#ty for the ask tho. u do bring a good point
Note
In terms of voice actors on DuckTales 2017, there were professional VAs did play major supporting roles too like Keith Ferguson as Glomgold, Eric Bauza as the Beagle Boys, Kimiko Glenn as Lena, Kari Wahlgren as Roxanne Featherly, David Kaye as Duckworth, and April Winchell as Black Heron plus various prominent professional VA guest stars like Jim Cummings, Rob Paulsen, Dee Bradley Baker, Tom Kenny, Grey Griffin, Jeff Bennett, and John DiMaggio so they were some even if celebs were dominant.
for most of those roles, even if the characters appeared in multiple episodes, i'd say most of those are side characters (though, some of them Are important)
if im remembering the post you're referring to correctly, i was mainly talking abt the main cast (scrooge, hdl, webby)
david tennant is scottish so he gets a pass
danny puddy (huey) is mainly an actor, ben shwartz (dewey) is mainly an actor/comedian (he also gets a pass because he has the whole 90's Blue Middle Child), and bobby moynihan (louie) is also mainly a comedian/actor. kate micucci (webby) is a voice actor tho, but thats 1/5 of the main cast with a Voice Actor
beakley, fenton, gyro, della, and launchpad are Also mainly writers/actors (feel free to correct me if im wrong)
im not saying that ducktales Only has actors for voices, but what i meant by it is that most of it is. also wasnt saying that the actors did a bad job, just that, with (western) cartoons, there Is kind of a problem with shows+movies having actors+celebrities for VAs, instead of people's who's jobs are to Do That
#chris diamantopoulos + eric bauza did a lot of voices for the show iirc. MVPs#i hope this doesnt sound like me just repeating my previous post ^^;#ty for the ask tho. u do bring a good point#dt17#plant talk
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idk if this is like a weird request but could u do a percy x insecure!gf hcs?? like she’s not that confident about her looks and has a pretty low self esteem
ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.
percy jackson dating hcs ! ˚ʚ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.
pairing: percy jackson x insecure!fem!reader
warning(s): swearin, obvi reader feeling insecure even tho she shouldnt bcs shes literally gorgeous nd breathtaking
a/n: helloooo! ty for requesting!! i hope u enjoy this, had fun makin these :)
you're beautiful, every little piece love ♡♡
the second you even mentioned feeling insecure about ur looks percy went ??
ur literally the most gorgeous girl ive ever seen ??
a literal blessing from aphrodite herself ??
whatre you talking about ??
he's so quick to assure you that you're literally perfect ♡♡
lowkey
bro might pull out a mic
nd start singing what makes you beautiful
im talking whole ass performance
music video pulled up and everythinggg
bro thinks he's zayn frfr
he'll literally cover u in kisses
leaving little kisses nd telling you about how beautiful u are :((
if ANYBODY points out something ur insecure about he will personally make sure a wave knocks them down and are unable to get up the next time they visit the lake
js lookin out for his fav girl 🤗😋😆🤩
always telling you u look gorgeous
nd hes not lying
he'll compliment the little things about you that make him go crazy
there's not a single thing this man doesn't think is cool or pretty
he says it matter in the way you look at things
shit like acne ?? constellations on ur face.
stretch marks ?? flowers blooming on ur skin.
those r just some i could think of off the top of my head but u see what im talkin about :))
percy is literally ur #1 hype man
cheers you on in everything
complimenting you 24/7, 365
listens v closely
pays attention !!!
laughs at ur jokes
over all just makes u feel loved ♡♡
there's never been a single time where you've doubted if percy loves you
cause he makes sure you know it all. the. time.
if he notices that ur bringing yourself down after doing something, he's quick to either distract you or begin talking about how impressed he was while watching you
makes sure ur caring about yourself before caring about others ♡
always checking up and making sure your eating enough, drinking enough water, nd asking you if you feel alright ♡♡
if ur a smau girlie you best believe this man is always posting STUNNING photos of u and gushing abt you
does his best to help you grow more confident in yourself and help you see yourself in the way he sees you ♡
a/n pt.2 : heyyyy, hope u enjoyed!! ik these were a little short but yeah </3 have a good day / night !!
peace from manhattan,
percy jackson ♡
#percy jackson#pjo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#heroes of olympus x reader#hoo x reader#by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.
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sorry for being a little shit and asking so much (I asked twice 🏳️🏳️) but do u PERHAPS write like, idk maybe sorta fluff?? but not hardcore fluff. something in me just wants to see brother!sukuna x sister!reader but not smut or anything. ^_^
also, I’m not anonymous so I don’t rlly need a sign off but it’ll still be 🫧🕊️ bc I’m greedy. please and ty in advance! Ik writing can be tiring and so can getting tons of requests :’)
Brother Sukuna
A/n: so it’s obi gonna be out of character cuz sukuna but more so it’s gonna probably be atleast a little unrealistic bc I have a twin brother, who is anything but sukuna-like.(for reference, he’s a big shot in our schools band, the only one who made state and lowkey a nerd) I’ll try my best tho lol
C/w: NOT A SHIP. PURELY PLATONIC. mentions of bullying, as well as assault. (Neither done by Sukuna).
First and foremost, protective but not in the way you’d expect. If you ever come to him complaining about people bullying you he’d probably brush it off and tell you to not concern yourself with others opinions, but then the next day those same bully’s were beaten into a pulp
An actual menace. A prankster if you will. Bluring the line between playful and hands down annoying. Take for example, drinking your drinks you put in the fridge to get cold, eating snacks you bought for yourself(he’s a fatass), NEVER PUTS THE TOILET SEAT DOWN, blasts music when your trying to sleep, takes controllers from you when he needs them, at anytime without asking permission, the list goes on.
But he does have equal amount good quality’s as he does bad ones. Despite his annoying habits, he makes up for it in other things. He drives you to places, anytime he’s bring home food he will get you something too(50/50 chance if he asked you or picks for you), and 11 out of 10 times sides with you in arguments you have with people. Additionally, he will also show up to any events you want him too, even if sometimes begrudgingly so. I can also imagine him getting pissed off if you try to compensate him for anything like gas or food, offended you think he’s poor
He gives me stoner vibes. So, as a sibling, he wouldn’t let you do anything till ur an adult and once u are he would only give u his stuff when your together and safe
At any point if you ever text him that your in trouble and need him to pick you up, he’s immediately on his way without a second thought. He might be a dick sometimes but he doesn’t play when it comes to your safety
Speaking of safety, if anyone victimizes you, more than just regular bullying I’m talking physical or sexual assault, he will do a whole lot more than just beat them up. Let’s just say he’s not afraid of being potentially jailed. Knowing the justice system, even if he did end up in jail he’d probably have a not terrible time, seeing as people who killed/severely ingured an assaulter are often respected
As children, when you would roughhouse he would find himself holding back and letting you win. As much as he likes to antagonize you he won’t ever hurt you
In summary, he’s genuinely very caring but never shows it. It kills his tough guy personality but deep down he does care for you deeply
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jjk ryomen#jujutsu ryomen#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#ryomen x reader
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Hey hey! I absolutely love ur bringing shane to the mines headcanons, amd i was wondering if i could request headcanons about shane with a male reader? Or maybe gn if u prefer. The reader is easily mistaken as a should be protected person (hes all smiley and soft and nice) but will get defensive and protective for people he cares about and does a complete 180 in mood
Shane with an s/o who's actually protective
You can see I struggled with the title :'D
Also ty, I'm glad you liked that one! And I don't have a preference when it comes to gender. I usually keep it neutral unless someone requests smth specifically🤗
TW: heavy language
Gender: male
Oh, yes, that's totally his type. Shane loves a sweet person who can also kick ass.
Of course he finds you annoying at first with your positive attitude and the sunshine vibes that you radiate. He sometimes vents about it to Gus or Marnie and even to Sam at work. They honestly don't get why it pisses him off, but it sounds like he's gushing about you with a bit of swearing here and there. Okay, a lot of swearing.
They gave up asking why a long time ago tho.
Shane: I just don't get it! How can he ALWAYS be in a good mood?
He doesn't understand why you're so kind to everyone as well, giving out gifts to every single town member. You don't even know them!
Shane secretly admires your kindness, but you will never catch him admitting it.
One day he sees Morris basically camping infront of Pierre's shop and handing out JojaMart coupons. He doesn't particularly like that guy, but he also doesn't see a reason to do anything about it so he just passes by. Or tries to at least.
Every morning Shane goes to work, the two of you see each other infront of the small shop since you're always checking out the board there. It usually goes the same. You greet him with your stupid handsome smile and he ignores you.
This time from the corner of his eyes, Shane spots you rushing towards Morris with a look on your face that he has never seen before. It was an almost terrifying mix of emotions and he stops in his tracks. Too curious of what's going on with you.
Farmer: ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!
Shane freezes and so does his boss as your roaring voice hits their ears. He never even knew you could sound like that. He didn't even know that you could swear to be honest.
You rip out the coupons of the man's hand and point with the finger of your free hand towards his face, just a few inches away from his nose.
Farmer: If I see you here advertising that shitty excuse of a store one more fucking time, then so help me Yoba-
In that moment Pierre leaves his shop and cuts you off mid sentence. It doesn't take long for you to calm down and put back on that sweet look on your face, but the rage from before still lingers in your eyes.
Quickly Shane hurries off to his shift and can't focus on anything for the rest of the day.
Later on in the evening, when you enter the saloon he takes the seat next to you without a word leaving his mouth. Except-
Shane: A beer for this guy here, Gus. It's on me.
You've beyond impressed him with your stunt earlier today and he makes a mental note to never anger you. Even tho he found it oddly attractive.
Masterlist
#sdv#stardew valley#sdv shane#stardew shane#stardew valley shane#sdv headcanons#stardew#stardew headcanon#stardew valley headcanons#sdv x reader#stardew x reader#stardew valley x reader#sdv shane x reader#stardew shane x reader#stardew valley shane x reader#shane stardew valley
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What did Brendan do this time? 😭 I’m still not over his AMA tbh…
Sorry for being a confusing bitch who rehashes shit over and over and over. I don’t know how else to process my feelings. I’m in therapy. But like, she’s new-ish and idk if I’m at the point in our relationship where I’m ready to have deep conversations about television characters and the people who created them so here I am:
It’s just still the AMA responses from him. I thought I’d seen them all but there was a fucking grosssssss one that I had not seen about ethics and dr jacob where he basically ignored the part of the fan question that needed to be answered and doubled down on his obliviousness by saying:
actually you saw it as unethical BUT we actually wrote it as a loyal, normal, lovely thing because it had been more than 18 months and the statute of limitations on being fucking gross ended around that time and so it’s all good.
Hahaha OKAY like thanks for letting us know they didn’t actually choose DR Jacob. That the choice means nothing. ACTUALLY he is just a guy Michelle met at the grocery store. It was never supposed to be deeper than that—we saw what we wanted to see.
(Even tho they focused on it, made it something that shook up Ted and impacted the way he saw himself, his relationship with his ex, their relationship to therapy, Ted’s relationship to therapy in s3… I could go on).
Brendan can literally say the truth, “I’m glad you brought up the ethics of it all, we fumbled that a bit. I can see where that could have made some viewers uneasy. We didn’t mean it to hit quite so hard like that. I can see that was kind of a low blow to Ted. Our intention was to show Ted feeling replaced as a father and husband—to question his place in Richmond. This was a way we could do it with someone that already has a connection to both Michelle and Ted to really get Ted thinking about his home life and his role as a dad.
THE END.
Hahah him just actually laughing it off and turning it back around on the fan who asked that question with legit concerns. WHY CANT YALL even be critical of your own art??? FFS.
I just like???? see the succ fans and their guy being like ohhh fuck ya u liked that??? XYZ was such mess!?! Cool! I’m so glad you saw them that way!!! I never did!!! That’s so cool! Yeah we did THIS and you saw THAT and we went that way but it’s still cool that went that way and you saw THIS instead.
But it seems like TL creators aren’t open for any kind of discussion or criticism because they have already moved on to the new stories they are planning to tell with out Ted. And that’s lame as fuck!!!!!!
I don’t need an ending they threw together last min so that it can be “left open” for more. I needed an ending the show deserved— one that was true to all the stories and characters.
AND THEN.
THEN if they want to bring the show back in a few years it’s up to THEM to pick up their story where they want to have it at that point. But it’s really fucking unfair to fuck it over at the end so that there are loose threads for Apple to tie to new projects.
And then have the audacity to trash the fans who are tying to ask you about your characterizations and the decisions YOU decided on that suddenly didn’t jive with 85% of the larger story.
That kind of bullshit from the creator side makes me literally never want to engage with anything about this show again.
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hello tumblr user dateamonster!! do you have any recommendations for good zombie media? my gf rlly likes zombies but has burned through a lot of the good stuff to be easily found. movies shows anime games etc, anything goes. ty!
oof good question but one im not sure im totally qualified to answer since most of the zombie media i consume is on the campier, sillier side.
i do have some somewhat more Serious zombos i enjoy tho!
the girl with all the gifts is one of my alltime favs (and ive heard the book is good too tho i havent read it) it hits a lot of the beats zombie fans will probably already be familiar with but the main character being a sort of half-zombie (makes more sense in context trust me) as well as a child born into this apocalyptic setting creates a totally new perspective and to me is one of the strongest most thoughtful pieces of work to come out of this sorta subgenre in a long time
the resident evil game series is probably a given. on the off chance she hasnt played it or watched a playthrough, that shits mandatory.
z-nation i think kinda tippytoes the line between stuff fans of, for example, the walking dead will recognize and enjoy in terms of ya know a story focusing more on the interpersonal drama of a group of survivors living through an ongoing apocalypse, and the sillier doesnt-take-itself-too-seriously stuff i personally enjoy, like the ongoing bit where theres just a big ball of entangled zombies rolling across the scenery. its the delicious junk food of tv zombies (though granted ive only watched i think the first few seasons when it was playing nonstop on syfy)
and if you want to join me in enjoying only thee most quality campy schlock..
zombieland saga! literally one of my favorite anime ever! i consider it in this sort of less serious category because the concept of undead idol girls is obviously pretty ridiculous on paper and not gonna be everyones thing, but if the premise even remotely intrigues you, please give it a shot. the story is fun, the characters are loveable and surprisingly complex beneath the typical moe girl archtype exteriors, the humor is on point but doesnt undermine the actually pretty effective emotional moments, and the music fucks! we stan!
z-o-m-b-i-e-s is like c-tier early 2000s dcom realness with a 2018 budget, better choreography, worse songs, questionable moral messaging, all reeking with a dangerous level of green hair dye and party city greasepaint fumes. ive watched it like four times. i cant totally explain it but its got like nostalgic high school musical vibes except more paranormal and much much sillier. dares to ask the question: can cheerleading end all prejudice and bring about world peace? (the answer is yes but theyll be repeating that question for three movies)
zombie prom. very similar to the above in general vibe except the music is honestly kind of good? theres a stage play and a movie which is more or less just a slightly shortened version. in a lot of ways it honestly feels like the fully realized version of z-o-m-b-i-e-s. if you watch the movie ru paul is there, whether thats an incentive or disincentive.
and to wrap it up another game you probably already know about, lollipop chainsaw. yes its problematic but i am honoring my past teenage self who averted their gaze when they walked by it on the shelves in gamestop by saying tara strong sexy cheerleader zombie slayer game is fun and good.
anyway all this to say my taste is very questionable when it comes to this subgenre but i hope u get something out of it. a lot of zombie stories kinda flop for me because the horror element gets watered down into this more actiony survive the zombo apocalypse type thing but the concept of zombies is definitely something that interests me despite this and there are definitely some good pieces of zombie media out there.
oh! and i havent read it yet, but ive heard really promising things about the book manhunt by gretchen felker-martin. not explicitly a zombie story i dont think but draws from the same place for sure. would be worth checking out i think.
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posting this here rn coz i'll probably slide in w a thirst in the next few mins loll
but mmmghh ong dude it's so frustrating and a straight up turn off for me seeing such mean shit; my kink's gotta be trust and tenderness or something:^ like i'll get hard imaging soft shit never anything rough/mean even tho i'm hardly vanilla :shrug2:
side note cos i never stfu (u get 5 paragraphs of me bitching for each 1 of porn), i too definitely prefer just using cock/dick vs strap nd actually usually do, but when i'm new to a place and first making my appearance i always make it a point to make atl one work or two mentioning strap. aside from degrading shit, my biggest turn off has also got to be the typa writing that is like,,, fetish work? esp from a cishet author. so i always make sure to establish that im not cis (even if it does bring me dysphoria, it can be a good comedy point loll like "hold up babe gotta get my dick"):
end of the day, i'm not making trans porn cos i'm tryna fetishize us but cos i'm literally trans 💀💀
and other notes. kaeya<33 and i adore candace/sara, but i'm gay lmaoo so u won't be getting any nsfw of the women from me. i'll make sure to check ur tags for who ur accepting thirsts for cos my gay ass will find a way to thirst over any guy
ty for being chill w me in ur asks!! i'm only ever active on off weeks so don't come expecting me too regularly, captain
MDNI
no same. like I’ll be like oh this is a nice piece then boom mood killer as soon as I see mean shit. happened to me earlier today lmao. I just want intense intimacy minus the degradation but it’s weirdly hard to find.
tbh u don’t have to be vanilla to love soft stuff. I’ve written very hard kinks in a very loving and caring way
yeah I can see what u mean! that stuff can be frustrating but thankfully we have a lot of wonderful lgbt writers writing trans characters in the fandom which is great.
hahaha no worries. I respect the grind. if I’m the right mood I can thirst over a lot of characters too
ur welcome! ‘captain’ 😹 that made me laugh
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hiiiii
i heard u were hosting a umich week and was wondering if i could put a request in.
ik i’m going to be asking for a lot but ya
powpow and the reader (female) playing hockey together on the canada team even tho we are a female?? if not could u do one of us playing together at umich but the reader (female) on the mens cuz she’s to skilled and could she be on defensive line cuz she hits like super hard and is 6’5?? could kj have a lot of speaking parts if that ok w u.
pls and ty and ily
okay so i used my 15 minute break at work and put this together. i haven’t wrote fluffy goodness in a long time so i hope you like it! it’s not long, but i thought it was cute. if it’s not what you wanted, let me know and i’ll put something together tonight when i get home from work!!
it was easier to do a more blurbs style, rather than a full out imagine since i am at work haha
thank u for requesting and ily2!!! 🤍
warnings: nothing really? just fluffy owen and besties kent and y/n. also not edited.
it was the 2022 olympics. it was here and you couldn’t be any more excited about traveling across the work with your college teammates and boyfriend. something you had dreamed about for a long time. it was your goal to play the sport you loved professionally and you had finally achieved that through years of dedicated, hard work.
the only thing that wasn’t in your dream was the fact you’d be playing for the men’s team, and not the women’s. to be completely honest, it didn’t matter which team you were on, you were just excited you were invited to participate and help bring gold back to your country.
some scouts from the committee had seen you play at umich with owen, your defensive partner and boyfriend. it wasn’t long after he had receive the call that he would be traveling to beijing, you received the same call minutes later.
you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity.
“how’s that?” you grinned as you watched kent lie on the ground after a clean check.
“well i’ll tell you, it doesn’t feel too good.” he gave a small laughed, showing he wasn’t upset as he rolled to his side, running his hand up and down his arm.
staal grinned, skating over to the two of you, “maybe we should save that for the game tonight. we don’t need either of you getting hurt.”
“yeah maybe.”
holding your hand out to kent, you helped him up off the ice before he shoved you and took off skating as hard as he could causing you to slightly lose your balance.
“that’s not fair!” you laughed, picking up speed with ease, your long legs carrying you quickly across the ice.
“what do you mean that’s not fair?” he mocked you as he stood on the other side of the net, devon levi stepping to the side, watching the two of you battle it out.
“you hit me!”
“you hit me first!” he argued back.
owen watched the two of you from afar, “that’s your girl?” ho-sang asked, pointing to you and kent, laughing as the two of you chased each other around before practice.
“yeah, that’s my girl.”
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hello ! this'll be my first time requesting on here, but may i please request hcs for lumine , venti , and kaeya with a s/o who tends to daydream quite a lot ? ty for reading this, and i hope u have a wonderful day/night, wherever you are ! <3
DAY DREAMER READER
FEATURING— lumine, venti, and kaeya
GENRE— fluff
NOTES— hello!! hehe welcome to my blog, thank you for requesting and i hope you also have a wonderful day or night wherever you may be!! <3
WARNINGS— venti backstory spoilers (?), otherwise fluff!!!
LUMINE
often times you two could be doing anything together and suddenly start spacing out and day dreaming
if the other has to do something, one of you can tap the opposite gently
her sassy personality softens once she starts day dreaming
she loves to glance at you while you day dream too
lumine’s obsessed with your features when you go into the vulnerable mode around her
she’ll hiss at anyone who tries to move you
but literally, pray for whomever wants to talk to you atm
sometimes she takes this opportunity to go cook you something otherworldly
when you snap back to reality, she’s holding 6 plates of different dishes from 3 different nations
all she has is this super prideful smile on her face as she eats with you
she mostly starts day dreaming while looking up at the sky, so sometimes she asks you if you want to look at the clouds with her
holds you hand; it’s her favorite thing to do at all times but in these moments where you’re in your own small world, she adores it
when she notices you’re day dreaming, she’s submerged in an unexplained warm feeling and she can’t stop smiling
if you apologize once you’re back, she’d say it’s okay and suggests day dreaming together
overal loves it
kind of stands guard if shes not day dreaming like i said above
if anything comes near you it’s gonna get blasted away, pronto
if you fall asleep while day dreaming she’s gonna be pampering you happily
makeshift bed or a real one, blankets, pillow, plushies, everything you need
when you ask her if she did this she will NEVER admit it, she thinks it’s highkey emberassing to be so sappy
VENTI
also a day dreamer but not as much as lumine
when he first saw you day dreaming, he thought you were ignoring him and he pouted
but he soon began to realize that you were in another world
so instead of pestering you, he decided to drink quietly
which is, crazy asf
venti, being quiet when not being emotional? and drinking??
in true honesty he thinks it’s rude to interrupt a vulnerable moment
he also thinks that day dreaming is connected to deep desires that people yearn for, or have emotional connections with
that’s why he daydreams!!
oftentimes he imagines what it’d be like if his friend stayed for longer
if you daydream for fun or just zone out randomly and explain that to him, he’d bother much you more
asks you to tell him about your day dreams, he’s very curious ab it
loves when you rant on and on about it
he’s the type of person to pitch in every once in a while
“After that, instead of a horse Kaeya entered on Diluc’s back while Diluc walked on all fours and pretended to be a horse.”
“You’re telling me Diluc did WHAT?”
super happy to listen to you
if what you daydream about has to do with your past or anything of the sorts he definitely understands
he begins to treat this time when you zone out as a sacred time, and he sounds like an alarm when someone comes to interrupt
venti loves physical attention
so it becomes a part of his routine to hold your hand just in case you daydream
he wants to hold your hand before so he doesn’t have to interrupt you!!!
if you accidently slip into slumber hes right there to help you lay down comfortably and keep a look out
he might take a moment to admire your features too, you always look good when you’re unfocused
KAEYA
kaeya doesn’t often use his time to daydream
some of the knights do and when they do, he just taps them out of it
since it’s you, he’d take a second to process what you’re doing
if you’re at work or something alike he would feel a sense of guilt but he’d nudge your shoulder
he likes this state you’re in where the world revolving around you has changed
sometimes he asks you what you daydreamed about while doing something domestic, such as cooking or washing dishes, brushing your hair or anything alike
he adores this feeling of you talking about something you do very often and doing something that reminds him as if he’s home with you
he would NEVER admit it outdoors tho
kaeya would mostly pretend to brush it off with a snarky remark
after that, he thinks about it a little more than he did before
day dreaming, hm? why do people do such a thing?
he asks you about it and learns a different perspective of things, he appreciates you
100% doesn’t mind if you daydream, he thinks it’s special of you to do so
at some point, he zones out once every month or something alike
but it’s about the most random thing ever
like it doesn’t pin point anytbinf or hold all too much importance
once he snaps out of it, his mind flashes to you and smiled to himself before continuing what he was doing
if you day dream about him
his ego 📈📈📈📈
teases you about it and loved that you think about him in these times
doesn’t push you to talk about it! he’s very respectful about it
kaeya drinks respect s/o juice
along with wine
speaking of wine, SOMETIMES not always, he brings some to you for after you snap back
he’ll say it’s like a reward, but for what??? he doesn’t know
#genshin impact#venti x reader#lumine x reader#kaeya x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin#genshin venti#genshin venti x reader#genshin impact venti#lumine#genshin lumine#kaeya x you#kaeya x y/n#lumine headcanons#venti headcanons#kaeya headcanons#venti the bard#venti fluff#lumine fluff#kaeya fluff#genshin fluff#venti genshin x reader
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Im so nervous lol.
just wanted to say that you made me accept a lot of my kinks that I thought were gross and felt bad for having so thank you soo much 💕
I saw an Obey me snz fic you made and was wondering if you take requests?? I have been looking everywhere for a Mammon snz fic and sadly there isn't almost any snz content in the fandom 😢
It's okay of you can't take requests now tho!! I don't want to make you uncomfortable lol
aw I’m glad I could be of some help!!
Ships: Mammon/GN!MC
Contents: Sneezes, Dom/Sub, Handjobs, Rope bondage, Butt Plugs, Praise
Wordcount: ~1.5k
He’s your good boy. He’s always your good boy, and you’re always delighted to see that he’s usually willing to indulge you in whatever it is you want to do.
Though this time, as you’re tying him up, something feels just a little bit off.
You had called him over to your room, putting on a little bit of perfume on your neck and wrists as you prepped the rope and anything else you’d need. Some silky white rope, a spreader bar, and a cage muzzle. All things you’ve used on him before, so really there was no need to suspect that a single thing would be off.
Now, as you finish the knots securing his hands over his head and tied to the bedframe, you pull back and notice that he doesn’t look quite… There. His eyes aren’t quite focused, and his brow is juuust a little bit pinched. He looks like he’s trying to focus but can’t.
“Mammon?” You ask, kneeling between his spread legs, “Everything alright?”
“Eh? Yeah, yeah of course.” He’s quick to nod and try to dismiss your worries. You give him a disbelieving look while you reach behind you on the bed to grab the little vibrating plug and the lube you’d brought,
“Okay, if you’re sure. Make sure you tell me if anything’s wrong, ‘kay?” You say, apprehensive. He smiles and agrees, eager to have your hands on- and in- him. You lube up your fingers and bring them down between his legs, easily slipping one into him and pulling a low sigh from his throat.
“Theeere you go,” You begin to slowly drag the pad of your finger along his inner walls, stroking across his prostate and making his legs give little shivers. He’s so pliant and willing like this, not to mention needy. It didn’t take long to get him squirming and trying to push down onto the single finger that’s inside him.
“Does my good boy need more inside him? You want something to fill you up?” You purr. His whole body shivers. His hands form fists, discontent with being uselessly tied above him, wanting to reach out and grab you and hold you up to himself.
“Please, ple-mph- please!” Mammon cries out. He always gets so needy, all for you. You add a second finger, listening to him whine. Though, normally by this point, he’d be begging you to kiss him. Tying him up and muzzling him like this is your favorite way of depriving him of that closeness he loves so much, only to give it to him tenfold later in the night, but it isn’t any fun if he doesn’t beg for it.
“Mammon, baby,” You hum, slowing the push of your fingers to a crawl, “You don’t want kisses?”
He freezes as your eyes lock onto his. Even he recognizes that that isn’t normal behavior. After a moment, he breaks eye contact to look to the side and mumble something. When you don’t respond, he speaks up.
“You muzzled me already, I know that I won’t be getting any kisses now, what’s the point in asking?” He pouts.
“Oh, so we’re being bratty tonight? Is that it?” Your free hand squeezes the meat of his thigh and he blanches.
“I- I’m sorry! Please just- just keep going?”
“Hmph,” You start stroking his cock as you fuck him with your fingers, “You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous tonight. Any more attitude from you and I’ll have you over my knee.”
“Yeah- ngh- yeah, MC, thank you,” He mutters. Normally something like that would earn you a snarky comment in return, but you suppose he must just be feeling awfully subservient tonight. You cast a glance up at him and catch that same bleary, unfocused look from before. You give him a few more pumps of your hands before pulling them back completely. You easily slide the plug into his ass and press the button on the little remote, setting it to a low vibration, then you get up on your knees and move to over him. He looks confused when you suddenly straddle his lap.
“I wonder how long you’ll last like that.” You grind your ass back on his cock.
“I- hih- I don’t think- wait, hang on, MC-“ He mutters. You see him squint for a moment before a look of what you can only describe as shock crosses his face for just a split second before he quickly, desperately, turns his head to the side, the metal cage of his muzzle hitting his bicep, his whole body tensing-
“ha’ikshiew!” He sneezes to the side, uncovered. Immediately after, he looks mortified. Eyes wide, brow pinched, not-even-looking-at-you mortified. “I-I’m- That was so gross, I’m so sorry, MC, something’s been makin’ my nose itch all ni-hih! Fuck- huh-tshh! Hih-knxght! Huh-ktshiew!” A barrage of sneezes hit him, try as he might to stifle them.
The poor boy looks like he’s about to start crying, he’s so embarrassed.
He’s supposed to be your good boy, your always-sexy sub who gives you all the best reactions, how is he supposed to do that if he just made a fucking mess of his arm and muzzle with his sneezes? You probably think he’s disgusting and gross. He keeps his gaze trained away from you as he anticipates the incoming rejection and demand for him to get out of your room.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, he feels a warm hand on top of his head, and fingers carding through his hair, pulling his fringe out of his face.
“Cute.” You chuckle. “Must be my new perfume.” You turn up the vibrator with a press of the button, and his hips buck involuntarily behind you, head falling back with another hitch of his breath. “Here,” Your hand presses at the back of his head, urging him to lean forward and rest his forehead on your shoulder. You feel the warmth of his skin and the cold, wetness of his muzzle. “Can you smell it?”
“Can’t- hihh… I can’t smell much of an-anything,” His words are punctuated by soft sniffling as he tries desperately to keep the mess from dripping. “MC, MC, I’m hehh go-gonna- hik-TchEW! HAKNT-tchiuhh- HikTCHIEW!” He lets out a handful more sneezes against you as you pet his hair, offering a tired little huff at the end of the fit. He sniffles, strong and wet, in a desperate bid to not make any more mess than he already has.
“Oh, my poor baby,” You reach behind with the hand that isn’t on his head, beginning to stroke his needy cock. His head felt light and dizzy from the sneezing, and somehow that made your touch feel even more intense. He lets out a little cry, thighs tensing when you jerk him off. “This feels good, doesn’t it Mammon?”
“’S good, so good,” He sniffs, “wanna kiss you,” He mutters, small against your shoulder. You barely heard it, and you know that he must be so embarrassed asking for such a thing, especially now. The hand on his head undoes the muzzle, dropping it into your lap. He doesn’t have a second to object or even to process before you’re taking his chin between your fingers and angling his head up, pressing a kiss to his lips. They’re wet from the spray, and the humiliation of it only makes Mammon’s blood run hotter.
“My good boy,” You hum when you pull away, guiding his head back down to your neck, “You close?” The sound that leaves his lips is something akin to a rough, ragged sob. Your hand holds the back of his neck possessively. You may not have him collared this time, but this has very much the same effect.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m close,” He nips at your neck, the scent of your perfume hitting him full force now, but he still doesn’t have his hands or arms to cover himself. “Ah- Aktchiew! HekTSHH!” He sneezes hard against your skin. “Huhh- fuuuck- ‘m so close, MC,” He whines, hips twitching and squirming under you.
“Such a needy boy I have,” You purr with what almost sounds like pride in your voice. It’s intoxicating to him. “Cum for me.”
Like a wire snapping, his back bows and his orgasm crashes through him. His cock throbs, sticky white cum spurting across your fingers and the tops of his thighs, some spilling over your hand. He moans, fucking up into your hand again and again, until his shivering and crying out from the overstimulation he’s giving himself. Only then you give him some mercy, turning off the plug and pulling your hand away. He lets out shaky sighs against you.
“My good boy,” You lean back, “Always my good boy.”
“Mhmm,” He hums with a dopey smile and a sniffle, “Always yours.”
You lean forward and give him a kiss to his heated forehead, then push your cum-slicked fingers past his lips. He dutifully gets to work lapping up his mess and suckling on your fingers obediently, humming contentedly as he does it. Once you’re all clean, you untie his hands and start rubbing feeling back into them.
“I’ll never know what I did to deserve such a good boy,” You plant a kiss to his wrist, where the rope was tied, “Thank you, Mammon. ‘M gonna take good care of you now, okay?” You look up at him through your eyelashes.
“U-uh- yeah- can… Can we shower first? So- snf- so you can get that perfume off at least? I don’t think I’d be able to handle any more sneezing.” He says with a shy laugh. “Not that- not that I’m not down for uh- for a repeat some other time.”
A repeat, hm?
You tuck that thought away for now, giving him a quick pet on his head before skipping off to get a bath ready.
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blazes of deceit
this fic is a part of the disney collab hosted by @btswritingcafe!! please go check out all the other talented writers and their works 💕
+ summary. When the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide.
+ pairing. jungkook x reader
+ genre. fluff, angst. tangled!au.
+ word count. 26.052
+ rating. 18+
+ warnings. threats against a baby’s life, unwarranted death, mom problems, trespassing, pan violence, hiding a (not dead) body, tying people up with hair, curse words, drinking, thievery, deadly chase, sword/pan fight, recklessly jumping from a great height, graphic descriptions of wounds and blood, general violence, dark family matters (it’s pretty twisted!), orchestrated infidelity.
+ author’s note. happy early birthday to golden baby jungkook!! this fic took me wAY too long to write but she’s finally here! HUGE thank you to my big brain frenemy @guklvr for beta reading and hyping me up by boosting my confidence level +2000 even tho she’s on vacation and should be relaxing LMAO i would’ve postponed this until next year if u didn’t push me so TY ILY LOADS CARL 💘 i also wanted to shoutout #1 jk ryder supporter @dewykth and wofe @yeojaa for encouraging me every step along the way, y’all are the best n ily both to pieces 💝💕
You are positively ravenous.
Flurries of people scurry past the towering bars of your crib, yet none spare a glance in your direction despite your boisterous wailing. Like moths to a flame, they’re all huddled in one corner, surrounding a panting woman that clutches her rotund abdomen in one hand while tightly clasping onto a bejewelled crown in the other.
“What are you waiting for?” she spits out, hardened orbs narrowed in on your pathetic form.
“Your Royal Majesty, it’s only been an hour since you have given birth, please reconsider—”
Her glower is redirected onto the younger woman’s trembling form. “Are you questioning your Queen? Shall we reconsider your life as well?”
“No,” she begs, her tone quivering with anguish, “please spare my ignorant self.”
Your facial muscles begin to cramp and the walls of your throat feel like sandpaper, which only serves to exacerbate your violent sobs. The insistent suckling on your thumb is doing nothing to quell your raging stomach.
Her lips peel back to reveal two rows of pearly white, dazzling teeth framed by a nasty snarl. “Somebody slit that brat’s throat!”
Another midwife adorned in the bloody rags of childbirth darts across the cramped space with a weeping bundle of rough canvas in her arms. As she scrambles to deliver the shuddering newborn into his counterfeit mother’s arms, the clumsy woman trips over thin air, flying across her enraged Queen’s lap. Without a second thought, her backside is pierced by a shiny steel sword, sullied in a crimson liquid when it reappears.
The introduction of another babe deters your cries for attention. Instead, you distract yourself with a dull glimmer that you catch in your peripheral. Your chubby fingers hopelessly extend toward the dingy stars dangling above your head, just out of reach, reflecting the bright orange tiger lily printed onto the high ceiling of your cage.
“Not a soul shall speak of today's treachery.”
You’re well aware that your short arms could never stretch the distance required to satiate your unending curiosity; but they stay aloft, searching for the reassuring warmth of your mother’s embrace.
“Our blood will remain on the throne.”
Screams of agony overwhelm your developing eardrums as your tiny hands come to cradle your head, willing the pain to end.
Every inch of your walls is covered with abstract paintings, doodles of twisting branches snaking around the edges, dainty birds in every colour under the sun, and a joyous little girl dancing in her own brilliant freedom. No matter where you look, bespeckled tiger lilies are buried within the intricate linework like easter eggs, waiting to be found.
Your favourite by far is the uncanny depiction of the image stashed deep inside the crevices of your memory, a sight your heart desires to view most from up close. The miniature illustration captures your longing gaze pinned on the multitudinous lights ascending from a foreign location, golden hair streaming down your back and flowing over the fireplace in your determination to capture its vast length.
You attempt to steel your nerves for the umpteenth time, but you can’t help your nervous pacing across the minuscule length of your room. The entire tower is spotless as a result of your mindless cleaning—floors scrubbed twice, nonexistent dust wiped away, and trinkets set at the perfect angle to encourage your mother to comply with your outrageous request.
Today is the day, after all. The day that you’ll finally convince the stubborn woman to bring you out to watch the masses of floating lanterns disappear into the night sky.
The pitter-patter of your bare feet scuttling against the concrete floors nearly drown out the melodic appellations from outside your window.
“—down your hair!”
You dash over to the aperture, hastily gathering the ends of your mane to fling down while fixing the bulk of it onto the hook above your head. When the figure enshrouded in a black cloak snatches up your tresses, looping it around to create a foothold and carefully wedges one leg inside, you haul them up through the makeshift pulley.
By the time both of their feet are safely planted on the ground next to yours, sweat is beginning to form by your temples and the perpetual ache in your arms flares from consistently being forced to heave another grown adult up the stretch of the colossal tower.
“Welcome home, Mother.” You pull the rest of your hair inside and turn to face the stunning woman who lowers her excessively long hood, the extra length of fabric intentionally stitched on to keep her identity obscure as she travels.
Your mother sweeps you up into her comforting embrace and you allow yourself to relax in her arms, resting your cheek on her chest while your digits tightly clasp on to one another around her middle. Her chin settles onto the crown of your head.
“You would think that lifting me up all these years would give you some more upper body strength,” she says, her disappointment practically tangible. Placing both manicured hands upon each of your shoulders with a light squeeze, she pushes you back to examine your body from head to toe. “But look at you! My poor, delicate, little flower.”
Your forehead creases from your raised brows as a tense smile completes your agitated countenance.
“Oh, darling, what’s wrong? Come, come with Mother.” The adamant woman latches onto your forearm, dragging you over to the rustic fireplace and pressing down on your shoulders. Ever the obedient child, you kneel down onto the thick rug below.
Your mother delicately takes a seat on the antique chair beside you, a weary sigh slipping past her lips before she starts sweeping a brush through your golden strands. As per tradition, you sing the incantation that’s essentially engraved in the back of your mind at this point.
“Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine,”
A gleaming shimmer races across your tresses at the verse and from the corner of your vision you watch the light creases marring your mother’s features fade in rapt attention. She hums along to the tune with a detached, distant look in her eyes.
“Heal what has been hurt
Change the Fates' design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine,”
You allow your lids to slide closed, gathering all the courage you can muster for the following conversation.
“What once was mine.”
Once the last note fades and a deafening silence reigns, she gently urges, “Tell Mother everything.”
This is it, it’s now or never.
“Uh, well, as you know,” you mumble, clearing your throat, “my eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.”
“Mhm, and I’ve already gotten your present as well,” she hums, steadily working her way down your mass of hair.
You falter at the information she casually reveals, guilt eating away at your conscience for preparing to ruin her good mood. “Yes, I know you’re always thinking of me, but, uh, well—”
“You can tell me, darling.” You register your mother’s heavy palm stroking your head, coaxing the words to tumble out of your mouth.
So you lay it on her. “I was just wondering if you would take me to see the lanterns this year.”
“What was that?” she questions, rightfully so when the garbled words blurt out quicker than you can process.
Before you can second guess yourself, you stammer, “C-can we please go see the lanterns?”
The brush suddenly halts in its path, suspended within the waves and dips of your many strands. Although you can’t see her, you know your mother well enough to feel her stiffen up, peeved at the topic you’ve brought up many times before.
“Petal—”
You interrupt, desperate to plead your case, “Mother, please, I’ve been waiting for—”
“Zip it.” You instantly clamp up at her hissing.
Your mother takes her time to stand, stalking over to halt directly in front of your hunched form. Her daunting figure looms above you, fierce orbs evoking a filthy shame that sinks its claws into your spine, and you lower your stare to her ankles from its intense weight. “Enough. I don’t understand why you keep asking this idiotic question when you already know what my answer is going to be.”
Her spontaneous refusal dampens your spirit, but you press on. “I just, uh, thought that I could see them once for my birthday a-and then I’d never ask to leave the tower again.”
With a scowl as cold as an executioner’s axe, her arms come to cross beneath her bust. “I’ve already told you time and time again that they’re to celebrate the healthy birth of the Prince, any special ‘connection’ you feel to these lights is simply misguided and naive.”
You scramble to gather the scraps of bravery she shredded in order to sputter out, “But it’s my b-birthday too. Even if it’s just a coincidence, I wanna see them with my own two eyes.”
“How many times do I have to explain to you how dangerous the world is outside these walls? Do you know how many people are jumping at the chance to use your magic for themselves?” She rolls her eyes, chiding at you as if you’re a petulant child who disobeyed their elders one too many times. “If your little heart wants some adventure, you can go downstairs and explore the living room, besides darling, you should be thankful that nothing has happened all these years.”
“How am I supposed to be thankful for anything when you keep coddling me like this!” you lash out, frustration bubbling over at her usual response and refusing to toe the line any longer. Any notion of gently swaying her judgement or prompting her to consider your point of view is thrown out the window.
But your mother is nothing if not resolute.
“What?” Her words turn to ice—syllables forming razor-sharp blades that figuratively line your throat, poised to strike the second you step out of place. “Do you want to repeat that?”
Your breaths quicken, deathly afraid of the repercussions that will follow if you decide to continue your rebellious act. It wouldn’t be the first time that she punished you for begging to leave the tower.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, head hanging low and voice laced with resignation, “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Aw, my precious petal,” she coos, her mood drastically flipping one hundred and eighty degrees as the edges of her lips subtly point upwards at your obedience. “That’s why Mother is here, to guide you in the right direction. You know that I’m only looking out for you, right?”
“Of course, Mother.”
Evidently content with the outcome of the conversation, she turns back to continue brushing through your tresses.
By the time her ebony cloak rests upon her thin shoulders, hood draping over her face, your hair is already hanging by the hook above the window and she hops through the opening to lower herself to the ground below. You watch as her figure shrinks with the increasing distance, only turning back once to give a short wave before disappearing through the lush greenery.
And then you’re alone once again.
In the hours that pass after your mother’s departure, you become well acquainted with the five stages of grief. Of course, your requests to leave have been denied more times than you can count on both hands, but you foolishly believed that mentioning the eighteen years you spent cooped up in one place, fending off boredom, would hit a soft spot.
You forgot that your mother doesn’t have any of those.
Obviously, she anticipated your attempt to convince her by throwing yourself a pity party, as she deliberately mentioned purchasing a gift in advance. Out of all your celebrations, you couldn’t recall a single time where she prepared—much less remembered—your birthday.
Utterly absorbed within your final stage of acceptance, you lose yourself within your thoughts. That’s why the steady, rhythmic tapping on the cobblestone metres below makes you jump, mind wiped clean of everything except questioning the origin of the sound. Goosebumps manifest across the length of your arms, already slick with cold sweat.
Initially, you believe that your mother may have misplaced something, but your doubt accumulates when you don’t hear her usual jingle follow the rapping. You wonder if she is harbouring acrimony at your earlier outburst—even though she seemed quite pleased as she left.
Thus, like the loving daughter you are, you gather the ends of your hair, about to throw the lump over the aperture when you take notice of the stranger’s bulky frame and lack of disguise. Last time you checked, Mother certainly hadn’t chopped all her curls off either.
You can feel your heart thumping in your head, chest rising and falling expeditiously to compensate for the sudden rush of adrenaline surging through your veins. In your distress, her words come back to bite you, echoing within your mind that he must be after your magic.
Mother knows best, after all.
Discreetly glancing back down, you spot the man scaling the wall using two arrows, a feat which you’re sure he wouldn’t be capable of performing without those well-defined muscles, attractively outlined through his thin clothing. Realizing that you’re wasting time ogling at the intruder, you spin back to survey your room, scanning the area for any weapons you can use to defend yourself.
You disregard any prospect of overpowering him and decide to approach the confrontation by taking advantage of your ability to startle him. Before long, the sounds of the rigid arrowheads wedging into the spaces between the stones are no more than a couple of metres away, and you grab the nearest object in a blind panic.
All too soon, his large hands are gripping the window sill, and you scurry to press your body against the wall directly next to the opening. You grip the handle of metal tighter, struggling to keep your heavy breaths silent as you watch his fit form effortlessly raise himself up past the open window.
When he lands inside, you’re transfixed by the way his shirt hangs on his brawny body, the veins in his arms enlarged from the physical exertion of carrying his weight up the tower. Just for that moment, you let your eyes roam his lean figure in unadulterated fascination.
“Hah! Stupid guards, thinking they could catch me after—”
And then that moment ends.
A loud clang resounds throughout the cramped space as a result of the pan in your hand bashing into the back of his head. For a split second, you worry if the force behind your swing is enough to knock him out cold, but then he meets the floor headfirst. You wince for him.
With the substitute weapon in hand, you circle around his seemingly unconscious form up to his head, which is turned away from your prying stare. In order to decipher his level of cognizance, you crouch down and bow over him to get a better look at his face.
Long, dark locks that were perfectly mussed before his fall now cover nearly half his countenance, so you push them to the side to reveal his closed lids and strong brows. Following the curve of his cheekbones, you pass his cupid’s bow to gaze upon his thin lips, a tiny beauty mark laying directly underneath—an intimate detail that you feel uncomfortable knowing.
A faint blush colours your cheeks as you comprehend how utterly breathtaking the stranger is, drastically disparate to the stories your mother told you as a child, where men resembled ogres that lived under bridges, grotesque and unkempt.
He is nothing like that. Not at all.
He reminds you of the princes you read about in picture books—dashing and strong, willing to go to extreme lengths to find their Princess, their one true love. You know you’re taking it too far when you begin to fantasize about his personality purely based on his, admittedly, strikingly handsome appearance. With a vigorous shake of your head, you force yourself out of your reverie and get back to your task.
You stretch two fingers out to rest just beneath his nostrils, feeling the warm air that leaves his body at constant intervals, a good sign that he was not only alive but knocked out cold.
You prod at his shoulder, whispering, “Are you awake?”
No reaction.
With this confirmation, you take hold of one of his wrists with both hands and clench your jaw while leaning back, trying to use your body weight to help drag him. He proves to be much heavier than you initially believed, though you feel him moving inch by inch. Rather than another human being, you simply think of him as a heavy sack of potatoes for the sake of your conscience as you shuffle backwards, heading for the wardrobe on the other side of the room.
By the time you reach said armoire, you collapse on the ground next to him, gulping in as much air as you can. Now, there was simply the problem of shoving him inside. You turn your head to face the stranger, pouting at the prospect of having to lift his bulky self.
After much pushing and rearranging, the doors finally close behind him, although, as you predicted, stuffing him in there took much longer than you would like to admit. You aren’t sure how comfortable he is in the disfigured pretzel position you left him in, but his contentment is not at the top of your list of priorities right now.
Rubbing your palms together, you go to pick up the frying pan that lay discarded on the floor near the window when you take notice of the brown satchel that sat next to it. You have no use for any kind of travelling equipment, obviously, what with your whole life existing in this tall building, and your mother only carries a quaint, woven basket around. She is insistent on living as modestly as possible, and that includes whatever goodies she brings back from her adventures.
That rules out everyone but the stranger. The bag does look more masculine, anyway. Grabbing the strap, you raise the object in question up to have a closer inspection and find the leather to be heavier than expected. There are odd bumps protruding from its exterior, filling you with a tenuous curiosity.
Carefully, you lift the flap open to expose a heavily jewelled crown. Perplexity is written within the creases of your brows as you reach to grab the item within and drop the empty satchel. From your inexperienced eyes, the thing is as real as it gets, a shimmering gold decorated with the finest jewels in the kingdom. The different colours of each gem catch the light, reflecting the brilliant rays onto the walls of your room.
Your impromptu analysis concludes with an inexplicable pull towards the diadem, which you’re uncertain how to act upon until you involuntarily place the crown on your head. You turn to face the mirror leaning against the wall and it feels so right, as though two matching puzzle pieces have finally been brought together. The reflection staring back at you seems complete in ways you have never been before.
Yet, you can’t begin to fathom the reasoning behind all these strange epiphanies, unfamiliar with the tranquillity that quiets the constant buzzing in your head. Overwhelmed, you remove the crown and not a moment too soon, for a familiar, shrill shriek meets your ears.
“Petal!”
Your stomach lurches. Eyes darting to the wardrobe, you’re reminded of the man inside. You know if Mother saw him, she would definitely freak out, maybe even refuse to visit for the next week to drive you insane with solitude. But, then again, you could use him as an example to show that you could handle yourself out in that dangerous world she was always going on and on about.
“Let down your hair!”
You stuff the diadem back in the bag and stow it in an empty flower pot.
Giddy at the prospect of having a legitimate argument to reinforce your reasoning to leave the tower, you dash to the window sill and fling your hair over without a second glance outside. The rush of excitement blinds you from the sensitivity of your sore muscles as you haul her up.
“Petal,” your mother grits out, staggering inside due to your rushed actions, “what did I tell you about checking who’s calling before letting your hair down?”
“Hello, Mother!” you brush off her question, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I have something really important to show you!”
“Don’t change the subject.” She squints her eyes at you, lips pursed with frustration. “You're getting more and more reckless. One of these days, a crook will make their way up here and you’ll be foolish enough to invite them inside, maybe pour them a cup of tea while you’re at it?”
“I’m truly sorry.” You decide to humour her to prevent her temperament from flaring, throwing out a meaningless apology—one you’re used to blurting out left and right.
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” she says, as smug and haughty as always. Your mother removes her coat, handing it off to you. “But today’s your lucky day! Just as I was about to visit, I remembered to bring your present!”
Your heart warms at your mother’s unusual thoughtfulness, although you’re much too eager to prove your strength first. “Ah, thank you, Mother. But I really want to show you—”
“Something more important than your mother’s present?”
“Of course not! I just wanted to get it out of the way so that I could enjoy your present later.” She seems unconvinced, so you add, “Y’know how they always say to leave the best for last?”
The older woman heaves an exasperated sigh, shoving you out of the way as she heads for the armchair in the corner. She slumps her tired form on the rickety seat as it creaks its refusal, then waves her hand, gesticulating that you get on with whatever it is you have up your sleeves.
Perspiration gathers within your palms and you fight to ward off the minuscule smile that plays on your lips while you gradually make your way back to the wooden armoire, “So, you’re always going on about how weak and fragile I am…”
“Yes.” She rests her chin in her hand, scrutinizing every hair on your head as though the answers to your ridiculous behaviour are buried within the multitudinous strands. “And what of it?”
“Well, I just thought that I should show you,” you start as your back hits the old furniture and your fingertips graze its rough texture. “That I’m more than capable of handling myself when we go out to—”
“When we go out?” she interrupts, irritation hardening her sharp features as she fixes you with an enraged scowl. “And where do you suppose we’re going exactly?”
You hesitate as your earlier confidence slips and you scramble to correct your word choice before she completely blows you off. “Uh, I just meant that this will show you how strong I am, and, uh…”
An eerie silence occupies the room when you find yourself at a loss for words. You know that your blabbering will get you absolutely nowhere, so you tighten your grip on the handles of the wardrobe, counting on your actions to speak louder than your words ever could.
“How old are you turning again, Y/N? It was eighteen, was it not?”
You shrink under her abrupt question, choosing to play along to pacify the shreds of annoyance flickering in her orbs. “Yes, Mother.”
“And for how long are we going to play this game?” she asks, standing with her basket in tow. Your mother rounds closer to you and your gaze automatically flies to the floor.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“What’re you hiding this time? Did you find another mouse? A rat?” she mocks, resting one hand on her hip. “Ooh, did a raccoon find its way inside?” Once her face is a mere couple of inches from your nose, you allow your eyes to meet her own, dreadfully empty ones. The sight sends a chill down your spine.
You release your hold on the furniture, dejection seeping from your tone. “Two mice this time.”
Her boisterous cackle echoes off the stone walls and she clutches her stomach in an attempt to quell the onslaught of laughter. The gesture reminds you of the countless other times you tried to ‘prove yourself’ through similar methods when you were younger, catching rodents that occasionally found their way into the nooks and crannies of the tower.
The first time you caught a mouse, you’d been ecstatic, rushing to show it off to the only person you knew. Although at that age, rather than a ticket to freedom, you were simply seeking your mother’s approval and perhaps a few praises here and there. You wanted to prove that despite your lonely upbringing—with your mother lounging around the tower for only a few hours every other day—you could handle yourself. She wouldn’t have to worry.
Evidently, you were too young to understand your mother’s rash nature, and she immediately assumed the worst—that you had somehow managed to sneak outside and wanted to prove your calibre by hunting down a nearby animal. The harsh scolding you received that day still lingers as a scar on your wrist, a painful reminder to never cross your mother.
“The outside world is not a simple matter of ‘two mice’ darling. You should know better than to think I’ll ever be impressed by these foolish displays of strength.” She swoops you up into her arms and you automatically bring your hands to circle her lithe waist. “That’s why you’ll always need Mother to protect you.”
Your chin rests on her shoulder, stare unfocused as you dismally state, “Yes, Mother.”
“Now, onto more exciting matters.” A couple of light, successive pats strike your back and you’re released from her hold. She is quick to open her wooden basket and rummage through the contents, reaching inside for what you assume to be your birthday present. The vegetables in her hand don’t excite you, but you put on a fake grin for her anyway. “I’m making your favourite soup!”
She scurries away from your static form to head past the doorway, but you stop her in her tracks with a low voice. “I’m not really feeling up for soup today.”
“You know how far the journey is to get some of these vegetables, let alone how expensive each one is!” she exclaims, waving said produce in her hand as she spins to face you.
“I’m really sorry, Mother,” you mumble, flashing her your best puppy-dog eyes. “But I ran out of paint recently and I’m feeling kind of down about it.”
She tuts. “That’s a three-day journey, Petal.”
“I know, it’s just that when I can’t distract myself with painting, I get these horrible thoughts of leaving the tower.” Doing your best to reason with her, you shift your weight to the other foot and fiddle around with your fingernails, attempting to appear as innocent as possible. “And I think those paints are a much better idea than going out to see the lights.”
A few seconds pass before a groan escapes your mother’s lips. “You’re lucky Mother loves you dearly.”
You stumble into her torso, grateful that she is unintentionally following along with your plan—a tedious scheme that you were saving as a last resort. She strokes the crown of your head, allowing you to nuzzle your cheek into the comfort of your mother’s embrace before her immediate departure.
Goodbyes are exchanged with some more reprimands sprinkled into the conversation, then she scales down the building and is no longer in your line of sight. You rub the nape of your neck, inching towards the armoire as you ponder whether a trip to indulge in your greatest desires is worth it when weighed against the lifelong bond you have with your own blood.
While navigating through your moral dilemma, you twist open the knob and watch as the scruffy man’s body slumps down to the floor without the support of the door to hold him upright. You refrain from cringing at his reddened nose.
Prioritizing your safety first, you retrieve your trusty pan and manhandle his body onto a chair, the seat still warm from your mother’s presence. This time around, you won’t be able to attain the upper hand by catching him off guard, so you settle on tying him up.
The question is: with what? You have no reason to keep ropes casually lying around the tower and one glance at his bulging biceps assures you that sewing thread will not be enough either.
As you’re thinking about stuffing him back into the wardrobe until you come up with a better idea, the blond strands at the edge of your peripheral catch your eye. For the first time in your life, your excessively long hair proves to be of use.
When he is tightly restrained to the armchair, your tresses acting like a straitjacket around his torso and snaking around his legs, you step back to appreciate your work. Your eyes drift over his corded muscles and roam over his face once again.
Before you let yourself get lost in his model-like features, your free hand reaches out, palm outstretched, to slap him across the face.
You nurse the stinging pain ebbing atop your outermost layer of skin, cradling the appendage to your chest as you hiss out a low whine, although the sound is masked by the low timbre of a groan. Your body stiffens while you gawk at the stranger, watching him gather his surroundings, whipping his head back and forth before his chestnut orbs land on you.
Your grip on the handle of the pot tightens.
“Wha—”
“No! Uh, I mean, hush!” you exclaim, deepening your voice for a rather weak, intimidating effect. “I’m doing the talking here.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat before you can utter another word. His doe eyes bore into yours and you step back, instantly feeling threatened by the intensity of his gaze. He wriggles around in his restraints, testing his extremely limited range of motion.
A prolonged, slightly awkward, silence stretches in the air as you attempt to recall the interrogation questions you practiced while tying him up. Regrettably, you come up blank.
He rolls his eyes at your lack of speech, raising a single brow.
“Well?” he questions, seemingly accepting his lack of free movement and slouching comfortably against the back of the chair. “I thought you said you were gonna do the talking?”
You grit your teeth at his impertinence, shaking off the nerves of talking to another human being that was not your mother as you adorn a superficial, bold facade. Striving to exude the same persuading tone that all those mystery books depicted, you mimic the slow strides you’ve read detectives take around their suspects.
“How did you find me?” You round the corner to escape his unimpressed glare, circling around him.
In turn, he cranes his neck to peer over at you, bewilderment written in the slack of his jaw. “Find you? Who says I was looking for you?” He whistles lowly catching sight of your mane, “That’s some hair you got there. Is that what’ve you tied me up with?”
A scoff escapes your lips, unconvinced at his act.
“Oh yeah?” you challenge, marching back to the front of the chair to dramatically slam your hands down onto his bound wrists, effectively halting his faint wriggling. “Then why did you come all the way up here, huh?”
The dashingly handsome stranger’s tongue prods at his cheek, serving to rile you up further. Taking his sweet time, he inspects the space around him before his focus comes back to you, and he leans in, smirking devilishly. “Sure as hell wasn’t for you, Princess.”
At the odd nickname combined with the close proximity, a flush tints your cheeks and you take a few steps back. He chuckles at his small victory—a deep, melodic sound that sends your flustered state into a muddled craze of butterflies, threatening to burst from within. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the man, more so to collect yourself than to unnerve him.
“Got something in your eye?”
You tilt your head back and grumble, exasperated at his lack of cooperation followed by his audacity to tease you further. “For your information, my eyes are working perfectly fine.”
“Good for you. Now, if you’ll just untangle me and give me back my bag, I’ll be out of your hair. Literally.” He grins at his joke, which you don’t find quite as funny.
“Like I’ll believe that.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’ll ask you again. How exactly did you find me?”
“As I said, Princess,” he jeers, his impatience made visible by the bulging veins lining his neck, “why would anybody be after your poor ass? I mean, just looking at the place, doesn’t look like you’ve got much else other than a bunch of hidden property and a shitty old tower.”
“Shitty?” You repeat, accosted at the stranger’s portrayal of the place you grew up.
He takes another look around the place as if to confirm his accusations before curtly nodding his head.
You glower at his blunt words, taking personal offence for the many hours you spent decorating, cleaning and doting over the building. “Well, I didn’t know we were expecting a rude guest. Then again, guests are invited inside, aren’t they?”
“Listen, you seem like the ditzy type, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. I got into a bit of a scuffle with some scoundrels and before I knew it, I was outnumbered!” he recounts slowly and melodramatically as if he is presenting a bedtime story to a child. “Then I stumble through some vines and find this gigantic tower!
“And to my surprise, rather than hidden treasure, this place has some naive, pan-wielding maniac at the top,” he concludes with a sigh, soundlessly implying that you should pity the unfortunate situation he stumbled upon—the unfortunate bit caused by your interference. All you feel is a burning itch to sock him across the face again, although that wouldn’t be too helpful in discovering his real objective.
His whole story sounds like pure bologna to you, but you feed into his obvious lies with a hum of acknowledgement. “Must’ve been so hard for you.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he whines, a pout forming on his pink lips.
You flash a close-lipped smile and thrust the metal weapon centimetres from his nose with more force than intended, though it seems to do the job when you catch his eyes widen slightly before reverting to the same relaxed stare as before. His posture is evidently tenser than a few seconds ago, which builds your pliant determination.
“Either some truths are gonna come out of that smart mouth or you’re gonna take another nap,” You threaten, waving the pan back and forth.
“Okay, easy now.” The stranger bends his hands upwards by the wrists, waving his fingers down slowly, as though he were calming a raging bull. “There’s no violence needed in this okay? We can make a deal.”
The sound of his cooperation piques your interest, so you inquire, “What kind of deal?”
“First of all, can you lower that?” You comply with his request, although you keep the skillet in the air, ready to strike at a moment's notice if he tries anything funny. “Okay, Princess, how about you give me the satchel, let me go without any trouble and I won’t tell anyone about your little hideout here, hm?”
You shake your head. “No, I’m the one with the upper hand here.” If you two are to come to a compromise, you’re going to need more from the stranger than his word to keep quiet. “And I need you to take me to see the lanterns at the capital.”
A hacking cough morphs into a distorted chuckle in his throat. “Hm, you see, that would be a bit difficult considering the rocky relationship I have with the royals.”
You cock your head to the side, raising the metal menacingly.
His fists curl into balls as a strained grin stretches across his face. “But I guess we could make it work.”
Pleased with his compliance, you continue with your conditions, “You take me to see the lanterns tomorrow night, bring me back home in one piece and I’ll give your bag back. Then you can jump out of the window for all I care, just keep your mouth shut about this place.”
“Do I even have a choice in the matter?”
“Nope.” His lack of protest makes you giddy, and you allow yourself to credulously overestimate your influence over the man. It has to be that or your frightening frying pan, right?
“Then what’re we waiting for?”
A childlike wonder brightens your countenance as you speedily unravel your locks from around the stranger, whipping the bulk of it over the hook and out the window. With his newfound freedom, you catch him combing through miscellaneous trinkets and in fear of him identifying the location of his bag, you call out, “There’s no use, you could ransack the whole tower and never find your precious satchel. You’re better off fulfilling our agreement.”
Fitting your trusty skillet under your arm, you don’t spare him another glance and hope that your bluff is enough to deter his scouring. Thankfully, the clattering of objects ceases and he saunters past the vase with his dear bag inside. Your attention flits to the verdant scenery below.
You allow an exuberant screech to rip through your vocal cords while you effortlessly fly down, your body wrapped around your hair as though the strands have solidified into a firepole and land on the plush, vibrant grass with a bounce. The prickly sensation on your bare skin is not what you imagined the spindly plant to feel like, yet you revel in its oddities nonetheless.
Your companion follows along with less flair, steadily climbing down using the two arrows that were left between the stones. By the time he reaches the ground, you’re already feeling the consequences of sticking your bare feet in the mud by a river.
He rolls his eyes at your antics and darts off while you tread toward the water to wash off the muck between your toes. You swish your foot back and forth, watching the current run off with the dirt and avoiding the miniature fish that gather around you. Their bright orange bodies are stark against the rocks underneath, easy to spot due to the clear, crystalline stream that you’re splashing around in.
When one of them decides to start nipping at your ankles and the rest of his posse tag along, you wade deeper—searching for a grassy area to withdraw from their persistent suckling. As you’re scouring the landscape, enjoying the slight breeze blowing through your hair, you find yourself alone.
This doesn’t bother you at first, used to the notion of having only your own inner thoughts as company. You’re preoccupied with rinsing the brown stains that mark one section of your tresses and gather the clean, soaked mass into your arms before you realize that the tour guide you recruited has gone missing.
At first, you can’t believe he abandoned the precious crown that he appeared to cherish so greatly, but before you can think too deeply about it, a light smack meets the nape of your neck.
“Looking for me, Princess?”
“Stop calling me that,” you whip around, a glare directed at his triumphant smirk. “And where were you anyway? Not trying to run off already, are we?”
He raises his hands up as though he has been caught red-handed, although his digits are curled around what looks to be strips of tree bark and long strands of weeds. Just as you’re about to question him further, he crouches down and grabs one of your ankles, lifting your leg out of the water and closer to him. You yelp and shift your weight to rest on your other foot.
“What?” He secures a few layers of the rough wood to the sole of your foot, wrapping the flexible plants around the bark and expertly tying it at the top. “This is what I get for being considerate isn’t it?”
“Is considerate even part of your vocabulary?” you tease, the relief at his presence causing you to lower your guard.
He freezes halfway through fastening the second makeshift shoe onto your other foot when the orbs staring up at you light up with mischief. Changing position, he folds forwards then rocks back to stand up to his full height. “Ah, I see how it is. Then I would never do something so thoughtful, right?”
“I take it back! I take it back, just finish it up,” you beseech.
“That’s what I thought, Princess.” He bends over to complete the second knot then scampers off to the forest as soon as the job is complete.
As you test out the peculiar slippers—inwardly marvelling at the barrier they provide against the elements of nature—you vocalize your displeasure with the nickname he has taken to calling you, “I thought I told you not to call me that.”
His strides ease up from his hurried pace, shortening to compensate for your smaller steps. “Aw, does Princess dislike being reminded of who she is?”
“I’ve never heard of a Princess living outside of a castle before.”
He hums, tilting his head in wonder. “Is your tower not considered a castle?”
“Not when I’m the only one living there,” you mutter under your breath, although you’re not sure if he catches it or not based on his silence. Regardless, you change the subject before he has a chance to respond. “So are you gonna tell me your name or what?”
Sneaking a peek at his side profile, you catch the endearing crinkle that appears by his eyes when he grins. “What’s with the sudden interest? I mean, I understand the enthusiasm but—”
You strike his elbow with the bottom of the skillet and he whines like a kicked puppy.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just thought we should be on a first-name basis if we’re going to be travelling all this way together.” You amuse yourself by twirling the skillet around in your grip, acting as though there’s a gigantic pancake that you professionally flip onto its other side. “I would prefer my name over ‘Princess.’”
“I kinda like the ring of it though.” He winks at you, but you’re too invested in your cooking charades to notice. “You can call me Geum.”
“Geum? Like ‘gold’? What kind of name is that?”
“Ooh, someone’s judgemental.” Snatching the pan, he brandishes it around like a deadly cutlass in a seasoned pirate’s hand, bounding around you. He ends his show with the tip aimed straight at your heart.
“Just saying. You’ve got to admit it’s a bit… unique.” You halfheartedly brush him off, fighting to keep your grin from showing. As a side note, you announce your name.
“Whatever you say, Princess.”
Before he can prance off, you pluck the skillet out of his grasp and tear through the dense bushes with your treasure. His war cry echoes throughout the expansive woodlands as he rushes after you, untangling your hair from lone branches as he goes.
To claim that your feet are about to fall off is a gross understatement.
You have been travelling alongside Geum for hours now without a single break. Despite the high spirits that you two kicked your trip off with, the elation from brushing against the silky plants, cooing at the wildlife that crossed your path, and inhaling the fresh scent of damp moss and wet tree trunks from yesterday’s showers wore off quickly.
You’re inclined to believe that your enthusiasm began to subside when Geum yanked you away from running your finger along one set of rich emerald leaves—narrowly avoiding what he explained to be poison ivy. Your curious hands have been cemented to your sides ever since that close encounter.
After your lively bickering dies down, rather than a peaceful, quiet walk, listening to the whispers of the wind and the pleasant chirping of the birds, the antsy man beside you puts you on edge. He can’t stop looking from side to side, trying to peer past the endless birches and elms that obscure your view.
Is Geum expecting someone?
Perhaps some parts of his story are true. Perhaps having a ruffian with other delinquents hunting him is not the best partner to accompany you on this journey—not that you have much of a choice in the matter, it’s either him or no one. You’re unsure which option is worse.
Any conversation you strike is met with teasing remarks, so you give up on prodding him for any substantial information. But with the sky darkening and the breeze turning brisk, you’re about to mention camping out somewhere when Geum says, “We should settle down for the night.”
“I never thought I would agree with something that came out of your mouth.”
“That’s why you’re wrong most of the time.” And there it was, another snotty retort that practically begs you to deck him with the pan you keep tucked in your underarm.
The quibble ignites a fire under your skin, the flames licking at your sides and providing some warmth amidst the chill in the air. “Most of the time? So you’re saying that you’re wrong sometimes?”
“Yeah, nobody can always be right.” He flashes a lazy smirk your way, adjusting the bundle of your locks in his arms. “Like when I said that your hair isn’t an inconvenience.”
You take a second to process his snarky words. With your mind occupied, stuck in a whirlwind of potential reprisals, you unintentionally head towards the distant outline of the castle when you approach a crossroad branching in two opposite directions.
Just as you’re about to let loose a nasty quip, his warm hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from the faraway mansion. You overheat at the source of the touch, thoughts going haywire.
“Hey, hey!” In hopes of snapping him out of his reverie, you raise your voice. “You can’t blow off our deal now, don’t you want your precious satchel back?”
When he offers no explanation for his cryptic actions, you attempt to pry off his fingers with your other hand—making sure not to trip over your own two feet while you’re at it. Your wriggling is all for nought because Geum’s iron grip is too durable to be outmatched by your fumbling digits.
“Geum, please just,” you plead, ceasing your struggle when the delicate skin in his grasp begins to sting from his strength, “let’s talk about this, okay?”
You’re so preoccupied with regaining your freedom that you don’t notice the dingy sign you two pass; a rubber duck with the words The Snuggly Duckling etched onto the wood. “Shut up and hurry.”
Your jaw drops at his insolent tone, astounded at his change in demeanour. There’s no playful spirit behind his words this time, only a sharp annoyance accompanied by his sudden haste that you feel all too strongly in your wrist. You stumble after him and duck your head through a small doorway, your mind caught up in formulating a coherent response that consists of sounds other than your outraged sputtering.
“Don’t tell me to—”
You’re cut off by the ruckus inside the establishment. Burly men surround the two of you, drinking, howling in laughter, practicing their aim with throwing knives—there’s even a large group of people fighting in one corner. The amount of blood streaked across the walls, their clothes, and pouring out of their open wounds is concerning. You can smell the metallic tang from the entrance.
When the hand around your wrist disappears, you find yourself yearning for the physical connection, serving as some kind of reassurance that he is not leaving you to the metaphorical, and sort of literal, wolves before you. In order not to lose Geum as he wades through the crowds, you latch on to the thin hem of his shirt. He pays you no mind and continues onward.
Skillfully slipping through the giants while you bumble behind him, you two arrive at a row of vacant barstools. You loosen your grip at the unexpectedly tranquil space, such a drastic contrast to the commotion in the background that it’s like you’ve been transported to another place altogether.
You’re brought back to reality from the loud grunt that booms throughout the joint, although you tune out again when you hear a punch being thrown, then a crack that you can only hope isn’t a bone. Or two.
“Uh, Geum?” you ask, although he pays your appellation no mind. His attention is focused on the intimidating, tattooed man behind the counter.
“Joon.” Your unofficial tour guide takes a seat. “A mead?”
Determined to stick close to the only familiar face in the building, you slide onto the seat next to Geum. The overwhelming scent of liquor hits you hard, causing you to crinkle your nose the exact moment that your narrowed eyes spot the bartender, Joon, awkwardly cough into his fist, trying to stifle his snickers for your sake.
“Just a water for her.”
While Joon confirms Geum’s order with a slight nod, you cast your head down to stare at your twiddling fingers. Your mind is still reeling from the abrupt change in scenery, unsure how to carry yourself in this new setting. It was no problem in the dense forest, with only Geum to judge you—but it isn’t like you’re trying to impress him anyway.
In here where hordes of broad men are gathered, drunk out of their minds with crimson staining their attire, you’re scared. Everything is too raucous, too rancid, too overwhelming. You’re uncertain whether the trip to the capital will play out as you’ve imagined and you turn towards Geum to tell him as much when—
“Was this from me?” You instinctively flinch at his tug on your elbow, although regret rushes down your back, clawing against your spine like ice-cold water when hurt flashes across his shadowed orbs. Before you can blink, it’s gone.
As a feeble apology, you offer a tightlipped smile. Referring back to his words, you examine your arm and grimace when you spot the blooming scarlet streaks encircling your wrist, taking the shape of Geum’s slender digits. “Oh, uh, don’t worry. It’ll fade.”
It’s not a lie since the marks will eventually fade. You hope it doesn’t turn black and blue before that though.
A clear glass is thrust your way, which you’re overjoyed to snatch from Joon’s hand, noting Geum’s copper liquor from the corner of your eye. Hours of travelling without any form of hydration definitely took its toll on you, evident by your severely chapped lips that you can’t help but swipe your tongue over every minute—not that the dried saliva is doing you any favours.
Before you have a chance to sip from heaven in liquid form, you’re halted by a gentle finger tracing the length of your forearm. Thankfully, you’re not as skittish this time around, remaining frozen until Geums pulls back; the pale, discoloured scar he was following having tapered off into your natural skin. “Where’s that one from?”
His strange inquiry confuses you with its unusually intrusive nature considering his inability to chat seriously five minutes ago. You pause for a second to debate on revealing the truth or constructing a comical narrative for the sake of avoiding a sombre turn to the light conversation. Despite your decision, your lips rebel, taking on a mind of their own. “A punishment.”
Bronze orbs snap up to yours, boring into the deepest parts of your soul and uncovering each of your secrets one by one as if they’re gems, buried within the layers of your lonely childhood. You’re transfixed. “Mother said it would remind me to never leave the tower.”
The condensation running down the side of the chilled cup meets the edge of your palm, sliding down your index finger and becoming a stark reminder of your parched mouth. You lift the glass to take a sip, but a taste renders your control inoperative as you guzzle down the rest, leaving not a single drop inside.
Your famished stomach makes itself known with a growl when your thirst is quenched. Attracting the attention of the bartender with a small wave, you ask, “Is there any chance you’ve got some food here?”
“We’ve got anything as long as you’ve got the coin for it, blondie.”
You shudder in alarm at the introduction of another patron in the bar. Leaning away from the repulsive drawl to your left, you shift over to position yourself as far away as possible. Seeing your discomfort, the stranger takes a few steps forward to invade your personal space once more and you recoil back with a jerk of your torso.
The abrupt motion messes with your centre of gravity, tipping you over the edge of the barstool. Just as you’re about to have an unpleasant meeting with the floor, a palm darts out to the small of your waist and steadies you. You follow the arm up to Geum’s clenched jaw.
“She’s not looking for anything that you guys can offer.”
Your throat tightens at your companion’s harsh answer, wary of how the other men will react. The burly man to your other side bursts out in obnoxious laughter and a glint of light reflecting off of his silver teeth catches your eye, which you recognize from earlier. He’s one of the goons that was involved in the fistfight near the entrance.
“As if you’re packing anything better.” He nudges his lackeys behind them and they chuckle along like they’re all in on one big joke.
“It’s not hard to top a baby carrot.”
Panicked at his provocation, you glimpse at the challenging smirk plastered across Geum’s lips. You aren’t sure why he’s trying to pick a fight or if there’s any logical reasoning behind his actions at all, but you tap on the arm still attached to your torso, conveying your opinion on his moronic pride with your widened eyes.
Of course, men will be men, and the little posse arranged behind the silver toothed boss riles their leader up, encouraging him with disgruntled yells and unintelligible speech to prove their dominance. With you in between the two blockheads, you’re sure that you’re not going to like how this plays out.
Dismissing your distress, Geum takes a sip of his drink. He seems unbothered by the commotion surrounding him and you envy his nonchalant demeanour.
“You got any bite behind your bark, pretty boy?” His lackeys change tactics, switching over to goading Geum on. You assume their greater numbers spark their courage, reassured that they could overpower one man. “Or are we just trying to impress this little miss right here?”
“I’m not sure if it’ll be very fair for you guys,” Geum says cockily, scrutinizing each member from head to toe then returning to his sweet mead. “I mean, just looking at you boys, doesn’t look too impressive if you ask me.”
If the atmosphere didn’t thicken with a fatal tension, you would have giggled at his smart mouth. But the other man’s nostrils flare in resentment, beginning to surge forward before he’s interrupted by a spindly boy who thrusts a paper below his nose. “Boss, you were right, it’s him.”
His unsightly features twist upwards in joy, displaying his horrendous set of chompers once more as he chuckles. That’s when you realize that a sinister smile can be much more frightening than any bellow of rage. “Looks like you’ve got quite the bounty on your head there, Geum.”
At the snarl of his name, your eyes dart to the wrinkled sheet in his hand which he graciously flips to face your direction. An uncanny depiction of Geum’s face is drawn, a sum containing many zeroes painted underneath his name. What appalls you the most is the red, bolded letters at the very top, distinctly spelling out wanted.
Geum is a wanted criminal.
While your mind is reeling, sight blurring and breath quickening from the influx of information, the man in question unabashedly finishes off the last of his alcoholic beverage and proceeds to slam the glass onto the counter. Through all of the clamour, you pick up Joon’s exasperated sigh in the background.
The door to the establishment flings open, hinges creaking as the wood bounces back from the sheer force of the blow. While everyone is distracted by the bustle, Geum stealthily hops off his seat, slipping an arm around your waist to soundlessly lead you to the other side of the counter. Although you’re reluctant to follow, you refrain from squabbling with him in order not to attract any unwanted attention.
“We’ve received a report that a well-known thief has been spotted in the premises—”
Geum kneels in front of the shelves lined with drinks of all shapes and colours, fiddling with something you can’t see from your position behind him. Following his lead, you crouch behind him, softly muttering in disbelief, “You really think they won’t find us hiding here?”
A click is heard as a few of the racks cave in on themselves, revealing a concealed passageway. Geum shakes his head towards the opening, silently directing you to enter first. You’re hesitant to accompany him any farther but you’re pushed forwards by Joon’s calf on your back and you understand that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter anymore.
If you’re caught now, you’ll be accused of being an accomplice to whatever crimes Geum committed.
You spare a thankful nod to Joon, stealing a glance at the guards blocking the entrance while you’re at it. Their white uniforms are decorated with accents of bright oranges and reds, a familiar flower fastened to the right side of their chest. One of them holds another copy of Geum’s wanted poster which you tear your gaze from, willing yourself to escape from this mess before thinking about anything else.
Geum shoves you through the opening, and you crawl through the underground passage as fast as you can in order to keep his pinching fingers away from your ankles. You two are far enough to safely whisper short phrases to one another, but he insists on being a nuisance as he urges you to pick up the pace.
It’s pitch black when the trapdoor shuts behind Geum, and you’re unable to make out your own hands in front of your face; with no other path in sight, you blindly head forward. As you continue, you pass torches burning with a bright fire that provide light, illuminating the stones around you and the shadows following you. You wonder how often this underground system is used to have fire running at all times.
Eventually, the tunnel’s height expands enough for the two of you to comfortably tread through on your feet. If you weren’t tired enough from walking for hours on end, the brutal jog which Geum sets is more than enough to tire you out within mere minutes.
“Geum,” you heave, unable to catch your breath with your chest fruitlessly rising and falling, never passing enough air for you to gather your senses. He’s too far to catch, effortlessly sprinting ahead, yet you still uselessly reach out to capture his attention. “Geum.”
You push yourself to the limit, another few minutes passing by before your powerless body can no longer handle the stress of the strenuous activity, and you slow down, coming to a full stop. One hand on the rocky wall steadies your dizzying sight as you hunch over, throat burning and stomach aching. Even though you try to remain standing, your legs involuntarily give out and you end up on the floor.
As you try to regain your breath, hands grasp your shoulders and gently shake you back to reality. Geum’s intense gaze is only centimetres away, torso bent to level with you. “You can do this, come on. We have to lose them.”
“I,” you huff, “I can’t… It’s… too much.”
Geum’s arms return to his sides, his brows furrowing as you watch the gears whirring in his head through your blurry vision. When he spins around to face the exit, you cry out in a hoarse voice, believing that he’s leaving your pathetic, crumpled form to fend for yourself—but instead of running off, he crouches to the ground with his backside to you. “Get on.”
In spite of your resolute will to arise from your folded position, your legs can’t seem to extend outwards in order to climb onto his back, which you convey by tapping his shoulder and pitifully shaking your head. Geum’s lips pry apart to respond, but his words are drowned out by the pounding footsteps that echo throughout the tunnel walls. He curses under his breath as he turns and scoops your fetal form into his arms.
All you can register is his natural woody scent enveloped in the sweaty musk that drenches his frame, your body clutched tightly to his torso as he races to the end of the tunnel. You grip his thin shirt in one fist, unfamiliar with the warmth fluttering in your chest, so you brush it off as another side effect from the arduous sprinting.
A bright light can be seen at the very end, but your eyes are locked on the well-defined jaw of the man carrying you as if you were as light as a feather, running as if your lives depended on it—which they kind of do.
You couldn’t differentiate the pounding of Geum’s shoes from the mob of guards pursuing you two. As you slowly recover from your exhausted state, the guilt of becoming a burden settles into the creases of your face, worrying lines etching onto your features from thinking about your impending fate.
Your thoughts wander to the reasoning behind this violent chase. By the fancier uniforms they sport, you suspect their position to be rather high, perhaps palace guards or ones belonging to the royal family. Reminded of the wanted poster clutched within one of their hands, the image stirs unease within the depths of your stomach that’s already stinging from the massive amounts of cardio you’ve done today.
Before you can connect any dots, you’re out in the wilderness again, although instead of the sun’s blazing rays on your face, the moon’s tender beams spill over your surroundings. The sort of serenity that accompanies the stillness of the later hours are interrupted by your rapidly beating heart, which is amplified by the pulse felt on your left side.
After a few more strides, Geum comes to a sudden halt.
“What’s wrong?” You tilt your neck to look at his face in curiosity. Although he doesn’t appear fatigued, his cheeks only slightly flushed from exertion and a few sweat droplets racing down his temples, you ask anyway, “Are you tired?”
The grip under your legs lower you to the ground and you stand in front of Geum, beginning to worry about losing your advantage over your pursuers. He doesn’t provide a verbal response to your questions, simply shaking his head and causing the tips of his hair to sway back and forth with the motion. The strands cover his eyes when he stops, but he doesn’t bother to brush them aside.
Geum’s shoulders slouch, heavy from the weight of defeat. You’re unnerved at his strange actions, turning to look ahead at the obstacle that’s forcing him to give up all hope.
You two are standing at the edge of a cliff.
Your knees buckle at the length of the drop, which seems never ending from your viewpoint. The tenebrous shadows of the night obscure the bottom, painting the jagged walls with uncertainty at any chance for survival. Your heart constricts as the despondency emanating off of Geum slithers its way into your rapidly diminishing resolution.
“When they get here,” he announces, bravery shining through his firm tone, “I need you to run as fast as you can. I’ll distract them, just focus on getting back to the bar. Tell Joon to take you somewhere safe and trust no one but him.”
You’re baffled at his complete change in attitude as well as his idiotic plan. There’s no trace of humour in his piercing orbs though, simply an obstinate determination that implores you to obey his orders. But you aren’t about to abandon the first friend you’ve ever made. “Are you insane? What do you think you can do against trained soldiers?”
“There’s no other choice.” He nudges your torso to position yourself behind him, both your backs to the cliff, watching the guards get closer and closer. Dread weighs ponderously on your limbs, the adrenaline pumping in your veins with every footstep marching to surround you two. You’re cornered.
The soldier closest to Geum unsheathes his sword and steadily approaches. You slip the rusty pan into his hand and he inconspicuously reaches back to pat your thigh, reminding you of his reckless scheme.
Seeing your defensive stance, the guard rushes forward, thrusting his sword forward to slice through layers of skin. Instead, the clang of metal against metal resounds throughout the empty cliff and your apprehension increases tenfold with your front row seat to Geum’s doomed duel, fending off a glinting sword with your rickety skillet.
Although he’s fighting well considering his enormous handicap, you spot more soldiers creeping their way into the skirmish, unable to stand and watch one of their own be bested in battle. Overall, the odds weren’t looking too great for your pan-wielding knight.
You have to do something. With Geum’s plan off the table, you can’t think of anything other than taking your chances with the cliff. You gather all your faith in the landscape, Geum, and yourself while taking a deep breath. Waiting for an opening within the clash, you cautiously inch towards Geum and when one particularly hard blow jolts both men back a few steps, you snatch up the opportunity.
Before another guard can take his ally’s place, you rush over to snake an arm around Geum’s lithe waist, tugging his back to meet your chest. During this process, he nearly elbows you in the face, writhing around in your tight hold until he recognizes your delicate hands on his stomach.
With the enemy frozen in confusion at your ostensibly desultory actions, you take advantage of their shock to stumble backwards, proving harder than necessary due to Geum’s long legs tangling with your own as you head towards the edge. You’re nearly there when one of the guards pick up on your plan to escape, jumping into action with his razor-sharp sword and waving it in a deadly arc that nearly slices both of your heads off clean.
Thankfully, you lose your footing on a slippery rock and tip over.
While airborne, any air is momentarily robbed from the heavy drop in your gut and a terrified shriek rips past your mouth as you lose your tight grip on Geum, utterly absorbed in your fear. The distance between you two grows, but because of his quick reflexes, Geum is able to fist a clump of your clothes in his hands and pull you into his chest with one hand resting on the nape of your neck.
You don’t have enough time to react to the new position before both your bodies are enveloped in gelid water. All of your nerves fire off, enraged at the sudden change in temperature. A violent shiver overtakes your limbs in a weak attempt to warm yourself up.
Although Geum’s palm on your neck withdraws to wade your bodies back up to surface, the grip around your middle only tightens.
The stream parts as you two float back up to meet the chilly air, greedily filling your lungs as you unravel from one another in order to paddle your way to shore. The current sweeps you along, aiding your furious efforts to reach the ground again.
Geum arrives at the muddy grass before you, swiftly lifting himself out and turning to fish for your soaked form. White puffs of your breath escape your mouths because of the low temperature, yet they dissipate as quickly as they’re formed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” You close your eyes and nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
The fire crackles alongside the chirping crickets, forming a peculiar orchestra with the breeze blowing through the rustling leaves. You extend your frigid digits as close to the flames as you dare, desperate for its warmth, yet recoiling from the sting of its heat all the same.
“Might as well stick your whole hand in there while you’re at it.” Geum emerges from the tenebrous thickets of the forest, making his way into the dull glow of the bonfire with a bundle of skinny twigs in his arms.
You’re drained from the day’s events, but you flash him a smile brimming with gratitude, appreciative that he’s intent on keeping the fire alive despite his inevitably numb appendages. You insisted on swapping turns, allowing his body to warm up a bit while you scavenged for wood, although he dismissed your offer multiple times, claiming that moving around was much more effective for him than any flames.
You’d have to disagree with him there. The burning fire feels incredible heating up your skin from the outside in.
“If you take a second to come and enjoy the warmth, then maybe you wouldn’t be so moody,” You jest, rotating the fish skewers that Geum expertly caught in the river with a sharpened branch. By the slightly burnt edges, you suppose it’s ready. “C’mon, let’s eat before you head off again.”
He grunts his affirmation, depositing his findings on top of the ever-growing pile of wood and taking a seat on a fallen log located a couple of feet away from you. You allow the meat to cool down before separating the fish from the stick it’s impaled on and passing it to him.
“Is your hair dry yet?” He’s too preoccupied with forcibly ripping the fish in half to avoid scaling it, so he doesn’t catch your affectionate, lingering gaze.
You hum, grabbing a lock of your wet strands. “Not quite.”
He places his meal next to him on the log and leans over to take the bulk of your tresses in his grasp. You watch as he lays the blonde strands near the fire, quietly giggling at his strange logic.
“You think the heat is going to make it dry faster?” The appearance of his wide grin elicits the return of the bizarre tightening in your chest, a crushing pain that makes it difficult to breathe. You haven’t had a bite of the fish but nausea swirls in your stomach as your hands turn clammy and you rip your eyes away from Geum in hopes of collecting yourself.
Seeing your doubt towards his surely infallible rationale, his brows scrunch together and he pauses his movements in his perplexity, a distant look swirling in his eyes. He should be completely unaware of the turmoil raging within you, yet all your previous worries dissipate with the smoke of the fire as his face becomes increasingly wrinkled, flashing an expression more ludicrous than the last.
After you beg and plead with him to stop, cheeks aching from smiles and belly throbbing from laughter, he breaks out into his own set of snickers. More than satisfied, Geum grabs his fish again and begins to nibble on the meat inside. “You never considered getting a trim?” he asks between bites.
A few seconds pass as you calm yourself down from your hysterical state. “Never allowed to,” you answer, short and vague to keep the pleasant atmosphere.
“Allowed to?” His voice is laced with his astonishment. “Who’s telling you what to do at your age?”
Fidgeting with your own skewer, you ponder over an answer that’s precise enough to satisfy his curiosity, yet obscure enough to conceal your identity at the same time. Your eyes dart from side to side, following the light of the fire as it illuminates a wet, crimson stain on the sleeve of Geum’s jacket.
“What’s that?” you question, scuttling over to his log and sitting down next to him. To get a better look, you grab his elbow and pull it towards you.
“Nothing. Don’t change the subject.” He tries to shrug off both your concern and your hand that’s clutching onto his arm, which only makes you tighten your grip. At the increase in pressure, a low groan slips past his lips and you instantly release your hold at the sound.
“Does it hurt?” The memory of the guard wildly slashing his sword in the air comes to mind and you realize that although the blow didn’t cost either of your lives, his upper arm must have borne the brunt of the force instead.
“It’s fine.” He attempts to brush you off again, but you’re as clingy as a leech and refuse to budge from his side.
You latch on to the lapel of his jacket and tug. “Take it off.”
Despite your solemnity, his low chuckle sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Already asking me to strip? I’m not that easy, Princess. How about you take me on a date first and I’ll think about your offer?”
“You know what I mean,” you grumble, exasperated that he persists on maintaining his incessant teasing while injured.
When he finishes cleaning off one half of his meal, about to reach for the other, you move to stand in front of him. You dismiss the wild pounding of your heart to focus on slipping his jacket off of his opposite arm.
He puts forth no effort to stop you, although he’s definitely not helping much with his limp, bulky appendages that are a lot heavier than expected. Slowly but surely, you tenderly thread his injured arm out of his sleeve with careful hands.
The white, short-sleeved shirt he’s sporting underneath makes it easy to spot the splotches of crimson dyeing the hem of his sleeve through the dim, orange light. You approach his laceration delicately, treating him like a frightened animal. He snorts at your earnest actions.
Lifting the fabric covering the entirety of the gash, you gasp softly at the depth of the wound, grimacing as though it’s your own limb that’s been hurt. “You shouldn’t be moving around with this, you’re not letting it heal.”
“I’ll endure any pain to keep you close,” he whispers, sweet honey dripping from his words as he loops his other arm around your waist, effectively pulling you in between his open legs.
His chin is a mere few centimetres from your belly button, gazing up at you with a flirtatious wink as he perches his hand onto your lower back. You hold your breath, worried that he can hear the utter chaos erupting within your chest due to the close proximity.
Flustered, you push at his broad shoulders, desperate for some room to breathe. Geum flinches at your touch and you instantly regret your thoughtless behaviour. Your concern at the severity of his wound multiplies tenfold, feeding into a disquiet that nestles into every cell in your body. “I’m serious, it doesn’t look good.”
One hand falls into his lap while the other comes up to ruffle his damp locks. “Don’t get shy now, Princess.”
Taking in the defeated slouch to his back, the distant glaze that darkens his bronze orbs, you think about your hair. You think about how much younger your mother appears after she detangles each strand. You think about all the scars you’ve avoided throughout the years by singing a simple tune.
This man saved your life, and it’s time for you to repay the favour. You consider waiting until he’s asleep to heal his arm, plagued by the distress of being mistaken as a witch. Mother warned you about those kinds of people, who are ready to ruin your life in order to improve their own—anything ranging from taking advantage of your unworldly qualities to selling you for a pretty penny.
Mother always knows best. Right?
You peer into his expressionless eyes that stare holes into the dancing flames, the other uneaten half of the fish still laying untouched. From the limited time you’ve spent together, you shouldn’t feel this distraught at his pain, as though a chunk of your heart is bleeding out with him and leaving you in a puddle of your own misery.
But one look at Geum’s laceration and even a child could tell that the relentless stream would end his life before long. No matter how well he can conceal his shallow, rapid breathing, you begin to make sense of his sweaty, pallid countenance that shreds any remaining skepticism you hold against him—dismissing the wariness brought about by those wanted posters.
“Geum.”
His eyelids shut close at your grave tone. “I know. It’s fine.”
At your hesitant tone, he sluggishly spares you a placid, tame smile. You hate it.
The Geum you’ve come to know is exuberant, taking all his hardships in stride with a sly smirk to boot. He’s brilliant, craftier than any artist, and resourceful even in the face of despondency. He’s compassionate, extending his own neck to save yours, always sympathetic to your plight.
This Geum is hollow, a shell of the person you knew.
The crushed downturn of his doe eyes doesn’t belong to his captivating features. You yearn to watch that classic, mischievous glint sparkle in his irises as he taunts you endlessly, testing how high your pulse can spark when he invades your personal space yet again.
You take a seat next to him. “No, uh,” you stammer, “I got a solution. You just can’t scream or freak out or anything, okay? Most importantly, you can’t tell anyone. Not a single soul.”
Before he can react to your cryptic warnings, you separate a lock of your hair, wrapping it around his wounded bicep. He raises a single brow at your strange antics but provides no further opposition. You’re pleased with the amount of trust he’s placed in you.
You close your eyes, and then you sing.
“Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine,”
Starting from your roots, a golden glimmer races across the tresses of your hair. Bewildered, Geum recoils in his state of shock but remains rooted in his spot nonetheless.
“Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine,”
He follows the scintillating shimmer in your strands until he reaches the portion wrapped around his bicep. You absentmindedly wonder if he can feel his flesh reconstructing, cells dividing at a rapid rate to close the smooth gash.
“Heal what has been hurt
Change the Fates' design
Save what has been lost
Bring back what once was mine,”
Your lids slide open to stare at his wide eyes, his jaw hanging ever so slightly. You’re glad to see that his previously pale complexion has given way to his natural, lively undertone.
“What once was mine.”
When the last notes fade out, eventually overpowered by the lone hoot of an owl, you gingerly untangle your hair from the shell-shocked man. Geum slaps his other hand over the healed skin, his head rapidly darting between examining his arm and making absurd facial expressions that convey his amazement. From his naturally cool composure, you treasure this rare moment of awe.
“Wha—”
Your stressed squeak halts him in his speech. “Please don’t freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more so than you when he continues, “Not freaking out. What’s there to freak out about? I mean, magical healing hair? Completely normal.”
Your grin is filled with mirth at his nervous tone, and you lift his prodding digits from the site of the wound. Or at least where it used to be. “You feel okay?”
With all of your attention directed towards analyzing his healthy appendage, ensuring that your magic had not screwed up somewhere along the process, you miss Geum’s tender gaze roaming over every inch of your countenance. “Yeah, I guess I’m more than okay now.”
“I promise I’m not some kind of witch or anything like that. Just, uh, was just born with it,” you try to explain despite being in the dark about many of the nitty-gritty details yourself.
“Born with magical hair?”
You giggle at the absurdity of his question, although the validity remains true, it’s rather peculiar to hear it out loud. “Some of us are born with more talent than others. But that’s also why I can’t cut it,” you smile sheepishly, deciding to answer his earlier question now that your secret is out in the open.
“It turns brown and loses its magic.” You gather all your strands into one fist, pulling the mass to the side to expose the short, chestnut coloured strands underneath. You feel vulnerable and exposed with your neck out on display, sharing the fragility of your powers with a man you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours.
But it’s Geum, and he doesn’t feel like a stranger to you. “An overbearing mother is also part of the reason, but that’s a story for another time. Carrying it around can be heavy and the tangles can be brutal, but I guess it has its perks.”
He hums, stretching his torso to throw some twigs into the fire in hopes of enlarging the dwindling flames. “Yeah, I, uh…”
You stay silent, neither dismissing nor pressuring him into voicing his thoughts.
“My name isn’t actually Geum.”
A teasing smirk lifts the corner of your lips as you lean closer and nudge his arm. “You don’t say?”
He scoffs at your playful demeanour and pushes you back with one finger on your forehead. When your upper body is tilted away from him and your head is facing the starry night sky, he retracts his digit and speaks so softly that the noise is almost carried away by the wind. “It’s Jungkook.”
“Jungkook,” you test it out, matching the syllables to the face. It’s a bit strange after getting accustomed to associating him with the name ‘Geum,’ but in a way, it complements him better.
“Yeah.” He pauses and you shift your body to study him, memorizing the slopes and angles of his side profile. His orbs reflect the flickering fire, engulfing the newly added branches in its blaze. “I just thought somebody should know.”
“Is Geum your alias... for when you’re being a criminal?” Although you’re hesitant to delve into the subject, especially right after he’s begun to unveil his true identity, your curiosity outweighs reason and you can’t contain yourself. You can’t say that you’ve never questioned the diadem hidden in his satchel.
Crowns don’t belong to convicts who run from justice.
You wait for his answer with bated breath, unintentionally trapping your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation. Please, Jungkook.
“If you’re trying to ask what I did,” he hisses, knuckles turning white from his clenched fists, “Yeah, I stole it. Those assholes don’t deserve their riches.”
Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his anger radiating off him in waves. You wish you could eat your previous words because of how furious he’s become, but you’re committed to finishing the job. “Are you talking about the King and Queen?” Your brows pinch together in your discomfort. “Was that their crown?”
“This is your first time out of that tower, right?” You confirm his inquiry with a quick nod of your head. “How much do you know about the kingdom?”
“Jungkook—”
He tuts, fixing you with a strict glare. “Answer the question.”
“Well…” While recalling all the knowledge you picked up from your mother and the few historical books within your collection, you fiddle with a strand of your hair and organize your thoughts. “The castle is located in the middle of the capital, said to loom over the entire kingdom with its height. After it was rebuilt to accommodate more space for the Prince, everyone, from poets to milliners, cried over the beauty carved within those walls.”
He expels a deep sigh, causing you to question the legitimacy written in those pages you recited. “I asked about the kingdom, not the castle.”
His question leaves you dumbfounded. The information you collected over the years is limited to everything inside that grandiose, opulent building. There was nothing about the land, animals or even the common folk.
A gust blows the smoke of your little bonfire towards you, and you blink rapidly to avoid any soot from lodging itself into your eyes. Jungkook plucks a large leaf from one of the plants nearby, lazily fanning the fumes away. “That cozy castle and the royal family sitting on top of it all couldn’t care less about their people. They rake their luxuries from our hard work when even one jewel off that crown could feed hundreds.”
You process the cold truth in silence, a shiver overtaking your limbs in spite of the heat in front of you. “Is that why you stole it?”
“I don’t care if they want to plaster my face all over the kingdom and put a bounty on my head, I’m not going to stand around and watch people die from their greedy hands,” he states, proud and resolute.
You’re torn between the anguish nipping at your heels and the relief washing over your head. Living sheltered in that tower, you had no clue about the perils outside your own stone walls, is this what Mother was trying to protect you from?
However, discovering the true nature behind Jungkook’s crimes restores your faith in him, and your shoulders relax as you crane your neck to peer at the stars again. With your curiosity quenched, you move on to another question. “So, how many people get to call you Jungkook?”
He follows your example, leaning back and revelling in the breathtaking sight. “Nobody knows my real name, everyone calls me Geum.”
Your jaw drops a fraction from the admittance, feeling rather privileged that he chose to share it with you. “Your family calls you that too?”
“Don’t have any,” he brushes off your sympathetic gaze with a shrug.
“Why the name Geum?”
You catch his tiny, forlorn smile in your peripheral. “I grew up hearing all about the royal family’s massive parties, overflowing with family, friends—people. They were never lonely. And since they were parading their money around, I thought that was it, that was the secret.”
The dejected tone in his voice clogs your airways and makes it difficult to breathe, stunning your motionless form into remaining as still as a statue, the magnitude of his sorrow sweeping over you in fatal waves.
“And I hoped that maybe naming myself ‘gold’ might give me some luck with that.” With his shoulders downcast, his eyes flicker over to you, gauging your reaction.
You desperately wish you could turn back time to console the young boy whose heart was too big to fit inside his tiny body. Although he’s grown into it now, you strive to ease his suffering by even the slightest fraction. “I think ‘Jungkook’ is even better for making friends.”
The edges of his lips flip upwards as he navigates his face to halt directly right in front of your own, pressing one hand to the other side of your farthest thigh and caging you in. “Would you be my friend, Princess?”
All your blood rushes to your head, warming your cheeks. In a futile attempt to preserve any of your remaining dignity, you shrink back to maintain some distance. But his smirk grows at the sight of your shy response to his advances, his orbs flitting down to your pink lips before returning to your eyes. He looks absolutely ecstatic over your flustered state.
His hot breath fans over your lips and you gather any rational sense you have left inside your muddled brain to push him back, missing the split second his confident facade cracks and a sliver of insecurity shines through. It’s instantly replaced by a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“No matter what you decide to call yourself, I’ll always be your friend.”
Seconds seem like hours as the two of you stare at each other, seeking to uncover the words left unsaid. Jungkook’s palms press against his knees, pushing off of them to come to a standing position and effectively ending your little moment. “I’m gonna go get some more wood.”
You nod, staring at his retreating backside that ventures into the adumbral forest once more. Even though the perpetrator of all these complex emotions is no longer within sight, you feel unsettled from the mere thought of him, yet your heart yearns for him all the same.
“Oh, Petal, I thought he would never leave!” A distinctly high-pitched cry rings out in the empty space, a voice which you didn’t expect to hear until at least tomorrow night.
Your head whips to the side to confirm your suspicions. “Mother?” Her dark figure emerges from the shadows and your heart drops to your stomach. You fumble for the right words, at a loss from her unexpected appearance. “How did you—”
“The better question is how could you, Petal?” she corrects, continuing to step into the light provided by the fire. The once comforting flames turn harsh, sharp pops bursting forth from the aggressive combustion. She lowers her hood to reveal the disappointment etched into her youthful features—and without fail, the sting of upsetting her burns through your conscience. “Really, how could you betray your own mother like this?”
You stand, determined to explain yourself, “Mother, he’s different from the monsters you told me about. If you get to know him, he’s sweet and caring and kind an-and he isn’t after my magic!”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, my naive, little Petal.” She tilts her chin up slightly, peering down at you. “Everyone is the same out here, all looking after themselves.”
You approach her within a few strides. “Mother, please listen to me, he’s different! Even though he puts on a tough front at times, he’s really considerate on the inside.” You fiddle with the tips of your fingers as you whisper the next part, “And I, uh, I think he might like me.”
The reaction you least expect is her startling outburst of laughter, powerful enough to fold her in half, and you wait for her giggles to quiet down before warily stepping forward. Your mother is acting awfully strange. “You think he likes you? And what makes you think that?”
You blanch at her ruthless words, wincing as though they assumed a physical form and punched you repeatedly in the gut.
Her maniacal snickers abruptly cease and a frown mars her lovely face once again, her expression one you recognized from previous reprimands, whether it was shattering a vase or begging to go outside. Your chin falls down to meet your chest, unable to muster up your faux bravery for any longer.
“I’m asking what gave you the idea that he would like some insolent, unsightly brat like you?”
You can’t open your mouth to respond, frozen in fear.
“Hm, what’s with the silence? You seemed so certain earlier, Petal. This is why you never should have left, look at this pitiful romance you’ve created,” she mocks, rounding your nervous form like a predator playing with their prey. “Let’s put him to the test then, shall we?”
Your head snaps up at her odd suggestion, eyes widening at the satchel she uncovers from behind her slim form. “You found it?”
She tosses the bag to you and you outstretch your arms—only to catch it a second too late. The bag drops to the floor and the flap flips open. You race to collect the sparkling crown that tumbles out, hastily shoving the diadem back inside before Jungkook wanders back, even turning towards the fire to ensure his continued absence.
“Why so scared?” your mother questions smugly, “I thought you said that he’s different from the rest of them?”
“He is!” you exclaim, rushing to defend him.
“Then give it to him, let’s see if he stays once he has the crown back in his hands. But don’t come crying back to Mother when he runs for the hills,” she snarls, lifting her hood over her short curls and withdrawing into the woods.
Your mind reels from your mother’s visit, but your concern lies with where to stash the leather satchel in your grasp. Dead leaves crunch under approaching footsteps and you examine your body, contemplating the best area for your idea.
Hiking the hem of your dress up to your stomach, you loop the strap of the bag through your left foot, twisting and repeating until it’s coiled around your ankle and the pouch snugly rests against your skin. You shimmy the satchel until the middle of your thigh where it refuses to go any higher.
Satisfied, you release your dress, smoothing the fabric down and confirming that nothing is suspiciously sticking out. You violently shake your leg back and forth to ensure there would be no future problems and sure enough, the straps tenaciously cling onto your thigh throughout all your testing.
“Hey, look what I found! He’ll definitely save us some travelling time tomorrow, but I don’t think he likes me much.”
Jungkook appears from the area your mother disappeared with an overwhelming pile of lumber in his arms. You stroll over to lessen the load, but he brushes you off and bypasses you to drop it beside the fire.
A white horse tromps along after him, trying to nip at the crown of his head while he shoos it away with a waving hand. The comical sight distracts you from the dreary thoughts of your mother, although the stiff strap wrapped around your leg forbids you from forgetting about it.
When you snap out of your reverie, Jungkook is cocking his head to the side at your unusually spacey behaviour.
You spare him a weak smile and shake your head.
Rather than sore feet, the next day your entire crotch is painfully numb from riding Maximus, the quirky horse who holds an obnoxious grudge against Jungkook for reasons unknown to you. While Max allows you to rub his cheeks, scratch his neck and run your fingers through his mane, he huffs if Jungkook so much as breathes too loudly.
Oddly enough, the stallion follows Jungkook around like a lost puppy despite his cold attitude. What is with males and their inability to show their appreciation for one another?
Jungkook insisted on being in front and taking hold of the reins even though Max refused to let him mount his back at first. After some caresses and loving words with the sweet animal, Max permitted you to hop on—which Jungkook was not pleased with. It was a nice change of pace to watch the ordinarily suave man lose his cool over a horse’s favouritism.
In the end, the only way Jungkook was allowed on was by sitting behind you, latching onto you for stability. The animosity growing between the two males adds to your amusement, so you remain unbothered by the hostile glares you can feel Jungkook throwing over your shoulder and the aggressive puffs of air that blow through Max’s nostrils every once in a while.
“Tell me how you found Max again?” Skepticism leaks into your tone, courtesy of Jungkook’s thieving habits.
You could practically feel his eyes roll back into his head as his arms tighten around your waist. His built torso is glued to your back, which repeatedly distracts you from the path ahead. “I told you that I was collecting some twigs off of the ground when this guy appeared out of nowhere! I was scared shitless.”
“You mean to say that someone accidentally lost their horse in the middle of the woods?” You glance sideways to peek at his chin, lodged into the crook of your neck. His face is merely a couple of millimetres from your own.
When he insisted on resting his head there, you had thoroughly embarrassed yourself with a flaming face, resembling a ripe tomato ready for the picking, coupled with your inability to enunciate any word properly. But after hours of his head smooshed against the side of your face or leaning against your upper back, you finally relax into his hold, finding comfort and safety in the appendages coiled tightly around you.
“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”
You scoff at the impish grin stretching across his cheeks at his own horrible excuse.
The castle comes into view in the ensuing half-hour, the imposing building no longer obstructed by the towering trees of the forest. Your spirits are dampened slightly by the cruel secrets Jungkook revealed yesterday night, although your giddiness at the prospect of living out your dreams makes you vibrate in excitement. You remind yourself that you’re here for the magical lights, not the castle.
The faint pounding against your back picks up speed for a reason drastically different to your own. He is essentially walking right into his own imprisonment—his wanted posters more than likely plastered across every flat surface inside the marketplace with soldiers littered around the premises. You gather the sturdy reins into one hand, freeing the other to hold Jungkook’s conjoined digits over your stomach.
Completely engrossed in Jungkook’s dilemma, neither of you notice Max racing into town until a screech pierces your ears. You apologize profusely for the spilled legumes that begin rolling away from the young woman, and you whip Max into trodding off before she curses you out.
Once you’re satisfied with the amount of space between yourselves and the unlucky woman, you tie Max’s reins to a nearby fence and race to join the festivities carrying on all around you. Spotting Jungkook’s unsure form lagging behind, you dart back to tug on his wrist, flashing him an encouraging smile before lugging him from one stall to another.
You don’t get far before you experience a sharp pain on your scalp. With the large amounts of people bustling around the tiny square, your hair is a tripping hazard that you try to quickly bunch up into your arms. Your hair is way too long to carry by yourself, so you turn to ask Jungkook for help, though he’s nowhere to be found.
Your mind races to the worst-case scenario. The guards must have caught sight of him, capturing him off guard while you were none the wiser and now he’s going to be hanged for his crimes all because you were too stupid to—
A couple of little girls with flowers decorating their braids physically yank you out of your trance, their tiny hands gathering your multitudinous strands and dragging you off to the side. You’re about to protest against their actions, more concerned over Jungkook’s whereabouts than anything, but after catching a glance of said man playfully waving at you from a few feet away, you allow yourself to be whisked away.
The three girls deftly move from left to right, taking locks of your hair with them as they knot it all into one humongous five strand braid. When you stand up to your full height, you’re amazed to see that none of your hair touches the ground. Considering the hefty weight that pulls at the back of your head, you know this solution can’t last too long.
They scatter various fresh flowers all over, the scent of the blossoms wafting around your figure. As you’re appreciating their handiwork, an arm wraps itself around the curve of your lower back, drawing you into a herculean chest while you blow air kisses filled with your gratitude to the snickering girls.
Jungkook maneuvers you into a narrow alleyway, and you get a chance to admire his glittering irises from up close.
“Guards?”
He only grins.
You’re certain to keep an eye out for any wandering soldiers from that point on, with you pulling Jungkook behind crowds or him dragging you into the gaps between small buildings. Despite the situation being rather stressful with your lives at stake, your escapade is thrilling nonetheless and you enjoy being pressed up against his lean frame, carelessly giggling to yourselves.
Although neither of you carries any silver, window shopping proves to be equally as amusing—browsing through homemade accessories, toys and masks that you play around with, flashing ridiculous faces at one another.
The delicious smell of baked goods drifts through the streets and prompts your mouths to fill with saliva. You appreciate the artistry behind their beautifully decorated exteriors, adorned with colourful frosting and sprinkles. One booth catches your attention and you latch onto Jungkook’s hand to drag him along.
Rows and rows of shiny green bottles are positioned in perfect rows on a table inside the booth and plushies hang from the sides, acting as bait to any passerby. You tug on the hem of Jungkook’s dark vest, gesticulating towards the game with awe.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few silver coins that glint in the sunlight. Your eyes widen into saucers at his mischievous grin and you smack his arm, chiding him for his wandering hands as he assures you that he found them on the ground. When he goes as far as to insist that he saved them from being trampled on, you can’t help your tinkling laughter from escaping.
Perhaps it’s karma that prevents your rings from landing on top of any bottle, but the exhilaration of watching the rings soar in midair with a flick of your wrist as Jungkook’s chants fill your ears is priceless. Certainly more precious than any stuffed animal.
You two amble about the streets again, side by side. Long fingers intertwine with your own and your heart flips in your chest, suppressing the raging flush that threatens to colour your cheeks whenever Jungkook is involved. You look around your surroundings, trying to conceal the cheeky grin on your face, resembling that of a toddler with their favourite candy.
Before long, your travelling gaze takes notice of the people hunched over on the ground, concentrated on the stones below them. With a closer look, you discover the sketches littered across the stone pathways—some spanning the entire street and some smaller than your palm.
You bolt over to join them with Jungkook in tow. This whole hand-holding business is proving to be more useful than you thought.
There are pieces of different coloured chalk dispersed throughout the streets, and you pick up an orange one, urging Jungkook to do the same. He searches around for a bit until he decides on a white coloured chalk.
By the time you’re finalizing the tiny drawing you sketched onto the uneven stones, the stub in your hand is half the size of your pinky. Your joints ache from kneeling for so long, but you’re more than satisfied with the bright tiger lily staring back at you.
You stand up, brushing off of any stray rocks that have embedded themselves onto the bare skin of your legs and nudge Jungkook’s arm with your foot. He grumbles under his breath that you ruined the white blob he claims to be a bunny, but you jest that it was doomed the moment he picked up the chalk.
The retort silences him and you stretch your hand out to help him stand, grinning sheepishly at the pout on his pink lips. He accepts your peace offering, although rather than using your aid to get up, he yanks you downwards and your unstable body lands right into his lap. You squeak at his retaliation and wriggle violently in his hold as he curls himself around you, his chin resting onto your shoulder and arms wrapping around your torso to quell your futile efforts of escape.
“You like the nation’s flower?” He questions, nuzzling his face into your upper back.
“Nation’s flower?”
He hums his confirmation and you feel the pleasant vibrations on your neck before he’s nodding towards the purple pennants that dangle off of thin strings, stretching between buildings. Now that you’re actively inspecting the marketplace for the flower, you notice the continuous motif of the orange lily sprouting everywhere from decorations to paintings.
Jungkook seems to have abandoned all hope on his own masterpiece, for he lifts you up by your underarms and leads you away.
As you venture through the rest of the market, grazing through the various stalls, you examine all the knick-knacks depicting the famous tiger lily. It soothes you slightly, recognizing the flower decorating your walls back at the tower.
Lost in your trance, you don’t catch Jungkook slinking away, disappearing into the crowds.
As you turn the corner to browse the next stall’s wares, a massive stained glass window depicting a family of three catches your eye. The man appears stern with his furrowed brows and deep-set frown, and the woman’s forced smile fits awkwardly onto her face. She’s holding a tight bundle of canvas, a tiny face peeking through the layers of fabric in her arms.
Rays of the setting sun pierce through the coloured, translucent material and surround the art piece with an ethereal glow. You’re transfixed by the woman, reminded of your own mother’s delicate features.
You shake off the unpleasant feeling of your last encounter with her and analyze the three squares dedicated to the child’s crumpled face. The only noticeable detail you can make out is his chubby cheeks.
“Interested in the Prince?” A warm breath whispers into your ear, “Am I not good enough for you anymore, Princess?”
You spin around to face Jungkook, barely able to contain your delight as you examine the playful glint in his eyes. “Bold of you to assume there was ever a point where you were good enough for me.”
He scoffs, hands automatically coming to loop around your middle. “I know you’re not suggesting that I’m anything less than stellar company.”
You hum aloud, feigning contemplation by rubbing at your chin and a wide grin breaks his irked performance. He tries to hide his little slip by burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.
His soft cheeks on your bare skin along with his large hands squeezing at your sides elicit all your muffled giggles to burst past your lips. Pure, unadulterated glee bounces around your stomach.
Some of the lilies lodged within your golden strands fall loose and flutter onto the ground with the movement. You intercept one that drops from near your temple, plucking it out of the air and slotting the stem just above Jungkook’s ear.
He pulls away from subjecting your clavicle with his tiny nips in order to rest his forehead against yours. Your head is cradled by one of his palms and you watch as his heated gaze roams down to your lips. Entranced by his overwhelming presence, your eyelids slide shut as he leans forward slightly, tilting his head to the side before a meaty hand encloses around the circumference of your upper arm, yanking you away from him.
Panic seizes your muscles. Your heart threatens to shatter your rib cage with its fierce pounding. The soldiers. You extend your other arm to reach out for Jungkook—the same alarm piercing your flesh is reflected in his blazing orbs. Before he has the chance to rush after you, a dainty woman clothed in a primrose dress sweeps him away as well.
Barely a whole day has passed since you began running away from the soldiers, yet you’re more than certain that the soldier’s attire solely consisted of their royal uniforms, which did not include any flowy, pink garments. You whip back to your own abductor; a stout, jolly man with a cheshire grin stretching from one ear to the other.
He releases you in the middle of a swarming mass of people, moving their bodies left and right to the beat being pounded out on tabors and the sweet melody spilling from a nearby flute.
The man spins you around, encouraging you to let loose and sway your hips to the upbeat song as you’re handed off from one partner to the next. Somewhere within the chaos, you spot Jungkook’s longing stare and you subconsciously inch closer to his side.
The second that you two are within reach of one another, you dart into his arms. Just as you’re about to slip into his comforting embrace, a scrawny boy takes your place while an older woman wraps her arms around your shoulders. She wastes no time before guiding you into a dip, her palms supporting your back.
Upside down, Jungkook’s annoyed countenance is an amusing sight that you gleefully chortle at. Knowing that he is similarly distraught at the prospect of being unable to dance together soothes your aching desire and you savour the thrilling experience of moving as one part of a greater whole.
You prance and twirl your heart out as if it’s your last time. And you’re sure that it will be.
Eventually, both of you are able to slither your way out of the dancing crowds, and the cheers die down the farther you get from the main square. The sun is rapidly falling past the horizon and the capital is shrouded in the deepening twilight. You assumed that he would lead you to see the lanterns about now, but you’re clueless as to why you two are heading away from the castle.
“Jungkook?”
He turns back to you with a breathtaking smile resting on his lips, the dwindling light casting an otherworldly radiance around him. Reaching for your hand, he intertwines your fingers with his own as he leans down to softly bump his forehead against yours. “You’ll see.”
Jungkook directs you towards the moat that surrounds the marketplace, ushering you into one of the many gondolas lined up against the dock. You narrow your eyes at him and he attempts to reassure you with a simple, “We’ll bring it back.”
This man will truly corrupt all your morals.
But you’re so entranced in his spell that you follow along without more than a tiny squeeze at your interlaced digits. You release his hands before he jumps into the boat, the wood swaying back and forth under his weight, worrying you instead of the unbothered man a few feet away. As you take a sharp inhale, about to follow in his footsteps, Jungkook grips the sides of your hips and lifts you into the gondola with him.
You fix him with a reproachful glare at his unexpected actions yet the silent scolding doesn’t last long, for you’re hopeless to the sight of his elation, sticking to him like a second skin. Powerless against his charms, you sit on the thin wooden seat on the other side of the boat and watch him grab an oar, dipping it into the water and propelling you two forward.
You want to admire the unobstructed view of the sparkling night sky, but nothing can beat the galaxies hidden within Jungkook’s eyes, thus you try to seem as inconspicuous as possible in ogling him from your peripheral. However, your futile efforts are rather pointless considering your position, facing the handsome thief rowing the boat at the other end.
You think the title is fitting since he’s stolen your heart without a problem as well.
Once he deems your spot satisfactory, Jungkook strolls over to your side, taking a seat on the bench across from you. His legs slot in between the spaces of your own.
“Now that I think about it, it’s the Prince’s eighteenth birthday too,” he states. “He must be pretty excited, taking over the throne and everything.”
You perk up at the news. “He’s succeeding the King?”
“Mm,” he affirms, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “King announced an early retirement or something because they’d already found the Prince’s betrothed. His coronation is today.”
You nod your understanding, thinking about the responsibilities bearing down on the poor boy. “It’s kind of weird to think about, y’know, being the same age and even sharing the same birthday but leading completely different lives. He’s about to get married, lead a country and me...” you falter, pausing to string your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Well, this is my entire dream. Seeing these lights is everything to me.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re living your own life, on your own journey. Comparing yourself to others does nothing but rob yourself of your own happiness.”
You hum with a teasing lilt to your tone. “Suddenly the boy who named himself ‘gold’ in the hopes of attracting some friends is giving me advice?”
He breaks out into a chuckle, doubling over and laying his forehead on your shoulder. His hands reach out for the locks of hair resting on your lap, plucking one of the flowers swimming in your strands. Like Hansel and his bread crumbs, many of the blossoms that fell off throughout your time in the marketplace left tracks of your whereabouts. Only a few flowers remain with you.
With the delicate daisy between his thumb and index finger, he rolls the pads of his fingers against each other, spinning the white petals so fast that they blur together into a splotchy circle surrounding the yellow centre. Once he becomes bored with the flower, he lifts his head and stretches his arm out with a classic smirk that heightens his flirtatious nature. “For you, my lady.”
You huff at the offering. “You act as if it wasn’t already mine in the first place.” Despite your sharp words, you gingerly pluck the stem out of his grasp, fingers brushing against his own. When you raise the daisy up to your nose, the invigorating floral scent startles your senses once more.
With not much else to occupy your time, you decide that now is a better time than ever to dislodge the wilting buds from your tresses. You face the side of the gondola overlooking the water, grabbing onto the ledge and leaning forward.
You muster all the grace you have within your bones to place the ivory daisy onto the water’s surface. The flower drifts along the calm current, painting the atmosphere with a tranquil serenity.
Despite your best efforts to suppress them, your clumsy tendencies shine through when you tip your torso over a smidge too far, losing your balance and diving headfirst for the water. Jungkook is quick to latch on to your wrist, steadying you before you accidentally throw yourself overboard.
You’re sheepish in both your apology and thanks. To avoid any further mishaps, one of his hands remain on your lower back and the other collects the remaining blossoms in your tresses, handing them off to you.
A slow rhythm develops between you two and your raging thoughts come to a standstill, a red light halting the traffic within your mind. In front of you, a garden of assorted blossoms assembles, floating gently towards the ornate castle. One sprout catches your eye.
A tiger lily.
Directly below its long petals, a flash of bright red catches your eye in the reflection of the water. Jungkook’s deep voice cleaves through the soft sloshing of the water. “The lanterns.”
“It’s…” You struggle to piece together proper words to describe the sight before you. One lantern lightens the dark sky, drifting alone in the expansive space before a bunch of others race to join the first. Their warm, yellow glow overpowers that of the moon, painting the landscape in an orange tint that seems to welcome you into its embrace.
“Beautiful.”
You’re too distracted by the enchanting sight before you to notice his eyes trained on your profile, and so you soundlessly agree with a nod of your head. It’s as if time has ceased in its endless ticking, halting in its tracks for another world to open where only you and Jungkook exist.
You don’t mind the idea as much as you think you would.
“I have a surprise.”
You turn over to face him, head tilting in curiosity. He carries a paper lantern in his open palms and your brows furrow at his attentive, considerate behaviour. “Jungkook?”
“We should join in on all the fun, right?” A genuine smile illuminates his soft features instead of the usual smirks he casually throws your way. Oddly enough, despite your inability to operate in front of his flirty personality, you adore both sides equally.
“Kook, wait.”
He perks up at the nickname, reminding you of a dog with its tail violently wagging back and forth—you can’t help but be enamoured by him. You raise the hem of your dress up to the middle of your left thigh and he sputters, looking away. “Hey, hey! I know I’m pretty irresistible but this boat is not the place to—”
“No, you idiot.” You snicker at his unexpected timidity, shimmying the coiled strap down your leg and covering your decency once again with the fabric. “I have something for you too.”
He peeks at you, ensuring that you’re sufficiently clothed before turning to face you. A cold sweat settles over the outer layer of your skin as you watch his brows raise at his satchel in your hands. Keeping the lantern in one hand, and his steady gaze focused on your eyes, he gently pushes the bag down to the floor of the boat, the metal of the crown banging against the wood.
“All I need is you,” he whispers the words into the empty space of the night, the syllables getting lost somewhere within the mellow breeze blowing by. Your heart constricts at the reassurance that this time, Mother is wrong. You fight back the tears gathering at your waterline and grab the other edge of the lantern after he lights the candle inside.
“Ready?” he asks.
You nod and the two of you slowly lift your arms to release the lantern with the masses drifting above you. After a bit, you lose sight of your paper lantern and you glance back at Jungkook to ask whether he was able to keep track of its location, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you become captivated with the childlike wonder buried within his orbs, roaming over the sky and examining every single lantern at once.
His scouring eventually leads him back to you. He catches you staring, but neither of you care enough to break the moment. His eyes soften and you two shuffle forward on your seats, being pulled toward one another like magnets. Your legs entangle with his in the cramped area and you lean forward until your lips are millimetres from one another.
From this close, you have a perfect view of your reflection within his brilliant irises, the shallow scar that runs along his cheek, the cute birthmark right under his mouth. His eyes are locked on your mouth and you take that as the go-ahead signal to close the gap and slot your lips against his soft ones.
With your evident lack of experience, Jungkook takes control immediately, a hand flying to the back of your head, threading through your hair to keep you in place as he sucks at your lower lip. His tongue swipes at the closed seam that blocks him from your mouth, and you instantly open up to clash tongues, although you shrink back soon after, letting him explore your hot cavern.
You sneak a peek at him every time you two separate for air, confirming that this is indeed reality and not some product of your wild imagination. He invades all your senses and keeps you locked to him like an addict desperate for their fix, his other palm searing through your clothing with its heat and burning a hole through the thin fabric of your dress.
When you finally pull away, you feel feverish and dizzy as a raging blush colours your cheeks. You can’t find it in yourself to look directly into his eyes, but he reaches for your chin and forces you to study the haze of passion in his gaze.
Every part of your body is lit aflame from his touch. Hooked on the feeling of his plush lips pressing against yours with your tongues swirling in tandem with one another, you’re about to lean in for more when his eyes dart off to the side and he abruptly jerks away as if you burned him with your embrace.
His startling jolt snaps you out of your dazed state. With your head out of the clouds, you notice that the lanterns have already moved onto the next town over, taking their warmth with them. The fire within you, kindled by Jungkook, dwindles with the uncertainty of your future together.
Without so much as another word, Jungkook snatches the oar from the bottom of the boat and jumps back to his position at the front of the gondola. He urgently paddles the two of you back to land and you fumble for words. “Jungkook, I—”
“It’s not you.” His statement is reassuring in writing, although his tone is detached, distant in a way that crushes the passages to your lungs. Lost in your dejection, you’re powerless to prod him for any more information than that.
Before the boat can hit the edge of the dock, Jungkook springs out with his leather satchel tucked under his arm, pausing to mutter, “I just—I have to take care of something. Please believe me when I say I’ll be back.” His anguish leaks into his voice and you will yourself to nod, a forced smile on your lips. “Wait for me.”
He dashes off with your heart in his hands. You steady your shaky breath and place your faith in him, the man you have come to trust with your life.
You spend the next half hour struggling to get out of the gondola, craving the flat land to ground yourself. By the time you manage to clamber out, there are a couple of discoloured blotches on the length of your dress that put your many failed attempts on full display. You fan one of the bigger spots to help it dry faster, but the fabric becomes chilly with the extra wind and a shiver slips down your spine from its icy temperature.
Languid footsteps approach your frigid frame and you brighten up, forgetting about the cold. “Took you long enough. Y’know, for a second there I was worried you’d actually lef—”
You pick up more than one pair of feet advancing on you and your eyes widen at the lanky, redheaded twins that stop in front of your path. Cursing your quivering limbs, you cringe at the tremor in your voice when you ask, “What did you do to him?”
They simultaneously snort at your question and the one on the left replies, “Sorry about this, lass, but you’re gonna have to come with us.”
The blood drains from your face and you repeat, louder, “What did you do to him?”
“Aw, don’t get all riled up now. But don’t worry your pretty little head, we’re going to take you right to him.” They corner you back to the dock and you scramble to locate a weapon to defend yourself with. At your wit’s end, you prepare to jump into the murky waters.
However, before you get the chance to move another muscle, an intense pain blooms at the back of your skull, wrapping around to your temples accompanied by a flash of light exploding behind your eyes. Then everything goes black.
Your head pounds as a dull ache nestles itself deep within your bones. Your vision is nothing but a blurry, indecipherable mess of colours, so you opt to keep your eyes closed instead. You’re kneeling on cold tiles that rub your knees raw when you subtly shift into a more comfortable position, discovering the existence of the shackles around your wrists and ankles.
“—nd the girl. We expect you to keep your end of the deal.” The rugged tone that speaks is one that you recognize from before your blackout—one of the redheads.
“Yes, yes, all the charges laid against you have been cleared,” a high-pitched voice meets your ears and you subconsciously grimace, physically recoiling from the sound. Thankfully, your sharp motions go unnoticed. “You’re free to go.”
“What?” You hear shuffling nearby, the rustling of clothes getting farther away from you. The distinct, metallic sheen of a couple of swords being unsheathed follow and the footsteps come to a sudden stop. “You promised us gold.”
The woman scoffs, “Now why would I give you crooked-nosed knaves anything more than a death sentence?”
Many polished boots clamber against the ground with such force that the vibrations can be felt through the flesh of your folded calves. The grunts and garbled screams that ensue are silenced within seconds and two hefty weights hit the floor with a limp, lifeless thud.
“A pleasure working with you boys.”
There’s more shuffling, then something is dragged past your crumpled form. The throbbing across your cranium worsens and you’re incapable of fending off the blissful oblivion of desolation any longer, thus you surrender to the darkness once more.
The next time you open your eyes a harsh light coats your surroundings and the blocks of colour are clearer, sharp enough to decipher the intricate detailing painted on the tiles beneath your knees. Someone chokes on a wet cough, and your eyelids snap shut once more. Your nose crinkles in disgust as well.
“Her tiny skull should have been rolling through these halls eighteen years ago.” The woman’s wretched tone fills your ears, words full of deadly poison.
You remain chained, kneeling against the ground with your head lowered. A numbing sensation lingers no matter how much you fidget in place, bearing down your limbs with the weight of your useless nerves that refuse to fire off.
Another, deeper, voice responds, “Tone it down. Her magic is powerful, the advantage we hold over the other kingdoms is colossal with this kind of sorcery on our side. If she falls, the whole empire will fall with her.”
Sorcery? Although you can count the number of people you met on one hand, you’ve studied heaps of books and drilled your mother with enough questions to know that your magic is unique and rare—a product of alchemy that occurs merely once every millennium.
“I see no point in keeping her around when we cannot access her magic at our will, she is as good as worthless to us. That halfwit of a sister was incapable of locking this churl in a tower for long enough, and look at her now, running around, wreaking havoc with a criminal.”
Your mind swirls with the sudden barrage of information, unsure as to why these two strangers hold deep insights into your life, as well as the knowledge about your unusual hair.
“There is nothing to worry about, Jimin is on the throne. We will simply send her away once again,” the gruff voice states, exasperation clear in his tone.
A deafening thud reverberates throughout the spacious room. Helpless to the dreadful fear swimming in your veins, your body shudders in response to the noise.
The woman shrieks, clearly at her wits’ end, “I want her dead! Guillotine, hang, drown, burn, I could care less. She poses a threat to Jimin’s throne with her existence, and we have gone through too much to have our plans foiled by this knave. We were merciful enough in having my imbecilic sister continue to meet with Jimin throughout the years.”
There’s a long, drawn-out sigh before the man answers, “Have some heart, darling, that is her son you speak of.”
“In the eyes of the people, he is my son and the King,” she seethes. Her enmity is strangely familiar, yet you fail to identify the woman through her voice. “Quit acting as if I am the only sinner here and remember how much we both sacrificed for our blood to inherit the King’s throne.”
“It is not your blood though, is it, dear wife?”
The tension within the room is thick, palpable in the dense air in the way that makes breathing difficult. “You must have enjoyed sleeping with my sister more than I believed. Do you want to call her back here? Play a good husband and wife for the counterfeit King?”
You couldn’t keep the tremours from breaking out over your body as your breaths quicken and an abundance of liquid races to your eyes. It was all beginning to come together, but you wait for the two to confirm your suspicions.
The man chuckles with hollow intent. “Do you fail to recall your own words, pleading with me to follow this foolish scheme of yours? I would have much rather preferred a foreigner rule the kingdom alongside our daughter.”
“Funny, that’s not what you said eighteen years ago.”
You let out a choked sob, unable to repress the sounds of anguish that tears at your skin to brutal shreds. Enraged rivulets stream down your cheeks, and you lift your torso to stare at your legitimate parents. They turn to you, the man distraught and the woman with pure disgust.
“How—” you stammer through your heavy wails, “how could you?”
“So the Princess found out.” Your biological mother raises from her royal seat, storming over the short distance to your trembling form. “Fine, we can strike an agreement.”
She reaches behind your head to grab a handful of your hair, yanking your head up to peer up at the exquisitely decorated ceiling. When you yelp in pain, she crouches down to your level, baring her pearly white teeth as she threatens, “Leave. Be a good little girl and go hole yourself back up in that tower. Don’t worry, Mommy will come get you if we ever need that magic of yours, hm?”
You desperately wriggle around to loosen her hold, but she only grips your strands tighter, pulling downwards to introduce more pain to your scalp. “That thief will stay right here to ensure you keep up your end of the deal, alright?”
At the mention of Jungkook, your heart stutters and your expression morphs to that of despair, momentarily forgetting about the strain to the sensitive skin of your head. “Where is he?”
She smirks and snaps her fingers. The door to the throne room is pulled open with a loud clack, and Jungkook’s weak, bloody form stumbles through the grand entrance, hanging upright with the help of two sturdy guards.
“Kook,” you achingly howl.
“Mopping all his blood off the floor would be terribly tiresome for the maids.” She jerks your head down to bear witness to the sneer stretching across her lips. “It’s all up to you, really.”
“Let me heal him!” you agonize, sobs ripping through your chest, burning through every tissue to the outermost layer of your skin. “Pl-please, please let me heal him. I’ll leave, I won’t say a word, I’ll do anything you want—I’m b-begging you, please.”
The wicked smirk playing on her lips grows wider at your pleading. She shoves your head away, the momentum of the push throwing your whole torso over to the side, bringing about a harsh meeting with the floor. With Jungkook occupying every crevice of your mind, there’s no space to register the pain pulsing through your groggy body.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
You scramble to your hands and knees, disregarding the scrapes and bruises littering your limbs. Despite your tunnel vision directed towards reaching Jungkook, your movements are sluggish from the extended period of time spent kneeling in one position.
The guards supporting him release their hold on his arms, and you scramble to catch his limp frame in your arms, but your depleted muscles can only manage to soften his fall with your body. You detangle yourself from him and hurriedly begin wrapping your hair around his torso.
Your jaw trembles at his damp locks, sodden with sweat and stuck to the side of his head dripping in crimson. The vicious colour oozes out of the deep gashes you locate across his back, peeking through the tears in his shirt and stains the bloody spit drooling from the corners of his cracked lips. Great purple welts fill the rest of his exposed skin, completing the heart-wrenching picture before you.
You pick up the weak croak of your name, and you hiccup from your fierce laments at his red-rimmed eyes. “Guess I was right all along, Princess.”
Your mother’s cruel words follow the nasty glower she shoots his way. “Shut up or we’ll end your pitiful life now, you filthy criminal.”
“Jungkook, I’m here,” you reassure him, beginning to wrap your excess strands around his arms before he stops you with a stained hand. “Jungkook let me—”
“Stop,” he mutters, gripping his side in pain.
“No! I can’t—I can’t let you die.” You grit your teeth, disobeying his words and going to wrap your tresses around his broken body once more.
“If you go back there,” he coughs, an alarming amount of blood spurting out, “then you’ll—”
“It’s fine, everything will be alright, okay?” You press your palm over his hand and the icy bite that greets you hardens your resolve. “We’ll figure it out.”
You take a deep breath, readying yourself to sing the incantation engraved into the back of your mind when Jungkook’s fingers graze your cheek. You unconsciously lean into his touch, examining every crimson stain marring his delicate features.
His doe eyes soften at your orbs roaming his face and when your gaze settles on his thin lips, he snatches the chance to land a peck against your mouth. The fleeting kiss fills you with greed, and your eyes flutter shut despite your rationale as you dip towards him for another.
You halt, gasping at the gut-wrenching sound of your tresses being severed from the base of your neck, the noise snapping you back to reality. Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s relieved countenance as his torso reclines to the ground, the sharp dagger in his hand rattling onto the tiles beside him. When you reach back to assess the damage, your hand grips onto the short strands that reach no further than your shoulder.
You glance back at the heaps of dead, brown hair sprawled across the palace floor and your mind wipes clean of any coherent thought. Instead, your chest caves in on itself, breathing made impossible because of your collapsed airways and you choke out, “Jungkook, what did you—”
“What an absolute halfwit, does he think he did anyone a favour with that little stunt of his? Without your hair, we have no need for either of you.” Your biological mother laughs, the notes turning ominously maniacal towards the end. “Kill them.”
Guards immediately surround you two, and in a weak attempt to protect him from their pointed swords, you cradle Jungkook’s powerless form to your chest. You prepare yourself to bear the end of their piercing blades.
“What do you roaches think you’re doing?” she seethes, blazing orbs flashing with white-hot fury. “I said, kill them!”
The gigantic doors burst open again, but this time, a lean man strides forward. His blond strands are neatly styled away from his forehead and the regal red robe hanging upon his shoulders elegantly sway after him. The soldiers part ways to make room for the intimidating man and one of his retainers at the door announces, “The King is here!”
You struggle to even out your frantic breaths, thankful for the distraction that grants you a break to rack your brain for a method to escape the dreadful situation you two have found yourselves in. Debating whether you should fight back, sneak away or plead for forgiveness, your eyes dart wildly around the room. A woman donned in a black cloak lingers slightly behind the King, gazing at you with a murderous glare that sends pin needles into the thin lining of your stomach.
“That’s enough,” the King states.
“Jimin.” The former Queen races up to him but is stopped by the retainers that encircle the King. “What business do you have here? There are more important matters for you to attend to.” Her eyes narrow at the sight of the woman behind him.
“No, I think this has gone on long enough.” He sweeps his gaze over to the two of you, Jungkook barely clinging onto life, nestled within your protective embrace. The woman latches onto his bicep, her head vigorously shaking back and forth, yet you’re uncertain whether her disagreement will relieve your anguish or worsen it.
Despite her insistence, his head nods in your direction and the woman that raised you begrudgingly marches up to you, barely acknowledging your presence in favour of pressing her palms against Jungkook’s open lacerations. He winces at the pressure and just as you’re about to tell her off, you discern the thick gauze that rests between her hand and Jungkook’s side, the sterile white shade expeditiously being replaced by a bloody crimson.
“What are you talking about, dear?” the former Queen asks, a hard edge to her tone. “These two are hedge-born lowlives, simply not worth your time.”
He crinkles his nose in disgust, flicking his hand towards the former King and Queen. “Lock them up in the dungeons.”
Both their eyes widen comically, jaws dropping to the floor. However, you can’t find joy within their despair when Jungkook’s survival is still up in the air.
The woman sputters, recklessly thrashing her body to escape the soldiers’ grip. The man simply lowers his head, seemingly having accepted his fate as he follows the guards without another word.
“Did you forget who put you in that throne, Park Jimin?” the woman screeches, the blood vessels lining her neck about to implode. “How dare you disrespect your pare—”
“How could I ever forget your treacherous actions?” he spits out, disgust lacing his voice, “How could I ever forget how many lives you’ve ruined, dear aunt.”
“We did it all for you!”
“You did it for yourselves,” he hisses. Relief trickles through the tips of your fingers, spreading across your body like wildfire from the King’s aid. “Get them out of my sight.”
“You worthless—” Her shrieks echo throughout the halls, though you’ve long lost focus in their conversation after watching the two wretched souls being punished and put in their rightful place.
Your aunt passes some thick bandages from inside the bell sleeve of her cloak. You gratefully accept the offering, pressing it against his lower back—wishing that it’s not too late, that Jungkook has not lost too much blood yet. The passive stare that your aunt fixes you with crams your head with doubt and you begin to panic, bringing one of your hands up to cradle his face.
Although you’re convinced that you wailed through an entire year’s worth of sobs, the tears sliding down your face refuse to stop, dripping down and landing onto the dirtied skin of Jungkook’s cheek. You press your forehead against his, hoping against hope that some magic remains within your body, that the tiniest bit will reveal itself like a bag trick and heal his wounds.
But your magical hair was extraordinary enough, and this is no fairytale.
“Get those two to the physician’s,” the King orders.
Guards scramble to action, ripping you apart from Jungkook as you unsuccessfully attempt to resist being separated again. You’re absolutely spent from the tiring events of the past couple of days and your weary legs give out as the soldiers lift your drained form into a standing position.
Jungkook is moved onto a sturdy sheet, then carried away past the double doors and out of sight. Your flimsy arms wrap around the shoulders of two guards as they assist you in following Jungkook to the physician, passing the King on your way.
His plush lips stretch into a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile, but the adrenaline from earlier wears off and the sting of your own wounds drains you of your manners, uncaring that you’re facing the King. Thankfully, he dismisses your discourtesy instead of beheading you, and you’re hauled away from the gracious man.
On the way, you’re close enough to overhear what he mutters under his breath. A garbled scream rips through your throat in protest, and you shoot the King the deadliest glare you can muster. He releases a deep sigh at your childish antics, waving as you turn the corner.
“Poor guy doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”
You spend the next few, rather tedious, days in a luxurious bed, being fretted over by everyone from the maids to the chefs. It was difficult to indulge in the extravagance that the castle had to offer when you were anxiously awaiting news regarding Jungkook, which they refused to disclose until your own condition improved.
After all the pampering, you were permitted access past the confines of the expansive room you were forced to recover in. Your injuries were minor in comparison to Jungkook, thus you were granted freedom much earlier than him.
Not like he was capable of stepping outside of his room anyway.
Although his body is repairing his torn flesh incrementally, he shows no signs of consciousness—not the twitch of a finger, the flutter of an eyelash, nothing. Doubt claws a bit higher up your torso each day, waiting for the moment that the disquiet slithers up your esophagus and suffocates you.
Despite the crushing news of his coma-like state, you work diligently to ensure that neither you nor Jungkook becomes a burden to the castle by picking up various duties. Jimin continuously waves off your attempts to help, but you’re restless and desperate for a distraction from wondering about Jungkook’s condition all the time.
Jimin banned you from performing some of the maid’s tasks once, then sorely regretted it when he had to tend to your nervous breakdown in the afternoon. Since then he has kept his comments on your excessive working habits to himself.
Today you’re in Jungkook’s room, dusting off the spotless shelves that house the many herbs being grounded into powders and rubbed as a salve onto his injuries daily. You organize the rolled bandages for the second time in the past hour and mop every inch of the floor.
You can’t devote yourself to lingering by the unconscious man’s side for too long, otherwise your mind gradually begins to spiral into every possible worst-case scenario and you simply can’t handle the reality of a future without him. It sounds overly dramatic—many of the maids you have grown close to over the months claimed as much when you brought up your journey together.
But they didn’t hear his melodic laughter that followed his teasing smirks when he said something flirtatious, effectively making your heart skip a beat. They didn’t feel his hand always reaching out to make contact with you in some way, craving your touch to ground him to reality. They didn’t see his eyes softening when he gazed at you as though you were holding his entire world in your eyes.
They didn’t know Jungkook the way you did.
You strain the mop of its excess dirtied water before stowing the tool away in the storage room. When you return, a draft filters in through the open window and you race over to close it, worried that Jungkook may catch a bothersome cold that will delay his healing process.
You take a seat on the lavish mattress adjacent from his thighs as you stare out the window in front of you. The air remains stale in spite of the fresh breeze that blew into the room seconds prior, and the dull atmosphere persists due to the lifeless man inhabiting its space.
You’re uncertain how many more times you can handle walking into this room with his weak body lying motionless on these pristine sheets, but you will endure it all without complaint for him. A knock at the door catches your attention, and you twist around to meet Jimin’s friendly beam. “How is he?”
“Same as he always is,” you state, allowing yourself to take in Jungkook’s sunken cheeks and pale face. “Unresponsive.”
“You wanna join me in the gardens for some fresh air?” At your unsure raise of a brow, he convinces you with, “You’ve been cooped up in the castle the whole day.”
The both of you head out to view the lush scenery outside, seated amongst the blooming tulips, although your eyes are drawn to the lilies that border the lilac cosmos. You trace the familiar shape of the orange flower with your pupils, reminiscing on the doodles decorating your room’s walls back at the tower. That seems like forever ago now.
Other than his lack of consciousness, Jungkook’s condition remains relatively stable and yet you still find it burdensome to stray too far from his side. The staff is under orders to instantly notify you should he arise while you’re away, but that doesn’t ease the disquiet that rouses whenever you leave the castle walls.
You’re convinced that the second you wander off, he will wake up without you there; a thought too unbearable to consider. You crave to lose yourself within his molten ember orbs once more, exploring the undiscovered galaxies in his gaze.
“These past few months must seem unfathomable,” he starts, pressing his lips together to ponder over his next words before continuing. “I don’t know how my mom treated you in the tower but, knowing her, I’m guessing it wasn’t too great.”
His casual mention of the affectionate term you pleaded to call your mother for ages—the topic she despised almost as much as you begging to venture outside the tower—stung the slightest bit. From her actions, it was evident that she never cared for you as much as her own, biological son, but it was difficult to dismiss the joyful memories you shared with her, no matter how few and far between they were.
“She started visiting me a few years back, explaining all their horrendous crimes and insisting that she was the only one I could trust. She told me about you, too. Your mother ordered her to lock you away in that tower and ensure that nobody ever found out the truth in exchange for my seat on the throne. ”
Your head lowers at the information, brows furrowing as you contemplate your true relationship with the woman that raised you from birth.
“When my mom caught word of you travelling with the thief, she returned the crown in hopes that Jungkook would run for the hills, and you would be left to come back with her. Her goal was to overtake the kingdom from your mother.” His eyes gloss over with a distant sheen and you sympathize with him; the boy was used as a tool, just like you.
“It’s reassuring in a way.” His strange admittance prompts you to glance up at him, confusion swirling within your orbs. “At least we’re both suffering from our family’s despicable actions.”
Our family.
His optimistic viewpoint hits you like a wave crashing against the shore, sharing his vast fortitude and washing away a fraction of the sombre agony tormenting your heart. Although Jimin’s life was no doubt disparate from your own, you two are connected through the blood running through your veins. Even if those same bonds brought you to a tragic meeting with your own wicked parents, at least you could rely on one person within your family.
The edges of your lips curl into a tiny smile aimed at the blond man across from you, your own short, chestnut coloured hair providing a stark contrast. “I’m glad I can rely on you, Jimin.”
He readjusts his weight on the green, iron chair and leans forward to rest his elbows on the metal table between the two of you. “I think this is the first time you’ve called me by my name without me having to remind you.”
You quietly giggle at the memories flooding your mind, from the hostile attitude you first approached him with, then the days he comforted you over Jungkook’s motionless form, to Jimin demanding that you call him by his first name. You consider yourself extremely lucky to have someone as gracious and compassionate as Jimin to be your half-brother.
“I know we’ve already gone over this,” he starts with a serious edge to his tone, “but this is your last chance.”
You rip your gaze away from the plants to lay a couple of light pats to his hand. Despite the lack of context, the topic is familiar to you, as he has gone over this with you many times. “No, I don’t want the throne. You trained for this position your whole life, so I’m entrusting the kingdom to your capable hands. All I ask is for you to fulfill my request.”
Jimin releases a heavy sigh. “If you really want him free of all his crimes, there’s no way you two can live within the capital.”
“That’s fine with me.” You shrug your shoulders, unconcerned about the prospect of having to leave the busy city. “I don’t think I could live somewhere like this anyway.”
You don’t expand on your reasoning, and he doesn’t question you further, simply sparing you a solemn, understanding gaze. Supposedly, you aren’t supposed to pick favourites within your family, but Jimin is definitely golden in your eyes.
“Deeply sorry to intrude, Your Royal Majesty, but your betrothed is at the door and wishes to meet with you.” A guard inches his way towards your table with his head bowed, hands respectfully gathered behind his back.
Jimin looks to you with an apology on his tongue, but you wave him off before any explanations can spill from his plump lips. “Go get your girl.”
A bright smile enlightens his features as he springs up from his seat, dusting off his uniform before bounding after the guard. When he quirks his head back, you demonstrate your encouragement through a thumbs-up that you wave from side to side until he is satisfied, facing forward with a gleeful snicker.
You inhale the outdoor air, about to head inside yourself to rearrange Jungkook’s bandages again when your eyes wander back to the tiger lilies that caught your eye earlier. Within a few strides, you reach the vibrant buds, stretching your hand out to pluck a few stems. The sweet smell invades your senses.
With a tiny bouquet in hand, you make your way back inside, the metaphorical load on your shoulders a bit lighter than it was before. You expertly maneuver your way through the halls towards Jungkook’s room with the dwindling hope that today will be the day that his honey orbs reflect the sun’s light filtering in the window, filled with the mischief and tenderness that you remember.
When you’re met with his unmoving form instead, another sliver of that faith shatters into tiny shards.
You shake it off and head back to the windowsill, where an empty flower vase rests. The lilies within your grasp are carefully inserted inside and you place the bouquet back onto the tiny platform. Their floral scent wafts throughout the space as you take your place beside his legs.
As part of your usual routine, you use this time to relax. Just for a moment, you give yourself the room to breathe, giving your brain free rein to feel the emotions raging within you and fantasize about your future with Jungkook. You imagine yourself in a tiny cottage, craving a quaint place to live after the immense tower you were raised in.
The two of you would settle down there, adopting a pet to keep you company before you inevitably brought a few children into the world. Their genders didn’t matter, as long as you could raise them with Jungkook, forming a tight-knit family that shared all the love the both of you lacked growing up.
A warm hand wraps around your wrist. Your head snaps to follow the direction of his arm, curving into his broad shoulders, and past his sharp jaw with your heart in your throat. Tears gather at your waterline, spilling over onto your cheeks as you hiccup from the sudden sobs that overtake your body.
The doe eyes that stare back at you carry your whole world in their weight.
+ epilogue.
Tiny footsteps scuttle around the wooden floors, screaming in delight from being chased by a much larger, yet still very childlike, man. “Betchya can’t catch me, daddy!”
Your husband playfully roars at the taunt, speeding up his strides to snatch the little girl up into his arms. She shrieks at the hand that comes up to tickle her little torso.
“Okay, okay, enough playing you two,” you command, calming the baby boy in your arms that becomes far too excited from the chaotic energy erupting within your cottage. “It’s dinnertime!”
“Dinnertime!” your oldest repeats, violently wriggling around in her father’s grip to force him in lowering her back to the ground so that she can run to her spot at the table. She looks from side to side, doe eyes flitting back to you with a pout on her lips. “But where’s Pascal, Mommy?”
You pass the baby to Jungkook, freeing your hands in order to bring the steaming hot food from the stove to the table. The beige chameleon fades back into his natural emerald colour once you grab him by his scaly torso, dropping him into your daughter’s awaiting hands.
Her squeaky voice chides, “You can’t hide from Mommy.”
A boisterous, yet melodic neigh notifies you of Max’s presence in your backyard, and you shamble past the wooden door to hand the carrots you prepared for him. He snorts in delight as he lowers his head to the floor and begins chomping away. At the sight of his dirtied mane, you take a mental note to give him a thorough wash and brush later on.
Before you head inside, you catch sight of a blond man making his way towards you. “Jimin!”
His eyes reduce to two crescents from the wide grin that occupies his face. He swapped out his imposing robe for a commoner’s shirt and slacks, and they strangely suit his lithe form better than his bulky uniform.
“And where’s our lovely Queen?” You tease, elbowing him when he reaches out to ruffle the top of your head.
“Taking care of things that I don’t want to do.” You two snicker, ecstatic to see one another, and you step aside to let him coddle your children. The slight breeze in the air gingerly kisses your face, rustling the leaves on the trees surrounding your tiny house, and you close your lids to relish in the tranquillity of nature.
A pair of familiar arms curl around the shape of your waist and a smile creeps onto your lips as you open your eyes to examine Jungkook’s face, inches away from your own. He brushes your brown strands over your shoulder, leaning in for a quick peck as a loud chorus of disgust is vocalized behind you.
Both of you break out into giggles at your daughter’s behaviour and turn to face your family waiting for you inside. With your hand tangled with his, you walk to a brighter future together.
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagine#btswritingcafe#heartsforbts#jungkook x reader#jungkook au#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts imagine#bts au#bangtanscenery#btsgoldnet#ficswithluv#goldenclosetnet#cypherwritersnet#bangtanhq
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Hi! Aaaaa it says reqs are open so? Dbdbbff could i pls request the twins suna and kita with a trans male autistic s/o? Like headcanons on how they interact with him or whatever u want really tbh jdndfnn just ignore this if i did it wrong and sorry if i was specific enough. Ty in advance!
Kita, Suna, Atsamu, Osamu with an autistic trans male s/o
Hi hi random ask again fnfnf so u said u prob might take a while to get around to my request so i figured if i sent this ask in to give further detail it wouldnt like really screw with anything bc u havent started working on it yet? Presumably? Hdhdhf when i sent my req in i didnt really have anything specific in mind outside of general autism but! I did think of more details that i havent seen really talked about in general (in all kinda autism content and discussions ngl) so uh what do u think about adding to my request "low functioning" s/o like cant go to school or get a job bc its just so stressful and s/o cant cope type stuff (bc whenever theres autism representation its always the more "higher functioning" end of things which is like not everyones autism? Like its like that very one dimensional type of autism rep when theres so many different ways it affects ppl and - i am not going to go on a rant in an ask jesus christ im so sorry djdhfh) and dealing with some rejection sensitivity dysphroia/rsd?? Bc these are topics that dont really get covered and all fnfnfn its ok if u dont want/cant add this to my req tho im sorry for just randomly springing more details on you dhdhfb also sorry this is really long and wordy and if its hard to understand i tried to write it in a way thatd make sense dnfjf i just wanted to send this for your consideration ok ty! Sjdjfh 💚💚 💚
A/n - Just as a heads up I try to keep my blog as functioning label free as possible cus they lowkey make me uncomfy (don’t worry I didn’t have it in my rules so it's okay!) I’ll explain why they make me uncomfy/ why I hate them in a different post if anyone wants to know why.
Kita Shinsuke
This man always has a stim toy. Realistically he probably has a little pouch in his book bag that he carries with him everywhere that is just full of stim items. There’s a stress ball , a fidget cube and a few other things
Whenever you feel dysphoric he will literally remind you about how handsome you are. I mean like stand you in front of the mirror and point out all of his favorite parts of you
Definitely reminds you to be kind to your body and your brain cus they’re doing the best they can
If he has to cancel plans with you he always makes it up to you and tells you that he’d rather spend time with you.
Kita is so understanding and caring. He understands that school and work aren’t really an option for everyone for different reasons and he definitely understands that both are designed for neurotypical people.
Suna Rintaro
Rin keeps an extra pair of headphones on him at all times for if you get overwhelmed
If you ever mention to him that you’re going to sleep or if he sending you a good night text he always reminds you to take off your binder
Sometimes he wants to hangout with the team and has to turn you down. He knows RSD can make turning down spending time together feel like a kick in the face so he always promises to spend time with you later and tell you he loves you
If you ever have a low spoons + dysphoria type of day he’s coming over and spending time with you in bed. He’s bringing some of your favorite snacks/drinks/food and one of his hoodies that still smell like him.
His love language is quality time so he probably takes you on a lot of dates. Especially if they have something to do with your special interest or hyper fixation
Miya Osamu
He learns how to cook all of your safe foods just the way you like it.
Every morning you are greeted with a kiss to your temple and a sleepy Osamu grumbling a soft “good morning handsome” to you.
He understands that work isn’t really for you. But, sometimes he’ll take you with him to the onigiri shop with him to keep him company.
This man would move heaven and earth to see you happy everyday without hesitation.
He’s super responsive to all boundaries you have. Don’t want to be touched or cuddled a certain way? Okay. Need him to give you space after a meltdown/shutdown or on extremely dysphoria days? No problem.
Miya Atsumu
If you are nonverbal/semi verbal he definitely made you communication cards. He gave them to you for either an anniversary or your birthday and they are super well done. They’re laminated their color coated and they’re just lovely
He’s such a good listener. He could listen to you talk all day and never get tired. Whether it’s you just talking about insecurities while in bed together or him listening to you talk about a hyperfixation/ special interest you know he’s always willing to listen.
Insecurities who??? Not with Atsumu around. If he is not kissing away your insecurities he’s making you “laugh away the bad vibes”.
He always reminds you how much he loves you. He literally will not leave for practice until he gets a kiss and tells you he loves you, it’s gotten him in trouble for being late a few times but he always says he’d do it again. (and he always ends up doing it again)
#kita shinsuke#suna rintarou#atsumu miya#osamu miya#haikyuu!!#kita x reader#Suna x reader#atsumu x reader#osamu x reader#kita x y/n#kita x you#Kita x male reader#osamu x y/n#osamu x you#osamu x male reader#suna x you#suna x y/n#suna x male reader#atsumu x y/n#atsumu x you#Atsamu x male reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#Autistic reader#trans male reader#male reader#morpho talks#morpho writes
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Onsra- Chapter 27: Inner Demons
banner created by: @envity ♥️
Pairing: vampire!jungkook x female reader (also vamp!tae x ga-in oc & vamp!jimin x yuri oc)
Genre: romance, angst, horror, drama
Warnings for this chapter: panic attack, strong language, koo is being bullied by that stupid voice again ;-;
Word count: 7.7k
Onsra- ML, Previous Next
I loved this one at first, now idk :/ hope u enjoy it tho :’)
____________________________________
You’re staring into Taehyung’s deep brown eyes, your own wider than ever. His irises are so dark they’re almost black.
“What is it?” Tae repeats his words, he’s so confused he doesn’t know what to think. “Why are you guys staring at me?” He asks desperately. You try to find the words to explain but Jungkook cuts you off sharply before you can.
“Open your mouth.” He says abruptly, taking all three of you by surprise. Taehyung looks at Jungkook like he’s insane. “Why would I do that? What the heck is the matter with you guys? Ga-In?” He looks at her, desperation and anxiety in his eyes. Ga-In has tears in her own and she tries to explain when Jungkook once again snaps.
“Open your damn mouth, Tae.”
The older boy looks at him indignantly, then opens his mouth hesitantly. You and Ga-In gasp and Jungkook’s eyes narrow.
“What is it??” Tae is almost shouting now, his frustration hitting a breaking point.
“You’re a human again.”
Tae steps back when Jungkook utters those words. The shock on his face is clear, and he stumbles for a second. “W-what the hell are you talking about?” He whispers breathlessly, his eyes darting around the three of you watching him.
“Your eyes are brown, Tae. They aren’t red anymore.” You speak up quietly, tying to help him understand. Jungkook nods and joins in. “You don’t have fangs anymore either. Look at your hands, your color is coming back.”
Taehyung brings his shaking hands in front of his face, his eyes widen and start to water as he stares at them. “W-why- why am I like this?” He splutters, then Ga-In wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly. Tae responds immediately by encircling her in his own hold, he stuffs his face into her hair and lets out a little sob.
“I d-don’t understand.” He cries when Ga-In pulls away. “It’s okay Tae, we’re gonna figure this out. Let’s go to Jin.” Ga-In gets his attention by putting her hand on his cheek and making him look at her, then she grasps his hand and starts leading the confused boy back to the house.
You stare after them in complete and utter shock, the flowers hanging limply and forgotten in your hands. You turn to Jungkook and see him scowling as he stares at the ground.
“What happened to him?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps focusing on a random rock on the forest floor. You walk closer to him and touch his shoulder, making him flinch.
“Kook? Are you okay?” You ask softly.
Jungkook brushes your hand off and his scowl deepens. “I don’t know what the fuck happened.” He moves past you and starts heading to the house. “And don’t call me that.”
~ ~ ~
You’re afraid to follow Jungkook inside at first, knowing he’s in one of his moods again. But you want to know what Seokjin is going to say about Taehyung, so you walk in and find Tae sitting on the couch, bouncing his legs anxiously. No one else is in the room.
Just then, Ga-In rushes in with the eldest and hurries over to Tae. She sits down next to him and lets him grab her hand tightly and hold it to his chest.
Jin stops abruptly when he sees the pretty blonde boy with his big dark eyes sitting on the couch. His eyes bulge out of his head and he splutters in confusion. “W-w-what happened? What’s going on?”
Taehyung shrugs tearfully, then looks at Ga-In. She seems to understand what he wants from her and she turns to Jin. “Taehyung and I were out having a picnic. When we were finished, we were coming back and saw Jungkook and Y/n. We went to say hi and that’s when we realized something was different.”
“And he was a vampire when you were eating the picnic?” Jin asks slowly. Ga-In nods her head frantically. “Tae said he wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to head back. I didn’t even notice until Jungkook and Y/n noticed.”
Seokjin kneels in front of where Tae is sitting on the couch and puts his hands on the younger boy’s knees to get his attention. “Tae?” The blonde nods, and he continues. “What were you feeling? Did anything happen before you were feeling sick?” Taehyung swallows thickly and keeps his tight grip on Ga-In’s hand. “I- I don’t know. My chest felt kind of tight and it was hard to breathe. It felt kind of like I had run a long time without stopping, my bones were aching and stuff…I feel fine now, though.” You can hear the tears in his voice and your heart aches for him. He must be so confused, like you all are.
Seokjin nods and smiles, “Have you seen yourself?” Tae shakes his head. “Only my hands, I saw that I wasn’t as pale.” He whispers. The eldest holds out his hand to Tae and helps him stand up, “I don’t know what happened, but you’re going to be okay. For some reason, you’re not like the rest of us.” There’s a huge grin on his face as he tells Tae to go and look in the mirror and they can talk more later.
Taehyung pulls Ga-In out of the living room to go with him and you watch them pass by. Seokjin comes over to you, a slight frown on his face. You look at him questioningly and whisper, “What’s wrong? I thought this would be a good thing.”
“Oh no, it is!” Seokjin reassures you. “I’ve just never heard of someone turning back into themselves after being bitten. It just doesn’t happen.” He bites his lip as he thinks. “I feel like there’s something those two aren’t telling us.” You frown at that, knowing Ga-In would never lie to you.
“I don’t know…Why wouldn’t they tell us?” You ask slowly.
Jin shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know, but what’s important is that Tae is okay. I guess they’ll let us know when they want to.” You can see tears in his eyes as he glances down the hallway where Taehyung and Ga-In are talking excitedly in the bathroom.
“I’m glad it’s Tae.” He whispers so quietly you barely hear him.
~ ~ ~
The entire house is in an uproar over what happened with Taehyung. Hoseok and Jimin declare that a party needs to be had and Seokjin readily agrees. Tae shyly lets everyone hug him and cry happy tears for him as he grips Ga-In’s hand the whole time. You shed a few tears of your own when you get a turn to hug Tae.
He squeezes you tightly and chuckles at your blubbering.
No one knows what happened, but nobody really cares seeing as Taehyung is a human again, and that’s something they had long since dreamt for. The only one you haven’t seen recently is Jungkook. While everyone is laughing and talking in the living room while Seokjin and Yoongi make dinner, you sneak upstairs to see if you can find him. You knock on his door, but there’s no response. Just to be sure, you peek your head in and see it’s empty. You frown and walk to your room, just in case he decided to hide somewhere else. When you walk in, it’s empty. But something on the dresser catches your eye. You walk over and see a tiny little vase, covered with dust and a little crack down the side of it. The little hairline fracture is so thin that no water is spilling out of it.
Stuffed inside of the little vase are all the flowers that Jungkook was holding for you. They look almost comical because of how many are shoved in. You feel a smile tug at the corner of your mouth and a little tear in your heart at his kind gesture. You wish you knew where he was so you could thank him and make sure he’s okay.
You make your way back downstairs and head to the kitchen. Jin notices you lingering in the archway leading to the kitchen and smiles at you. “Hey, Y/n. Can I help you?” He asks kindly and you shyly make your way over to him. Yoongi is quietly cutting vegetables while the oldest is cooking meat in a pan. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen Jungkook recently.” You say as casually as you can.
Jin sets his tongs down and looks thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I saw him before Ga-In grabbed me to see Tae. He was asking me if I had a vase.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I have no idea why he wanted a vase, but he was delighted when I found him one. Anyway, I haven’t seen him since then.” Jin takes the tongs and flips the meat again. “Did you need to talk to him?”
You shake your head and sigh. “Not really, thanks Jin.” He smiles at you and you send Yoongi a quick smile before heading out to the living room again. Jimin is playing a card game with Taehyung and Namjoon while Yuri, Ga-In and Hoseok talk on the couch.
“Ga-In?” She looks up when you call her, then she immediately smiles brightly. “Yeah?” You walk over and talk quietly, “Can I speak to you?” She nods and stands up to follow you upstairs.
When you shut the bedroom door, you turn and sit on the bed with Ga-In. “Did something happen, at the picnic I mean?” Ga-In’s cheeks immediately flush pink and you squint at her. “Something did happen! I knew it.”
Your best friend ducks her head and puts her hands over her face. “Y/n, I was going to tell you. I just wanted to do it when we were alone.”
You scoot back on the bed and sit crisscross as you face her. “Well, we’re alone now.”
She peeks at you from between her fingers, seeing you watch her closely. Then she mumbles something that you can’t hear. “What? Ga-In, speak up girl!” She puts her hands down and sighs, her face a tomato red.
“I kissed him, ok??”
Your eyes bug out and you clap a hand over your mouth. “You…kissed him? You kissed him?” Not that there was anything wrong with that, you were just so shocked that she made the move first. Ga-In has never kissed anyone in her life, and she’s definitely not one to make a first move.
Wait a minute.
“Your first kiss!” You squeal and Ga-In covers your mouth quickly, “Shh!! Yes, yes I know.” Her cheeks are so flushed she looks almost feverish. “Mmfhs.”
“What?”
You point at her hand covering your mouth and she realizes what you mean, moving her hand so you can speak. “I knew you liked him, I just didn’t expect-“ Then something clicks in your head and you look at her. “Ga-In…do you love Tae?”
She turns and shoves her face into the mattress, curling her long legs up and forming into a little ball of embarrassment. Then she nods, still hiding her face. “I was too embarrassed to tell you. But he just understands me, and I understand him.” She mumbles into the covers. “He’s so pure and has the biggest heart. Everyone always called me weird for the way I see the world and he never did. We could talk about things and I never felt judged. The more time I spent with him, the more I fell for him.”
You watch her tearfully, extremely happy for her and not knowing how to say it.
“He was shocked today when I told him I liked him, like really liked him. He said it first but wasn’t expecting anything back. I kissed him and-“
She sits up before she can finish, her hair in her face as she tries to brush it away. Her brows are furrowed like she’s thinking really hard, then her eyes widen. “I kissed him and a minute later he told me his chest was hurting.” Your breath catches in your throat and you see the wheels turning in her head.
“Oh my gosh!” She jumps off the bed and runs for the door, you following hot on her heels as she runs down the stairs two at a time. Ga-In flies into the living room and crashes right into Taehyung who was coming out to find you two. He laughs and holds her waist gently, “Wow there, what’s going on?”
“Tae, I think I know what happened.” She says breathlessly. Tae watches her face closely, his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” Ga-In pulls him away to talk privately in another room, so you turn to go into the living room, knowing she’ll explain everything to you later. That’s when you see Jungkook standing there in the hall by the front door. Your heart leaps to your throat and you grasp your chest.
“You need to stop scaring me like that. Hey, are you okay?” You notice he looks a bit sickly, but he just nods. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Then he turns to go upstairs.
“Wait, Jungkook.” He turns back at your words.
“You should talk to Tae.”
“Why?”
Why? What the hell does he mean why?
“Um…because he’s had quite the eventful day? I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
“No thanks.” He turns to go up the stairs and you sigh.
“Hey.”
Jungkook stops again at the tone in your voice. You walk over and catch his gaze, “Will you take a walk with me?” He hesitates for only a moment, then he gives you a stiff nod.
~ ~ ~
“Thank you for the vase for my flowers, Jungkook.” You walk beside him slowly as you two make a wide lap around the house. He mumbles something but you don't catch it. The sky is starting to darken, and a few twinkling stars are out. "What's wrong with you?" You ask. Jungkook gently kicks a little stone and shrugs, but you’re not having it. You stop in your place, making him halt and face you.
“Knock it off. I know something is going on. How can you claim to be friends with me when you don’t tell me anything? That isn’t what friends do, you know.” You huff, watching him sigh and clench his fists, unclenching them before he makes eye contact with you.
“I’m just having a rough day.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Y/n! Because I am? Because everyone does? Am I not allowed to just be upset? I’m a fucking human bei-“
He cuts himself off, eyes darting to the ground as the new silence surrounds you after he realizes his mistake. You frown and fight the urge to hug him. He just sighs and puts his hand over his eyes.
“I’m just not feeling my best right now.” He whispers.
“Ok, I’m sorry.” You say softly, then you ask. “Do you want to be alone? Because if you do, it’s all right. I’ll leave you alone.” He hesitates, then nods. You sigh internally and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a quick hug. Jungkook flinches at your action, then he tries to make himself relax. He’s about to hug you back, but you pull away a second later.
“Talk later?” You ask hopefully and he nods, trying to give you a smile.
He watches you make your way back into the house, his chest tightening painfully.
She’s really something, huh?
Jungkook just sighs and stares at the door after you close it. His mind is too tired to deal with this right now.
Too bad she’s the only one feeling anything.
“What do you know?” Jungkook snaps angrily, giving in to the taunts.
I know you’re pathetic.
“Fuck off.”
Think about it, boy. Why would Taehyung turn back and not you?
“I don’t care.” Jungkook’s voice wavers.
It’s because you’re too far gone.
“You don’t know everything,”
Oh, but this…I do know.
“Why are you messing with me?” Jungkook kicks another rock, watching it roll away a few feet.
Because it’s fun.
“Just go away.”
You know it doesn’t work that way.
You know why, right?
“Shut up.”
No.
You’re a monster, and you know it.
“Nope.”
Y/n knows it.
“Don’t say her name.” Jungkook growls, trying to keep his cool. But he knows nothing he says or does will make it shut up.
Monster.
“Stop.”
You think she could ever love something like you?
You drink blood, boy.
You’re disgusting.
Jungkook sighs and wills the tears to go away. He doesn’t want to cry, not now.
Oh, is the little boy crying now?
Maybe you do have feelings!
“Why? Why can’t you leave me alone?” Jungkook sniffles and wipes his nose angrily.
You know why.
“No.”
Because I’m you.
You can’t escape yourself.
“You’re not. Go away.”
Oh yeah? Make me then.
…
See?
You can’t.
Jungkook plops onto the ground and pulls his knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs and hugs himself tightly. “Please stop.” He sighs shakily, already feeling new tears streaming down his face.
You’re a nobody.
“Please.”
She secretly hates you.
After everything you’ve done to her?
Jungkook gasps in a breath, trying to choke back the tears. He wipes his eyes frantically, then clutches his legs again.
You’re a burden to them all.
“No, I’m not.”
They know you’re a lost cause.
Don’t you realize how different you are from them?
“Just stop!” Jungkook screams, plugging his ears and rocking back and forth. “Please stop!” His cries get louder. His whole chest is tight, and he can’t get a breath in.
Monster.
“I’m not a monster.” He whimpers brokenly.
Oh, come on now.
You killed innocent animals and drank their blood.
Jungkook chokes on his tears and continues to rock back and forth on the ground where he sits.
You drank the blood of a man.
“He hurt Y/n.” Jungkook whispers tearfully.
Do you think she cares enough to condone you drinking his blood like a monster?
“Not a monster.” More tears stream down.
Yes, you are.
“No. No no no.” Jungkook just keeps repeating it out loud, attempting to drown out the voice.
Just accept it.
Accept it and I’ll leave you alone.
Jungkook keeps rocking, squeezing his eyes shut tight and mumbling nonsense to himself.
You’re evil.
Disgusting.
And you’ll always be alone.
The young vampire curls into himself and lies on the ground, his knees still tucked into his side, he lets the tears tickle his nose as they slide down the bridge of it. His broken sobs can’t be heard by anyone but himself. Because he’s all alone. And he always will be.
~ ~ ~
You beat everyone in yet another round of Go Fish, laughing your head off when they all stare at you in disbelief. “I guess I’m just the queen of this game.” You say smugly, earning another playful glare from Yoongi.
Hoseok starts reshuffling the cards again for another game when the front door opens. You hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs and excuse yourself from the next round. Making your way out of the living room, you see Jungkook climbing the stairs slowly.
“Hey, Jungkook.”
You follow him up the stairs, but he keeps walking without answering you as he goes down the hall. “Y/n, I don’t really want to talk right now.” He says once he reaches his room and stops in front of it.
“I don’t believe you.” You respond quietly, watching his face.
Jungkook tries to keep a neutral expression, but you looking at him with so much understanding and kindness makes him break. A single tear slips out and trails down his cheek and you watch with mounting sadness. “Jungkook, please just let me try to understand.” He sighs and looks at you uncertainly. You continue softly, “If you don’t give me a chance, I can’t help you.”
Jungkook opens his door and walks in, but he doesn’t close it. You take that as a sign to follow him, so you walk in behind him. He sits on the floor by his bed and leans his back against it. You shut the door behind you before walking over and sitting on the floor beside him.
Silence fills the room, but you decide not to break it. He’ll talk when he’s ready, you think hopefully as you curl your legs up to hug them against you.
“I’m sorry.” He speaks up after a little while. You turn your head and see him staring at the closed door, his eyes a bit vacant. “Jungkook, you already apologized, and I already forgave you. Please stop beating yourself up.”
He shakes his head and sniffles, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket as he continuously stares straight ahead. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks after another minute of silence. You turn your head back and join him in staring at the door.
“Because I don’t believe you’re really bad.” You say softly. “I think you want me to believe you are. I think you want people to hate you, I just don’t know why.”
You hear a little sniffle come from Jungkook again and you shift to face him. He pulls his knees up to his chest and stuffs his face into them. His shoulders shake as he takes shaky breaths and tries to stop crying.
He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t understand it. There are so many feelings swirling around inside of him that he has long since forgotten. The person he used to be is like a figment of his imagination, all blurry and distant in the deepest part of his untouched memories. He never realized that he was pushing everyone away. He was trying to make people hate him. He just didn’t know it until you said it.
Now it feels like a part of the person he’s become and is so used to, is being chipped away at. And he doesn’t know how he feels about that. The whole time, being angry and hateful towards everyone and everything felt natural, and comfortable, and predictable. It was always something he felt he could control when everything else was taken from him. Now you’ve broken through that façade and confused him even further.
“I’m so- I don't get it.” He chokes out, his voice a bit muffled from stuffing it into the space between his knees and arms.
You feel tears prick at your eyes from the vulnerable sound of his voice, and you scoot closer to him. You reach out a tentative hand and pat his back gently, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay to be confused. I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now, and I’m sorry.” You keep your voice low as you pat him on the back. “If you want, I can try to help you understand some things? If you want to just talk about whatever you’re feeling.”
Jungkook lifts his head up and wipes his tears. “You could have done this with any of the others. They were all so much kinder to you, and still are. I don’t understand why you don’t hate me. I never did anything to deserve your friendship.”
You sigh and lay your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense for a second before relaxing again. “Why are you so mean to yourself?” You whisper softly and he looks at you. You look up at him and realize how close your faces are, your noses no more than three inches apart.
“Because I don’t deserve anything more than that.” He speaks lowly and with such raw emotion that you can feel the hurt and anger tangible in the air between you.
“Stop it.” You keep looking into his eyes, noticing them shining with new tears.
“I can’t.” He says slowly, defeat clear in his voice. His eyes move back and forth between yours, searching your gaze and trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind.
“Then let me help you. I want to help you see what I see.” You try to keep your voice clear, but the tears creeping up on you make it hard not to choke.
She’s lying.
“Fuck.” Jungkook whispers softly and closes his eyes, trying not to panic at the horrible timing.
“Tell him to shut up.”
Jungkook’s eyes pop open and he looks at you quizzically. “Who?” His voice breaks. You search his face and then reach your hand up. You unfold his right hand that’s clutching his knee and hold it gently, lacing your fingers between his. Your faces are still only a few inches apart.
“The voice in your head.”
Jungkook’s gaze is locked on your hand that’s gripping his, a million overwhelming feelings fighting for his attention. “How did you-“ He furrows his brows at you, confusion clouding his mind. He has no idea how you know about the voice. Maybe you heard it too?
She doesn’t hear me, stupid.
She’s trying to make you trust her.
“Whatever he’s telling you, it isn’t true.”
She’s smart. She knows how to play you.
“But, how did you know?” Jungkook asks again. You shrug and move back a little before answering him. “I’ve heard you say random things to yourself when we talk. Sometimes even when you aren’t talking to anyone. You always sound frustrated and anxious when it happens.”
She thinks you’re crazy.
“I- I’m not crazy…” Jungkook mumbles and looks down. You frown and squeeze his hand a little, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Jungkook.”
He looks back at you and you think you see a little shimmer of hope glistening in his eyes. Then it fades away a moment later.
I wonder who’s playing who now?
Karma, hm?
“I’m going to prove it to you.” You speak up suddenly and he glances at you uncertainly. “Prove what to me?” He asks hesitantly.
“That I care about you and I’m not lying. You watch me, I’ll show you Jeon Jungkook.”
He chuckles a little and wipes his eyes with the hand you’re not holding. “How did you know my last name?” You giggle and sit back, still holding his hand. “I’m just magical like that, ya know.” You say smugly and he laughs louder this time. “Seokjin hyung told you, didn’t he?”
“He did.” You grin and Jungkook feels another pull in his chest at the sight.
How sweet. What a waste of blood. Shame, it would be so delicious.
Jungkook doesn’t pay any heed to the taunting, he just cleans his face up of the tears and smiles brightly at you. This is the happiest you’ve ever seen him. You fight the sudden urge to kiss him on the cheek. Instead, you give his hand another little squeeze and rest your head against the side of his bed.
“So, what do you like to do for fun?” You ask and he sighs. “I don’t really know.” You look back at him doubtfully, “There has to be something you enjoy. Anything, anything at all.” You insist.
“Well...” Jungkook hesitates, then he sees you nod encouragingly, and he continues. “Well, I kind of remember things I used to enjoy, but I haven’t done them in a long time.”
“Name one.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it, though.” He says quietly, and you can hear the sadness in his voice. So, you automatically switch gears. “Ok, that’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Say a random word.” You rest your head back again and wait for him to say something. It’s quiet for a minute before Jungkook awkwardly speaks up again. “I’m not good at this.”
You laugh quietly and nod, your eyes closed as you think of something. “That’s alright. Let’s see now…umm, animal. What’s your favorite animal?”
Silence follows, then Jungkook mumbles, “I don’t know…”
You can’t help but start chuckling again. Your giggles get louder and soon Jungkook joins in. In a few minutes, you’re rolling around on the ground and laughing your head off about literally nothing while Jungkook stays leaned against the bed, laughing with you. When you finally sit up and wipe away the mirthful tears on your face, you see Jungkook giggling and notice his sharp canines. At first, they scared you, now you find them cute.
Jungkook seems to notice where you’re looking and snaps his mouth shut. “Hey, no!” You protest and get up on your knees to shuffle towards him. “Don’t close your mouth.” You pout and he glares at you playfully before sticking his tongue out.
You grab his cheeks and squish them, making his lips pooch out. You laugh and he starts giggling too, then he reaches up and takes your hands from his face, holding them in his larger ones. You’ve gotten used to how cold his skin is by now. Jungkook smiles at you and your heart does a little flip in your chest. You shake your head and try to free your hands to squish his cheeks again, but he keeps a grip on them.
“Let me goo~” You whine and stand up, trying to yank your hands free from his grasp. Jungkook just stands up along with you and giggles at the way you move around and try to break free. “Calm down, noodle arms.” He says and you glare at him playfully.
“You’re a big old bully, let me go.” You try to spin out of his grip but end up tripping on his foot and stumbling. You fall onto his bed and Jungkook, who still has your wrists, falls on top of you. He made sure to catch himself, so he didn’t crush you, but you immediately notice the close proximity. Jungkook gulps and stares at you, his nose mere centimeters from your own.
You see him glance down at your lips and your heart starts pounding out of your chest. You can feel his breath fanning your face, your own coming out in panicked little puffs of air.
Just then a knock on the door makes you both jump; Jungkook flings himself backwards and off of you and you quickly move to a sitting position on the edge of his bed.
“W-who…W-who is it?” Jungkook stutters and you try not to laugh at the expression on his face. It’s somewhere between panic and annoyance.
“Your favorite oldest brother ever, that’s who.”
Jungkook sighs and moves to open the door to a grinning Seokjin.
“Well hello there, Kook. What are you two up to?” You can hear the playful smirk in his voice even though you can’t see him past Jungkook. You roll your eyes and see Jungkook’s shoulders sag, “Hyung.” He almost whines and you cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.
You get up and peek out from behind the vampire, seeing Jin winking at Jungkook before his focus turns to you. “Hey, Y/n. Is Jungkook misbehaving?” He asks, teasing the younger vampire that sighs in annoyance.
“He certainly is. Good thing you came to save me.” You pipe up and slip under Jungkook’s arm that’s propped on the door. You slide out of the room and Jungkook’s face falls. “You better scold him, Jin.” You say before turning and winking at Jungkook from behind the eldest.
“Yah, if you don’t stop messing with Y/n, I’ll have your hide boy.” Jin shakes his finger in Jungkook’s face and laughs at the expression he receives in return. Jungkook’s lips form a thin line and he scowls, “We were just talking hyung.”
Seokjin smacks Jungkook’s shoulder playfully and laughs his signature windshield wiper laugh. “We heard you idiots laughing from downstairs, don’t think you can have all the fun without me. That isn’t why I came up though.” He turns back to you. “Y/n, I wanted to talk with you.”
~ ~ ~
“Taehyung said they might know why he turned back.” Jin says as he sits on the couch in the living room. You take a seat next to him and nod. “Ga-In had an idea, but she hasn’t clarified anything with me yet. Do you know where they are?” You ask curiously and Jin nods, “Yeah, they’re up in Tae’s room. This whole thing is really confusing.” He mutters, lost in thought.
You nod in agreement. How can he turn back into a human just because Ga-In kissed him? This isn’t some fairytale…
Then again, if someone had asked you if you believed in vampires a few months ago, you would’ve laughed it off. And now look where you are. But the whole thing still seems odd and very confusing.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew about what they were saying.” Jin says after a minute of silence. “Thank you Jin, I appreciate it.” He nods, then he seems to remember something and turns to you again. “How’s Jungkook doing? He seemed like he was having a good time with you.” You smile, then it disappears when you start to worry again.
“He keeps switching. One minute he’ll talk to me, and the next he’ll act like I don’t even exist. I don’t know what to think.” You say slowly, making Jin nod, “Let’s just keep an eye on him and make sure he’s doing all right. I’m worried about the human blood he drank. I can’t imagine why he didn’t turn, but I’m really grateful.” Jin gets that lost look in his eyes again and you sigh sadly.
“I wish he would talk to me.” Jin mumbles and you pat his shoulder comfortingly. You don’t know how he deals with it, honestly. Losing his youngest brother and watching him become less like his old self, starting to hate his brothers more and more each day. It would take a toll on anyone.
“I feel like he might be getting somewhere. Just give him some time, I’m sure he’ll come around.” You try to comfort him, but you don’t think your words will help much at this point. After another few minutes of silence, Jin announces he’s going to bed. You stay on the couch a while longer, listening to the rain outside that started falling a few minutes ago.
A sound coming from the hall makes you flinch and look up, seeing Taehyung smiling at you as he quietly walks into the living room.
“Hey, Y/n.”
“Hey.” You smile at him as he comes to sit next to you. It’s such an odd sight to see him without his pale skin and red eyes, and his little fangs appearing when he speaks. He just looks so…normal. And happy. It makes your heart warm to see him smiling so brightly since earlier.
“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, aware that the others are heading to bed.
“I feel amazing. I was terrified earlier, but I feel so much better now.” You can hear the smile in his voice and you grin at him. “I’m so happy for you, Tae.”
“Thank you.” His boxy smile appears again and he looks down shyly. “It feels kind of weird, though. I need to get used to everything again.” You nod in understanding, then something comes into your mind and you turn to ask him.
“So, after your chest started hurting and it felt like you couldn’t breathe, your heartbeat came back? Just a little while after Ga-In kissed you?” At first his cheeks redden at your words, and he ducks his head. Then you see him lift it, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Wait, what?”
You look at him as he turns to you again, “Wait, did you say my heartbeat?” You nod slowly, confused as to why he doesn’t understand your question.
“I’m sorry, I’m confused.” He thinks hard for a minute then looks at you again, his deep brown eyes squinted in thought. “I never lost my heartbeat to begin with, Y/n.” He says slowly, trying to make you understand.
What?
Your blood runs cold at this and you stare at him in shock, “W-what do you mean? After you were bitten, you guys-…you lost your heartbeats, didn’t you?” Tae can sense the anxiety behind your words as he shakes his head.
“No, we didn’t. I don’t know where you got that idea.” Tae seems genuinely bewildered. “I mean, I know we turned into vampires. But when a human turns, they don’t lose their heartbeat, because they aren’t dead. Real vampires have no heartbeat because they aren’t exactly living to begin with.”
Your breath quickens the longer he talks and Tae notices how fidgety you’re becoming. He reaches out a hand to touch your shoulder and bring you back. “Y/n, are you feeling all right? What’s going on?”
“I- I don’t know. I- I think I’m going to puke.” You say breathlessly, holding your stomach as it turns and twists horribly.
Taehyung helps you off the couch and leads you to the bathroom where you crouch by the toilet and take deep breaths. “Would you like me to get Jin? He can get some medicine for you if you’re sick.” Tae is standing above you, biting his lip in worry.
“N-no I’m okay. I think I’m just tired.” You say quietly, trying your hardest not to retch at the new realization you’ve come to. You sit with your head in your hands for a few minutes, trying to calm down and process everything in a rational manner. Taehyung sits on the floor beside you, silently comforting you with his presence.
You finally open your eyes and nod at him, “I’m okay now, thank you Tae.” He helps you stand and walks closely behind as you make your way up the stairs. “Are you sure you’re all right, Y/n?” He asks quietly when you reach your room.
You nod and whisper a quick goodnight to him as you open the door and go to the big bed. Yuri and Ga-In are already fast asleep as you crawl in between them and close your eyes. Plugging your ears and willing yourself to go to sleep, even though you know it’ll only result in more nightmares if you end up drifting off.
~ ~ ~
“Jeon Jungkook! Get your butt up, what are still doing in bed?”
Jungkook flinches and peels his eyes open tiredly. He finds you at his door with your hands on your hips and a scowl on your face. He groans and puts his hands over his eyes.
“Why are you in here?”
“You scared me. I thought you had left forever.”
Jungkook lifts his hands and squints at you again, confusion painting his pretty features. “What the hell are you talking about, Y/n?”
You pout and cross your arms. “You weren’t waiting on the porch for me after breakfast and you weren’t anywhere outside. I didn’t even think to check your room. Why are you still in bed?”
Jungkook drops his head back on his pillow and sighs. “I just wanted to sleep in is all. What’s the big deal, anyway?”
You walk over and yank his covers off, startling him and making him flinch. You realize he’s still in the t-shirt and jeans he wore yesterday. “What the hell?” He groans and sits up, still squinting in your direction. You lay the covers at the foot of his bed and gesture for him to get up.
“Come on, I’m taking you out today.” You say matter-of-factly and open the blinds to let some light in.
Jungkook looks at you in surprise, then he hisses and gestures towards the window. “Don’t open ‘em. Close them please.” You frown at that but close them again anyway. “Sorry. Well, come on! Get up. I’ll meet you on the porch.”
“You’re one lucky son of a gun, you know.” Jungkook mutters as he ruffles his bed head and moves his legs off the side of his bed.
“Why is that?” You ask nonchalantly as you make your way back to his door to leave.
Jungkook smirks at you and you feel goosebumps break out on your arms, hating the effect he still has on you. He stands up and saunters over to you, reaching his arm around you and opening the door to let you out. Then he whispers, “Because I usually don’t sleep with all my clothes on.”
Your face bursts into flames at the realization of how lucky you actually are that he fell asleep in his clothes last night. The thought of what would have happened had that not been the case makes you want to curl into a ball and die. You can’t look him in the eyes as you stutter. “S-sorry, I- uh-…m-meet me outside when you’re ready!”
Then you run out of the room and down the hall towards the stairs, hearing Jungkook’s low chuckle as he watches you scurry away.
You’re talking with Jin on the couch when Jungkook walks down the stairs, all ready to go wherever you’re taking him. You smile at him, already having forgotten the humiliating scene from a little while ago.
“You ready to go?” You ask cheerily and see Jungkook nod shyly before looking at the ground. “Where are we going?” He asks quietly.
“I’m taking you kids to the store.” Seokjin says from behind you before you can answer. He jingles the keys in his hand and grins as Jungkook just makes a confused face.
“What?”
“Jin is taking us food shopping.” You smile brightly. “He said we need some stuff and there’s a place he always goes. We’ll have to make it quick though, since things aren’t very safe these days.”
Jungkook frowns, disappointment seeping into his mind that he won’t get to spend time alone with you. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.” He mutters as you nudge him in the side. “Oh, cheer up, that isn’t all we’re doing.” You scold his attitude as you three make your way to the little blue van.
“Who wants the front?” Jin asks, unlocking the doors and hopping into the driver’s seat. You two stand there quietly and Jin looks back out at you. “Well don’t everyone jump at once.” He says sarcastically.
“Ah, you can have the front Kook. I’ll sit in the middle.” You climb into the middle section and start buckling. You look up in surprise when he slides in next to you and buckles up silently. Seokjin shrugs and winks at you through the rearview mirror before starting the car.
You and Jin make pleasant conversation on the ride through the woods, but Jungkook stays quiet no matter how many times you try to include him. Eventually you and the eldest are all tired out from talking and everyone falls into a comfortable silence. Jin had told you it would be a long drive, so you settle down and watch out the window. The blur of trees gets dizzying pretty quickly, so you start looking at the clouds in the sky through the branches.
Jungkook sits perfectly still, watching you look out the window. He tries to memorize the lines of your face and the curve of your nose and chin. The shape of your lips as you mumble song lyrics to yourself quietly. He looks down and sees your hand resting in your lap. Then he has a very strong sudden urge to reach over and take your hand in his. His hand twitches, dying to just touch yours and feel how soft and warm it is compared to his.
When you abruptly turn and look at him to say something, he jumps out of his skin, whipping his head to face the front and willing himself not to panic that you caught him staring.
Cute.
You think as you look at him blinking frantically as he stares at the back of Jin’s head.
A two-hour drive later, you’re shocked to see actual buildings and cars. It feels strange and unsafe almost, being here after so long. Jin pulls into a parking spot in a crowded lot of a grocery store. You see people walking here and there, minding their own business and going about their days. Seokjin turns around in his seat and tosses a hoodie back to you. Him and Jungkook are already wearing them.
“If anyone at all recognizes you, it won’t be good.” Jin says as you pull it over your head and push your arms through. You put the hood up and take the face mask that Jin hands you.
“Don’t act weird, just be normal. It’s pretty easy to blend in if you act like you know what you’re doing.”
You nod and see Jungkook put some sunglasses on, keeping his hood off. He still looks a bit too pale but you’re sure no one is going to question him, seeing as he could just be a fair-skinned person.
The three of you make your way inside and Jin tells you he’ll meet you at the checkout in an hour. You and Jungkook stand there cluelessly, not knowing where to go. You glance at him and chuckle, causing him to look at you and tilt his head. “What’s so funny?” He asks and you laugh again. “It’s not very natural to have sunglasses on inside.” You whisper teasingly and he rolls his eyes, but you don’t see it.
“Oh, my bad. Let me just take them off and go stare at someone till they notice my fucking gorgeous ass eyes.” He says sarcastically, making you laugh and cover his mouth. “Don’t be stupid, Kook. Keep your voice down.” You glare at him playfully and uncover his mouth. “That doesn’t even make sense, why would you just walk over and stare at some stranger?” You giggle and follow him as he takes off in a random direction.
You two wander around aimlessly before heading to the toy section after you take the lead. Jungkook groans when you run over to a stand of little stuffed animals. “Oh, look!” You squeal and grab a teddy bear, laughing and showing it to him. Jungkook smothers the smile creeping up on him and shakes his head, “The toys? Really, Y/n?”
You glare at him and set the bear down, “Well, you didn’t have any better ideas to pass the time, Jungkook.”
“Jungkook?”
A sharp whisper hisses right after you from somewhere close by, and you jump. Jungkook’s hands immediately move to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him, his head whipping around in all directions to locate the voice.
_____________________________________
a/n: I honestly love parts of this one and hate parts of this one so idek anymore...;-;
tag list: @jjungkook99 @ditttiii @fekitza @xxxanimangxxx @howbizarre @rubinora @lettersforjoon @krystle1990 @karissassirak @mygukandonly @elliegrace1999tvd @nikikookie @adelina1299
#jeon jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#bts imagines#bts fluff#jungkook angst#bts#bts x y/n#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#bts jungkook#kim taehyung#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#park jimin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#bts angst#onsra
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Kim Seungmin A-Z
chan minho changbin hyunjin jisung felix seungmin
masterlist making out with seungmin
pairing ➛ kim seungmin x female reader
genre ➛ a - z list
warnings ➛ mention of kinks
synopsis ➛ this is an alphabetical list of smut themes, from aftercare to kinks everything is covered in this post.
word count ➛ 1.3k
author’s note ➛ this was early on requested and i now am (finally) doing it. I saw a lot of people wanting a jeongin a-z or some nsfw stuff with jeongin... i will kindly ask you to not ask anything sexual with i.n and if that’s a problem with you then leave this blog or just unfollow me. thank you for understanding. e n j o y uwu.
A: Aftercare
He kind of reminds me of Felix when it comes to aftercare. He is kind of lost but still manages to do everything right. Will be next to you and ask if you need anything or just relaxing and holding you in his arms, tightly.
B: Body
On himself:
He really likes his chubby left cheek and thinks it’s his charming point. He also likes his smile and his puppy like looks.
On his S/O:
Your lips. They are so soft and so sweet. Everything about them are perfect and godlike. Baby boy is just in love with u :(((
C: Cum
He is going for the face. Just the look of you, covered in his cum, dripping down from your chin to your boobs. Your lips parted and some more of his seeds in your mouth. Your big eyes starring up at him giving him an extra boost of his dominance.
D: Dirty Secret
Seungmin is such a freak. He is a sadistic hard dom. I just have the strong feeling that he is playing so innocent but when we dive in his sick imagination, this dude is so so fucked up. He really wants to try out new/BDSM stuff but is afraid to hurt you or that you will reject him for his kinks.
E: Experience
He may have some since he joined JYP at the age of 17 which means he could have his first girlfriend or even sex. But I think he had his first girlfriend and didn’t have done very much. Maybe oral some heated make-out session.
F: Favorite Position
He is into Missionary and Doggy. This boy usually doesn’t care about position but he really loves doggy. He lives and dies for it. He is such a sucker for missionary as well, his romantic side is just so in love with it.
G: Goofy
Boy is s e r i o u s. He is so concentrated on not letting his hard dom side through that he doesn’t really has any thought about getting goofy or funny.
H: Hair
Seungmin is slightly haired. He is shaved but not completely bare down there. He has a little bit of hair left tho but like just a lil shaved but not all down.
I: Intimacy
He is very intimate, and he loves when you get intimate and passionate. His intimate side is so soft and so close but if he would let his dominance side get through he would be so so intimate with you.
J: Jack Off
He may look like an angel and he actually is an angel but this boy’s stamina and yearning is crazy. He may dethrone the now NR. 1 Jack Off Champ. Felix. I think he really is something and he really needs to get his hormones under control. I mean please he scares the members wHILE THEY ARE SHOWERING I-
K: Kinks
BDSM: Giving
Sir-Kink: Receiving
Degradation: Giving
Little Daddy Kink: Receiving
Choking: Giving
L: Location
He wants to keep it in bed but when his little friend is not having any of it, he may have some public sex. Not like super risky public, just enough to give you and him a little kick.
M: Motivation
He cannot stop thinking about tying you up. It’s a thought he’s been having for some time and it really makes him stone-hard. The rope perfectly keeping you from touching him or yourself, the redness and soreness of your weak limbs... he really is a sadist.
N: No
Like any ‚nasty‘ stuff. Not kink shaming but he cannot start anything including feet, blood or any like liquids if you know what I mean... It’s just not something that would ever be a turn on or just sexual.
O: Oral
Seungmin performing oral is probably such a tease. Sometimes his dominance comes through and he finds himself edging you or overstimulating you harshly. He gets himself so lost that he ends up hearing your loud moans and cries and immediately stops.
P: Pace
His pace is... let’s say, very rhythmic. Seungmin really keeps it rhythmical. I don’t really get why this came to my mind but I just feel like he got the rhythm while thrusting.
Q: Quickie
Seungmin is not really a quickie fanatic but if his little one needs to be filled, he would do it within a heartbeat. Not a crowded place though, a little risky but not too safe. If you do it in public then with an adrenaline rush.
R: Risk
He is a little risky. As said in Quickie, he can live with a little risk. Not behind a sign at McDonald's tho, like a restroom or a room of another member? He gets crazy red, since he is a little embarrassed to have sex in public.
S: Stamina
Seungmin can handle some. He can go for let’s say 2 rounds but more than that would be critical. He gets tired after 1 round and after 2 he would be very sleepy.
T: Toy
He doesn’t have anything. He is still a little shy about toys and everything, but would love to get you some cute toys, like a pink vibrator or a pastel buttplug. He just wants to spoil you but is a shy mess.
U: Unfair
He can surprisingly get very teasing, the way he has you begging and whining explains it. He knows what he is capable of doing in bed with you and how unfair/teasing he can get but he has a little control, but sometimes that control goes missing.
V: Volume
I think Seungmin is a moaner. He let’s it out and moans louder when is close. His nasally voice with his moan automatically makes it a little more high-pitched.
W: Wild Card
It’s Changbin’s birthday party, you were invited and the other members were having a great time. But after a few sips of a your drinks you were far gone, your alcohol tolerance is 0 so you get drunk very easily. Seungmin apparently drank a little too much as well.
You see Seungmin and walk up to him, tiptoeing to get to his ear.
“Seungminnie, I need your dick.” He immediately looked at you with a small shock.
“Y/N, Later.” He giggled a little.
“Then bring me to your room, I wanna sleepy sleepy.” Your head resting on his shoulder, he escorted you to his room. He placed you on his bed and locked the door.
“Seungminnie, I feel so so soo hot.” I giggled while stripping my dress off and revealing my lingerie.
And well what happened afterwards is pretty obvious. But what you two didn’t knew is that Seungmin got you in Chan’s room and he doesn’t know about it to this day.
X: X-Ray
Seungmin kinda reminds me of Hyunjin. Long and skinny. Unlike Chan he is not on the thicker side. Maybe a good 6 inches.
Y: Yearning
Baby boy is yearning for you. He wants you and sometimes can’t keep his fingers off of you. Quite literally, he can’t keep his fingers off you. He touches you and makes so much body contact, if you’re in public. Holding hands, Touching your hair, Stroking your thighs, Grabbing your waist and placing you on his lap.
Z: ZZZ
He is just tired. After 1 round he can manage to function but after the 2nd round, baby boy is so tired but still talks with you or cleans you up a little bit if he came inside of you.¨
#stray kids#skz#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids kim seungmin#stray kids seungmin#skz kim seungmin#seungmin#kim seungmin#a z stray kids#a z challenge#a-z kpop#kpop smut#smut#kpop#skz a-z#skz blurbs#stray kids blurbs#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios
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Discord pt 84
[Date: 16/03, 8:40 PM GMT - 16/03, 9:06 PM GMT]
CONTENT WARNING: Mild body horror
[Direct continuation of pt 83]
kateza: “only thing i can think of is getting like
plant cutters?”
donti (e): “we can somehow simulate the exact opposite of what syd went through...?”
[kateza: “only thing i can think of is getting like]
donti (e): “potentially attached to brain”
[kateza: “plant cutters?”]
Renboo: “oh so weed killer is a no but plant cutters? yeah sure do that- /sarc”
[Little-K1ng: “alright how about damage mitigation? jack, you knew syd. you knew her through the..... uh... "process". do you have anything to share?”]
Jack the Observer: “Just. She had a headache. Bedridden. The warden said it was like red strings tying down her mind.”
kateza affectionate: “... right, right. sorry.
ignore me.,”
llyr: “you’re alright kate, it was worth suggesting. we’re just brainstorming for now”
Jack the Observer: “You could try wire cutters, actually. That’s not. A horrible idea.
I don’t know if it’s good.
But not like. That bad.”
Renboo: “how durible is gold anyway-”
[Jack the Observer: “Just. She had a headache. Bedridden. The warden said it was like red strings tying down her mind.”]
Little-K1ng: “speaking of bedridden i need to sit down or something, marcus, can you bring me 2 pills from the bottle on my desk ?”
donti (e): “good is an incredibly soft metal
and is usually impure to prevent bending”
kateza: “but with how fast it seemed syd's grew...
i don't know sorry sorry”
Little-K1ng: “i mean, syd had direct contact with crown outside of being a court member, right?
these boys kinda dont have that”
[kateza: “but with how fast it seemed syd's grew...]
Jack the Observer: “It was four days of headache at least before the trial
She was really ill”
donti (e): “... so we potentially have two days left?
dreaming: “we should try. cutting them off or something? it might delay it”
Void: “is it possible that crown needs to be around for it to grow and that's at least part of why you found him around your house?”
kateza: “might hurt him”
donti (e): “it might hurt max tho”
dreaming: “we could try and if it hurts we stop”
Maxwell: “please no”
[Void: “is it possible that crown needs to be around for it to grow and that's at least part of why you found him around your house?”]
donti (e): “point”
Jack the Observer: “Can he feel through the buds? Or would it be more like cutting hair/nails”
dreaming: “okay”
Little-K1ng: “oh yeah those footprints and handprint..... i heard about those
i still need to check those out now that its daylight, but i cant really do it like this”
donti (e): “can marcus do it?”
llyr: “it’ll likely just grow back, though. in order to get rid of weeds, you have to pull it out by the root, which in this situation might not be possible”
[Maxwell: “please no”]
Little-K1ng: “max, come sit on the couch with me ?”
[dreaming: “we should try. cutting them off or something? it might delay it”]
Renboo: “wasn't there a very brief mention of it hurting whenever someone so as touched whatever the thing is? just imagine how painful using wire or plant cutters would be- and with the possblility of it growing back too i dont think theres anyway to cut it without hurting max a lot”
[Little-K1ng: “speaking of bedridden i need to sit down or something, marcus, can you bring me 2 pills from the bottle on my desk ?”]
Marcus: “Of course! Sorry I was lost in thought”
[Little-K1ng: “max, come sit on the couch with me ?”]
Maxwell: “okay okay--”
kateza: “i don't think i can help with anything else here so i think i'm going to... go. /ic”
llyr: “ok, bye kate. i hope you have a good day :3″
kateza: “... i'll try. i just don't want to piss anyone else off”
dreaming: “okay that's logical won't do that then”
Little-K1ng: “dont worry, kate. we're not mad
at least im not, and you can keep that in mind”
kateza: “fetch was, marcus wasn't happy that i just said what was going on”
Little-K1ng: “in a way it works out”
kateza: “i just don't want it to happen again, y'know?”
Marcus: “I’m not mad
I just...
Max is under a lot of stress”
kateza: “i also remember when you smacked me down as Viscount so seeing it happen again kind of... i dunno”
Marcus: “All of whatever just happened wasn’t helping”
[kateza: “i also remember when you smacked me down as Viscount so seeing it happen again kind of... i dunno”]
Marcus: “I did what”
Jack the Observer: “Understandably so. This is a stressful situation.”
Renboo: “viscount what-”
donti (e): “it's definitely going to hurt him if unaddressed though”
kateza: “verbally smacked me down
not physically
although i was kind of being a little shit but it was because i just did not know what else to do”
Marcus: “I don’t... i did that?”
kateza: “frankly i kinda deserved it and anyone that saw it could probably corroborate that I deserved it”
[kateza: “verbally smacked me down]
Renboo: “okok i thought viscount like smacked the shit out of you or something-”
Maxwell: “You know....this...almost reminds me of when i was a kid, or well i guess younger....whenever I was sick or scared I would curl up on the couch with someone, even when I was anxious I would still do it.....I haven't done it in so long....”
Marcus: “Let me get you some blankets, Max. Ultimate comfort pile”
Jack the Observer: “Calm yourself”
Marcus: “Man, it would be really cool to just be able to create blankets when we need them”
Maxwell: “how....are we gonna get rid of em”
Renboo: “completely off topic but do you think we could all like group up or something and like- storm crown's mansion? like even if we only had a group of like 20 there's only abt 5 of them so they'd all have to fight 4 of us each like do you think that'd have any effect on anything like if we kidnapped crown or something do you think that we coud get him to tell us something”
Jack the Observer: “No
Barrier blocks.”
donti (e): “bad idea... remember the last time someone suggested it?”
Renboo: “no”
donti (e): “so many reasons no”
Jack the Observer: “so many reasons no.”
donti (e): “many many reasons”
Marcus: “...it wouldn’t be the best idea
I don’t know if you’ve noticed”
donti (e): “we don't even know the full extent of his power”
Grimm: “You would regret that immediately for multiple reasons”
Marcus: “But Crown has more powers than Ranboo does”
Renboo: “i completely forgot crown and ranboo have the same body nvm”
Maxwell: “fuck my heads hurting again”
kateza: “marcus i dunno if you wanted to see it but it was back when I honestly didn't know what else to do and viscount decided he'd had enough of me”
donti (e): “MAX u ok”
Marcus: “Okay turning the lights off”
[kateza: “marcus i dunno if you wanted to see it but it was back when I honestly didn't know what else to do and viscount decided he'd had enough of me”]
Marcus: “I don’t...I don’t remember”
Maxwell: “im fine just....hurts again is all”
kateza: “i won't send the link unless you give me explicit permission to, alright?”
Marcus: “What if I massage your head but steer clear of the buds? Do you think that might help? It’s kind of like growing pains right?”
[kateza: “i won't send the link unless you give me explicit permission to, alright?”]
Marcus: “I...don’t know if I want to”
kateza: “that's perfectly fine! your comfort is valued and I'll do my best to make sure that it stays that way”
Maxwell: “you could try if you wanted, i hope its just after pain and nothing new growing in...”
Marcus: “I don’t think they’d grow that fast, im sure it’ll be alright. We’ll figure this out
Okay, just let me know if it hurts too bad alright?”
Maxwell: “okay....
im....kind of tired...can i have a nap.....?”
Marcus: “Max, of course
You don’t need to ask to nap”
Maxwell: “just....wanted to be sure....thank you...”
Marcus: “Of course! Monas already asleep I’m sure she won’t mind if you use her as a pillow”
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tell me who you’d take on a date and where you would go! — CLOSED
@thisbloghasnoaesthetic asked: Id love to take Jotaro on a date. Just something chill. Like getting some good food. Or just sitting together doing nothing. I'd love to just read a book with my head on his shoulder. Just enjoying eachothers quiet comfort :)
omg that sounds like a great date for Jotaro! he definitely seems like the type to want a chill date. he’d probably opt for something that offers takeout if you’re referencing Part 3!Joot, somewhere a little nicer but just as casual if you’re referencing Part 4!Joot. and while you’re reading, you might just catch a teeny, tiny smile on his lips. but don’t say anything or you’ll ruin the moment 🤭💕
anonymous asked: i would wanna take kakyoin out to an indoor roller rink so we could rollerskate together 🥺 it’s one of the things i like to do most and i’d wanna skate around w him while holding hands! also cause he’s tall, i feel like it’d be hard for him to keep balance and prevent himself from falling lolll. but we could go out to an ice cream place nearby afterwards and watch the sun set (if the time is right) 💗
how cute!! sharing something you love with the one you love most... I dig it. Kakyoin would be soooo embarrassed, though! he just wants to impress you but his center of gravity is absolutely awful. rip. at the end of the day, however, he’d be so appreciative that you shared something so personal with him. ❤️ let him pay for the ice cream, it’s the least he can do!! and maybe hold your hand while you watch the sunset 🌅
@lavaicerinkk asked: I would ask mista, probably to like a concert or something like that. We'd probably go as homies, then when we get home id be like "what if we kissed haha" and hed be like 😳😳 ok, and then we live happily ever after
LMAAAAOOOOO. I feel like this is v in character for Mista.... he’d be caught so off guard by it! esp since he probably would’ve accepted that you were just friends. not that he’d say no, tho 👀 he’d just be like, “wait, for real?” and waste no time kissing you after you gave him permission. what a happy ending. 💕
@murcx04 asked: Take someone on a date huh hmmmmm- Josuke is my bet HAHA Hed be so refreshing to be with óuò. And we'd go shopping kfbfjfn And that where- he'll just show his pleading eyes and want you to buy the shoes he wants oh boy-
I agree, he would be a very refreshing plus one! I think a shopping date would be v traditional with him. I’m imagining you both at the mall, where he cackles at all the weird sex stuff at Spencer’s and shares his food court soft pretzel with you. 🥨 he probably wouldn’t explicitly say that he wants new shoes, but he’d nudge you and be like, “hey. if you wanna know what to get me for my birthday...” and point to the Air Force 1′s on display. so subtle. 🙄
anonymous asked: tbh i think i'd like to take kira out to dinner and go on a walk. i know its a simple date but i think he's really neat and i don't really like big or flashy events and i don't think he would either kjfnksnjks. its just sumn that would suit both of us nice
ooo interesting choice, nonnie! I 100% agree with you on this one. Kira would probably take you to one of those restaurants that have private rooms. I think some ritzier places are like that? anyway, he’d want to focus this date all on you. no mindless chatter from other patrons, no screaming children — the more noise he can minimize, the better. and during your walk, I can see him allowing you to take the reins on the conversation. he just finds everything you say so fascinating! 🌷💗
@catnymous asked: I'd take Fugo first to just a simple lil cafe then to the park :3
Cat!! I missed you!! you should come into the askbox more often, I always enjoy your replies. in the meantime, Fugo probably overthinks a lot so this date would be casual enough for him to relax. he would probably opt for some coffee and a slice of cake that he can share with you 🍰❤️ and a stroll through the park would be the perfect way to walk off the calories! (plus when you get to a fountain he’ll probably make some corny wish about getting to spend more days with you like this a;sdfkjl)
anonymous asked: Idk if you’re familiar with part 7... but I would bring Johnny to the planetarium; it’s a place that I love, and bringing him to a place special to me would mean a lot, I think. I’d tell him all of my favorite things about space. And, it’s a little mushy, but I’d remind him that just because you can’t always see the stars doesn’t mean they’re not there; every one is special and the same is for people. And of course, it would be a fun day out to appreciate the beautiful things in the world
unfortunately, I’m not familiar with Part 7... :( but thank you so much for sharing nonetheless! this is such a heart-warming confession 💕 I wish there was more I could say; I love that you’d share all your favorite things about space, and how everything and everyone is special. 💫 such a beautiful confession.
@serenityblaze44 asked: I would take Bruno and/or Abbacchio to a conservatory or garden, maybe bring a picnic. Nothing too exciting, just time to relax and spend time together. Then go home for cuddles.
por que no los dos? ahaha nah I’m joking... unless 👀 no but for real, this sounds ideal for both of them! ❤️ they would both appreciate the time to unwind. I could see Abbacchio prepping all the food, while Bucciarati handles everything else (packing the blanket, utensils, alcohol, etc.). they’d probably opt for somewhere outside of Naples since it’s far too crowded in the city. afterwards, be prepared for a gr8 nap between two warm, loving boys!!
anonymous asked: I'd take Kakyoin on a date! I think it would be really fun to go somewhere like an amusement park or arcade so we could just kinda be stupid together and forget our problems. Id go on the Ferris wheel and try to kiss him at the top but he'd probably shake the cart the whole time to freak me out 😂😂 After everything he's gone through, he deserves to have a lot of fun and id love to see him smile 🥰😍
aw friend, this is such a sweet scenario! hopefully the Ferris wheel doesn’t give him too many bad memories of Death Thirteen though ope,, anyway, what a lovely way to forget about all the stuff he’s endured! he’d playfully challenge you to some arcade games (and I’m using “playfully” lightly here) and then destroy you. 🙄 but it’s okay, any tickets he gets will immediately go to a cute stuffed animal just for you 🧸
@hadesaedes asked: OOOH I’d have to go with either Yukako or Koichi (even tho i have like TWO hands either is fine). Yukako is a very passionate and strong lover which I LOVE cause im shy with affection so being bold with it is MWUAH. While Koichi is also passionate I like to think he enjoys more simple and low key dates which is my type of thing. Having to just bask in each other’s company without having to fill the silence is GREAT. THEY ARE BOTH GREAT!!! In this essay I will-
AHHH A+ CHOICES, FRIEND. Yukako and Koichi would spoil you so much!! they’d handle any date expenses (movie tickets, food, etc.) and would adore having any opportunity to hold your hand 😊 Yukako would probably be more physically affectionate; she’ll either have her hand on top of yours or her feet wrapped between yours when sitting. Koichi would opt for compliments, praising you on how cool and smart you are! wow, what a supportive pair 🤝
anonymous asked: It's very hard to choose, but I'd go on a date with Bruno. Idk I'm just very gay for him. He knows a lot of nice and fancy places in Naples, but since that's not really my world, I'd take him to a small coffee shop or something. Nothing fancy or expensive but still very enjoyable. Maybe some ice cream. Walking through the city and going to a restaurant in the evening. Maybe something fancy this time, or just a simple pizza
how lovely!! Bucciarati would honestly be open to try anything, but I think a small coffee shop would be v enjoyable for him. there’s so much you can learn about someone over a cup of joe. ☕ since he’s been living in / around Naples his whole life, he’d probably share some neat facts about the city while on your stroll! “the Amalfi Coast is best known for its limoncello liqueur. I know a great place to try it if you’re interested.” 🍋
@moloko-tyan asked: Hello, little bird💫sending you rays of love and positive energy! This new event is so much fun. Several hours I wondered with who I wanted to go out, ahah. And I think it would be Erina. She deserves to have fun especially after all those awful events in her life. We would go to atelier. We could go through fabrics to choose which fits the best. We would look at lovely laces, buttons, jewels and we would argue about models of dresses and evening gowns. I want her to feel safe🌻 thank u so much!
friend! I always get so excited when you pop into my askbox!! ty for participating 💕 Erina is such a great choice imo. and this is such a creative date! she’d have so much fun running her fingers over all the interesting fabrics. Erina would take the most beautiful dresses and hold them up against you, saying how lovely the color suits you. 👗 although she’d be too shy to try those dresses on herself, she would have so much fun spending the day with you!!
anonymous asked: I hope it's okay to send this (I honestly don't want you to get overwhelmed)! But if it's okay: I would love to take Fugo on a date! I love this boy with all my heart and I would love to travel with him to my country to a town next to the sea and give him a tour of its history (and visit the local art and history museums there)! And later grab some ice cream and walk along the seafront in the evening where there are less people and just enjoy the walk together as the sun sets. -Turtle Anon🐢
oooohh, Turtle Anon!! thank you for your concern. you’re all good, don’t worry! anywho, that’s a wonderful date for Fugo. he would have an absolute blast reading about all the art and history your country has to offer 🏛️ you might have to push him along though, he’s the type to absorb everything n really slow down when reading... but at the end of the day, as you’re walking along the beach, he’d thank you for sharing a part of yourself with him. he’d be so honored! ☀️
anonymous asked: tbh i'd love to take narancia on a super spontaneous date... only the date and time are set, the entire day is just going around town and doing whatever stupid fun random things,, eating street food and going into shops to try on random fits and running around laughing, mayhaps go to an arcade, or do some karaoke. and then wind down at like a mcdonalds late at night, tired but happy and satisfied.. hhh nara is v fun i just wanna hang out w him honestly 🤕😔🤕😔
yeeeess this is the perfect date for Narancia!! he loves spontaneous stuff like this. he’d have so much fun gorging himself on street food and playing around with weird fits. he’d probably put on the stupidest things he can find, like this. and if you go to karaoke, be ready to screech some absolute bangers. he will not take anything less than confident (yet bad), loud (yet joyous) singing. 🎤 n while he might be falling nodding off at the McDonald’s, he’d sleepily tell you how amazing the day was and how he wants to do this again 💕
@tomomi012 asked: I'm going to share another ideal date idea, but with Kakyoin. I'd like us to go to one of those cat cafes in Japan. I mean, cats, coffee and a cute Japanese boy, is this heaven? and I would tell him: "Nori, today I am in heaven"
ofc, share all you want! omg... I love this idea..... Kakyoin would be so soft anytime a cat approaches him. he’d do a little “pspsps” and hold out his finger for them to smell. and once a cat actually nudges him, he’d just melt! he wouldn’t show it outwardly, but you can see it in how bright his eyes get. I think Kakyoin would be the type to either attract a ton of cats or cats hate him, there’s no in between. 😭❤️ both make for some gr8 scenarios, though!
@pommmejuice asked: for your post about taking a character on a date :,) i think i’d like to take abba to art museums/cultural centers ,, i’d love to talk to him about my culture and what life is like (if he’d be interested;; lol) n maybe afterwards while we get italian food he can talk to me about what italian culture is like, the parts that aren’t shown in the media 🥺 so uh a date where we’re both learning new things about each other hehe
n maybeeeee take fugo to a café where we can study together n talk about our favorite things in our lives/culture.... n maybe hold hands on the table and maybe stare into his eyes tenderly ... you know because he’s my BFF (Best Friend Forever) .. you know how best friends do.. 😳
ooo Ireeene I figured you’d say Abbacchio :3c but that’s such a cute date for him! ofc he’d be interested in learning more about you!! you wouldn’t see it, but every time you share something you that you love about your culture, Abbacchio’s gaze on you would be so loving... 💖 he adores that you’re sharing so personal with him (of all people!!). and he’d get a kick out of telling you misconceptions about Italy. don’t get him started on how much he hates the Mario Bros.
as for Fugo, he would react similarly. I could see him ask more questions about your culture, while Abbacchio lets you go on and on. he’s so interested in everything about you!! and the moment you hold his hand... wow... get ready to see some intense blushing... he wouldn’t pull away, but his attention would turn to something else and his stutter would be apparent. pull yourself together, Fugo! 😤
anonymous asked: I'd take Rohan on a date, I'm a lil gay for that trash man. Tbh, it would either be an amazing date or a total disaster. I think we'd plan something fun and relaxing, like going to an art gallery or seeing a movie, but we'd end up in an adventure because that's what keeps happening to Rohan for some reason. At the end of the day we'd go to a restaurant to put a normal ending to that strange day
HAHAHA omggg friend this is a pretty accurate description of Rohan’s life. I think he’d be really annoyed that the day ended up this way, but he’s glad that he got to spend it with someone he tolerates. 💕 Rohan would try to push past those feelings once you go to the restaurant. this date is still salvageable!! he might complain a lil, but ultimately, he’d try to focus on you and what you enjoyed 🥰
@xxbluejayxx asked: For the Jojo date thing, I'd take Abbacchio. Well not really picky about the kind of date, I feel a nice quiet one at home would be best. It could be a homemade dinner, a movie night, or both. When it comes down to it, for me anytime spent with someone I love is time well spent, and that is something I will willingly admit
this is such a peaceful date for Abbacchio! I agree, a quiet date at home would be best. 😊❤️ as I mentioned in other scenarios, he’d likely take over kitchen duties. no need to worry about anything, just tell him what you want and he’d whip it up for you! and when it comes time to watch the movie, he’d tell you to sit a lil closer to him... he’s not very good with verbalizing affection, but he loves when he can feel your skin against his.
anonymous asked: I reeally wanna take Polnareff on a date. He deserves it sooo much. He's such a handsome sweetie. Id turn on the charm for him for once, like he always does. I have a beautiful image in my head of an outdoor patio restaurant with hundreds of strings of lights. We both dress up and have a lovely meal under the stars and magical lights, and then our favorite song plays and we have a dance beneath the lights. I think it would be goofy and romantic, stepping on toes as we attempt to dance around 😍
ahhh Polnareff would be so flattered to have you flirt with him! he’d probably get a lil flustered since this is nicer than what he’s used to, but seeing you dressed to the nines would make make him go 🥵 likewise, he’d push himself through the situation by just focusing on you. and when you start dancing... wow!! he’d lose himself laughing and being absolutely miserable at showing his moves. but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here with you and everything is okay ⭐
@rat-makes-stuff asked: Ok so I would take Giorno back to my home state of Michigan. Mafia boss has got to be tired as hell, so what's better than walking through the woods and collecting rocks at Lake Huron (I'm biased that's my favorite lake no CAP). We would watch the sun set and then look at the stars when they come out. Wildflower picking, trying to see how many deer we can find, and picnics by the lake? Yes pleaseee
before I start, Tumblr wasn’t letting me tag you in this!! so I hope you still see my response :( anyway, this is such a relaxing date! Don Giorno would love to unwind in nature. he’d probably take some stones he found near Lake Huron and turn them into a bouquet of flowers for you! 💐and since he’s probably never seen the sky without light pollution, he’d be astonished at how beautiful the sky is. he wouldn’t be able to say anything, just pull you close to him and thank you for taking him out here 🌠
#rat-makes-stuff#xxbluejayxx#pommmejuice#tomomi012#moloko-tyan#hadesaedes#serenityblaze44#catnymous#thisbloghasnoaesthetic#lavaicerinkk#murcx04#toya slides u a note#ask game response#Rat I'm going to fight you about Lake Huron#Lake Michigan gang wya
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