno." You wouldn't dare say it out loud, especially to the chamberlain, but you sometimes secretly wished there was more there.

He gave you a warm smile, much like a father would give to a daughter talking about her crush. "I see. As you well know, I've seen to Leona since the day he was born, and I haven't seen him so... protective of someone since... well, ever. That boy has never exactly been friendly, let alone "nice" to just about anyone since his mother passed. It's refreshing to see."

You could feel your face getting hotter with each word the chamberlain said. You desperately wanted the subject to change. "S-So, if we aren't going to the hotel, where are we going?"

"The Royal Palace." Kifaji said casually, as if you were on your way to some unnamed park.

"What?! Why?"

"As I said, I made arrangements for your outfit. You need to look the part to represent your team!" He said, another sly smile on his face as he pumped his fist in front of him in an imitation cheer. "And, I regret to say, you stick out like a sore thumb among those boys."

"But-- I-I thought-- we--"

"And here we are. A short drive, is it not? The walk would have been significantly longer."

You looked out the window at the palace, a grand stone building at the top of the hill. It almost looked as if it were carved out of the rock itself. You were startled out of your thoughts as the driver opened your door for you again, the chamberlain outside waiting to give you a hand out. You thanked them both as you took the offered hand and stepped out, following Kifaji closely as he walked.

"So, uh... just pop in, change clothes, and head back down to the market, yeah?" You asked nervously as you glanced at the guards you passed by, feeling eyes on your back.

"Just so." Kifaji assured you, another sly smile as he stopped at a large set of doors already opened, swinging a hand out for you to go first.

You weren't sure what was about to happen. Maybe you'd be thrown in a dungeon for fraternizing with their prince, or maybe they meant to keep you here until Leona himself came to find you, or--

"There she is!" A booming and excited voice came from across the room as you entered, startling you to turn and look.

A mound of long ginger hair twisted into braids was running up to greet you, perched atop a muscle-bound mountain of a man. He was dressed similarly to Leona, but wearing white instead of black, still adorned in gold, an enormous smile on his face. The guards at the door stood at attention as he got to your side of the room, clasping your hand quickly in a firm and enthusiastic handshake.

"You must be the girl Kifaji told me so much about!" He beamed at you, reminding you so much of Kalim in this moment. Wait.

"So much?" You parroted, looking at Kifaji, who simply shrugged.

"Oh, you must tell me how you got Leona to be so... docile? That isn't the right word. He listens to you?! Insane!" The man rambled, still holding onto your hand. "You must tell me everything!"

"Falena, you'll scare the poor girl." Another voice rang out from the other side of the room.

The man, Falena, finally released your hand and turned to see the woman walking towards you. She was elegant and gorgeous and so poised, dressed in similar colors and patterns to her husband, also adorned in gold. You suddenly felt very intimidated as you finally realized just where you were standing.

"Oh, but my love," Falena sighed, still smiling, "think of everything we could learn! What's Leona like at school, anyhow?"

"H-He, uh..." you hesitated as the woman joined her husband’s side. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them exactly how he was, and it wasn't a good idea to lie. Rock and a hard place. "He's certainly there."

Falena let out a booming laugh at this, his wife joining in with a laugh that sounded like bells in the large chamber.

"We know of Leona's troubles at school." She assured you, holding out a hand to shake. "I am Shani, and I'm sure my husband, Falena, did not introduce himself before launching into his questioning."

"I'm Yuu," you said, gently grabbing her hand and shaking it, "a pleasure."

"Likewise." She smiled warmly at you as you both retracted your hands. "Kifaji has asked me to dress you for the occasion."

"The festival?"

"Leona brought a girl home!" Falena cut in, the smile surely cemented on his face at this point. "A sign things are turning around for my little brother, to be sure!"

"O-Oh! No, wait, I'm--" You practically choked on your words trying to get them out fast enough, feeling your face burning again, "Leona and I aren't a couple!"

"I know! But everything Kifaji told us over the phone just makes it all the more interesting!" He gushed grabbing your shoulders. "Forgive me for being forward, but you smell like him! You must be together often!"

"I-I just keep watch while he naps, it's not like we--"

"Falena. You are making her nervous." Shani said sharply, trying to hide her amused smile as she swatted his hands off you and looped her arm into yours. "Come, we should get you into something else before Leona comes looking for you."

She didn't wait for a response before pulling you off towards the door she came through. You glanced back to Kifaji and Falena, seeing them both smiling at you, though Kifaji's looked nefarious. You faced forward again, looking up at the glamorous woman holding your arm, still amazed that you'd just met the crown prince and princess. Shani led you down the hall and into a large bedroom, turning quickly into a nearly equally large closet. Gorgeous outfits-- if you were to judge just based on the fabric-- lined the walls on either side, the far wall was large, open windows looking over the expanse of the savanna, and the wall behind was adorned with large mirrors. You couldn't help but be impressed as Shani practically floated across the room and picked up a dress that was already waiting on a chair and held it up for you.

"I hope you don't mind, I already picked something out for you." She explained as she approached. "Don't worry about the length, we can work with it however we need. This is going home with you."

"What? No, I couldn't." You said quickly as she deposited the dress in your hands.

"Do you see where we are right now? You absolutely can." She laughed, gesturing to the lines of clothes. "Go ahead and get changed, I'll be right outside, just let me know when you're ready."

Her nose scrunched up adorably in her excitement as she smiled even wider at your for a moment, her hands clapping under her chin once before she exited the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, you sighed at the absolute whirlwind you'd just gone through. You turned to the large mirrors on the closest wall and held the dress up to your body. It would definitely be long, but Shani was a tall woman who seemed to like wearing heels, so you weren't terribly surprised. Resigned to your fate, you began to change out of your current outfit. The dress had very thin straps, so your sports bra would have to go. Once actually in the dress, it fit remarkably well, other than the length. The thin straps spread down into a V neck and stretched to the skirt in the back, the skirt itself starting a little below the bust, similar to a halter top. You couldn't help but notice the patterns on the fabric coordinated to Leona's cloak, bright orange and black not helping the case. You folded your clothes into a neat pile in front of the mirror, honestly a little relieved how well the dress held up to movement, no risk of spilling out the sides or front when lifting your arms or bending over.

"Shani? I'm ready." You called to the door, hiking the skirt up to walk over.

She entered the room again with an excited smile, looking you up and down as you stood there.

"You are definitely shorter than me." She laughed as you let the skirt go, a few inches of fabric bundling up at your feet. "But we can fix that, easy. Ten minutes. First!" She walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling off a length of fabric she'd set on top. "Do you know how to wrap your hair? Keep it off your neck and out of your eyes."

"I do not." You shook your head prompting her to wave you off.

"I can teach you, it's very easy." She smiled, joining you at the mirror again.

She turned you to face the mirror, standing behind you and draping the fabric over your shoulders. She undid the braid your hair was always in, gently combing the knots out of your hair with her fingers.

"I always used to do this with my little sisters." She explained softly as she styled your hair to the top of your head in a large bun. "I love Cheka with all my heart and soul, but I do so hope we have a little girl some day, I miss having girls around to dress up with and do hair and everything."

"What, Cheka doesn't let you do his hair?" You smiled at her in the mirror as she began wrapping the scarf, making sure you were carefully watching her steps.

She laughed brightly. "He does! But as he gets older he may not. Plus, there isn’t exactly a ton of hair to work with, he prefers to keep it short."

"No, I get what you mean though." You said fondly. "I used to have my mom do my hair all the time, but she was always there to fix it when I eventually took it out and complained about it being in my face."

"Where are you from, by the way?"

Your face fell at the question. "It doesn't really matter. Crowley doesn't seem like he's able to send me back anyhow."

Shani looked like she was about to press further, but stopped herself. "There, all done." She said with another warm smile as she smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the turban style she'd done. "Not half bad, if I do say so myself."

"It looks great, thank you." You were smiling again, not pointing out the, again, same fabric Leona had on his scarf. Maybe it was a common pattern? You somehow doubted it.

"Now, I have a few accessories for you to tie it all together." She explained, walking over to a shelf opposite the chest of drawers. "I will have you put these on to see how they look, then you give me the dress and I will hem the bottom up for you."

"Thank you for this, Shani." You said sincerely, turning to look at her with a warm smile. "You really didn't have to go to these lengths."

"Nonsense, a friend of Leona's is a friend of ours." She assured you. "We want to make sure you enjoy your first time to the Sunset Savanna to the fullest."

..

Leona and the others had arrived at the palace, Leona planning to swipe a car to avoid having to take Kifaji with them. However, to his surprise, Kifaji was already outside speaking with one of the guards at the door.

"Oh for fucks sake..." Leona growled as he connected the dots.

"What?" Kalim asked, glancing over to the chamberlain. "Oh, it's Kifaji! Hey Kifaji!"

The chamberlain looked up in surprise at the call of his name, locking eyes with a furious Leona and giving him another sly smile.

"Wait here." Leona snapped at the group, not giving them a chance to protest before marching over to the door. "What the hell?!"

"Ah, Prince Leona." Kifaji said coolly as the guard stood at attention for the prince's approach. "I was under the impression you were not coming home during your visit."

"That why you brought Yuu here?" He spat. "Thought you were goin' to the hotel."

"I don't recall ever saying my arrangements were at the hotel." Kifaji said, though the infuriating smile and raise of his eyebrows suggested he knew exactly what he was up to.

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering expletives under his breath before looking back up. "Where is Yuu? We're goin'."

"She is changing, currently. You and your friends are more than welcome to wait inside, if you'd prefer."

"Yeah, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Did Falena put you up to thi--"

"UNCA!"

Leona nearly instinctively side stepped the little ball of fiery orange that flung itself into his arms, grunting as the fuzzball impacted into his abdomen. Kifaji, while now safe from the verbal lashing Leona wanted to deal out, was not safe from the deadly glare that was shot his way.

“Quit clingin’ to me like that! Knock it off!” Leona snapped halfheartedly at his nephew who, undeterred by the tone, continued to beam up at him.

“I got so excited when I heard you were coming home!” The boy chirped quickly, grabbing his uncle’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Leona ignored the amused muttering of his schoolmates behind him as he rolled his eyes at the child’s antics.

Cheka continued, still swinging Leona’s arm around. “Mama said to be on the lookout for you! Do you wanna come play with me? We could play tag, or hide-and-seek, or--”

“Cheka.” Leona snarled, finally making the boy stop. “What was that about your mother?”

“Oh… I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh for fff…” Leona let the curse fizzle out into a loud grumble, trying to rub away the headache blooming in his temple. Of course it was Shani’s idea.

“I should go tell Mama you’re here!” Cheka said excitedly, darting off before Leona could stop him.

..

You slipped into the newly hemmed dress, a new length of fabric now flaring out the bottom that, once again, highly suspiciously matched the fabric of Leona's pants. Three times makes a pattern, damn if it didn't look good though. You were about to call out to Shani when you heard giggling through the door, and a boy's voice talking. You waited a moment before Shani knocked, sounding amused.

"All ready in there?" She called out.

"Yeah, ready." You called back, prompting her to enter the room.

Her smile grew ever wider as she looked at your outfit. "I've one more thing, and we need to be quick. Seems we've been found out."

There was a small gasp as Shani walked into the room, a tiny mess of ginger hair standing in the bedroom.

"I remember you!" Cheka said excitedly. "You're Unca's friend! From school!"

"I am! It's nice to see you again, Cheka!" You replied just as enthusiastically as Shani pulled one more thing off the shelf.

"It's nice to see you too! You match Unca!"

"I knew I wasn't crazy!" You nearly shouted, turning to Shani as your face burned again. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"Yuu, you are a beautiful girl in an unfamiliar place." She explained, walking forward and wrapping something around your waist. "These are recognizable patterns of the leader of the Sunset Warriors, of the second prince, no one would dare do anything to you while you are wearing these."

"Do anything?" You echoed as she fastened the belt, which matched the rest of the boys'.

"Swindle you, pickpocket, worse." She listed grimly as she adjusted your necklace. "Sunrise City is as safe a city as any during a heavy tourist season. We want you to enjoy your time here, not wonder where your wallet may have gone."

"I..." you sighed heavily. "I get that. Thank you, really. This is all very generous."

"You can pay me back by marrying my brother in law." Shani teased as she exited the closet, making your face burn tenfold.

"Hey!"

"YOU AND UNCA ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Oops…"

Cheka insisted you carry him through the halls, Shani nearly telling him to return to his studies before you assured her that it was fine. You spent the entire walk trying to explain to the boy that, no, you were not marrying his uncle. Cheka, however, kept talking about the imaginary wedding and all the things you needed to have there. You resigned yourself to not stopping him. He was talking about the cake when you entered the large room you'd first met Falena and Shani.

"Aha! There she is! A much more appropriate look for your guest, don't you agree, brother?" Falena said, prompting you to turn your gaze from Cheka to him, looking just in time to watch him clap Leona on the back.

Leona said nothing, just staring for a moment before clicking his tongue and looking away. You took this as annoyance for a moment before Cheka spoke up.

"Unca, unca!" Cheka said excitedly from your arms. "When you two get married you need to have a BIG cake, okay? And there needs to be chocolate, and 'biscus, and--"

"Married?" He asked incredulously, turning back to look at the boy, not able to hide the red on his cheeks now, before looking to Shani. "What did you do?"

"Children have impressive imaginations, don't they?" She asked pleasantly, taking Cheka from your arms to hers. "Thank you for letting me dress you, Yuu."

"Thank you for dressing me," you smiled at her, ignoring the burning on your own cheeks, "it was fun."

She smiled before taking your hand and leaning in to whisper to you. "If you cannot go home for school holidays, our home is open to you, just say the word."

You nearly teared up at this, simply nodding and squeezing her hand. "Thanks for everything, Shani."

Falena laughed as you walked over to join him and Leona, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'd give you some words of warning, but you seem to know how to handle my brother better than I do at this point!"

"He's not so bad." You chuckled as he pointedly refused to look at you. "It was nice to meet you, Falena."

"You too! Come back anytime!" He beamed down at you before Leona grabbed your arm and started dragging you out of the room.

You waved back to the crown prince and princess as you were hauled out of the room and into the hall. Leona dragged you towards the entrance before making a sharp left a few doors down into another hallway.

"Leona--?"

"Shut up."

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth at his words, and you suddenly felt ashamed of your actions. Were you supposed to text him an SOS as soon as you realized where you were? When you realized what was happening? Before you could think about it further, he dragged you into a room at the end of the hall and shut the door, quickly caging you with his arms against it.

"What did they tell you?" He growled low, a dangerous tone you'd only heard a few times since you first stepped on his tail in the garden.

"N-Nothing--"

"Don't play dumb with me right now, herbivore, what did they say?"

"Kifaji and Falena kept saying that you're nice to me, and Shani said if I wore your patterns I'm less likely to get robbed." You said quickly, omitting her comment about marriage. "I was mostly with Shani, we talked about her sisters and my mom and the outfit, that's it."

His green eyes stared into your soul for a moment before he grumbled something under his breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against the wall next to your head.

"Leona?"

"Shani thinks she's funny." He said quietly, you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. "Makin' you match me, in public no less..."

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it--"

"Are you?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes again, closer this time. "She's making fun of me."

"She's not."

"You don't know her."

"She's not making fun of you." You whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"You don't know what I say in those phone calls home." He muttered back. "Lemme guess, Shani already had that dress picked out for you, as if she plucked it from her own closet."

"...Yes?"

"You think the crown princess would ever wear the second-born's pattern?" He leaned in again, his jaw bumping your cheek as he moved to whisper in your ear. "She had that made for you, on purpose, for the day you eventually showed up."

"W-What do you say... in the calls home...?" You asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to reach your arms around him.

"Too much, apparently." He chuckled softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You felt like you would combust into flames any second. "Looks good on you though... suits you."

"L-Leona?"

He pulled back again, close enough to bump noses. "We have to get to the springs, otherwise our resident pretty princess won't play tomorrow." He whispered, still making no move to pull away.

"What..." your wet your suddenly very dry lips, not missing how Leona's eyes flicked down for just a second to catch the motion, "what did you mean by "when I eventually showed up...?""

"I said, don't play dumb, Yuu. You think I let just anyone braid my hair? You think I didn't notice that you do that while I'm tryin' to sleep?" He chuckled again, his grin almost looking like he was just flashing his teeth at you. "I pretend to not notice a lot of things."

"I'm not just anyone...?"

"You haven't been "just anyone" for awhile now." He muttered leaning in just a little closer, his nose brushing against yours gently before he stopped. "We need to go."

He let the moment hang in the minuscule amount of air between you for a second longer before finally pulling away, glancing over your outfit again as he did, making a triumphant little noise.

"Looks good on you." He muttered again before grabbing you by the arm to pull you away from the door.

Once you were out of the way, he opened the door again and walked out into the hallway, leaving you feeling like your knees were about to give out. With a moment to look around the room, you realized he'd pulled you into a bedroom that looked a little too similar to his back at the college.

"Herbivore." He barked from down the hall, kick starting you again.

"Y-Yeah!" You called back before hiking your skirt and jogging to catch up to him again.

If your friends, namely Vil, noticed the similarities between your outfit and Leona's, they were gracious enough not to say anything about it. You were, however, highly complimented on it, Kalim making a point to spin you around to see the dress twirl. Kifaji had a very self satisfied look on his face off to the side, which was quickly wiped away when Leona finally announced his plan to leave him in the dust.

..

Back at Night Raven College, you and Leona went back to your normal routine as if nothing had ever happened. You almost wondered if it had been a very sweet dream until you saw the dress in your closet again. You grabbed the skirt, rubbing the fabric between your thumb and index finger, as if to remind yourself that it was real. It had happened.

"What? You longin' for the Sunset Savanna again?" Grim asked from your bed, you'd nearly forgotten he was there. "I am. You really missed out on that meat, hench-human. I wouldn't mind goin' back."

"Yeah... me neither." You sighed, releasing the dress. You stared at it longingly for another moment before shutting the closet door to continue getting ready for bed. A very sweet dream indeed.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[ahundredtimesover]

Something About You (07) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; semi-explicit smut that's not too smutty (m&f oral, condom talk, unprotected sex) (18+)

Word count: 21.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: Wrapping up this feel-good series! I'd hoped to gush about these episodes with you guys weekly but it is what it is, and I'm just happy for the people who tuned in and have and will enjoy this. I hope this story and these characters gave you a bit of joy.

Your eyes dart to the time on your laptop screen.

2:52 PM.

Jungkook will be arriving at your apartment soon for your scheduled 3PM drive to Busan but your meeting with your manager doesn’t seem like it’ll end in the next eight minutes. 

It’s Friday, and though you’re glad that she allowed you to adjust your hours today, you also wish she’d stick to the agenda and not add items to it because now, she’s briefing you about a new research proposal when you should just be talking about the one you’re currently working on.

“Yes, I’ll read more about that. So the one that’s due next week…” you say, trying to bring the conversation back to its original purpose. “I worked on the budget with the procurement team with regards to the service provider fees. Do you have any comments about it?”

She asks if they’ve been vetted and you answer that you did your due diligence and that the quotes and sample works are in the attachment you sent her. You’re discussing the other line items when Jungkook opens the door - having already memorized your lock code - and you gesture to him that you’re still on a call. 

He gives a thumbs up to say it’s okay, and he gestures to the clothes he’s holding to say that he’ll just change while waiting for you to finish. You nod in response, expecting he’d head to your bathroom, only for him to strip in the middle of your living room, as you can see from your periphery. 

You hold in your surprised look and curse him internally for teasing you like this. 

But not wanting to miss out on the view, you move your laptop towards the right and adjust your seat so you can have a good look at him. You’re met with a muted incredulous laugh followed by a cheeky smile, as he now stands several feet from you in just his black Calvin Klein underwear. 

It’s a shame you’re not close enough to admire every detail of him looking like that, but you have the rest of the weekend to do so. The thought of what the next three days will bring sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes alternate from the screen to your boyfriend, who’s now replaced his running shorts and sports jacket with black trousers, a  loose-fit white tank top, and a blue cardigan. You bite your lip to hold in a smile and your manager fortunately doesn’t notice. 

She finally realizes that it’s past 3PM and apologizes for holding you up, especially since you started the day much earlier than usual just so you can accommodate the four-hour trip you’ll be making. 

“This is great work as always, ___,” she beams. “I’ll let you go now and I’ll see you on Tuesday. Enjoy your cousin’s wedding!”

“Thank you,” you say, bidding her goodbye.

You close your laptop, officially switching off for the weekend, then frown at Jungkook as he walks over to you. 

He chuckles as he bends down to kiss your lips while you remain seated. You give in as you always do, and the groan you’re about to let out is replaced with a moan when he swipes his tongue in your mouth and gently cups your cheek.

He pulls away and boops your nose before standing straight up.

“How rude of you to dress up in front of me like that,” you scowl at him.

“And how naughty of you to watch me while you’re on a call with your manager like that,” he bites back.

“You’re so annoying,” you huff, even as you hug him and immediately fall into his arms. 

“Sorry, just wanted to tease,” he admits. “I know my body drives you crazy.”

You pinch his stomach and pull away.

“Were you ever this cocky?” You chuckle. 

“Nah. It’s a trait I developed just in the last two months. It’s all your fault since you react the way you do,” he smirks. “But don’t worry, we’ve got this weekend.”

“We do,” you say, biting your lip at the anticipation of what’s in store.

Of course, there’s Seokjin and Hayoung’s wedding tomorrow afternoon in Busan and the intimate yacht party right after. There’s also seeing Taehyung who flew back for a few days for the celebration. There’s the luxury hotel with all its fancy amenities that you’ll definitely take advantage of. There’s seeing both your families and meeting them as a couple this time. And then there’s staying over at Jungkook’s house on Sunday. There’s lots to look forward to and you can’t wait to get started. 

“So… am I gonna see you dress up, too?” Jungkook smiles.

“Sucks for you, I’m already wearing this,” you shrug, saying you’d planned on leaving right as he arrived but your meeting extended you so now you really should get going.

He whines only a little then follows you as you walk towards your luggage.

“Do you have everything packed already? Dress, the right underwear, heels, makeup, evening bag?” He asks, making sure you didn’t forget anything or else it’ll ruin your weekend.

“Yup, I’ve got— oh shit, my bathing suits!”

You scurry to your closet and get a few pairs, knowing that Jungkook would want to swim as much as he can. And while you could watch him for hours, joining him wouldn’t be bad.

“Can’t forget those,” he hums. 

Once you’ve got everything packed, you turn towards him to signal that you’re ready, and he heads out your door with you right behind him.

Going on a long drive alone with Jungkook is not a rare thing; it’s something you’ve done a few times just this past year. And so there’s this familiarity you feel - there’s talking about your day, a lot of teasing, smacking his chest, video calling with your friends, and sipping iced coffee and feeding each other the cookies you bought at a drive-thru.  

But there are new things, too, like holding his hand and placing it on your thigh for him to caress. There’s shamelessly ogling him and telling him how handsome he looks in his outfit and him admitting that he wears the tank top because of how much you like it. There’s kissing him when you’re at the stoplight, and him suggesting driving to an emergency stop so he could kiss you back properly.

And then there’s talking about other couple things, like meeting your respective parents as each other’s partners this time. 

You’ve met each other’s families several times before so it’s nothing new. Your parents know him as the athlete and the teacher and the one you describe as everyone’s go-to person. You’re known to his parents by your profession, too, as well as being the clumsy girl who freaks out when holding a knife and often hurts herself.

“Kook, they probably think I’m useless,” you pout. 

“They also know you as the other smart friend,” he says. “They remember that you got an award during graduation. That’s not being useless, babe.”

“Yeah but I mean, you know, domestic stuff,” you say softly. “All I know to do is wash dishes. That’s the only thing I can do when I stay over on Sunday.”

Jungkook understands what you mean and immediately appeases you.

“They’re not of that traditional mindset so you don’t have to worry. My mom’s cooking isn’t the best, too,” he laughs. “My parents just taught me and my brother  how to be independent and then we could look out for those who—”

“Are helpless?”

“Who need a bit more help,” he corrects you. “You’re not even that bad. You know how to feed yourself.”

“Yeah, very basic food that only requires less than five steps to make. Or anything I can cook in the air fryer,” you laugh at yourself mockingly. “I don’t know how to make things fancy or delicious like you.”

“Well, basic things help you survive so that doesn’t make you helpless. Plus, you now have a boyfriend who makes the fancy and delicious food for you,” he winks. “Makes it difficult for you to let go of me, yeah?”

“Hey, I like you either way,” you pout at him. “Though I admit that the cooking skills definitely help.”

“Good. I’ll just keep making delicious things for you, then,” he smiles. 

“You are good at taking care of me,” you nod. “I don’t really know what I—”

“You listen to me,” he interjects before you say what he thinks you’re gonna say, which is that you don’t take care of him the way he does with you.

He could already sense your faraway eyes and knew that your mind would travel elsewhere again, and to places he doesn’t want it to go to. He hopes you never doubt yourself in your relationship because there’s really so much that you do for him, and he’s worried that he doesn’t tell you enough.

“You listen to my worries. You create a space for me to talk about them,” he continues. “And you give good advice. That’s taking care of someone, too, you know? Because if my mind’s a mess, how would I function?”

“That’s true,” you finally smile.

It takes you back to last Saturday and how you both spent the day at your apartment because he didn’t feel like doing much. He talked about an issue he had with a senior teacher and some other concerns about his students. You just listened to him and shared your thoughts while he laid on your lap, and he told you the next day that he felt better. 

Safety, friendship, and intimacy are needs after all, and you suppose they’re what you’re able to give him. 

“I told my parents that I’ve been confiding in you and that it’s been easier to do that since we got together,” he adds, wanting to make sure you don’t feel unworthy when meeting them again. “And they know you watch my students’ matches and they think that’s really sweet.”

“Well, I don’t feel that worried meeting them as your girlfriend anymore,” you giggle, appreciating what he’s doing. 

He’s just always known how you are and how to calm your mind. 

“You shouldn’t. They already like you,” he smiles.

“And my parents already like you, too,” you say. “I’ve told them how you give me massages and piggyback rides and how you cook for me. I mean, not like they have anyone to compare it to but… I guess that says a lot, too, doesn’t it?”

“So does that mean they’ve never met your exes?”

“Just over video call but that doesn’t really count,” you shrug. “There wasn’t really time to see them and I was a bit shy. I’m so babied in my family and they’re also a bit chaotic and I wasn’t ready for my exes to deal with all that.”

“Well, you kinda have no choice but to introduce me now because of the wedding.”

“True. I still would’ve though. But I’m also really excited,” you say as you caress his hand. “They’ll see that I got someone really good.”

“You think they’d expected Tae or Jimin as the friend you’d end up with and not me? They like the guys a lot,” he remarks, remembering your calls to your parents in the past and how they lovingly greeted your friends. 

“Not really. They’re just more familiar with those two,” you explain. “When they’d call me during college and I was crying out of stress, Tae or Jimin would be with me so they knew how much the guys took care of me then.”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t there,” Jungkook says regrettably.

“Because you were stressed, too! Just like Mo-eum because you both took difficult courses,” you reason. “You know I’ll always be thankful for how our relationship happened, right? And that includes our friendship. We were there for each other whenever we could.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I just… don’t want them to wish it was someone else with you since you’ve got other good guys around you.”

“Well, I’m with you. I don’t think I can have anyone better,” you smile.

You lean over for a kiss on his cheek and this appeases him. 

You’ve already been on a call with your family a few times since you started dating Jungkook, which is about two months ago. It may seem too soon but you don’t recall feeling this kind of joy and desire before. 

Maybe because you let yourself settle into it first for those first few weeks and when you found out he reciprocated your feelings, it was just that natural for the emotions to intensify again. 

Your parents already like him. They think that being a teacher requires a kind of dedication and patience that you need in your life, and you know they’re right. 

But that’s just one part of him. Outside of what he does, he’s kind and tender-hearted and enjoys what life has to offer. It hasn’t been long but you’re already experiencing more of those sides of him as well.

You’re looking forward to seeing them see you with him; you’re certain they’ll see how different it is this time, too.

You get through the four-hour ride with more laughter and stories. There’s silence in between those, too, and neither you nor Jungkook minds. Your voices are just replaced with soft touches and tender smiles and those are enough just the same. 

You finally arrive in the hotel in Busan and make your way to reception to check-in. You meet Jimin and Mo-eum there who have just arrived, and you all leave your things at the concierge so you can proceed to the restaurant for the pre-wedding dinner.

You head to the table where all your friends are and excitedly greet them, hugging Taehyung tightly as you miss him terribly already. 

It’s like you’ve all been spoiled this past year. Jeju wasn’t too long ago and now you're out of town again. It’s different this time because of the purpose of your trip and the fact that you’ll be experiencing luxury this weekend, a far cry from the outdoors and homey vibes of the previous months. 

You get to relax and feel regal, enjoy the amenities, eat fancy food, and savor the view of the ocean from your bedroom. You almost wish you could afford to stay an extra day or so but staying at Jungkook’s family home is definitely the better choice. 

While waiting for Seokjin and Hayoung, you take the time to greet the other guests who made it tonight. Your and Jungkook’s families will be arriving tomorrow before the ceremony so you take him with you when you greet your cousin’s parents. Having known your friend group for years, they tell you how happy they are that you ended up with one of them, too, just like their daughter. 

You return to your seats and enjoy dinner with your friends. The food boasts of familiar flavors presented in new and delicate ways. You have fun with how you eat them and join Jungkook in raving about how delicious it is. You drink champagne and inhale the dessert that when it’s all over, you feel full and satisfied.

“So, jacuzzi in half an hour?” Jimin pitches to the group. 

Taehyung had booked the hot tub for after hours, and the five of you got excited at having the space all to yourselves. The rest of your friends agree to join. Even if they won’t be dipping, they won’t pass up on drinks with a view tonight. It’s literally Seokjin’s and Hayoung’s last hurrah with all of you so they say they’ll follow later on. 

As is the tradition, you book a suite to house the five of you. This time, however, it’s pretty clear who’s sleeping with who. 

You and Jungkook enter the room with the queen-sized bed and you turn to him excitedly. He picks up the hint of desire in your eyes and he pulls you in, his hands on your waist now as he admires how you look in your floral dress.

“What are you thinking tonight, huh?” He smirks.

“Hmm, nothing… Just a big comfy bed, a nice shower, a stunning view… A few things we could enjoy,” you say, playing it coolly.

“Yes… if you’re awake,” he teases. 

“Hey,” you smack his chest. 

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, kissing your cheek. “I’m just saying that I know you’re tired from today. If you fall asleep early, that’s okay. You should get rest because we have a full day tomorrow.”

“I know. I’m actually already sleepy,” you laugh. “But I want to take advantage of this fancy room with you.”

“We will,” he smiles. “Come on, let’s get changed.”

You both put on your swimsuits and head out to the common room. It’s spacious and boasts of a floor-to-ceiling glass window that lets you see the still ocean and city lights from outside. The five of you take a shot of tequila that Jimin brought with him then bring that to the jacuzzi room several floors above.

It’s not the best weather for a hot tub. It’s warm as it normally is for the middle of summer. But there’s something about being in a private area on the 20th floor of a fancy hotel with bottles of champagne and whiskey and plates of food that makes it perfect for tonight. There’s soft music playing and given the size of the tub, everyone decides to join in. Even Yoongi.

From the hot water, to the jets on your legs and back, and to Jungkook massaging your neck and shoulders, you feel totally relaxed. There’s laughter all around, even more when you all rehash memories of Seokjin and Hayoung over the years. 

There’s commentary from all your ends, too, especially from the older ones who’d witnessed their relationship up close. The couple shares their favorite moments from the past six years, too, like when they first said I love you and how they made up after their first big fight.

It reminds you that there’s still a lot to learn even when you’re already in a relationship. It’s something Hayoung has talked to you about, as someone who understands what you’re experiencing. It may seem all good and easy because you think you know the other person so well already after being friends for many years but romantic relationships bring their own challenges; no couple is immune from those. 

But like she said, it’s the strong friendship she has with Seokjin that allowed them to get through them. It’s a good foundation, she told you. Being able to just talk about things openly, being comfortable and honest, and trusting that they want the best for each other have become natural, and those have been their keys to making it work.

They’re good advice, as you think that you and Jungkook are still in the honeymoon stage. One day, you know the hardships will come. Maybe you’ll have to readjust to each other all over again or witness the births of new versions of yourselves, just like he’d told you before. 

But deep inside, they’re challenges you welcome because you know they’ll make you better together and you truly want to make this work, a change that you took note of early on. Plus, you genuinely like Jungkook - not just as your boyfriend or your friend but as a person. You truly admire and think the world of him, so whatever you’ll face, you’d willingly go through them with him, as long as you get to keep him around.  

You don’t think you’d do that just with anybody. 

“You okay, babe?” He nudges your shoulder as he notices you gaze at him again. 

“Yes. Just thinking about how much I like you,” you smile at him.

Jungkook smiles back, as he’s already used to you being like this just two months in. He’s usually a lot more reserved and moderated when it comes to expressing his feelings, as he tends to just feel them, whereas you’re more vocal about yours. 

There have been days when he’d see you stressed or frustrated at work but you’d sit on his lap, hug him, and tell him that having him next to you already makes you feel better. There’s this vulnerability in your honesty, and it’s something he’s witnessing up close. 

While you’ve told him you admire him for just doing whatever he wants, he thinks you’re just as admirable for feeling whatever you want and there’s so much strength in that. He realizes he might not tell you this enough.

“She’s so cheesy, isn’t she?” Jimin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, as the man - who’d heard your little exchange - approaches both of you. 

“She is,” Jungkook hums as he pulls you between his legs and wraps his arms around you. “It’s pretty cute. Was she always like this?”

“Nah. Not in front of us, at least,” Jimin shakes his head. “I guess it makes sense because we weren’t the biggest fans of her exes.”

You laugh at the dig, which you don’t mind; Taehyung and Jimin have valid reasons. 

“Hmm, I don’t think I was this cheesy,” you confirm. “I think I’m like this because Jungkook and I have had conversations before, hoping that the other person would find someone good for them to be with and look, it’s us!”

It’s quite serendipitous in its own way, you think.

The three of you giggle and Jungkook tightens his hold around you.

“I’m glad it was you,” he whispers in your ear,  prompting you to lean against his chest at the feeling of floating because of his words.

“He’s so affectionate, too, huh?” Jimin smirks now. 

“Oh, he is,” you giggle again, as you think back to how tightly he hugs you when you sleep and how he likes to pull you back to him when you wake up. “Has he always been like this?” 

You’ve obviously seen Jungkook with his girlfriends and you don’t recall him being this touchy. You wonder if he’s like that even if he’s just with the guys.

“Not at all, not even with his girlfriend in high school or the one during the summer before college started,” Jimin laughs. “I know he’s clingy behind closed doors though. At least that’s what he says.”

“Oh, he is,” you exclaim, earning you a cheeky laugh from the man in front of you.

The man behind you groans though, but now he wraps his legs around you, too. You feel the giddiness at knowing he doesn’t want to hold back when it comes to his affection towards you. 

Jimin watches his two best friends with such tenderness. He has a different relationship with both of you - he’s gentle with Jungkook whereas he gives you tough love. 

But he knows sincerity when he sees it, and after seeing both of you go through your respective relationships, Jimin can tell that it’s very different this time. You’re both more in control over your feelings even if you don’t hold them back. Perhaps it’s the maturity at this stage in your lives or maybe, it’s really just about finding and choosing to be the right person for each other. 

Your best friend’s eyes glimmer and you see the smile behind them. And cheeky as he may be sometimes, you’re glad he made that comment to you months ago that got you paying attention to your feelings and that ultimately got you Jungkook.

The night goes on with a few more drinks and laughter with your friends. Whenever you and Jungkook separate, there’s always a moment where your eyes meet and you share a smile. There’s that assurance even until now, reminding you of this past year and how you’d be apart and somehow you’d find him looking out for you.

You end before midnight and head to your respective rooms. You and Jungkook take turns washing up in the bathroom and staying in the common area with your friends. With a bit to drink and a long day tomorrow, you all decide to head to bed.

“Goodnight!” Jimin calls out to you. “Don’t break the lamp or something.”

You stick your tongue at him before entering your room. Jungkook pulls you by the waist. He flushes you against his chest and tucks his head in your neck.

“It’s a fair comment, though,” he hums, referring to what Jimin had said. “I mean, you did break my humidifier.”

“Yah!” You smack his arm that’s wrapped around you. “I didn’t break it. It fell.”

“Sure, babe,” he giggles. “It totally fell out of nowhere when it was sitting right in the middle of my bedside table.”

You groan in agreement, conceding now because that may have been what actually happened. It was two weeks ago and Jungkook was yapping about it the next morning while you were on a call with your friends and they pieced things together. They’ve been teasing you ever since. 

“Uh, you were the one shoving your frikkin dick inside me!” You defend, turning around now to face him. 

“Uh, you were the one telling me not to stop,” he counters. 

“You’re annoying when you’re cocky,” you frown at him. “No kisses for you.”

“Hey! I’m just stating facts,” he laughs. 

But you pull away from his hold to tease and lay on your side of the bed. The soft sheets and thick covers instantly make you feel like you’re being swallowed by clouds; you could fall asleep any minute. 

“K,” you hum under your breath, your eyes fluttering close.

“Are you sleeping on me?” He gasps. 

“The bed feels so good, Kook,” you moan as you stretch your limbs. “I’m gonna fall asleep soon so get your ass in bed now.”

“So impatient,” he bites back with a smile. 

He removes his shirt then switches off the lamp. Your eyes follow him when he does, and you’re thankful for the sliver of light from outside that allows you to appreciate his body. You’d done that during your time at the hot tub earlier and you think you’ll keep doing that; your reaction will probably be the same every time, too.

He finally lies in bed but you’re the one who sits up now. You take your shirt off, something he’s used to you doing by now, and he returns the fond way you’re looking at him. 

Even when he’s annoyingly cheeky, his body pretty much shuts you up, and he knows this. Your body does the same to him. You laugh in unison because both of you have come to know each other like that.

You bend down to kiss him, not at all able to resist. It’s soft and gentle, as the exhaustion from today continues to weigh you down. But even then, his tongue explores deeper, and you’re hypnotized by the way it does that your body moves on its own. 

You’re on top of him before you know it - your legs on his sides, your one hand softly pulling his hair and the other, grazing his bare chest. And your clothed cunt, rhythmically grinding against his slowly hardening member. His fingers trace patterns on your back, leaving you moaning in his ear. 

And also yawning. You think it’s out of pleasure though.

Jungkook chuckles as you pull away, hovering over him with your dazed eyes. You yawn another time, and your face tenses as you try to hold it in. He can tell there’s more you want to do but he also knows you’re very, very sleepy. 

“Hey, go to sleep now,” he whispers.

“But—”

You’re interrupted by another yawn, causing him to giggle once more. 

“Babe, it’s okay. I want to keep going but I’m sleepy, too,” he assures you. “We’ve had a long day and I’d rather have you awake when we swim in the morning than do anything else tonight. Yeah?”

You pout at him before nodding. You did promise him you’d swim with him in the early hours tomorrow. 

He helps lay you back down and pulls the covers over you. He smiles while watching you slowly retreat into dreamland, soft hums and a small smile escaping you as his fingers continue to trace your body. He briefly cups your breast and he knows you like it. You’ve told him a few times that the drawn out pleasure helps you fall asleep and this is one way he does it without tiring you out further.

He presses soft kisses down your jaw then your neck and your body reacts again. You caress his head as he trails south, and you moan his name. He might’ve gone a bit too far so he goes back up and gives you a final kiss on the lips.

“We’ll sleep now,” he hums.

He lays on his side and pulls you close to him, your back flushed against his chest now and his leg wrapped around you. Your hand finds his and your fingers intertwine. 

It’s intimate, and even with your hair all over his face, he likes this because he gets to hold you tight. It also ensures that you don’t hit anything, including his face. 

He laughs at the thought. It’s something he’d gladly get used to though. And he finds that it’s easy - to adjust, to move around and alongside you, and to settle into you even more.

 You wake up to soft kisses on your cheek the next morning. You moan under your breath, wanting more of those but also wishing you have more time to sleep. You knocked out once you closed your eyes last night and you feel like you didn’t move at all.

Which, of course, isn't true. When you open your eyes, you find yourself sprawled in the middle of the bed and the giver of your kisses is standing next to it, chuckling at you. 

“Good morning, princess,” he greets. “Come on, let’s go swimming.”

You look at him with your sleepy eyes and hope for a bit of compassion. Perhaps five minutes more. Or 20. 

And he sees right through you.

“You can sleep longer, it’s fine,” he smiles. “I can go ahead before it gets crowded. Is that okay?”

“No, I told you I’d go with you,” you mumble.

You did say you’d do this with him, especially after he let you drag him to your Pilates session last week. He decided then that he’d definitely stick to the sports he knows and that won’t get his limbs all tangled while hanging in the air. You reason that his body is just a little too fit for the machine and you may be right.

“Okay then,” he says as he changes into his swim shorts. 

“Why do you have so much energy?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs around the bed now. “It’s barely 7:30.”

“I just came from a jog by the beach. The wind was really nice and cool.”

“Oh, good,” you nod, appeased that he gets to do the things he enjoys doing when he’s in his hometown. 

He returns to standing next to the bed and you lift your leg for him to massage. Your legs have been a bit sore after this week’s intense Pilates workout. He starts kneading your calf and it feels so good that you could fall asleep again. 

“Yah! We have to make it to breakfast at 9 before we prepare for the wedding,” he reminds you. “Come on. I’ll be wet and half naked. I know how much you like that.”

You frown at his teasing even if it’s pretty much a given at this point. But he’s started to enjoy it a little bit more after your friends exposed you to him. They shared more details of how you were during your Jeju trip, specifically about your ogling whenever he went swimming. 

It flusters you even if you’re actually able to just admire his body and touch and kiss it whenever you like. Perhaps there are still remnants of disbelief over how you never bothered about it before. Years of going on beach and lake trips, watching him flex his biceps, and commenting on his abs to tease him never made you look twice nor longer than a few seconds.

Now, you can’t get enough of it. 

You curl yourself in bed, urging him to convince you a bit more. 

Instead of kissing you, he starts tickling your foot, causing you to squeal. 

“Jeon Jungkook, you brat!” You groan as you try to kick his hand away and flail your arms while still lying in bed. “You’re gonna regret this.”

Your words don’t have bite in them, but still, he stops and pulls you towards the edge of the bed. He cups your cheeks and peppers your face with soft kisses until you’re finally smiling. 

“Happy?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You giggle and nod.

“So can we go now?”

“Yes,” you playfully roll your eyes then head for the bathroom. 

You change into your swimsuit then you both exit the room. Out in the common area, Jimin and Taehyung are waiting to leave, too. 

“So early and already getting freaky,” your best friend smirks. “Hope you didn’t break anything.”

“He was tickling my foot!” You explain; they definitely heard you squealing. 

“Ooh, he’s relentless with that,” Taehyung shakes his head as he understands your plight. 

He’s been on the receiving end of that, after all. 

You eye your friends who are in their active gear as well. Taehyung will do a morning workout while Jimin is dragging Mo-eum to go for a run.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask your best friend. “You know she’ll stop once she sees a plot of land to find four-leaf clovers.”

“I know, but she promised she'd match my pace,” Jimin shrugs. “She just didn’t wanna be the only one not doing anything physical today.”

“She technically won't be. I mean, I don’t think that watching your boyfriend swim counts as physical,” you hum.

“Are you sure about that?” Jimin cocks his eyebrow. “Your heart rate literally heightens just seeing him in swim shorts.”

Jungkook chuckles because he can attest to that. Sometimes you also just completely zone out. 

You groan because you also agree. You turn to the man next to you with a pout. 

“You’re not good for my health.”

Jungkook just laughs even harder and your friends join him. You do sound ridiculous.

But he thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the world. You already expressed concern about ogling him too much in front of his family, not wanting them to think you’re a little too much for their son, but he assured you that they’d feel proud you think so highly of their genes. 

With you being shameless in front of your friends, he sees even more just how unfiltered and honest you are about your feelings towards him, and it makes him feel really good. 

He pinches your cheeks, endeared by how you look at him, until Mo-eum finally exits the bedroom and you all head out then separate to do your own thing.

You and Jungkook find yourselves on the 7th floor this time to swim in the infinity pool. You stand in awe as you look at the scenery of stunning landscape against tall buildings that line the vast ocean. It’s definitely a lot more urban than Jeju but it offers a different kind of tranquility that you feel you can only get from here. 

You now understand why Jungkook was insistent on swimming despite your tight schedule. It’s truly breathtaking, especially with the clear skies and cool breeze embracing you. He even passed up on sexy time last night just so you wouldn’t be too tired for an early wake up call.

He sighs in relief as he stands next to you, no doubt admiring his surroundings just as you are. 

“Such perfect weather,” he hums as he removes his shirt. “I haven’t had a proper swim outdoors in so long.”

“Well, get going then,” you turn to him, eyeing him up and down while trying your best to keep your cool. “There are barely any people so you won’t be disturbed.”

“Hey, you said you’d join me,” he pouts. 

“And I will, after you do your laps,” you smile, knowing that he needs to do those before doing any leisure swimming. “I’ll have a good view from the lounge chairs here. And then a closer look later on when I’m in there with you. I’ll soak up the sun first before getting in the water. It’s more refreshing that way.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Don’t bail on me, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” you smile. 

“And uh, try not to drool too much.”

He’s running to the one end of the pool before you could respond. But you watch him from a distance exchange words with the lifeguard on duty then turn to your direction to give you a cheeky wink before he dives in the pool. 

Your annoyance at how he’s been enjoying teasing you quickly dies down once you watch him glide in the water. He’s so graceful, as he does butterfly strokes so effortlessly, his broad shoulders and taut arms doing most of the work that you can see, but you know his thighs are working overtime, too. 

Your eyes follow his every move and he’s so captivating like this, especially with the sun glistening on his honeyed skin. You don’t doubt the kind of career he would’ve had if he pursued the sport. You’re sure he would’ve excelled and made it to the national team if he wanted to - he’s just that good, and it’s something that others have said about him, too. 

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him if he went to a different university, and that’s a thought that terrifies you. Maybe you’d still meet him at a chance encounter if the universe willed it, but you think the way you ended up together is exactly how things should’ve happened. 

He returns to where he started and half his body emerges in the water. He turns to you with a smile and a thumbs up. You return the gesture and make a show of cheering for him, earning you a chuckle. 

He does a few laps of freestyle while you settle in the lounge chair. You still have a good view of him but you’re able to do so comfortably now with a little less lust and a lot more admiration. 

By the time he’s doing backstrokes, you’ve moved to the stairs where you’re already in your bathing suit, ready to join him. He swims towards you and walks up the steps, your eyes now following the water that’s dripping down his torso. 

“I didn’t drool,” you tell him proudly. 

He playfully shakes his head and chuckles. 

“Cute,” he hums. 

He reaches out his hand and pulls you towards the water, and once you submerge yourself in it, you moan quietly at how refreshing it feels. You quickly swim towards the other side and lay your arms over the edge to get a better look at the view. 

You sigh in relief at how beautiful it is, even more with Jungkook beside you who has a bit of sparkle in his eyes. He grew up not far from here, and he shared during the drive how his family would often head to Haeundae beach on a weekend. He’d enjoy it despite how busy it could get. This is his childhood, and you’re glad that you get to share in this moment with him.

“You know Kook, I was just thinking earlier that if you chose to do this professionally, you would’ve been such a star, skills-wise and looks-wise,” you say as you turn towards him. 

“Yeah?” He cocks his eyebrow. 

“Totally. And then I imagined you being part of the swim or water polo olympic team and showing up on TV with your wild abs and sweet smile and social media would explode with edits and thirst tweets about you and then you’d be invited to variety shows and be on magazines and get endorsements,” you ramble. “Imagine if you decided to pursue that now? I’d be the kind of girlfriend who’d be cheering so loudly during your matches and maybe trash talking your opponents.”

He laughs at the last sentence but he thinks you’re not wrong. 

“I think you’ll be the type to have a burner account and reply to tweets criticizing me,” he hums.

“Oh, I’d do it on a burner and my personal account,” you state. “Imagine how much I could shut them up?”

“You could,” he laughs. “But they’re also either paid to do that, or are bots and aren’t real people.”

“And then I’d hire hackers to find those shits and message their parents and expose them online,” you continue, disregarding what he said. Your face distorts in anger at the thought that he’d get any hate if he really did pursue a different career path. “I mean, who in their right mind would criticize you?!”

“You’ll never know,” he shrugs. “People always find something to complain about other people they don’t know. But hey, it’s a good thing neither of us have to deal with that, right?”

“True. We live such humble and unproblematic lives away from prying eyes,” you nod. “But… have you ever thought about it? About the kind of life you would’ve lived if you decided to take swimming seriously?”

“Hmm, not really. It’s not like being part of the Olympic team was assured, anyway,” he reasons. “And it just… stopped being a dream. Once I started teaching, I was sure I wasn’t gonna regret doing it. Somehow I just knew that’s what I was meant to do, you know? Plus, it meant going to our university, meeting the friends I’d have for life, and getting together with you. I’d choose those in any lifetime.”

You smile at his words, knowing that it’s not just him being sweet or flattering you; they’re his most sincere thoughts. But you’re glad you made it to the top three things that make his current life worthwhile, knowing that he could be living a totally different one had he chosen to study somewhere else. 

You think it’d still be a good one though - he’d be doing something he loves and he’d be making amazing friends since you think he just naturally attracts good people. Maybe he’d be dating someone who deserves him, too. 

But this is the one he’s living now and considering how much you’re a part of it, you think it’s pretty good. It makes you think of the billion choices a person makes in their life. We never know if they’re right or wrong but we stand by them, and they make us who we are. 

You wonder if you chose to join your sister in her art classes after school instead of reading your textbooks while waiting for her to finish, would you have been less studious? And would that have made you less inclined to be a researcher? Then maybe you wouldn’t be living the life you have now, and there’s a chance you wouldn’t have Jungkook in it, and—

A kiss on your lips disturbs your thoughts, and Jungkook’s soft eyes look back at you when you look at him questioningly.

“Whatever it was you were thinking, just know I’m glad I’m with you the way I am right now,” he says.

He probably already sensed your mind going elsewhere as it always does and instead of asking you where it went, he chooses to assure you about what you mean to him. And it’s exactly what you need.

You hug him in response and ease your mind back into the present with pecks on his cheek. He’s who you should be focusing on right now, so you foolishly suggest a race between you two just for fun even if you know you’re no match for him. You secretly like it when he’s a bit cocky.

Jungkook laughs but agrees to your 20-second early start. He leans his back against the edge, endeared by your movements and the fact that you’re freestyling diagonally, before he starts swimming to eventually beat you. 

You feel like you’ve been at it for so long and you pause, thinking that you’re only a few meters away from the end, only to learn that you’re just past halfway, and Jungkook is already on the other side, laughing at you. 

But instead of teasing even more, he urges you to keep going, cheering you on as if you’re competing at a tournament. So you do. 

You keep swimming that you don’t realize you’re at the end, and you hit your head on the wall because you arrogantly chose not to wear the goggles that Jungkook advised you to use. 

“Oh babe,” he chuckles as he swims towards you, and it’s now you realize that you started swimming sideways somewhere along the way. 

He cradles your head in his arms before turning you to face him. 

“You’re always hitting your head when you’re around me.”

You know he’s alluding to that boat incident in Jeju, something that he occasionally teases you about, especially after you gave him a lowdown of the thoughts that plagued your mind during that afternoon. 

You pout at him in response to his smug face, and he scrunches his nose in endearment. Then he pulls you in a hug and kisses the top of your head that you just hit. He thinks you could’ve gone another few hundred meters, and you’re really not as out of shape the way you say you are. 

The fact that you’re able to swim the entire length of this massive pool already says a lot even if you’re a bit out of breath. He knows you’re neutral about swimming - it doesn’t excite you as much but you don’t mind it. 

Waking up early to join him already makes him feel good, even if he knows you prefer just watching him do his thing, but even that makes him feel hot all over. He’s not sure when he’ll get used to your reactions to him and he’s noticed you try to temper it. He hopes you never do, though, and it’s not for his ego or anything; he just likes being the cause of your intense emotions and desire. 

You and Jungkook spend the next 15 minutes leisurely swimming about before lounging on the chairs to dry up. But then he orders a burger then decides to go for one last lap, with you whining that he’s gonna drip all the way to your room and you don’t have time for him to dry up all over again.

He insists that it’ll be fine, and while he does leave some droplets in the elevators all the way to your bedroom, he manages to not make much of a mess. 

Your friends are back, too, and they’re all taking turns in their shared bathroom to wash up before heading for the breakfast buffet. Jungkook hints at joining you in your shower, but you put up a strong front and say no.

“Kook, the last time we took a bath together, we took up an hour,” you remind him. “It’ll take us longer together than if we did it separately.”

“Well…” he smirks at you, clearly reminiscing about that time and the different ways he took you in the shower.

You were in Gangwon for a field visit one weekend and decided to spend the night, and after telling him, Jungkook took the train to meet you so he could spend it with you. The bathrooms in your apartments aren’t spacious enough for you two, but the one in the hotel you stayed at was. You ended up requesting a late checkout the next day because you took a bath longer than you should have, just like the night before.

Much as the thought excites you - somehow he looks even hotter when he’s wet from a shower - you’ll be pressed for time. You don’t want to end up stressing the rest of the day just because you were horny.

“Tonight,” you promise him as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“And if you’re too tired and end up falling asleep again?” He cocks his eyebrow.

“I won’t!” You try to convince him. “I want to make the most out of our last night here because we are definitely not gonna be able to do as much once we’re at your parents’ house.”

“Well, we could always just book a room in a less fancy place for our last night,” he suggests.

“Kook, your parents invited us. They sounded really excited,” you remind him. 

“They are,” he smiles now. “They asked me for your favorite food yesterday because they were in the market. I said you’re easily satisfied like me. They also cleaned my room and dusted all my awards because they wanted to brag about me to you.”

“Ugh, they’re so cute,” you groan, your cuteness aggression now extending to Jungkook’s parents because they truly are adorable. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. He knew that suggesting taking a bath together would push it but it was worth a try. He’s not upset one bit; just being with you in his hometown is enough to make him happy. And like you said, there’s always tonight. The last time you and your friends had a night out, you were unable to resist him and ended up confessing your feelings. 

“Go take a shower,” he says now. “I’ll just mentally prepare myself to meet your family again.”

“It’s my nieces and nephews you have to be worried about,” you warn him. “Once they find out what you do for a living, they’re not gonna leave your side.”

Jungkook laughs and says he’ll prepare for that, too. Seokjin had mentioned that not long ago. The kids have grown up and are never out of energy. They recently got into sports, too, and are in that phase where they wanna try and learn everything. It’s good for their development for sure, but that just means constantly asking your family and extended family members to play tag or whatever else their creative minds could think of. 

But he’s ready for that. He’s got your family to impress and an athletic image to uphold. He also just really wants to see you smile because that’s what you do when those kids are happy.

“I’ll make sure to stretch before meeting them, then.”

You giggle before entering the bathroom, knowing that Jungkook doing prep work before meeting your nieces and nephews might be a bit too much. 

You savor your bath time and run today’s schedule in your head for the nth time. It’s all straightforward but you want to make sure you get to properly celebrate with your family and friends. You wipe yourself dry and call out to Jungkook to let him know that he can start in the shower while you do your skincare but you’re left with no response.

You wonder if he’d left the bedroom so you open the door, only to find him doing pushups next to your bed.

“Oh. You were serious…” you say, as your eyes take their time in watching your boyfriend push himself off the floor, with his taut arms and broad back hypnotizing you. 

“It’s the last part of my workout,” he informs you, as he stands up and wiggles his eyebrows at your staring. “I do this all the time. But I did stretch earlier so I’m now physically ready.”

You burst into laughter. “Kook, they may have so much energy but they’re still just kids.”

“You forget that I work with kids. Half an hour with the year ones and I’m already spent,” he reminds you. “Plus, Seokjin told me about that one time he and Hayoung took them to a kid’s cafe and he gave up 15 minutes in. He said they kept going from one game to another and he got so tired that he fell asleep in the sandpit.”

“True. I mean, they’re gonna need a new victim since Seokjin will be busy tonight,” you hum. “You’re actually the one with the most patience.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright then. Finish your stretching then take a shower.”

“Will do now,” he says. 

He hums under the gush of water while you fix up at the nearby vanity. He walks over to you soaking wet, and you groan at him for drenching the floor again.

“Just wanted to remind you what you missed out on,” he smirks, as he wipes himself dry beside you. 

“I pride myself in having self-control, excuse you,” you bite back. 

“Alright. Let’s see about that later,” he laughs mockingly before walking out, clearly still teasing you as he doesn’t even wrap himself with the towel. 

It’s just his toned ass and delicious thighs, slowly disappearing from view.

You pout at yourself in the mirror but then again, not like there’s anything to complain about.

He returns to your side in his boxers now and starts putting on moisturizer. Wanting to always hit him back, you remark that the bathrobe is too heavy so you remove it, leaving you the one completely naked this time. 

Jungkook doesn’t react for the first five seconds. But once he finishes putting lotion on his arms, he immediately stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. It’s kisses on your back and torso before you know it, and you squeal in an attempt to reprimand him, but even he knows you’re enjoying it. 

“What’s the point of not taking a shower together if you’re just gonna do this anyway?” You whine.

“The point is that we’re dry.”

“That does not make any sense,” you groan, as you watch him continue to kiss you while you remain unmoving.

You eventually concede though, because anytime Jungkook expresses his desire for you like this, you can’t help but feel warmth. Which is actually quite comforting.

“Okay now I’m starving. For actual food,” he says. “Let’s go!”

Both of you finally get dressed and walk with Jimin, Taehyung, and Mo-eum to the hotel restaurant. The rest of your friends have already taken their seats, so you join them and pick your spots. 

Namjoon and Hoseok apparently worked out this morning, too, and when you ask Yoongi if he’d just gotten out of bed, he nonchalantly says that he and Gyu-rim went for a coffee run earlier. He blinks rapidly right after then quickly looks away before saying that he’ll just get more of the noodle soup at the buffet table. Gyu-rim excuses herself to go to the comfort room and heads the opposite direction.

You and your friends look at them then at each other, curious as to what might’ve happened. 

“Okay, it’s either they confessed during their little coffee date or one of them almost did then chickened out so now it’s awkward,” Jimin suspects. 

“It’s highly likely that’s Yoongi because he only ever gets cold feet when it comes to Gyu-rim,” Hoseok fondly says. 

“What’s there to be nervous about?” You say. “It’s Gyu-rim, she–” 

You pause, as nine pairs of eyes look at you questioningly. You’re unsure if Gyu-rim told anyone else about her feelings for Yoongi and you don’t want to do it for her.

“She’s so chill, you know?” You say instead. “Nothing really fazes her.”

“You can say the same for Yoongi but not when it comes to Gyu-rim,” Seokjin hums. “I mean, I’d know.”

Seokjin would, and that’s either because Yoongi’s his best friend, or he knows exactly what Yoongi’s feeling because it’s probably the same as what he felt. But you don’t push and instead let Namjoon remind everyone to not meddle. It’s always more exciting that way, he reminds you all, even if it could also get frustrating.

You continue with your two plates of food as Yoongi returns followed by Gyu-rim. It’s not long after when Seokjin and Hayoung excuse themselves to start getting ready. Your older friends and Taehyung follow soon after to help them, so you’re left with Jimin, Jungkook, and Mo-eum who continue talking about the other potential relationship in your group.

You watch in entertainment as Jimin and Mo-eum bounce off their observations, and you remark that this is what they were probably doing behind your and Jungkook’s backs. 

“Oh, totally. We’d even do it while you’re in the bathroom or something and then change topics when you return,” Mo-eum hums as she chews on her rice cake. “Like, remember when you were whining the weekend after Jeju because Kook got tasked to chaperone for a school trip so he couldn’t go to your apartment?”

“Oh god,” you shake your head, and you all quickly get into narrating how your respective conversations went.

It’s funny in hindsight, knowing now that Jungkook was missing you the way you were missing him. You still felt upset that time, though, and you don’t want to feel that frustration ever again. 

You finally finish your meal and head to the lobby to meet your family who just arrived from your town in Gwangju. They’ll be checking in early, and you wanted to make sure they were settled first before you started preparing yourself. 

It’s warm greetings when you see your parents and they excitedly hug Jimin and Mo-eum. When it’s Jungkook’s turn, your mother beams even more, and she engulfs him in her arms and sighs, as if in relief.

“Oh, Jungkook. What a lucky woman our daughter is,” she smiles. “We won’t ever have to worry about her starving or not eating delicious food.”

“Ah, well, she’s not hard to please,” Jungkook chuckles, earning him a pout from you. “But I’m… I’m just glad I get to take care of her.”

“What a sweet man,” your mother gushes, and you nudge her and warn not to scare him away. “She needs that. She’s too busy saving the world and has to be reminded to look after herself, too.”

“She does,” Jungkook smiles. “But she’s been doing well in that regard. It helps when you’ve got good people around you.”

“Of course,” your father says now. “You’re all so lucky you have each other. And that both of you ended up together. Seriously, it’s such a relief. You’ll understand it if you become a father - you’re constantly praying that your children find good and responsible partners that they’ll spend their lives with and so there’s this nervousness every time they introduce someone. We’re lucky that her siblings found them and well, you’re the first one that ___ has properly introduced as her boyfriend and we’re just relieved that it’s someone like you. We adore your parents, too, so whew, no in-law drama and–”

“As you can tell, I got the rambling genes from him,” you interject, earning you laughter from your friends, especially Jungkook who scrunches his nose in entertainment. 

“Not obvious at all,” Jungkook chuckles. 

But your father’s smile softens and this means a lot to you, too. Your parents were never the type to pressure you into getting married right away, only because you established early on that your career is very, very important to you. Finding a partner is something that could be delayed, or even given up if it was your choice. 

But it doesn’t mean that they don’t hope that you find someone who would accept you for all that you are, including your dreams for yourself, because they do. It’s something they tell your siblings, which they tell you, so you’re glad you can appease your parents this time.

Jungkook is the type you’d proudly introduce to your family. Even if he can get a bit shy sometimes, like now, as his hand searches yours once they ask him about work and other things. You adore your parents; they could just get a little overwhelming sometimes. You suppose it runs in the blood.

You thumb his hand in assurance, and he seems to calm down a bit once he talks about his students and what he teaches them based on the year level. He also talks about the extra-curricular activities he organizes for the school. It’s something he’s proud about but he doesn’t get to always talk about it this way, so you’re glad he’s able to share this with your parents. You suppose they have more reason to want to get to know him like this and you don’t mind, not when they seem really impressed, too. 

Your chat is interrupted with the front desk staff saying that their rooms are ready and your nieces and nephews entering the lobby after playing in the playground right outside. Your brothers already look tired and it’s not even lunch time. 

You say your goodbyes for now as they head to their rooms and you return to yours. You and Mo-eum hog your bathroom so you both could do your makeup while Jimin and Jungkook play video games outside, even with your constant reminder for them to get ready soon.

You get dressed with Mo-eum in your bedroom then let Jungkook in so he could dress up, too. His breath visibly hitches at the sight of you, and you shyly smile in response. 

But there’s nothing to be nervous about, not when you look the way you do in your sweetheart gown. He’s seen you in formal looks many times before but not like this, and not since he started liking you, which he reminds himself was barely a year ago. There are still so many things that will feel new or different this time around despite having known each other for so long. 

And that includes seeing you look so stunning that he can’t help but sigh in amazement. 

“How do I look?” you ask, turning around to show him the entirety of the dress, which also happens to be low-back.

He doesn’t really have the right words for it, but he takes your hand and kisses it. 

“You look really good,” he says under his breath. 

You settle with a nod, unable to control your smile with how visibly affected he is, especially as he pulls you closer and softly kisses your bare shoulder. That itself leaves goosebumps on your skin; you can’t wait to know how it’ll feel later on.

You turn towards the closet to hand him his clothes this time. You help him when you can, and you learn that Jungkook, too, looks breathtaking in formal wear, especially with his thin necktie and the white dress shirt that beautifully hugs his toned upper body. 

He heads to the bathroom to style his hair while you attempt to put on your heels, and not only are you unsuccessful, you’re also left speechless once Jungkook appears before you. It’s the slightly parted hair, you think. You decide that this slick, confident style is the mature look; you’d take this over his leather jacket any day. 

“How do I look?” He dares ask, as if your ogling doesn’t say enough. 

“Do you want the G-rated answer or the X-rated one?”  

He laughs in response, truly never ready for what you have to say. 

“Hmm, what about you tell me the G-rated version now,” he hums as he bends down to help you buckle your heels, “and then you can show me the X-rated answer tonight?”

“I can do that,” you smirk, slightly lifting your dress to show a bit of leg as he finishes with your shoes. 

He helps you stand up and you fix his necktie before smiling at him.

“You look so handsome, Kook. Seriously. I might have to pull you away from the kids if they hog you later.”

“Hey, I’m gonna need to be in their good graces, too,” he chuckles. “But I’ll just be near you, okay?”

“I was just teasing. I think,” you say. “But hey, it’s Seokjin and Hayoung’s wedding. We have to enjoy it. Don’t worry too much about my family because they already like you.”

“As if you’re not wanting to impress my parents, too,” he teases.

“Oh god yeah. Please make sure I don’t do anything stupid in front of them,” you start to panic. “I might ramble about your amazing genes and how they conceived you so perfectly.”

He laughs again.

“Well, they won’t be at the yacht party so you can let loose then. Just don’t… hit your head or anything again, yeah?”

You playfully roll your eyes before opening the door and he follows behind. You smile at Jimin in his adorable bowtie and Mo-eum in her classy strapless dress and ask for their help to make sure that you don’t embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook’s parents.

“Hmm, I don’t think they’d mind if you do,” Jimin hums as you all walk down the hallway. “I think it’ll assure them that you’re not presenting yourself to be someone perfect for their son, only to end up betraying him.”

You sigh at the thought.

“And hey. Kook really, really and I mean, really likes you. That’s the only thing that matters to them.”

The four of you separate once you arrive at the 15th floor. Jungkook and the guys head to Seokjin’s room while you and Mo-eum squeal once you enter Hayoung’s suite. She’s already made up and there are several more photos taken before she gets into her dress, which Gyu-rim and Suhyeon help her wear. 

It’s not long before you go to another room on a different floor where Seokjin and Hayoung finally see each other. It’s also where their families will greet them before the ceremony starts.  

There are lots of tears and so much squealing throughout the whole hour that it happens. Seokjin’s rich family members are mostly humble and have a good sense of humor whereas your entire clan is a little too energetic. It’s definitely not balanced out but you end up laughing for most of it because there’s always a joke or remark that makes it through the crowd. 

But you see Seokjin always turns to Hayoung, his eyes softening as he watches his bride enjoy the moment just like he is, just like how he always tells her to. There’s so much trust and promise in the way he looks at her, and it’s the kind that’s built over time. It may seem a bit too early but you hope you and Jungkook get to that point one day.

“They’re so cute,” Jungkook whispers in your ear amidst all the chatter. “Who would have thought that the corniest guy in the world could have the softest smile?”

“Well, he’s looking at the love of his life,” you say. “That’s reserved for only her.”

Jungkook nods in agreement and looks at his friends. Behind all the jokes and the contagious laughter is a man who’s truly so in love, and Jungkook is happy he gets to witness it. 

Your time eventually comes to an end and you’re all escorted to the large balcony where cocktails are being served while the bride and groom remain for more photos. You take one sip of champagne before handing it over to Mo-eum once you see Jungkook’s parents, who happen to be talking to your parents, too.

They greet you with the warmest hugs and gush at how you look. You’re left feeling a bit flustered at the compliments and respond with the G-rated version of what you think of their son’s outfit. 

Both your parents have met each other many times and they talk just as any couple friends do. There’s a lot of praising each other’s kids and you thank the heavens that they get along early on. Jungkook’s parents even talk about your stay at their house tomorrow and your parents take this opportunity to invite the Jeons to your grandparents’ farm. You come up with possible dates and agree to firm up the plans in the coming weeks. 

Not long after, all the guests are asked to head inside the hall for the mid-afternoon ceremony, and you separate from your parents to sit at the round table with your friends at the front. 

As expected, the guests erupt in cheers and applause once the bride and groom are revealed behind the large doors. They look so perfect together, and you at least get to gush with your other cousins about how Hayoung copped herself a truly handsome guy when she proclaimed she was going to be a nun when she was a teenager. 

The vows end in tears, as Seokjin surprisingly goes into serious mode and expresses his most sincere emotions that surprises even his best friends. 

“This could've been left in a letter that I’d be reading to you tonight but I want everyone to know that I will love you in words, I will love you in action, and I will love you with every breath,” he says, as he wipes the corner of his eyes. “I’ll always be thankful to the chickens that chased you and had you yelling and laughing like crazy because that’s when I knew that I liked you. Your laughter changed my life, Hayoung. And I hope to never live a day without it.”

It’s a special moment you all share. It’s the first wedding in your friend group; they also happen to be the couple that you all look up to and seek comfort from. The emotions spill over to the speeches that Namjoon, Taehyung, Suhyeon, and Hayoung’s sister make. 

Before you know it, the newlyweds are walking out the hall for a change and you’re all buzzing from what just happened. The reception commences soon after, and it’s delicious food after delicious food that’s served that gets you and Jungkook jumping in your seats and moaning to yourselves. 

The socializing bit begins and you take the time to catch up with your other cousins. It’s midway through one conversation when you realize you haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. You look around the hall but eventually find him out the balcony, racing with your nieces and nephews. They squeal in disappointment when they lose and in excitement when they almost win, and while they take turns to go ahead, Jungkook’s the one who runs solo. 

“Five-minute break,” he yells, as he heaves while walking towards you.

You hand him a glass of water and chuckle at how he obviously is quite tired but is still willing to go a few rounds with the kids. 

“What have they asked you to do?” 

“Well, other than running, we’ve raced by hopping and jumping on one leg,” Jungkook answers. “They wanted to crawl, too, but I used the adult card for that one and said no.”

“They spend a lot of time outdoors so they come up with a bunch of different things,” you laugh, already used to them and their different games. 

“As they should,” Jungkook hums. “Which is why I’m going along with it. I mean, they’re at a wedding. It’s an event for adults. What else are they supposed to do?”

“Hmm, that’s true. But thanks for keeping them company,” you smile. “You deal with kids enough at work and now you’re doing that here, too.”

“Because it’s fun!” He beams. “Plus, So-you asked me if I’m your boyfriend because I keep kissing your cheek and she’s never seen anyone do that with you so she’s a little protective. I need her on my side.”

“She’s a little too smart for her own good. I told her once that I don’t really wanna have a boyfriend so she’s quite sus with me,” you laugh. “But she’ll come around. She loves the water so if you teach her how to swim, she’ll be impressed.”

“That’s already on tomorrow’s agenda,” Jungkook says. “One of your uncles told them I’m a swimmer and they got excited. They already told me to meet them at 9 sharp and that they’ll tell your parents if I don’t show up.”

“Bunch of brats. I love them so much,” you chuckle. “Well, there goes our Sunday morning.”

“At least it’s not too early. We can stay up tonight,” he smirks. 

“Well, we won’t if you’re the one who uses all his energy and falls asleep right away,” you point out.

“Oh, you know better than challenging me like that.”

You actually do, which is why you did. He’s gonna want to prove a point and he’s sexy when he does. You’re unsure if he’s caught on that you like challenging him so he’d do what you actually want him to, but he does it anyway. 

Before you could answer, Haneul is yelling that five minutes is up and that the jumping jacks race is about to start. Jungkook, truly wanting to prove himself to them, removes his suit and hands it over to you. 

You watch in amusement as he makes his way across the covered path, jumping up and down with his arms swinging over his head. The kids are shrieking while he heaves, but they cheer him on. At this point, some of them, tired from all the running and screaming, are already seated on the bench next to you, giggling.

“I don’t even know why Jungkook is doing this,” you chuckle as you watch him win the race. 

He’s not even letting them win as a courtesy.

“He’s in a competition with So-you,” Ha-yul says of her cousin.

“What competition?” You ask. 

Your 8-year old niece merely shrugs and wraps her arms around your waist and continues to watch on. Knowing her, she probably knows what they’re competing for but you don’t prod. Jungkook will probably tell you later.

You instead ask her about her family’s recent trip to Jeju and she beams with joy once she talks about the dolphins she saw swimming in the ocean.

“They look so magical, auntie. Even from afar,” she smiles. “Did you see them when you were there?”

The question sparks a memory. A very special one. 

“Yes, I did,” you gush, recalling how you wanted to hold Jungkook’s hand then because of the overwhelming beauty of nature and the exhilaration of accepting your feelings for him. “It was so pretty.”

“Did you see them with anyone?” She asks, looking up at you now.

“Yeah. I was with him,” you reply, gesturing towards the man who’s somehow ended up teaching the kids how to do a high kick.   

“Are you sure you were even looking at the dolphins?” 

You turn to Ha-yul with her doubtful eyes and crossed arms. 

“Yes, I was, you smarty-pants,” you chuckle, pinching her adorable cheeks. “Jungkook was the one who told me about them so we went to this spot to watch the sunrise and then the dolphins showed up right after.”

“Hmm. That’s very sweet,” she replies, slowly smiling. “I like him for you, auntie. He makes you smile a lot.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” You giggle, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the thought that even your niece can see it. “I like him for me, too.”

You eventually go back inside after feeling a bit hungry despite all the food you ate earlier. You yell for Jungkook to follow you, knowing he’d want to munch on something  after the series of physical activities he just did. Your nieces and nephews fortunately drain their energy and run towards the hall, too, and you overhear them tell their parents that “uncle Jungkook is so cool!”

You gush at him, knowing that he achieved his goal of impressing them, though you don’t think it would’ve been difficult. He’s natural with kids and you got to see that today. It’s even more special to you because they’re your family - people you love and adore, and it means so much that they accept him. 

Even your cousins seem to like him, too. One of them talks to Jungkook about teaching, another about swimming, and another about taekwondo. The conversations move to sports in general, and then video games, and then music and their favorite beer and whiskey brands. You leave them alone, not wanting to cling to Jungkook’s side the entire time. 

So you hang out with your siblings while your other friends stay nearby. By this time, the number of guests has started to dwindle. The ceremony and reception are long over but there’s still lots of food and drinks being served. The sunset yacht party for close friends and family will start soon, and you’re all just waiting for the go-signal to start heading to the port. 

You walk towards the bar for a glass of soda when you stop in your tracks at a sight that you didn’t think you’d see. There by the counter is Gyu-rim, giggling shyly and Yoongi, chuckling, too, while he pulls her close to him and whispers something in her ear. She laughs once more then their hands slowly move down, their fingers grazing before he places her hand firmly in his.

Your jaw drops and you blink multiple times to make sure it’s real. 

It is. And you seriously want to scream in excitement.

But you scurry back to your friends instead.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” you catch your breath. “It’s happening!”

“What’s happening!” Mo-eum rushes to you with a slice of cake in her hand. 

The rest of your friends slowly gather around you and you direct their sights to the bar where Yoongi and Gyu-rim are still definitely being all shy and affectionate.

“Who is it?” Jimin asks, squinting his eyes to try to see what has all of you gasping and freaking out.

“Gyu and Uncle!” You squeal at him. 

“What! Wait, I’m blind!” He groans.

And just as you’re about to tell your best friend to be subtle, he’s already off near the bar to get a closer look, and his own gasps alert the pair that you’re all onto them. 

But Yoongi just turns to your table and raises his glass in both confirmation and celebration.

And Gyu-rim just smiles. She’s no longer just doing it internally, that’s for sure.

They eventually walk towards your table and you can sense the restraint your friends have in bombarding them with questions. Except for Jimin.

“How! When!” He goes on. “I manifested this. I envisioned this. I prayed for this! When did you–”

“Coffee. This morning,” Yoongi answers. 

“So did you two just look at each other and then have a silent understanding of your feelings?” Taehyung wonders.

“Sorta,” Gyu-rim hums. “The distance between us just kept getting shorter and then he… uh, he just held my hand and I held it tighter and then we just… I guess, kinda knew.”

“How on brand,” you remark.

“Yeah, just like your confession,” Jungkook, who suddenly appears next to you, whispers in your ear.

“At least I confessed first,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Then why were you awkward during breakfast?” Mo-eum asks the pair.

“It was fresh,” Yoongi shrugs. “And we weren’t sure how to act without you guys freaking out.”

“We were still talking about you though,” Jimin informs him.

“I’m sure you started it,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Of course I did,” Jimin winks.

“So why now?” Taehyung asks. “What pushed you to finally confess?”

“I didn’t wanna waste any more time,” Yoongi sighs.

“And I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Gyu-rim pipes in.

“And well, I was thinking about those two,” Yoongi adds, his gaze turning to you and Jungkook now. “There are lots of things going on in our lives. I could be one serendipitous encounter away from letting her get away. I don’t really think I could live with that.”

“Gosh, our impact,” you whisper to Jungkook after softly smiling at the new couple. 

He just wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He’ll always be glad that things happened the way they did with both of you, and he’d go through a decade of friendship and periods of distance and confusion if it means having you like this.

You all continue to gush and talk about all that happened today until you’re told that you can now head to the port. You’re transported in coaches then you make your way to the large yacht where there’s more food and drinks, hanging lights, and a saxophonist serenading the minimal guests. 

There’s less squealing this time with the kids left behind in the hotel. It’s more relaxed now, as the many lounges offer so much space to enjoy the scenery, the almost cool air, and each other’s company. 

You and Jungkook constantly get separated, with your relatives pulling you over to them every five minutes. You can’t complain though, as you really don’t see them as much, but you also wish you could have more time to be with your boyfriend, perhaps hold his hand as you socialize, or gush at how he looks because he truly is so beautiful tonight. 

But somehow, you find your way to each other once the sun starts to set. Between the purple and orange sky, the calm waves, and the jazz music, it’s a moment that you’ll truly treasure, especially with Jungkook’s arms around you, his chin tucked in that space by your shoulder, humming in amazement.

You don’t really need words for this moment. You just pull him closer to you and kiss the side of his face when you can, an act of extreme fondness and desire that you could offer him right now.

The dancefloor opens up and Seokjin and Hayoung are the first to slow dance. People soon follow, including you and Jungkook, whose hands just don’t want to separate from you. You feel quite overwhelmed and opt to gently lay your head on his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat and the full warmth of his arms around you. You know it’s where you’ll always want to be.

His soft kisses on your head give you a kind of assurance that’s quite emotional. It’s as if he knows how much you feel and how deep you’re thinking and he’s there, not quieting your mind but encouraging it. It’s acceptance and respect that you don’t think you’ve ever felt with anyone before.

The music turns lively not long after. The drinking continues, too, leaving some guests in a rather unfiltered and perhaps wild state, including your friends. 

There’s Jimin, Mo-eum, and Taehyung dancing around like always. There’s Hoseok with his now half unbuttoned dress shirt, not too subtly grinding with his girlfriend in the corner. 

Then there’s Namjoon, yelling “fuck the government” towards the ocean, and Yoongi has to remind him to tone it down because he’s part of the government, and well, he’s a future public figure so this behavior might not be a good look.

“I’m thinking of quitting my job, actually,” Namjoon admits. “I’ll just have my own podcast and name it ‘the professional yapper’ and talk about all the things that fuck us over. And crabs. I’d like to talk about crabs.”

“Who hurt you?” Gyu-rim asks.

“I… I’m drunk,” Namjoon heaves.

“We know,” several of you say in unison.

But this is when his body starts to shut down. After releasing all his pent up anger, his energy drains and he gets sleepy. He doesn’t want to sit down, knowing he’d fall asleep and it’ll be difficult for anyone to carry him off the boat, so Jungkook stays by Namjoon’s side to make sure he doesn’t fall on the floor or into the water. 

It keeps your boyfriend away from you again though, as he follows the older man everywhere, even outside the bathroom. But you don’t mind. Jungkook’s taken care of your friends during times like this and you know he won’t stop just because of you. 

It’s already dark once the yacht returns to the port. It’s barely 10 PM but you’re full and exhausted. You’ve had a long day and you just want to have a nice bath like you promised Jungkook and well, do a lot more. 

Jimin, Mo-eum, and Taehyung don’t want their night to be over yet so they head to the hotel bar to eat and drink some more. They don’t miss the chance to tease you and Jungkook about having the suite all to yourselves though but you run with it. It’s not like your desire for each other is a secret or something you suppress when you’re with your friends.

So you and Jungkook head back to your floor and once he enters your bedroom, he immediately climbs on the foot of the bed and lies down. With his loosened tie, he undoes another button of his dress shirt and releases a deep exhale. 

Even you feel his tiredness from that one breath. 

You stand by the window and just watch him, his arms and legs straightened out and his eyes closed. You take the time to admire him like this. His body’s breathtaking even with clothes on, and you let the X-rated thoughts fill your mind.

He mistakes your hardened gaze for annoyance, as he apologizes for lying on the bed with his day clothes. It’s one of your biggest pet peeves, and you once had an argument because he was tired from work and wanted to cuddle but you wouldn’t let him stay next to you on your bed until he showered. It was more of a banter, really, but you did sense his frustration when he dragged himself to your bathroom then slept right after lying on your side. 

He sits up now and scoots to the edge of the bed.

“It’s okay, Kook. Rest there if you want to,” you assure him. “I don’t blame you, considering you were the cool uncle and the great friend tonight.”

“Those kids are relentless,” he chuckles. “And Joon is so heavy; it was a struggle getting him off the boat.”  

“Well, he has a lot of angst to release but I’m sure he’s glad you helped him.”

“Yeah, but that meant I didn’t get to be with you much today,” he pouts now. 

You smile at his sullen expression, as the realization that you spent much of the wedding being with other people hits him. Sure, you had dinner and the sunset viewing and that slow dance but with everything that happened today, it still doesn’t seem enough. 

So you walk towards him and slightly lift your dress so you could sit on his lap. He shifts you around so you’re snug against him and he smirks.

“So you’re not mad that I lied on the bed in day clothes?” 

“You were at the foot of it so it’s fine,” you wave him off. “That could be our compromise.”

“Okay then. So… will you show me the X-rated version of your thoughts now?”

You gaze at him - at his sparkling eyes and soft lips and chiseled jaw and think this view of him will always leave you breathless. The fact that you have this beautiful man wanting your attention blows your mind and you truly wish he’ll never get sick of you. 

You bite your lip and nod before kissing him deeply, not holding yourself back now since you’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon. He returns your eagerness and moans against your mouth. He grips your waist and pulls you closer to him in an effort to eliminate whatever distance is left, which is none. You’re chest to chest now but that still doesn’t feel close enough.

Soft moans fill the room and your pleasure continues to build, especially with Jungkook grazing his fingers down your semi-bare back before slowly pulling off the straps of your dress. It triggers something inside you, as you now fiddle with his necktie, desperate to get it off. 

You manage to untangle it and quickly undo the buttons of his shirt. He lets you do it on your own while his hands travel to the edge of the bed, and you feel him smile in the kiss that hasn’t stopped.

You finally remove his top then move to unbuckle his belt. Briefly pulling yourself from him, you eagerly undo his trousers and start pulling it off. He watches you from his seat on the bed while you bend down, and you cock your brow at his smug face. He looks like he’s really enjoying this.

“You letting me do all the work?” You tease. 

“For now.”

You know what that means. And that just gets you more worked up. So you immediately undress and watch him watch your every move until you’re back on his lap, both of you now completely naked.

Your kisses turn even more heated. His grip on your waist tightens, and your nails on his shoulders dig a little deeper. You catch your breath and let him kiss down your neck, his teeth merely grazing your flesh, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

Your hand travels south, too, until they reach his hardened dick and you’re overwhelmed with an even more intense desire for him and everything he is. 

You want him so bad, you think you’ll explode. 

Jungkook feels you grip his length and grunt as your tongue flicks his lips. This is usually your tell.

“Let me just get the co—”

“No,” you interject, pulling away as you look at him with now wondering eyes.

“I… uh—”

“Well, do you want it inside you, at least?” He asks, gesturing towards his member that you haven’t let go of.

“Yes, I just… I just want it naked. Is that okay?”

It takes a few seconds for it to fully register to him what exactly you mean.

“You’re asking me if I want to be inside you without a condom?” He asks incredulously. 

“Well, yeah. You said you’ve always used one,” you say. 

“It was a precaution for a bunch of things,” he reasons. “And well, given what happened with the last girl I dated, I’m glad I did. But you said you’ve always used one, too.”

“Same reason,” you shrug. “But I really, really like you, Kook. And you’re so hot. And I hate the taste of latex when I suck you after.”

“Those seem like valid reasons,” he chuckles. “You feel really good even when I wear one so it doesn’t matter as much.”

“Yeah but, I don’t wanna do this with doubts or hesitation,” you sigh. “And I don’t wanna gatekeep.”

“You don’t wanna gatekeep… your vagina?”

“Yes. You say it’s really good down there. You can have all of it.”

Jungkook laughs out of amusement. You truly are unfiltered and bizarre sometimes but still very endearing.

“That’s your vagina though,” he reminds you. “I’m just a visitor.”

“And you can visit my coochie without clothes on! Like you’re free. Plus, you’re the only one who’s going in there so why not?”

He laughs again at your allusions and pulls you in for a hug. 

“You drive me crazy, you know? And in the best way,” he says softly. 

“Thank you for that clarification,” you pull away and giggle. 

“So uh, shall I visit now?”

“Gotta prep you again first,” you gesture towards his flaccid dick.

“Oh. That won’t be hard,” he smirks.

You both burst into laughter but he does clarify that he’ll indeed get hard again; he just couldn’t pass up on the pun.

Jungkook softens at the look you give him. There’s this gentleness in it like always but it’s a little different this time. It's filled with even more trust. Perhaps appreciation and gratefulness, too? You often thank him for listening to all your thoughts and he gladly would. Everyday. 

He loves that this is something both of you can easily talk about, which isn’t even the first time. And that just like him, you don’t want any reservations or doubts in your relationship. There’s so much clarity that he feels for you in such a short amount of time that he’s been with you and he doesn’t even question it. 

Just this intimacy with you is everything he wants - there’s pleasure and intense desire but there’s playfulness, too. There’s warmth and comfort and that’s what being with you is like. 

You gaze at each other with such yearning that it immediately turns into a heated kiss. You catch your breath and his mouth travels to your nipples, expertly lapping them up, causing you to tilt your head and moan. He takes the chance to kiss down your torso, leaving you panting once he makes it to the side of your waist, an erogenous part he recently discovered that he takes advantage of. 

You return to kisses and your hands explore his chest before they grip his now hardened length. You moan at the feel of it, then thumb his tip before you lift yourself up and slowly slide down.

The sensation is different and you know he feels it, too. He hums and curses under his breath, pulling you close to nibble your neck while you grind against each other. 

It really does feel liberating in an odd way, Jungkook thinks, just because he feels everything. You clench around him and it has him moaning. 

This is the time when he does all the work, as he shifts you around to lie on the bed and you know it, too, biting your lip in anticipation for how hard he’s gonna go.

But he wants to focus on your pleasure first, so he dives down your cunt and kisses you in all the places he knows you like. He meets your eyes and hums to himself in satisfaction, knowing how much you’re enjoying this.

Once he feels your slick on his mouth, he gets on his knees and aligns himself with you, spreading your legs so he can get a good look of that naked entrance you were talking about.

You both moan once more, and Jungkook pushes in and out, familiarizing himself with the feeling that he knows he’ll keep having. You feel even more amazing like this; he just hopes he can keep it together and make this last longer.

“You okay, babe?” He pants.

“Yeah. It’s just like Pilates.”

He laughs again, having accepted that you’ll always have something fascinating to say even when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

But he quickly gets back to that hypnotic feel, especially once he flushes your legs against your chest, allowing him to thrust into you intensely at a different angle. 

You’re definitely not yet flexible enough so you’re a bit overwhelmed, but you let him chase his high just as he let you do so earlier with his skillful mouth and focus on the way he feels bare inside you. He knows how to use his beautiful dick and not to be cheesy, but it feels pretty special that no one else has ever felt him like this. 

His thrusts start to get erratic and you know he’s close. He pulls away, pulls out, then pumps himself repeatedly until he’s spilling his seed on your torso. The pure look of pleasure and exhaustion on his face is so sexy, you feel like coming again.

He finishes and hovers over you, supported by his propped up arms with his damp hair and sweat dangling from his forehead. He’s panting and cursing under his breath as he pecks your lips, and you just watch him, enthralled by these little actions, knowing that your body made him feel that way. 

“Let me just—”

He cuts himself off and walks to the bathroom then returns with a pile of tissues that he wipes you with. He apologizes as he does and you look at him softly, appreciating the gentleness and warmth on his face. He discards the soaked tissues and plops down next to you.

For a brief moment, you just look at each other, as if words aren’t enough to express what you want to say. It’s not just about the sex or the pleasure you both get from it. It’s not just the lust that courses through your veins and the desire for more. 

It’s that feeling of security, you think to yourself. It’s falling quickly from cloud 9 but knowing you’re not gonna crash because not only is he there next to you, holding your hand while you fall, he’s assuring you that it’s not gonna hurt. The fall isn’t the kind where that happens. 

Not like it’s some fairytale you’re in - although it might very well be - but there’s this trust that you both know what you’re getting into, that you know what you’re doing, that you just want to do what makes the other person happy. 

Because that’s what you want. With Jungkook, you’re not chasing the high or some elusive happiness because you’re living it already. It’s in your grasp and you’re filled with it. 

He smiles and you smile back. You snuggle close to him and softly kiss his lips. You want to repeat over and over again how much you like and adore and want him but it doesn’t feel enough so you settle for a hug and a bite of his cheek just because.

Jungkook chuckles and settles in this position next to you with caresses on your bare shoulder. He’s thinking of all that he feels for you until he hears your soft snores and he laughs again. 

You catch yourself and ask him if you fell asleep.

“Wow, you’re tired?” He teases.

“Shut up. Pilates makes me tired. What more this?”

“Fair enough,” he hums. “Let’s have a bath then. It could help you relax.”

You immediately agree and get off the bed. You clean your face then prepare the tub, splashing in some bath salts and lavender oil. He stands next to you naked, looking every bit handsome that you can’t help but kiss him again.

He still shivers at your touch and that urges you, as your hand once more wraps around his length and desire overtakes you once more. You start bending down and Jungkook knows what you want. He stops you for a bit and grabs one of the small towels from the sink and places it on the floor, right where your knees are supposed to be.

You get back to it immediately and the absence of the taste and smell of latex is so satisfying. It urges you to do more. It’s perhaps the best suck you’ve given him and the sounds he makes spurs you on. You didn’t think it would ever feel this good for you.

You let him come in your mouth this time and the long exhale he makes lets you know that you did well. It’s the same time when the tub gets filled, and you both go inside, moaning at the feel of the warm water all over your tired bodies.

It’s quiet for a while. You suppose you’re both just soaking in everything, familiarizing yourselves with the silence and the fact that you get to enjoy this fancy bathroom where you can do whatever you want. 

But Jungkook is the one who cuts through the sound of the bubbling water.

“You were so pretty tonight,” he says with his deep voice. 

You scrunch your nose and smile, giddy at his compliment and the sincerity in which he gives it. Even after all you’ve done in just the past hour, this is what gets you all shy and giggly. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “You, well… I’ve told you both versions. But it was nice to see you being with my family, Kook. I know you’re usually shy around new people but you looked so natural with them. I really appreciate you trying.”

“I’ll admit, I was a bit nervous,” he chuckles. “You talk about your family a lot and you’re their baby. I wanted them to see that I’m good for you, you know? That I can take care of you because I’m sure that’s what they want for you.”

“That’s actually what one of my cousins said as they were leaving,” you smile. “And that my grandparents would’ve loved you.”

“Yeah?”

“She said you would’ve been a big help at the farm,” you chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jungkook smiles. “I know that they put Seokjin to work that one time. He said he’s glad he was prepared because his uncle has a farm, too, but that was tough work. And it was worth it. They were charmed by him at the end.”

“It would’ve been the same with you,” you say, reminiscing about that trip from long ago.

Seokjin and Hayoung were dating for just three months when they visited your grandparents. He’s lucky he got their approval then. Two years later, your grandfather passed; your grandmother followed a year later. 

But Jungkook got to meet them years before that as your friend and that still means something. Regardless, you think they’d adore him, too, if they were still around.

He smiles and kisses you. It's an affirmation he welcomes, and it’s one he got today from your entire family, especially from his biggest critics - your nieces and nephews. 

You return Jungkook’s kiss and moan once his one hand travels to your clit and the other fondles your breast. It’s the perfect place for this, and you sigh in his hold with your back flushed against his chest as you anticipate reaching your peak.

And you do, with his expert fingers fiddling away while his tongue swirls in your mouth with such intensity. You crash from your high engulfed in his arms, and you really can’t ask for anything more.

You stay like that for a while longer before heading to the shower. You fool around again that by the time you finish, you’re worn out and eager to sleep. 

“You’re waking up to go swimming with me and your family, right?” Jungkook asks you after you’ve turned the lamp off.

“Uh-huh,” you yawn, turning to hug him now.

His chest is taut and smooth and he smells like baby powder that you push your face against it out of sexiness aggression.

He laughs at you and accepts the new quirks you develop when it comes to him. 

“Good. Let’s slee—”

You’re snoring before he could finish his sentence as he expected. 

The perfect weekend may be halfway over but he’s loved every single moment with you. Including all the times you’d fallen asleep before he could even properly wish you goodnight. 

You ask for a five-minute extension when your alarm rings the next morning but Jungkook isn’t having it.

“I might lose points from your nieces and nephews if I’m not down at the pool by 9,” he groans. “They made me promise. You can’t sabotage me like this.”

He pulls the cover off of you and you groan in response. You slightly open your eyes and find him standing beside your bed already in his swim shorts, arms crossed and looking impatient.

“They won’t do anything. You’re being dramatic,” you say.

“I’m being cautious,” he argues. “Come on, babe.”

“Fine,” you frown, getting off the bed and walking to the bathroom. 

He follows you there and kisses your neck to get in your good graces and it works. You’re that weak for him and he knows this so he takes advantage. Sometimes you pretend to be angry or uncaring just so he’d butter up to you but his eye rolling and smirk tell you he knows exactly what you’re doing. 

You finally get in your bathing suit and head to the indoor pool where the kids cheer when they see you and Jungkook. You think they’re excited because he promised to teach them how to swim this morning. 

“You weren’t that excited when I taught you,” your cousin, Hae-dal, whines.

She was a competitive swimmer once upon a time, too.

“But you’re not a teacher, Ma,” Ha-yul says. “I couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

“She’s got a point,” you tell your cousin. 

Once Jungkook starts teaching them how to do the basics and guiding them with their strokes, she concedes.

You didn’t really plan on swimming today but the kids dragged Jungkook and he couldn’t bail on them. He still would’ve come though; he really wanted to try the hotel’s indoor pool and you don’t blame him. It’s huge and fancy-looking. There’s an area for kids, too, so teaching them is easy. You watch him manage six excited children who all want his attention and like you expected, he’s able to give it to each one.

“He’s such a natural,” Hoseok’s voice cuts through your thoughts. 

You turn and see that your friends and their partners are here, too, and are heading to the adult pool. You wave your greetings and signal that you’ll go to them later.

“He is,” you respond to your friend. “I never noticed it before.”

“Would you have liked him then if you did?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing,” you hum. “I wasn’t in a good headspace for years and I probably would’ve screwed us up.”

“And he probably would’ve fought to keep you.”

“You think so?” You wonder. “If I hurt him, then I don’t deserve him.”

“Only if you intended to, but we all know you wouldn’t. Not to him. And that’s because you’re a good person, ___. I hope you’ll never forget that.”

You look at Hoseok, a man you’ve known for years and someone you’d seek advice from every once in a while when things are tough because of how wise he is, so he knows your fears and your worries well. 

He knows you’re afraid to disappoint people, that you don’t want to hurt the people you care about. And even as you’d told Jungkook last night that you want to continue with your relationship without doubts and fears, somehow this affirmation from Hoseok is something you also needed. And you wonder if it stems from a conversation he might’ve had.

He reads your mind, as he says that he, Jungkook, and Yoongi were chatting last night while making sure Namjoon didn’t fall over the yacht’s railing. 

“Kook was just talking about not wanting to fail you. As a partner and as a friend.”

“Did you assure him that he wouldn’t?” You ask.

“I did. And I reminded him that he’s a good person, too, and hurting you isn’t something he’d just do.”

“Seems easy to say, huh?” You laugh dryly.

“People can fight and have misunderstandings and not hurt each other. That’s… kind of what a mature relationship is,” Hoseok advises. “I know you’re on the cusp of something really great - if you’re not there yet - and I thought that reminding you that you’re capable of having genuine, long-lasting and gentle and intense feelings for someone would help. Because you are, okay? Kook’s really happy that he gets to be with you.”

You smile and think that it’s indeed a good reminder. You and Jungkook have been on this honeymoon ride of laughter and playful bickering the past two months and this weekend has turned out to be a beautiful dream, too. 

You feel so much for him and you don’t want to one day be overwhelmed by it that you start to doubt if you’re built for something enduring, like you want your feelings for him to be. 

You told him months ago that you’re both good people who’ll find other good people meant for you and that you deserve. And both of you have. It’s quite serendipitous - all the times you comforted yourself at the thought that the person meant for you is just somewhere around, he’d been next to you all along. 

“Thanks, Hoseok,” you turn to the man next to you. “I’m not surprised if Yoongi and Gyu-rim turn to you, too.”

“Oh, they already have. And it’s barely been a day,” he laughs. “And I say the same thing - they’re good people who deserve good things, too. And they’ve experienced so much that they know enough not to let go of the amazing things that come their way. But you and Kook - you’re like my babies. It makes me happy seeing both of you happy.”

“Well, I am. Very much.”

“And he is, too. But know that I’m just here, okay? We all are.”

You nod and hug him, assured even more that when things get tough, it’s your friends who'll help you and Jungkook find the way.

You finally head to the adult pool and greet your friends. By that time, Jungkook’s swimming lessons have ended, and he’s left the kids on their own to play around. 

You dip in the water and stay close to Taehyung and Mo-eum while Jungkook does his laps. It turns out to be a spectacle, as your friends and family stop to watch him. He’s surprised when everyone erupts in cheers and he just laughs it off, content that he still has the skills to entertain, even if he’s certain that he’ll continue doing this for fun.

Swim time ends and you head to your rooms to wash up and prepare for an early lunch before you checkout. Your friends and family occupy several tables of the hotel restaurant and manage to not be too disruptive with how large your group is. 

You fix your things and head to the reception then say goodbye to your relatives as they go back home. Your parents remind you and Jungkook about scheduling your visit to Gwangju and you promise that you will. Your nieces and nephews all take their time to hug your friends goodbye, especially Jungkook who they now say is their favorite uncle, a badge he says he’ll proudly wear. 

It’s a short drive to Jimin’s father’s cafe where you and your friends go to for dessert, and he welcomes you all with your favorite cakes and pastries that have you jumping in your seat. 

That’s where you separate. Seokjin and Hayoung go back to the hotel for another night before they fly to their honeymoon, Taehyung heads for the airport to return to New York, you and Jungkook drive to his parents’ house, and the rest of your friends journey back to Seoul. It’s goodbyes for now but the next lunch gathering is scheduled for when the newlyweds return and you can’t wait for that day to come.  

“So, are you excited to go to my childhood home?” Jungkook asks as he turns the corner to his street.

“I’ve been to your house a few times before, Kook,” you remind him. “It’s nothing new.”

“Well, you’re going as my girlfriend this time. That’s a new experience.”

“What new experiences am I gonna have, huh?” You teasingly ask.

“Hand-holding under the table, hugs on my couch… make out session on my childhood bed,” he shrugs.

“Very tempting,” you say.

“And very doable. My parents might even gush and tell us that it’s okay to be affectionate because, uh, they’re not really used to that.”

“Hmm. Sounds good then,” you smile. “Can’t wait.”

The new experience turns out to include Jungkook’s parents telling their neighbors that their son has a girlfriend and that she’s very smart and beautiful.

Jungkook shakes his head in embarrassment, as the elderly couple were merely passing on their street and greeting them but his parents went ahead and bragged about you, which you actually think is quite cute. And a relief, because you were worried about what they thought of you. They’ve always been nice, but you want them to truly like you, and with the way they’re welcoming you into their home, you think they already do.

The new experience also includes being shown old home videos of Jungkook growing up, like his taekwondo competitions and trips to the beach. You’d seen some of his baby photo albums the few times you all went here as friends but there’s more this time, and you’re reminded of baby Jungkook’s chunky cheeks and perfectly round doe eyes. 

There are photos of him being cradled by his mom and riding his dad’s shoulders and wearing costumes with his older brother. There are those from family trips and his kindergarten days. There are more of the embarrassingly adorable bowl cut hairstyle from middle school and the side bangs from high school. 

That’s how you spend the afternoon - his parents and brother telling you all these stories, Jungkook covering his eyes in embarrassment and defending himself, and you, heaving from laughter. 

They don’t even mind when you snort or say unfiltered things and that’s a comforting feeling. They look at you endearingly when you tell stories of Jungkook over the years and even recently, and you don’t miss the way his mom would sometimes touch your hand out of reflex and let it stay there. 

She’s such a warm individual, and you feel that aura of comfort she exudes that Jungkook definitely took from her. She’s so bright and positive and you understand why she’s beloved by her students. 

His father is very laid-back and slightly cheeky. He likes reminding you that it was Jungkook’s mom who confessed her feelings first because she found him very handsome, just like you did, and you see how Jungkook takes from his old man in that regard, too.

His older brother is quite introverted but has a good sense of humor, and you see why they get along so well, even if they insist it wasn’t always like that. But he seems very caring and attentive, and you’re reminded that Jungkook was raised by such good people. 

You’re lucky you get to be part of this family, as what they say you are, with his mom insisting that you always were because of your decade-long friendship with her son but now, you hold a special place in it.

You continue talking with Mrs. Jeon and let her show you Jungkook’s awards cabinet while the men start preparing dinner, as it is in this household. Jungkook did tell you that this mom’s cooking isn’t the best so it was something they always did. 

She asks you more about your work and takes interest in the research projects you did for child development. She asks about your college days, too, and how you and Jungkook were like back then.

You enjoy sharing about your life and your friendship with her son. You don’t know how much she knows but you talk about the past year and the trips you took and all the moments you had with him that turned out to be the serendipitous moments that brought you here. 

“He really likes you, ___. Like, really, really likes you. I don’t know how else to put it,” she takes your hand and smiles. “He’s a lot more open about himself and he talks to us with this joy and calmness and we’re really happy about that. So thank you. If he does anything silly, let me know, okay?”

“I doubt he will but yes, Auntie,” you smile back. “I think this is the kind of thing that my parents will tell him, too.”

“Probably,” she chuckles. “But we’re parents, ___. At the end of the day, we just want our children to love and be loved. We want them to be happy. And that’s what he is when he’s with you.”

You bow in gratitude, as her words assure you. But love? It’s an exciting thought. You don’t know if it’s all too soon but you know where this whole thing with Jungkook is going, and it’s definitely heading there. 

And just as your mind’s about to go elsewhere again, Mr. Jeon calls out that dinner is ready. 

You excitedly walk to the dinner table and gasp at all they prepared. From the beef soup to the pajeon to the cold noodles and raw fish, your tummy rumbles in anticipation. And as you expected, everything is delicious. 

You and Jungkook take turns in moaning and making these weird sounds you make when the food is good, and your shyness in front of his family slowly melts away. You talk more over dinner and even while you wash the dishes with his mom and then right after.

But you don’t stay up late, as you still have a long drive back to Seoul tomorrow afternoon. So you bid his parents and brother good night and take turns with Jungkook in washing up.

You’re exhausted by the time you’re in bed, your leg over his and your arms wrapped around his waist. You’re softly kissing his face as you both take in the silence and he asks you if you want to ride his bike with him and go to this famous spot to watch the sunrise. 

“To relive that time,” he tells you. “I… I always find myself going back to that morning in Jeju.”

“Why?”

“It was so thrilling - riding with you for the first time, feeling what I was feeling but nervous to let you know… But it was also so grounding, I guess,” he explains. “I mean, sunrise, dolphins, scenery of a seaside town… It’s like all these pretty things, including you.”

You remember the feeling clearly. It’s not hard to forget since it felt the same to you. Perhaps that’s when you thought that you could really have the good things you dreamed for in the palm of your hands, and now you do. Seeing the sunrise again with Jungkook this time would definitely make that past sunrise and all the sunrises after that even more special.

“Okay,” you smile. “But you’re waking me up. Drag me out of bed if you need to.”

“I’ll carry you bridal style out this door if it comes to it.”

You giggle at his words but promise that you’ll wake up. You don’t want to miss it either.   

“Today was nice, Kook,” you say after a beat of silence. “I think your mom finds me funny.”

“She finds you endearing,” he corrects. “She likes you. She likes you for me. And she thinks you really like me, too.”

“Hmm. I wonder how she figured that out. Is it because of the hundred times I called you handsome or praised you for a gazillion reasons or held your hand every time I had the chance?” 

You playfully mock yourself even if you think you’re very transparent about how you feel. You truly think you can’t like Jungkook anymore than you already do.

“Possibly,” he laughs. “But also because your eyes sparkle when you look or talk about me. It’s kind of a big tell.”

“Imagine if you were half-naked and she caught me ogling at you.”

“Let’s be thankful then that the first time she saw us together, I was fully clothed,” he chuckles. 

You nod in agreement and think the same. 

It’s quiet again for a while and Jungkook meets your sleepy eyes. He kisses you and he feels your toes curl like they often do, and he smiles against your lips because like always, you’re not afraid to feel things for him, and you’re not afraid to show it. 

He promises himself he’ll take after you. And then he can tell you everything he really feels.

You keep your promise and wake up when Jungkook taps your arm. He’s already dressed, and you appreciate how he always gets up first so you have more time to sleep. 

You fix up and make your way out in the dark where his motorcycle is parked on the street since he’d really planned on riding around in the morning. 

He reminds you of safety guidelines and tells you you’re free to hold onto him anytime, not like you need a reason anyway. He puts on your helmet and helps you up, then starts the drive to a nearby town to head to a spot he’s passed by so many times. 

The ride is quiet, with only the soft breeze of the summer morning buzzing as you drive past houses and mountains. You see the coast and he tells you you’re near. 

It’s still dark when you arrive but you can get a sense of what’s around you. There’s a walkway that leads to a church and behind it are massive rocks that jut out the ocean. There are some street lights the further you walk and you see the view that he’s talking about. The water is so vast and the boulders are flat and safe enough for you to sit at so you find a spot and sit between his legs, basking in the calmness of your surroundings and the warmth of the man who’s holding you. 

“Do you come here often?” You ask, as light starts to dot the horizon. 

“Not really. I ride past here sometimes but there are always many people in the morning,” he says. “The sun rises over this side so I thought it would be a good place to go. And well, it’s beautiful and we’ve barely seen it.”

“I already like it. You can just hear the waves crash against the rocks and it’s so refreshing.”

He hums in agreement and asks you how you slept. You talk about the short dream you had and end up talking about the other ones you remember. Jungkook laughs at your stories again and tucks his head in your neck when he does. He holds you tight and shifts around when he senses your legs cramping up. 

The sky continues to lighten, as orange and red hues peek out of the ocean. 

And then the sun comes and you hold your breath like always. It’s so breathtaking and it feels even more surreal being where you are. It’s another sight that you’ll ingrain in your mind knowing that this time, there’s so much more meaning to it. It’s as if you’ve really come full circle - from that hike up in Chungbuk to Jeju a few months ago to right now. 

Jungkook went from someone who was just around you to someone next to you and with you, and you’re filled with so much emotion, just thinking of how you got here. 

The sun’s taken its place in the sky and you hum in satisfaction. It’s another one of those daily occurrences that you get to witness and be a part of, and you have the most amazing person you know holding you.

You turn to Jungkook and find that he’s already looking at you. His eyes soften and you smile and he smiles back.

You’re so beautiful this morning, just like you are everyday. But he finds that everyday is a new kind of beautiful, and he wants to keep finding new things about you to gush about. Whether it’s a new pitch of your voice when you’re whining about something, a different reaction when he teases you, another fascinating thought you have, or anything else, really. 

He wants to keep learning about and experiencing life with you. He wants to keep holding your hand and settling into this home that both of you keep discovering and enjoying. He wants to—

“Kook, are you okay?” You cut through his thoughts. 

“Yeah. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Jungkook sees your face change into one of surprise. It doesn’t worry him though. Even if you don’t feel it yet, you might as well be close to it.

“Is it too soon? Too late?” He wonders.

He at least doesn’t want to put you off. 

You look at the man with the prettiest eyes and child-like smile and think that he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. To be loved by him is probably your greatest gift.

“Hmm, it’s actually perfect timing,” you say, gazing back to let him know just how much you feel, too.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking that I can’t like you more than I do now but I could. I could love you and I do, Kook. I… I really do love you.”

You’ve always been one to give in to your feelings and you feel them intensely. At this moment, it’s love that you’re filled with, and you feel it so much for the person in front of you.

He giggles and kisses you softly on the lips. You kiss him back then give him pecks on his cheek until he’s lying on his back and hugging you tightly.

It’s so freeing, as you listen to the ocean waves and the seagulls flying by and Jungkook’s racing heartbeat. It’s as if you’re able to feel all the comfort and passion you could possibly feel for someone and you want it to always be like this. 

You settle back on your earlier spot and he wraps his arms around your waist again.

“So, uh. When you have the time, do you mind telling So-you that I won?” He says.

You look at him questioningly.

“I told you she cornered me after the ceremony and asked me if I was your boyfriend, right?” Jungkook starts. “So I explained we were friends and then we started dating and she asked if I plan on marrying you like her uncle Seokjin who was also just friends with her auntie Hayoung and well…”

“What!” You laugh, imagining your 10-year old niece interrogating Jungkook. 

“Yeah and well, I said that we haven’t talked about getting married because we just started dating but that I love you so that should be a start,” he continues. “And so I got into this ‘who loves you more competition’ because she insisted it was her and while I understood where she was coming from, I couldn’t accept defeat and I insisted it was me. So we played all these games and your other nephews and nieces started playing along. I won everything but So-you didn’t want to declare me as winner.”

“Why not?”

“She said it’ll only count if I tell you. Because why does it matter if I love you if you don’t know that I do?”

“What a smart girl,” you laugh, thinking of how silly and incredibly adorable that whole exchange might have been. 

“She is and she’s right. It matters that you know. And I wanted to tell you that night but I didn’t want you to think it was only because you let me enter coochie heaven naked.”

You laugh again.

“What about yesterday?” You wonder.

“I was going to, especially after seeing how good you were with my family but… I wanted to savor the feeling one last time,” he explains. “Just like when I liked you first and didn’t say anything, I just had these moments of feeling it all to myself and admiring you without expectations. And I get to release it all now and it feels really good.”

“You’re not too bad at expressing your feelings, you know that?” You smile at him, feeling overwhelmed and quite speechless at everything he’s saying. 

“I try,” he whispers.

“I love you for it. And for everything else,” you assure him. “So maybe this beats the Jeju sunrise?”

“That was still special on its own. That version of us was trying to figure out if we could be each other’s home. This version…” he says, taking your hand for him to kiss. “This version knows we want to stay in this home for a long time.”

You let his words settle and pull his arms to hug you tighter. It’s all you need because he’s right. 

You’ve settled into him, into this with him, and even into this version of yourself that embraces all types of emotions and basks herself in the love she receives and gives. 

And as you spend the rest of the morning walking around town with his parents, and as you hold his hand while he drives back to Seoul, you think that he’s who you’ve been wishing for this whole time.

He’s the good that you hoped for and truly deserve, and you don’t think you could ever ask for anything more. 

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[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough. 

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking. 

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets. 

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do. 

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality. 

But you’re not joking… 

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide. 

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that. 

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything. 

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

[kitkatscabinet]

UNDERCOVER LOVER

requested: by anon

pairing(s): dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, stephanie brown, x fem! reader

summary: fake dating for a mission

a/n: I did kind of deviate a little from the initial request but I hope you still enjoy, lemme know who y'all wanna see in part 2

warnings: 18+ nsfw themes, oral sex in steph’s part I blacked out and it just happened, mentions of human trafficking. minors evaporate. Unedited.

DICK GRAYSON

Your feet were killing you. They hadn't even been on your feet for two hours and yet the godforsaken heels Bruce had procured for you were already causing blisters.

You already owned heels, you argued, pairs that had been tried and tested and weren’t liable to leave you stumbling around like a newborn deer. Mentioning this had received an unimpressed look from the billionaire, who’d promptly declared that any shoes you owned ‘weren’t expensive enough’, and that you’d ‘be made instantly.’

In hindsight, he’d been correct, your $12 Kmart bad boys that had seen you through many a club crawl screamed poor, even so, he hadn’t needed to read you like that.

Fucking rich people.

"You could at least pretend you’re enjoying yourself, honey." Dick grinned, sliding his arm around your waist, the contact setting your traitorous heart aflutter.

Well, if that's how it was going to be, two could play at that game.

"How can I, when I’d much rather have you all to myself?" You pout, running your hands up his chest and playing with his silken tie, the colour a perfect match for your outfit.

Some of the more drunken men jeer and whistle at a blushing Dick, crass comments whispered to their companions without a care for subtlety. Pigs.

"Aw, don’t be like that doll, I'm sure you and I could have a lot of fun." A particularly brave, or stupid, man with slicked back hair that just made him look greasy winked. Or rather, he attempted to, his face instead twitching strangely as he blatantly stared at your chest.

'The only fun we'd have together involves me smashing your face in, you soggy old ball sack,' Is what you want to say. What you manage, after a warning squeeze against your hip from Dick, is a flustered giggle, "I don't think my fiance would appreciate that very much."

"Now, now, Buck, you should know better than to think a woman so stunning would give you the time of day," a honeyed voice interjected, low and smooth. It'd be attractive, soothing even, the sort of voice perfect for audiobooks, if it weren't for the fact the voice belonged to one of the biggest scumbags in Bludhaven.

Victor Stevenson, the current leader of one of the largest arms trafficking rings in Northern America.

Instantly, the chatter surrounding your little group died down, all eyes turning towards the owner of the opulent mansion they'd been fortunate enough to be invited into.

Buck flushes a deep red, but is evidently not suicidal enough to defend his pride against the top dog.

Victor gently takes your hand, leaning down to place a kiss against the back of your palm that you have to fight not to immediately wash off. You feel gross, slimy from even just that brief moment of contact, but you force yourself not to react outwardly.

Dick must feel the same as you, if the miniscule twitch of his left eyelid is anything to go by. To the untrained eye, Dick appeared jovial, but to you, who'd known him for so long, the cracks were obvious. His jaw muscles tenses for a few seconds, teeth clenching before you nudge him with your hip, forcing him to relax, and his gaze has never once left Victor's person.

Just like Victor's gaze has never left you. Your toes curl inside your stupidly expensive and uncomfortable heels, the vapid mask you'd donned for the night rapidly dissolving as you fight the urge to hurl, or punch that smirk right off the douchebag's face. Whichever happened first.

The scumbag snaps his fingers and a waiter appears from thin air, a silver tray in hand ready to take Victor's empty drink, seamlessly providing him with a new glass of $1000 Merlot.

You shoot Dick a glance from the corner of your eye but he's already moving, excusing himself from the conversation smoothly as he tails the server, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch the glass with an undoubtedly perfect set of prints.

Amateur. All those investments and no gloves.

Unfortunately for you, with your man no longer by your side, Victor becomes bolder with his advances and there's only so many coy denial's you can throw his way before you'll be forced to beat him off with a stick.

"Come on darling, I could rock your world."

"I couldn't, my fiance — "

"Would never know, my men could keep him occupied long enough for us to get... acquainted." He purrs, and this time, you do spew a little in your mouth.

Before you can turn him down, Dick does it for you, aggressively, by pulling you into the dirtiest kiss of your life. It’s like he’s trying to eat you, one of his hands slipping down to grab a handful of your ass as the other clutches your jaw, preventing you from escaping. Not that you’d even want to.

You’re so surprised that you don’t manage to stop the downright pornographic moan that slips past your lips, which only seems to encourage Dick.

By the time he pulls away you’re heaving to catch your breath, more than a little dazed as Dick pulls you into his arms like he’s manoeuvring a doll.

“Sorry, I don’t share what’s mine.” Dick’s grin is feral, and you have no time to react before his fist is reeling back and smashing into Victor's nose.

You screech, not because you're overly opposed to Dick's actions but because you're now firmly the number one target of the ridiculous amount of security guards.

“If we make it out of this I will fucking kill you.” You hiss.

“If we make it out of this I’ll get down on one knee for real. After more kissing though, definitely gonna do more of that.”

You suppose that’s an acceptable apology.

JASON TODD

The gin martini you'd been nursing for the past 15 minutes was nearly empty, your nails drumming absentmindedly against the glass as you plaster a look of boredom across your face.

You were on your seventh game of Blackjack in a row, a favourite of your target's, and you were nearly at your wit's end. Jason had bitched out around game four, planting an obnoxious kiss on your cheek before scuttling off to observe from afar.

Just when you were beginning to lose hope he would even appear, the man himself appeared, sliding into the seat next to you with a lecherous grin that set your teeth on edge.

Word through the grapevine was your target had a thing for married women, a real gentleman, and if the way he leers at the gaudy ring Jason had thrown at your head earlier, before blatantly staring down your dress is any indication, the rumours speak true.

Bile rises in your throat, but you force a genial, slightly flirty smile, as you let the man lean closer.

"You come here often, sugar?" He breathes into your face, a rancid mix of steak and cigarettes assaulting your nostrils.

"Maybe I should, if it means I'd get to see you." You giggle, biting your lip to appear flirtatious whilst simultaneously using the pain to ground yourself.

“You’re gonna make me lose my lunch.” Jason grumbles through your earpiece, while you mentally flip him the bird. You were the one suffering here.

He doesn’t even play a game, opting to watch you play for one quick round, flirting with you and touching enough to warrant several showers afterwords before he’s inviting you back to his room.

Every molecule in your being is rebelling, screaming with disgust, but you force yourself to put on your big girl panties, giggling as you take his sweaty hand.

For the mission, you repeat the mantra in your head, maybe if you repeat it enough you’ll black out and wake up after it the nightmare is over.

Only instead of leading you towards his room like you’d expected, like was planned for, the man starts leading you in the opposite direction, hand wrapped in a bruising grip around your wrist.

“You’re hurting me.” You try to wrench free, only to stumble when a furious 6 foot wall of muscle blocks his path.

Jason is furious, murder in his eyes and a terrifying look on his face despite the goofy moustache. “Watch it man.” Your target drunkenly sneers, too blasted to apparently recognise your supposed husband, or have any self preservation instincts.

“Excuse me? That’s my wife you’re manhandling.”

It’d be comical how quickly the scumbag pales, letting you go like he’d been burned and stammering apologies if it weren’t for how ridiculously turned on you suddenly were.

My wife. It shouldn't be as sexy at is for Jason to be so possessive over you, if it were anyone else you'd probably be disgusted, but with Jason you find your mind and your pussy at odds with each other.

"I swear, if I find a single... mark..." Jason trailed off, his rage turning apoplectic at the sight of a hand print shaped bruise already starting to form.

Between one blink and the next, Jason't laid him out, fists and jaw clenched. "You, alright—"

You throw your arms around him, one hand tugging at the curls on the back of his neck as you kiss him. It takes him a few seconds to respond, but eventually he kisses you back gently.

He clears his throat, voice wavering a little as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, "You don't have to keep up the act, you know?"

"Who said anything about acting?"

"Oh wait," you leaned down, rifling through the now unconscious man's pockets before you victoriously pull out his wallet. "Room service's on him."

"Lead the way darlin'," he murmured, still a little dazed, eyes glued to your ass.

Cute.

TIM DRAKE

You were furious. Four months you'd been ingratiating yourself into Strickland's inner circle, greasing elbows with some of the scummiest humans on Earth, pretending to be just like them.

Four months undercover just to be told Strickland wouldn't possibly do business with you because you were a woman. Four months of doing the disgusting hard yards in your efforts to bring down a human trafficking ring only for the entire thing to come to a screeching halt because you didn't have a husband.

Enter one Tim Drake, who unbeknownst to you, is practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to play your husband. Enough to put up with your foul temperament as you spend hours drilling your undercover story into Tim.

It's not his fault, you know that, but still, your irritation manages to seep through the cracks.

"If you fuck this up Drake I will cut off your balls and feed them to you." You threaten him right before you step through the doors, forcing yourself into character.

To his credit, Tim plays his part beautifully, a possessive hand constantly resting on your waist, arm or thigh, a cool, dispassionate look on his face as he disinterestedly scanned his surroundings.

You even end up perched on his lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep your balance, his dexterous fingers thrumming against your thigh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

It's a little alarming how easily he dons the skin of a cold blooded trafficker, cracking crass jokes and shmoozing with the circle of human dirtbags you'd clawed your way into. Typical, what had taken you months to achieve, Tim did within minutes.

Figures the traffickers would be sexist.

For all your threats, lectures and plans its not Tim that ends up blowing your cover, but you.

At some point a child is carted out, malnourished, bruised and terrified beyond belief. It's like you black out, one second you're in Tim's lap, basking in his affection and the next you've snatched a gun from the closest grunt and have shot Samuel Kelley in the kneecap.

To his credit, Tim rolls with the change in plans, easily springing up and joining the fight at your side.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur of adrenaline, gunfire and sirens. It's over quickly, you and Tim are a well oiled machine and you're running on sheer fury.

Tim's the one by your side through it all, and Tim's the one tending to your bloodied and bruised knuckles hours later as you decompress.

"If you fuck this up Drake I will cut off your balls and feed them to you." He mocked, breaking the sullen silence and you lightly kick him in the shin.

"You know, when you asked me to pose as your husband I was hoping to at least get a kiss." He looks up at you through unfairly long lashes and you nearly malfunction.

"Hmm, well I'm still wearing the ring..." You whisper hoarsely, leaning in, leaving it up to Tim to close the distance.

He doesn't disappoint.

STEPHANIE BROWN

Truthfully speaking, the mission hadn't exactly required you to go undercover with Stephanie posed as lovers.

Hell, it’d probably have been more advantageous to pose as two separate entities entirely, but you were nothing if not an opportunist, and there was no way you were going to give up the chance to have Steph on your arm all evening.

She was gorgeous, lilac satin dress clinging to her skin enticingly, drawing gazes from lecherous old men that had you baring your teeth like an animal whilst mentally thanking god for the opportunity to hold her close.

She’s too gorgeous, drawing attention even as the two of you attempt to disappear to investigate your target’s private study. There’s guards everywhere, most of them male, and two pretty women don’t tend to go unnoticed even with your stealth training.

You’d been able to flirt and misdirect your way past several guards already, Steph’s once immaculate appearance now rumpled from the various kisses you’d pulled her into.

Regardless, it had been easy enough to get into the study and get Oracle into their personal laptop. But if you were being honest with yourself, the mission had been long forgotten.

The only thing on your mind was the feel of Steph’s kiss swollen lips against yours, the soft surprised noises she’d made before practically melting in your arms.

Her skin’s slightly flushed and she keeps sending you quick glances from the corner of her eye, attempting not to be obvious. Cute, but you noticed everything about Stephanie, especially the way her thighs seemed to be clenching together when her gaze darted quickly to you before returning to a nondescript corner of the room.

Footsteps sound down the hall and you don’t even blink, pushing Steph back into the plush chair before dropping to your knees reverently.

“For the mission.” You whisper coyly with a hungry stare, before you throw her thigh over your shoulder and duck your head under your dress.

She makes an aborted sound somewhere between a protest and a gasp but then your lips are pressing kisses up the inside of her thigh and she throws her head back with a whimper.

More importantly she doesn’t stop you, her hips grinding forward as if to encourage you toward your destination.

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you’re not sure when or if you’ll ever get the opportunity again and she’s right there. You’re so close you can smell her.

Her manicured hand grips the back of your head blindly and it’s all the invitation you need to pull her damp panties aside and lick through her folds before you settle your attention on her clit.

She moans loudly, heel digging harshly enough into your back to bruise just as the office door swings open.

“… ladies.” A voice coughs out, awkwardly motioning you to exit. “I do believe the office is off limits, perhaps I could lead you to a bedroom?”

Stephanie looks mortified, but you grin salaciously, licking your lips as you entwine your fingers with hers. “Lead the way, good sir.”

[xxaraaq]

𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙍𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣

wc | 1.2k

cw | talks of supernatural creatures

Remmick x Black! reader

A/N | this is not my best work I fear :(( Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

You didn’t remember much from the short childhood you had, days filled with hard work and even harder hands, calloused and torn up from sharecropping. What you did remember were the tellings of your grandmother's stories – well, warnings – of the supernatural that walk the earth. You remember being sat up cozy on her lap as she rocked the two of you back and forth on the porch as her wise words flooded your ears, blessing you with the knowledge that had been passed down for generations. She would joke and laugh about stupid shapeshifters and daft swamp monsters who would trip over their own filth while chasing after their victims. 

But she would never joke about vampires.

Evil beings, she would say. Devil incarnates who take the place of your loved ones and fill their mortal bodies with such hatred and sin, that they would crave the flesh of humans. She looked haunted just speaking about them, and you were too young to see in her eyes that she was speaking from experience. But you got older, and gradually the time spent on the porch dwindled until you thought of the stories as nothing more than myths to keep children from wandering into the forest alone. Then something clicked. You started seeing shadowy figures lurking in the shadows as you laid in for the night, their cold whispers clouding over you as you tried to sleep. You confided in your grandmother, and she sat you down and told you everything there was to know, everything the truth contained.

And when she passed, the responsibility of all the knowledge your bloodline had procured over the years had been bestowed onto you, and you sought refuge on the outskirts of town as a result.

The air was moist and smelt sweet when you rose, room dark and gloomy as walked barefooted across the damp wood flooring. The air was muggy and heavy, and you didn’t waste a second making it out the door into your garden. You had forgotten to take your laundry in the night before, cursing annoyances under your breath as you practically ripped your linens off the clothesline. You hurriedly wrapped them in a bundle small enough to carry in your arms as you felt the soft dirt underneath your feet. 

Then you felt it.

The air froze, just for a second, and the hair on your arms stood up, buzzing feeling in your body leaving as soon as it came. You sucked a breath in, calming yourself as you continued on to your home. 

Then he came. 

It was as if time stopped, heart pounding in your chest as you saw his figure leaned up against the rotted wood of your railing, smirk on his face as he waited for you to come. Your breath hitched in your throat as the red glint of his eyes glistened bright enough for you to see from where you stood. The soles of your feet, now muddy and soft, all but shook the ground you that had the bad fortune of coming across your way as you stalked towards him. 

He waited patiently, as he always does, as he always has, until you’re so close to his face he could smell the sweet lemon hibiscus tea you had drunk the night before, smell hitting his nose as he breathed you in. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sleep had not fully left you yet, voice husky and low as you glare up at him. The muscles hidden underneath his shirt ripple as he adjusted himself to get a better look at you, taking in the hatred you harbor in your eyes. “Can’t an old friend stop by for a visit on occasion.” He chuckled, bass rumbling deep in his chest. “You ain’t my damn friend and you know it.”

He feigns hurt, hand on his chest and pout on his lips as he sighs a smooth tune. “Now that ain’t no way to treat someone near and dear to you is it? Thought yer’ grandma taught you better than that.” The words couldn’t leave his tongue before he felt the sting of your palm against his cheek. 

You’re huffing now, deep breaths in and out as you watch Remmicks gaze set upon you, eyes red and smile wide. “There she is.” His drawl makes your stomach twist up in disgust, bile resting uneasy in your gut as you hear him speak. “Why you here?” You question, making your way onto your porch, slipping your clothes onto the counter right by your door as you close it behind you. You weren’t scared of him turning you, him promising he would never many moons ago – but you were curious, curious to know what he’s doing back here on your doorstep. “Like I told you, I’m here to see an old,” He pauses, raising a foot to the first step, still leaning on the rail. “Welcoming friend.” This time you’re the one to take a step closer, inching your way against the sanded wood as your eyes meet. “Ain’t nobody said you were welcome.” A tsk leaves his mouth as he steps down, backing up until the drizzle hits him from above. “Why’re you bein’ like this doll, your feelings hurt from the last time I left?” 

They were, but you would never say it out loud, the both of you already knew the answer, it need not be said. “Don’t play with me Remmick.” You watched as his jaw grew tense, not from anger, but from arousal. The air was humid, and you saw his eyes follow the bead of sweat running down your temple. He was desperate for you, for your touch, and you knew it. 

You move before you could think about it, floor creaking beneath your weight as his eyes track your every move. Neither of you say a word, taking a moment to bask in each other's scent. It was primal, the way your nose would flare up as pinewood and the sickeningly sweet smell of iron flooded your senses, it made you knees buckle, you hated the fact that only he could do this to you.

His hand comes up to play with the end of your nightie, thick fingers rubbing the fabric as though you weren’t even there. “You gon’ state your business or are you gonna stand there doe eyes?” He looks up at you, eyes speaking something evil. “When you finally gon’ be nice to me, hmm?” His voice toys with you, creeping inside you like it already owns you. His hand grabs yours, practically swallowing it, and he pulls you into the rain with him. 

His sturdy arms, still half exposed at the elbow, come to catch you, holding you like a fragile porcelain doll. “You gon’ kill me?” You ask, voice small as you await his answer. He leans down, teasingly so, close enough that you can feel the bass in his chest against your clavicle as he speaks close to your ear. “Didn’t I tell you I would never hurt you?” You can hear his smile from here, mocking you as mouth slowly foams and his breaths become heavier. “I need to hear you say it.” One restrained, hungry kiss on your pulse. “I know you can.” Another on the slope of your shoulder. He lifts you up, carrying the two of you just before the entrance of your home. You feel hotter, hotter than what the clammy air could do to you. “Come on, baby.” His husky voice sending a shiver through you, heat pooling in your already soaked cunt. 

“Come in.” 

He smiles, terrifying fangs on display, “There it is.”

-Nene

[occamstfs]

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air. 

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.” 

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears. 

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole. 

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right? 

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control. 

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom. 

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view. 

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent. 

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at. 

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

[thebramblewood]

There's nothing Lilith loves more than a good scheme.

Previous / Next

Present day Lilith, narrating: When we made our escape, we were certain we’d never lay eyes on Forgotten Hollow again. For several years, we lived large on a stolen fortune we thought would never run out. How could we have known any better? We’d never handled our own money in our lives. Of course, our naive illusions were quickly shattered. The economy tanked. The war started. We were broke and terrified of exposure. We drifted aimlessly, staying in whatever shitty little hovel we could scrounge up the pennies for. I stalked and killed and thieved to keep us going, but the well was running dry. We finally landed in Brindleton Bay, a dreary seaside town that perpetually stank of fish, where we rented an overpriced yet barely habitable room. The situation was untenable. I began to hatch a plan.

-

Lilith: Sorry I couldn’t bring more. They have a guard posted outside the blood bank now. I… subdued him then grabbed what I could. It wouldn’t be wise to go back.

Caleb: Thank you. You don’t have to-

Lilith: But I do. You won’t accept it any other way — of course, even if you did, pickings are slim lately — and I hardly want to watch you die for your morals. [sighs wearily] I’m just so goddamn tired.

We’re both tired, Caleb. The only thing I hate more than the fact that you won’t hunt is that you can’t. It makes you too vulnerable.

Caleb: [dismissively] I’m fine.

Lilith: You’re not! I’m not! [pauses meaningfully] I think it’s time we go home.

Caleb: Home? Lilith, you know we can never-

Lilith: It’s been thirty years. Not to be crass, but Mother and Father are dead and all that money is surely going to waste.

Caleb: If we show our faces in Willow Creek looking just like the day we left, we’ll be driven out by mobs with pitchforks before sunrise.

Lilith: We’ll obviously not show up as ourselves. We’ll procure fake documents — death and birth certificates, social security numbers, that sort of thing. We can pose as our own children.

Caleb: Do you not hear how preposterous that sounds? Assuming we could even get our hands on those things, no one would believe us.

Lilith: They’d be even less likely to believe we’re vampires. People don’t like things they can’t explain. If we provide an explanation to them, no matter how flimsy, they’ll gladly take it.

Caleb: There’s still too much risk.

Lilith: What risk? We could eat all of Willow Creek alive if we wanted! It’s not up for debate, Caleb. We’re the true and rightful heirs. It’s time we claim what’s ours, and no one will stand in our way.

[tjalexandernyc]

He's got a cover! May I please introduce A Gentleman's Gentleman, out March 11, 2025 from Vintage Books.

You can help support my m/m trans historical romance right now, though! Please consider preordering from your bookshop of choice, adding it to your to-read list on GoodReads or Storygraph, or requesting your local library procure a copy (that's ISBN 9780593686201 in the US, 9780008716332 in the UK).

Note to UK folks: your version will be titled The Earl Meets His Match and will have a different cover (TBD).

Synopsis:

From the acclaimed author of Chef's Kiss, a groundbreaking trans Regency romance that's both delightfully witty and refreshingly iconoclastic. The notoriously eccentric Lord Christopher Eden is a “man of unusual make” and even more unusual habits: he prefers to live far from the prying eyes and ears of the ton, and would rather have the comfortable company of his childhood cook and his aged butler than the swarm of servants and hangers-on befitting a man of his station. But Christopher’s pleasant, if occasionally lonely life is upended when he receives word from his lawyers that, according to his late father’s will, he must find a wife by the end of the Season if he intends to keep his family’s fortune and the Eden estate. Christopher cannot imagine a worse fate: as he isn’t attracted to women, his chances of making a wife happy are slim. Furthermore, if his quest to marry has any hope of succeeding, he must move to London posthaste and acquire some more suitable staff. Enter James Harding, Christopher’s new, distractingly handsome—if rigidly traditional—valet. After a rocky start, the two strike up a fragile friendship amid the throes of the London Season . . . a friendship that threatens to shatter under the looming shadow of Christopher’s impending nuptials—and the secrets both men are keeping. With its heady combination of dry wit, slow-burn romance, and a nuanced portrait of trans identity, A Gentleman’s Gentleman stands to transform the historical romance genre as we know it.

Cover design by Mark Abrams

Photography by Alun Callender

Modeling by Zack Pinsent of Pinsent Tailoring

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How the kleptocrats and oligarchs hunt civil society groups to the ends of the Earth

It's a great time to be an oligarch! If you have accumulated a great fortune and wish to put whatever great crime lies behind it behind you, there is an army of fixers, lickspittles, thugs, reputation-launderers, procurers, henchmen, and other enablers who have turnkey solutions for laundering your reputation and keeping the unwashed from building a guillotine outside the gates of your compound.

The field of International Relations has studied the enemies of the Klept in detail: the Transnational Activist Network is a well-documented phenomenon. But far more poorly understood is the Transnational Uncivil Society Network, who will polish any turd of sufficient wealth to a high, professional gloss.

These TUSNs are the subject of a new, timely scholarly paper by Alexander Cooley, John Heathershaw and Ricard Soares de Oliveira: "Transnational Uncivil Society Networks: kleptocracy’s global fightback against liberal activism," published in last month's European Journal of International Relations:

https://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/uuid:5e5a3052-c693-4991-a7cc-bc2b47134467/download_file?file_format=application%2Fpdf&safe_filename=Cooley_et_al_2023_transnational_uncivil_society.pdf&type_of_work=Journal+article

The authors document how a collection of institutions – some coercive, others organized around good works – allow kleptocrats to take power, keep power, and use power. This includes "wealth managers, company providers, accounting firms, and international bankers" who create the complex financial structures that obscure the klept's wealth. It also includes "second citizenship managers and lawyers" that facilitate the klept's transnational nature, both to provide access to un-looted, prosperous places to visit, and boltholes to escape to in the face of coup or reform. It includes the real-estate brokers and other asset facilitators, who turn whole precincts of the world's greatest cities into empty safe-deposit boxes in the sky, while ensuring that footlose criminal elites always have a penthouse to perch in when they take a break from the desiccated husks they've drained dry back home.

Of course, it also includes the PR managers and philanthropic ventures that allow the klept to launder their reputation, to make themselves synonymous with good deeds rather than mass murder. Think here of how the Sacklers used charity to turn their family name into a synonym for culture and fine art, rather than death by opioid overdose:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Beyond providing comfort to "Politically Exposed Persons" and "High Net-Worth Individuals," TUSNs are concerned with neutralizing TANs. Activists in these transnational networks play an inside-outside game: in-country activists will recruit peers abroad to bring attention to the crimes of their local kleptocrats. These overseas partners target the klept in the places they go to play and spend, spoiling their fun – and if they succeed in getting corrupt leaders censured abroad, then in-country activists can leverage that bad press to fight the klept at home.

To fight this "Boomerang Effect," TUSNs seek to burnish corrupt officials' reputations abroad, getting their names on humanitarian prizes, beloved sports teams, cultural institutions and great universities. They seek to capture international governance institutions that might wrong-foot kleptocrats, co-opting them to enable and even celebrate looters.

When it comes to elite philanthropy, TUSNs are necessarily selective. Kleptocrats' foundations don't fund anti-kleptocratic groups – they stick to "education, public health, the environment and the arts." These domains steer clear of human rights questions that might implicate their benefactors. Russian oligarchs love children's charities and disability rights – provided they don't target the Russian state.

If charitable giving is reputation laundering's carrot, then "reputation management" is the laundry's stick. Think of organized copyfraudsters who clone websites that have criticized their clients, then backdate the articles, then accuse the originals of infringing copyright in order to get them de-listed from Google or taken offline altogether:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#dark-ops

Reputation managers also spend a lot of time in court. In the UK – the world's leader in libel tourism, thanks to a legal system designed to let posh monsters sue muckraking journalists into silence – Russian oligarchs have perfected the art of forcing their critics to shut up and go away:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/04/londongrad/#enablers

Indeed, London is a one-stop shop for the global klept, a place were forelock-tugging Renfields will buy you a Mayfair mansion under cover of a numbered company, sue your critics into silence, funnel your money into an anonymous Channel Islands account:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/07/the-klept/#pep

They'll sell you whole galleriesworth of "fine art" that you can have relocated to a climate-controlled container in a Swiss or Irish freeport:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/14/poesy-the-monster-slayer/#moneylab

They'll give your thick-as-pigshit progeny a PhD and never check to see whether he wrote his thesis himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LSE%E2%80%93Gaddafi_affair

Then they'll hook you up with a cyber-arms dealer to hunt your enemies by capturing their devices:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/27/gas-on-the-fire/#a-safe-place-for-dangerous-ideas

But don't let Brexit stop you from shopping for bargains on the continent. The Golden Passports of the EU – available in a variety of flavors, from Maltese to Cypriot to Portuguese – offer the discerning failson access to the luxury good shops and fleshpots of 27 advanced economies, making it a favorite of the Khmer Riche – the junior klept of Cambodia's ruling faction:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/cambodia-hunsen-wealth/

But golden passports are for amateurs. Skilled klepts travel on diplomatic passports, which offer the twin benefits of free movement and consequence-free criminality, thanks to diplomatic immunity. The former Kazakh dictator's son-in-law enjoyed a freewheeling diplomatic life in Vienna; one daughters of the dictator of Tajikistan had a jolly time as an envoy to DC; another, to London (where else?).

All this globetrotting serves a second purpose: when rival elites seize power back home and force the old guard into exile, those ex-monsters can show up in the lands they called their second homes and apply for asylum. It turns out that even bomb-the-boats UK will welcome any asylum seeker who enters via the private jet terminal at City Airport (to be fair, these "refugees" have extensive properties in Zone 1 and country places in the Home Counties, so they won't need housing).

This stuff works. After Kazakh state goons murdered at least 14 protesters at a Zhanaozen oil facility in 2011, human rights groups around the world took up the cause. But they were effectively neutralized by TUSNs, with former UK PM Tony Blair writing on behalf of the Kazakh government to the EU condemning any kind of international investigation into the mass killings (add "former Prime Ministers" to the list of commodities for sale in the UK to sufficiently well-resourced murderer).

The authors close their paper with two case-studies. The first is of the daughters of Uzbek dictator Islam Karimov, Gulnara and Lola. And President Karimov was indeed a dictator: he trapped his population within his borders, forced them to use unconvertible scrip in place of money, and ordered the murder of hundreds of peaceful protesters, plunging the country into international isolation.

But while Uzbeks were sealed within their borders, Gulnara Karimov became an international player, running a complex network of businesses that mixed the products of the nation's oilfields with her family's fortune. She solicited – and received – bribes from Teliasonera, MTS and Vimpelcom, who were all vying for the contract to provide service in Uzbekistan. All told, she extracted more than $1b in bribes, laundering them through Latvia, Hong Kong and New York. She acquired real-estate in France and Switzerland, and her spree continued until her father collaborated with Uzbek security to seize her assets and place her under house-arrest.

Lola Karimova-Tillyaeva was Gulnara's estranged younger sister. She and her husband Timur Tillyaev ran the Dubai-based SecureTrade, which did extensive business with "opaque Scottish Limited Partnerships," laundering more than $127m in a single year to offshore accounts in the UAE and Switzerland. They acquired many luxe assets – a jet, a Californian villa, and an LA perfumier.

Lola styled herself as the face of the Karimovas abroad, a "philanthropist and cultural ambassador." She was a UNESCO ambassador and commissioned works of monumental art – and also sued the shit out of news outlets that reported factual matters about her family repressive activity at home. She organized AIDS charities in the name of Uzbekistan – even as her father was imprisoning a writer for publishing a book explaining how to have safer sex.

The second case-study is on Isabel dos Santos, "Africa's richest woman," daughter of Angolan dictator Jose Eduardo dos Santos. Isabel's vast fortune stemmed from her personal capture of vast swathes of the third-largest economy in Africa: "telecommunications, banking, diamonds, real estate and cement, among many others." Isabel enjoyed seemingly limitless access to state credit and co-investment, and was given first crack at newly deregulated industries. Foreign firms that invested in Angola were required to "partner" with Isabel's businesses.

Isabel claimed to be a "self-made woman" – a claim credulously parroted by the western press, including the FT. She used her homegrown fortune to become a major player abroad, especially in Portugal, where she was represented by the leading Portuguese law-firm PLMJ. Her enablers are who's who of corruption-loving lickspittles: McKinsey, Ernst and Young, Boston Consulting Group, and the Spanish BigLaw firm Uri Menendez.

Isabel cultivated a public facade of philanthropic giving and public spirited activism, serving as head of the Angolan Red Cross. She attended Davos and spoke at the LSE (she was also invited to Oxford, but her invitation was subsequently rescinded). On social media, she dismissed critics of her wealth and corruption as "colonialists," decrying their "racism" and "prejudice."

Isabel dos Santos's corrupt sources of wealth were finally, irrefutably exposed through the Luanda Leaks, in which the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists mapped the network of "top banks, management consultants and legal firms that were central to dos Santos’s operations."

Both case studies shed light on the network of brilliant, driven enablers and procurers without whom the world's greatest monsters would falter. It's a rare window on a secretive world, one that is poorly understood even by its inhabitants. As Michael Mechanic wrote in Jackpot, his 2021 book on vast, intergenerational fortunes, the winners of the lucky orifice lottery often lack any real understanding of how The Money is structured, grown and protected:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/13/public-interest-pharma/#affluenza

This point was reiterated by Abigail Disney, in a brave piece on what it's like to grow up subject to the oversight of these millionaires who babysit the children of billionaires:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/19/dynastic-wealth/#caste

This is an important contribution to the literature. We naturally focus on the ultrawealthy individuals whose reputations and fortunes are the subject of so much attention, but without the TUSNs, they would be largely helpless.

Going to Burning Man? Catch me on Tuesday at 2:40pm on the Center Camp Stage for a talk about enshittification and how to reverse it; on Wednesday at noon, I'm hosting Dr Patrick Ball at Liminal Labs (6:15/F) for a talk on using statistics to prove high-level culpability in the recruitment of child soldiers.

On September 6 at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/24/launderers-enforcers-bagmen/#procurers

Image: Sam Valadi (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/132084522@N05/17086570218/

CC BY 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

--

Colin (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palace_of_Westminster_from_the_dome_on_Methodist_Central_Hall_(cropped).jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[ddarker-dreams]

play fighting — chrollo lucilfer.

Hot cocoa is a staple when cooler weather starts setting in. 

By your reckoning, it could find a place on every tier of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. A warm, decadent cup with wisps of steam rising from the swirling surface. This mouthwatering mental image is what led you to the kitchenette. Dutifully following the package’s instructions, you rip into the chocolatey package by the serrated edge and get to work. 

All the while, a pair of inquisitive eyes track your every movement. You can’t imagine why the sight of you in fluffy pajamas pulling milk from the fridge has Chrollo’s rapt attention. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping on his own concoction. Earl gray tea, if the scent is of any indication. 

Your masterpiece is almost complete. Now, for the finishing touch — marshmallows. 

Alas. You’ve encountered a problem. The marshmallows are stored in a cabinet that evades your reach. To make matters worse, Chrollo has perched himself right where you’d need to climb up. Should you list clairvoyance among his many capabilities? Logically, you know that feat eludes him, but your suspicions remain.

“Is something the matter, dear?” 

Ah, you forgot that you’ve been silently squinting at him while the gears in your head spin. Round and round they go, never producing a viable solution. 

“No, not at all,” you dismiss. His gaze never leaves yours, even as he takes another sip of his drink. You can see it in his eyes, that ‘oh, really?’ look. You don’t appreciate that look, for you receive it often, thanks to your shenanigans. 

“Your drink’s getting cold,” he points out. 

Very astute of him. 

The way you see it, this can go a few ways. One, you could ask for his help in procuring your garnish. You could, but… he regards you with such bemusement, finding pleasure in every little thing you do. You’re tired of the court jester role. Asking him for something almost always guarantees that you’ll be putting on a metaphorical cap and bells. 

So you cling to your pride. You stand close enough for your shoulder to brush against his, as your target necessitates such sacrifice. Straining while on your tiptoes, your fingertips brush against the damnable cabinet handle, gold and mocking. Vigilant as your efforts are, they’re ultimately fruitless. Your prize remains just out of reach.

Huffing, you turn to face Chrollo, who has no right to look as innocent as he does. 

“Could you…” you trail off and shoo him with your hands. You hope that gets the message across. 

“Can I ask why? I feel perfectly content here.” 

Of course he does. 

You’re unsure what spurs on your next action. Pettiness? Irritation? Righteous anger? Who knows. You rest both your palms flat against his bicep and push, as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle, which, in truth, is a fitting description. He doesn’t so much as budge. The full weight of your body and strength combined amounts to nothing. You can’t comprehend how hard his muscles feel beneath his shirt, it’s like you’re touching a wall. 

Although it’s quiet, you hear it. A breathy chuckle escapes his lips. 

Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as you go from your nice, secure spot on the floor to being lifted high. Two large hands settle right above your hips, holding you in place. Your reflexes kick in and you squirm. Fortunately, Chrollo’s grasp doesn’t falter. You realize what he’s getting at and make quick work of opening the cabinet and getting your stupid marshmallows. He brings you down. You only relax when your soles touch solid ground. 

Chrollo gives your hips a playful squeeze. 

“Try again,” he whispers near your ear.

You want nothing more than to scamper off, but his body envelops you, cutting off any escape. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place, clutching a bag of marshmallows, your Hello Kitty slippers askew.

You sigh.

Life certainly has its challenges. 

Should you start with elbowing him or stomping down on his feet…? 

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

[holbrookism]

saw this on twitter and immediately thought about unhinged clegan wound tending scene

gale gets seriously injured some time during the stalag period, and of course bucky insists on taking care of gale and nursing him back to full health. (un)fortunately they get a little (a lot) freaky with it -- john finally getting his fix of feeling Needed and Useful while gale has a reason to let go and be Taken Care Of for a little bit.

john produces first aid supplies from god-knows-where and dressing gale's injury so seriously and tenderly. the wound is slightly infected and gale's sporting a low-grade fever, stuck on bed rest and a little delirious half the time. bucky knows he has to disinfect it and stitch it up soon so he procures some illicit booze, half of which he makes gale sip on to ease the pain, while the other half is poured onto the wound itself.

the delirium from gale's fever, combined with breezy drunkenness from the homemade rew alcohol, combined with the gentle intimacy of john's touch amidst all the months of suffering and distance!!! its driving gale insane and he's making the most deranged sounds, little muffled whimpers of pleasure and pain while he squirms on the tiny cot of a bed -- and john is trying his hardest to behave under these conditions but god /damn/.

wound tending but it's basically sex for them. all blown pupils and gentle encouragement that could be easily confused for pillow talk. i can't even get into how Abnormal they'd both be about the grosser stuff.

john has to clean out gale's wound from the INSIDE and gale almost passes out from the pain but he's thinking about how some of john's cells will always be inside him once it heals up. romantic to their unhinged minds.

meanwhile john is losing his shit over the idea of stitches, he's being so so careful and reverently ghosting his fingers over the thread, thinking how lucky he is to leave his mark forever. then being violently guilty about these sicko thoughts.

sighs fondly. they're very unwell.

[asharaks]

the vision for rivain: instead of an organised faction of good-guy treasure hunters, the lords of fortune are a much looser organisation; not so much a tight-knit group of friends as a network of fences, buyers and suppliers, informally referred to as the “lords of fortune” for their reputation as led by the principles of profit above anything. the lines each “lord” is willing to cross varies as they don’t have a unifying ethos, but it’s a market with a reputation for graverobbing, theft of valuable artefacts and other ethically dubious procurement of goods, and its atmosphere and structure are heavily influenced by the blending of cultures — rivain is a coastal country with a history of occupation iirc, and they have better relations with the qun than other countries in thedas; things are more fluid, cultures are less defined and tend to bleed together. they’re also a country with a long history of mage tolerance and reverence for magic, so less chantry presence, more free trade and more open trading in goods that are frowned upon elsewhere, such as spell reagents and body parts for use in necromancy and blood magic. taash's mother fled to rivain and is a contact for the lords but taash herself isn't one; notably, the lords are neither the only trading network in rivain nor the largest, and more reputable traders abound along the coastal towns available to explore. 

rivain itself is not represented solely by an uninhabited beach and a gladiatorial arena. instead, while you find taash on a dragon hunt along the coast, rivain is first represented as a thriving coastal city with a significant population of free mages, seers, qunari and tal-vashoth, with whom dialogue can be initiated about their varied opinions on the state of the city and surrounding area. the dragon hunt with taash is characterised by discussion of dragon hunting as a sacred practice to qunari (more on this later!), with taash emphasising the spiritual and cultural importance of dragons to qunari; they are insulted by the implications of killing a dragon for profit, and take a defensive stance about it, but will later admit they were planning to profit off killing it: having grown up isolated from qunari culture, while they are aware of dragon hunting as a sacred practice, they’re unfamiliar with the practical rituals surrounding use of the downed dragon’s body.

after successfully baiting the dragon, you fight it for a while, before it overwhelms the party and you’re forced to retreat; taash is frustrated, but admits she’s never actually successfully killed a high dragon. you head back to the city, where the lords of fortune contact is unimpressed by the failure to bring back loot, and taash takes offense: before things can get violent, isabela steps in, introduces herself, and offers more useful contacts in exchange for rook and taash’s help dealing with a group of slavers moving qunari slaves to tevinter off the rivain coast. as a known pirate, she can’t get legitimate crew and since she won’t participate in slavery, the lords of fortune won’t help her without a solid promise of reward. lord of fortune rooks here get some unique dialogue regarding frustration about certain practices within the lords. you and taash help her free the slaves, and open up a new faction merchant and base area.

rivaini culture is depicted here as a blend of mercenary and spiritual, with a lot of npcs expressing a range of religious beliefs, including unconventional approaches to andrastianism, followers of the qun, rivaini seers, and dalish elves. the city carries a very different atmosphere to both treviso and minrathous, with a more mixed class and caste system, fewer templars and guards, and a strong sense of movement, as merchants and traders move in and out of the city. quests can be given by a range of npcs, including tal-vashoth, qunari, dalish elves, seers, and human citizens.

the primary quest, given by bela, is to retrieve a cursed artifact stolen by another subfaction of the lords of fortune: when you bring it back and have it appraised by taash’s mother, you find it’s an elven artifact that’s been damaged. isabela recommends taking it back to merrill at the veil jumpers, and gives you a note to pass on on her behalf too. taash will volunteer to come with you of her own free will, having heard about the blighted dragons at minrathous and treviso: taash’s mother tries to discourage this, but they insist.

also, bela gets clothes.

(previous - arlathan and the veil jumpers)

(next - the wetlands & the wardens)