#fondant flower
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Sugar cookies with buttercream frosting 💐
#i bake sometimes#cookies#sugar cookies#dessert#food#pretty happy with em ngl...#I feel like they came out pretty good! I could have decorated them with more flowers in some cases#but I was (stupidly) worried abt running out of frosting#overall I think they look cute! they aren't as fancy and detailed as like fondant flowers#but idk man I'm not a big fan of fondant. buttercream all the way baby! and it's all buttercream!#scratch made sugar cookies. scratch made buttercream. they are tasty. and cute!
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made my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary cake. learned how to make paper flowers for it, too. im exhausted now lol
#m: paper flowers#m: baking#mouse#f: original#wedding anniversary cake#papercraft#papercutting#paper flowers#fuchsia#hydrangea#garden cosmos#ngl this really reaffirmed how much i dont enjoy the entire baking+cake decorating process anymore but the flowers were so much fun to make#i do want to try and use the stencils again in the future tho so we will see#it'd be fun to use it on the spare black fondant i have from the tier that got scrapped; along with multicoloured buttercream#give it that sort of rainbow scratch art vibe yknow???#m: art#m: paper art
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#IFTTT#Flickr#tulips#pink#petals#stems#fondant#conceptualart#flower#blackbackground#studio#colour#square#design#nikond7000#magdaindigo
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my name, Stitch
#cute#lilo and stitch#stitch#chef life#cakecore#hibiscus flowers#stitch cake#Disney cake#Disney#cassandrabakes#cake decorating#buttercream#fondant
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Been on a bakery class for a while and made this the other day! I'd say it looks good but it also just doesn't look how it's meant to :')
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Canon things about Xavier that I think are funny and people might forget:
Tastes:
Loves spicy food but dislikes wasabi
Enjoys multi-culture foods as long as it involves meats
Dislikes extremely bitter things
Neutral on sweets, it isn't his go-to and doesn't often get them alone, but does occasionally enjoy them
Prefers savory, salty, and spicy
Alcohol tolerance is very high
Prefers beer
Not a fan of vegetables but doesn't mind them juiced
Favorite fruit is cherries
Home:
Has a massive two-person bean bag chair that occasionally he or MC nap on
Has a workout section of his house so he doesn't have to leave the house and can nap right after working out
Has a garden on his balcony with a few flowers, herbs, and frequently harvests strawberries
Prefers homeopathic and traditional medicine
Culinary:
Great at mixing drinks
Great at making coffee; the one time he messed it up for MC even he was surprised and blamed his coffee maker, it hasn't happened since
Good at cooking things that are cold (anything that doesn't require heating up), master salad and sandwich maker although according to 21 Days he's also improved in soup making!
Lifestyle:
Is extremely rich and philanthropic
Graduated with several degrees
Volunteering and side jobs to help backtracker friends, Jeremiah, and other older humans he's met through his lifetime
Commonly stops to help strangers
Despite oversleeping a lot he's never late (lucky)
Has become a morning person even waking up earlier than MC often
Is a ranked FPS player 😭 (He's platinum)
Has a lot of friends he goes out of his way to see often, outside of MC
Stopped practicing piano for a while
Occasionally helps out at a bookstore near the seaside Destiny Café
Holds on to a lot of nostalgic things, even if it's useless
Weakness for small children
Hobbies:
Glass blowing
Fruit and veggie juicing
Traditional calligraphy (masterful enough to teach)
Generally good at all video games
Undefeated in Pile Up
Fishing + Ocean fishing
Reading
Gardening
Poetry
Horror films
Can't stand cheesy movies
Is known to commentate over movies he's not enjoying (yes even if MC is present and enjoying it until she tells him up shut up.)
Bird watching
Music (Listens to a wide variety and also composes his own)
Collects vinyls and CDs
Photography (digital + film)
Fondant + cake decorating (don't ask him to bake it though he can decorate)
Absolutely horrendous at drawing but he likes to doodle
General:
You think he's soft but has ruthless comebacks
Won't hesitate to say no even if you beg
Makes time and effort to spend time with other friends
Often asked to babysit Frankie
Has had to kill off a lot of people who've turned on him, in order to protect MC
Prefers phone calls to texting
#lads xavier#lnds xavier#xavier love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#shen xinghui#l&ds xavier
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02 | BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ JJK

your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. Yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. Your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love.
pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader
genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, smut, fluff
warnings/tags — 18+, protective!jungkook, angry!jungkook, emotional trauma, power dynamics, hurt and comfort, grief, fear of intimacy, several intense crying scenes, emotional distress, abuse and manipulation from readers father, mentions of fear, isolation, break down, miscommunication, argument, betrayal, trust issues
wc — 5.2k
a/n — this chapter is relatively short, but I promise the next part will be longer—and probably a smut, finally hehe. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and feedback is appreciated! <3
series m. list | main m. list
────୨ৎ────
The week before the wedding unfolded, each day was relentless slowly bringing you closer to the cage made up by jungkook and your father.
A constant reminder of the life you were being forced into.
Every broken room you entered which you were so used to transformed for a marriage you dreaded.
Your small apartment now full of luxury with extravagant gowns to choose from.
The dresses were masterpieces.
Each fabric delicate and every one of them was adorned with lavish details, the dresses hugging your curves like they were meant to be.
One gown the chosen one was a work of art—it was sparkly, floor length and so light it seemed to float.
You ran your fingers over the fabric, its softness causing a pang in your chest—once you might have dreamed of such a dress.
Childish dreams of wearing a beautiful wedding gown like a princess and meeting your prince.
But now you hated it.
Because it would snatch your life from you.
The dressmakers cooed over you as they adjusted the dress, needles in their hands.
“You’ll be the most beautiful bride.”
One said, her eyes full of admiration.
You forced a smile, lips trembling but inside you wanted to lash out.
Beautiful?
You felt like a doll dressed up to be somewhere you hadn’t chosen to be.
You felt like a prisoner.
The mirror in front of you reflected a stranger—your hair down and styled to perfection, skin flushed with a forced glow from makeup.
Anyone that would see you would see a happy bride.
Your eyes though, betrayed, red rims from nights spent sobbing into your pillow.
There were several jewelry pieces everywhere—diamond rings and necklaces, each piece more expensive than the last.
You wore a delicate necklace, its small diamond stones were dazzling, with matching earrings.
The planners were there constantly, invading your space with samples of everything.
Menus of dishes you'd never tasted were sent for you to approve.
A towering wedding cake that almost seemed too beautiful to be real with its fondant roses and small art designs.
“Everything is to your taste.”
The woman assured you, smiling.
“mr. jeon was specific, he wanted it to be perfect for you.”
You nodded, throat tight.
You didn’t care about the flowers, the gown or anything.
You didn’t care about any of it.
Your father was a different creature in these days, his usual scowl replaced by a greediness in his eyes.
He roamed through the chaos barking orders at the staff reveling in the wealth this marriage would bring him.
“Look at this y/n.”
He said one afternoon, holding a box containing an expensive bracelet jungkook had sent.
“This is what you’re marrying into. Don’t mess it up.”
His voice was sharp, lacing with warning and you shook, fear knotting your stomach once again.
“I don’t want this.” you whisper.
He laughed, the sound cruel.
“You don’t get a choice, girl. You're doing this for your mother… or do you want her to die because of you?”
The words hits you deeper each time he says them.
You turn away, hands trembling and retreated to your room, the only place you could breathe though even that was tainted.
The flowers invaded here too, their scent too suffocating now and there are piles of fabrics and dresses on your bed.
You sank to the floor, back against the wall and buried your face in your hands, the tears coming out fast.
“I can’t do this.” you sobbed.
“I can’t be her. I can’t be trapped like her.”
Your mother's face haunted you, she was so close to death.
You couldn’t tell her about the marriage, couldn’t confess the terror that consumed you.
She'd always wanted you to have a life free from the pain she'd endured but now you were walking into the same hell like she did.
Trapped forever.
You'd promised her you'd be strong, but strength felt impossible when every moment was a countdown to your misery.
The nights were the worst.
When the planners left and the apartment was silent, you'd lie in bed in the darkness.
The sheets, once comforting did nothing to help you.
You cried until your throat was raw, sobs shaking your entire body.
This was your last week of freedom, the final days before you'd be stuck to a man you feared.
A man whose dark eyes and presence had already invaded your nightmares.
You imagined jungkook as a shadow of your father, his wealth and power only increasing his cruelty that you'd grown up with.
The thought made you curl into yourself as if you could shield yourself.
The planners noticed your silence, your lack of enthusiasm.
“Every bride is nervous.” one said.
“You’re so lucky to be marrying mr. jeon, he’s sparing no expense.”
The word felt like a slap, and you wanted to scream out that this wasn’t luck—you were pressured into this.
But you stayed quiet, eyes dull as you nodded.
You'd learned long ago that speaking out only brought pain.
jungkook's influence was everywhere, his wealth reshaped your world in a way that you struggled to adjust to.
Gifts arrived daily—each item chosen with care, exactly to your preferences that your father had fed to jungkook's team but they felt like bribes.
Attempts to buy your dreams you no longer believed in.
You touched them slightly as if they might burn you and left them untouched in their boxes, their beauty barely affecting you.
One evening as the sun was setting, giving the room a glow, a woman handed you a velvet box.
Inside was a delicate silver locket, engraved with tiny roses and a single diamond at its center.
“From mr. jeon.” she said.
Her voice full with awe.
“He thought you’d like something personal.”
You opened it, lips parting and found it empty except for the locket—no photo, no note, just a hollow space like the man he was.
You snapped it shut and set it aside, chest tight with anger and grief.
The final fitting felt like torment, with the dressmakers around you with their tape measures and pins.
You stood still, letting them do their thing and listened to their chatter—how lucky you were, how grand the wedding would be and how every detail was perfect.
Perfect. The word was nothing but a lie.
When they left, you collapsed onto your bed, the gown still on suffocating you, too tired to take it off as you clutched the bedsheets.
“I’m sorry mom. I'm trying to save you… but I’m losing myself.”
The words were for the empty room, a pain that no one answered to.
You were alone, a bride surrounded with luxury she didn't want and you were counting down the hours until your freedom was gone.
Forever.
۶ৎ
The morning of your wedding broke through like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.
Stuck in it.
You stood wearing the gown.
It hugged you like a second skin while the long flowing fabric stretched behind you, pooling on the floor.
Despair pressed against your chest.
Your hands shook as you touched the veil.
Your eyes swollen from crying were hidden behind light makeup, cheeks flushed with blush and your lips painted with a glossy rose pink but that did nothing to hide the way your lips quivered.
No amount of makeover could erase the sadness etched in your features, the emptiness in your eyes.
The floor was a polished marble, cold beneath your bare feet as you stood, too numb to slip into the heels waiting nearby.
The women bustled around you, their hands adjusting your veil, smoothing your gown and trying to perfect you for the monster waiting for you.
“You look like an angel.”
You didn’t respond, chest aching with the weight of unshed tears that you couldn’t let out because it would ruin your makeup.
You looked at the mirror and you saw not a bride but a broken girl bound to a fate she couldn’t escape.
The venue itself was a display of wealth, along with hundreds of strangers you didn’t recognize in suits and gowns, their talks low as they awaited the ceremony.
The aisle was decorated with scattered petals leading to an altar, the air thick with the scent of candles and flowers.
The soft music playing in the background did nothing to dim your mourning.
Your father stood at your side, his grip on your arm bruising, his face holding fake pride, reminding you of the man he'd always been.
“Don’t ruin this.”
He hissed under his breath.
“Smile or I’ll make sure your mother pays for it.”
The threat knotted your stomach until you thought you might break.
You nodded, a single tear streaming down your cheek and he tugged you forward, forcing you to walk.
The aisle stretched before you, each step of yours felt heavy.
Your heart pounded loudly in your ears, drowning out the music.
The guests eyes bore into you, their stares a mix of awe and pity but you didn’t meet them.
Your vision blur with tears as you didn’t try to look forward at the man standing for you.
Your soon to be husband.
The thought nauseating you.
You focused on the petals beneath your feet, your gown trailing behind you just like your life that you were leaving behind.
Your hands clutched a bouquet of lilies, fighting to keep your sobs silent.
At the altar stood jungkook, his presence terrifying you.
His suit was simple yet elegant.
Its black in color and tailored to accommodate his broad shoulders and muscular frame.
His man bun was sleek, a few dark strands escaping to frame his rugged face.
His dark eyes locked onto yours the moment you appeared, their intensity enough to make your knees buckle.
His hands clasped before him, the veins prominent.
The scars on his knuckles were visible from his life, the one fought and won.
His scent—smoke and something uniquely masculine—reached you even from a distance, stirring a warmth in your chest that you pushed away.
As you reached him, your father released you and you stood before jungkook, trembling like a leaf, feeling his gaze on you like a physical touch.
You couldn’t look at him.
Your eyes fixed on the floor, anything but the man who was about to claim you.
Your tears fell freely now and though you couldn’t see it, his heart raced in a quick rhythm that matched your own.
You were a vision in his eyes—the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Your fragile self and sorrow only deepening the possessiveness in his chest.
But your tears and the way you shrank from him angered him for a reason he didn't know why—not at you but at whatever had brought you to his state.
He wanted to reach for you.
To wipe away your pain but your father's earlier words echoed in his mind.
“She’s just emotional about leaving her family.”
He clenched his jaw, hands tightening, restraining the urge to act.
The priest's voice started, his words about love and unity felt mocking against your reality. You barely heard him, mind swirling with your grief.
The vows came too soon, your voice quivering as you forced the words out, each of your words a lie that you had to admit against your will.
“I… I take you jeon jungkook, to be my husband…”
Your voice cracked, a sob escaping and you pressed your lips together, fighting to continue.
“For better and f—for worse”
The words were bitter in your mouth, and you choked on them. Your tears are constantly there, a whimper slipping from between your lips.
jungkook's voice when he spoke was steady and sure, a deep rumble but there was a softness beneath it.
A gentleness you didn’t expect
“I take you y/n, to be my wife. To protect and love in sickness and in health.”
“Until death do us part.”
His words a vow, not just to the priest but to you and they stirred something in you.
A flicker of something.
He took your hand and you gasped, the warmth of his touch a shock against your cold skin. His hand was large and calloused, the roughness of his palm so different than you.
His fingers curled around yours, not tightly but with a deliberate care that made your breath hitch.
The ring he slid onto your finger was a band of diamonds, each small stone was twinkling like a tiny star, catching the candlelight.
It was beautiful, simple yet extravagant, chosen because it reminded him of you—delicate, precious.
And unique…
But to you it felt like a heavy weight against your fingers, something that’s going to bind you to a life you didn’t want.
You slid a plain platinum band onto his finger, hands shaking so badly you nearly dropped it.
The priest's final words were like a death sentence to you.
“I now announce you both as husband and wife.”
You wept openly now, your body shaking, sobs coming out raw and broken.
The guests clapped, their applause barely reaching your ears because you felt only the weight of your free life being taken away from you.
The ring around your finger felt like chains that were about to keep you locked up.
You hated this moment, hated the ring.
Hated the man before you.
Even though a small traitorous part of you wondered at the gentleness of his hand, the way his touch hadn’t hurt you or bruised you like your fathers always had.
“You may kiss the bride.” the priest said.
Your heart stopped.
You looked up at jungkook, meeting his eyes for the first time and the look in his gaze stole your breath.
His dark eyes softened, a flicker of tenderness breaking through them and it almost terrified you.
Your bottom lip trembled, a mewl escaping as he stepped closer.
His hand cupped your cheek.
His touch felt like a caress of feather, even though the hard callouses of his hand sent shivers down your spine.
His thumb brushing away a tear that escaped.
“Don’t cry.” he murmurs, huskily.
His whisper was meant only for you.
“I’ve got you.”
He leaned in and you closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for something forceful, something cold.
But his lips met yours in a soft, fleeting peck, brushing against yours with a warmth that was over before you could process it.
The kiss was respectful and restrained.
As if he knew you weren’t ready and it left goosebumps all over you, your lips tingling with an unfamiliar heat.
It was your first kiss, stolen on the day you dreaded the most and the realization made your tears fall harder.
He pulled back, breath hot against your skin and whispered.
“I’ll protect you y/n, always… I promise.”
His words were another vow, your mind reeling and assuming that all his words were just a lie in order to get you to be his slave.
Even though a small part of you told you otherwise, which you refused to acknowledge.
You turned away as you clutched the bouquet, the petals crumbling under your grip just like your life.
The crowd cheered, their voices distant, you only felt the ghost of his lips and the cage closing around you.
jungkook stood beside you, frame towering like a threat, his own heart tangling with mixed emotions.
He didn’t understand your tears and didn’t know the depth of your pain.
But he knew one thing.
You were his now.
And he'd burn the world to keep you safe.
Even if you hated him for it.
The ceremony ended with you walking back down the aisle, his hand at the small of your back, the touch both comforting and suffocating.
You didn’t look at him, didn’t speak, your tears falling like rain as you mourned for the life you’d lost and the cage you’d just entered.
Locked up forever.
The future was dark in front of you.
And you didn’t know if you’d ever find light again.
۶ৎ
You were currently in jungkook's house after the wedding.
The bedroom was dimly lit with candles that lined the nightstand, their glow casting across the masculine decor of his room.
A king sized bed with charcoal silk sheets.
The scent in his room was heavy with a clean male scent that was uniquely jungkook's and a sharp smell of cigarette smoke.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your small frame hunched as if trying to disappear.
The simple white dress you wore after the ceremony—clung to you.
Your hands gripped the sheets, fingers twisting the silky material until your knuckles whitened, the texture grounding you against the fear in your chest.
Tears fell silently down your cheeks, their saltiness on your lips.
Each sob was a quiet shuddering breath, barely audible as if making any sound would summon the man you now called your husband.
You couldn’t breathe, you just wanted to wail loudly.
To let out all the sorrow you had.
The room's luxury and its richness mocked the poverty you had but at least it provided you joy and a freedom you always loved.
You imagined him forcing himself on you, his voice rude and the thought made your stomach lurch, bile rising in your throat.
The door creaked open, sending your body jolting.
jungkook stepped inside, his presence shifting the air in the room immediately and the tension was palpable.
He'd discarded his wedding suit, the white shirt was now unbuttoned at the top, revealing his skin and hints of his muscular chest.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his veiny arms and faint scars.
His face with all its sharp features and the constant frown he had was softened by the glow of the candle but the intensity of his gaze remained.
Unrelenting and piercing.
Your head spun at his even sharper smell and how he invaded your senses.
He didn’t approach immediately.
His steps measured as if navigating whether you're comfortable or not.
Instead he paused near the table, picking up a glass from the tray and filling it with water from a jar.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
It was careful but it still made your heart race.
You shook your head, unable to form words, eyes fixed on the floor, not even daring to meet his.
jungkook sets the glass down with a soft clink, the sound sharp in the silence.
He moved to the window, the curtains parted slightly to reveal the night sky. He tried to fill the silence with words, voice gentler now, almost hesitant.
“The ceremony… it was long. Did you manage to eat anything after?”
His tone was an attempt at normalcy, but it felt nothing like that, instead it felt like a stranger intruding on your grief.
You didn’t respond, lips pressing into a thin line as another tear slipped down your cheek.
He exhaled a sound heavy with frustration and confusion at not being able to understand you and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette.
He lit the cigarette, taking a drag and leaned against the window frame, his posture casual, though his eyes never left you.
Minutes passed, the silence stretching.
jungkook’s already thin patience seemed to fade because he couldn’t just read your mind if you didn’t speak.
He wanted to listen and he'd never cross the line, make you uncomfortable or do anything without your consent.
He straightened, the cigarette dangling from his lips and spoke again, voice edged with something raw.
“Are you unhappy with this marriage?”
The question lit a spark of fury inside you, igniting it into something you'd been holding back.
You didn’t know how it happened but you couldn’t hold back anymore.
Your head snapped up, eyes glistening with tears, a scream begging to be unleashed from your lips.
“Unhappy?”
The word was more of a sob.
“You think I wanted this? you think I chose to be here? m—my father forced me! he sold me like I was nothing and threatened my mother’s life if I didn’t comply.”
“And you—you just took me? like I was a prize to be brought to me! I'll never accept you as my husband, never love you and never let you touch me! you're no different from him—from the monster who beat my mother, who broke every day of my life—”
You paused, chest heaving as a broken sob left you, you realized you were rambling, pent up emotions and anger coming out all at once.
“You’re just another man like him and I’ll die before I let you break me too!”
Your voice cracked, the words spilling out in a rush and you struggled to breathe, your dress clinging to your sweat damped skin.
Your hands trembled violently, nails digging into the sheets.
Your cheeks flushed with your anguish, bottom lip trembling with another sob.
jungkook’s face darkened from where he stood, eyes narrowing.
He didn’t interrupt once when you were talking, letting you let out all your feelings.
Something men has never allowed in your life, they never let you have a voice and never valued your feelings.
They always silenced you like your father.
Punished you.
The cigarette burned, forgotten between his fingers, jaw clenching as his hands curled into fists at his sides.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded
His voice was almost a growl with confusion but not anger—not at you.
The cigarette fell to the floor, dying in the dark.
He took a step toward you and you gasped, your body curling, arms wrapping around yourself as if expecting a blow or a slap.
The action was like a knife to his chest.
His eyes flashed with an anger so intense his entire form was shaking and it was aimed at the one who had taught you to fear.
To expect pain from a raised hand.
His fists unclenched, hands hovering uselessly as if he wanted to reach for you but he knew he couldn’t.
He had questions too many of them.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, quietly.
Though there's a dangerous edge there.
“Who made you think I’d hurt you?”
You didn’t hear the question, couldn’t hear anything over your own pounding heart.
“Stop lying!” you screamed.
A wail left your lips, body shaking as you stood abruptly.
“Just stop acting like you didn’t know! you knew I didn’t want this, that I was forced into it and you just went with it—"
You paused, taking a deep shaky breath.
“You’re a monster just like him! I’ll never forgive you or think this is okay. You—you bought me and I'll hate you for it every day for the rest of my life!”
Your words hung for him heavy and final
You collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, hiccups leaving you as tears soaked the sheets beneath you.
Your hair clung to your wet cheeks, covering your face from his gaze, your makeup ruined just like the inside of you.
The room started feeling smaller, the walls felt like they were closing in.
jungkook stood frozen, his breathing shallow, eyes locked on your frame.
The fury in his gaze softened into something else—something almost broken.
He wanted to speak to deny your accusations, to tell you he hadn’t known that he’d been lied to for the first time, manipulated by your father’s bullshit.
But your pain was like a wall in front of him that he couldn’t break through, a wound he couldn’t easily heal.
He took another step, slower this time and you moved away, shaking your head.
His heart lurched at that, his brows furrowing.
He stopped, his hands falling to his side. In this moment, he not only hated the world that had hurt you but he hated himself more for being a part of it.
He wanted to rip apart whoever had made you this way, to tear their limbs from their body with his bare hands.
To make them feel the terror you carried in your very soul since you were a child.
But he couldn’t.
Not now.
Not when you were shattering before him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t give him the chance, with a choked cry, you bolted from the bed, your bare feet carrying you out.
You ran, sobs echoing in the hallway.
You found an empty room, its door ajar and burst inside, slamming it shut with a force that rattled it.
The lock clicking in place.
You sat down on the floor, body weak and no energy left in you.
The room was a stark difference with minimal furnishing compared to jungkook's bedroom.
You cried until your throat was raw, eyes swollen and burning.
The lock on the door was a small barrier but it was all you had—a shield against the man you feared, the man who was now your husband.
Your hands clutched at the floor, wanting to ground yourself to reality, chest feeling empty and you wondered if you'd ever feel whole again.
You hated jungkook—hated his presence, the way he'd claimed you without a thought about your willingness.
A memory was there that refused to be gone though.
His touch when he'd wiped your tears at the altar, his lips soft against yours and his voice that promised safety.
It didn’t make sense.
Nothing made sense also the way he didn’t react when you yelled at him and didn’t hit you like your father had.
Men like him—men like your father—didn’t protect.
They destroyed.
You shifted, your body aching from the hard floor and pressed your cheek against the door.
Your tears had dried, leaving wet trails on your face as hiccups left you.
Sleep tugged at you, an escape you needed but you fought it, afraid of what might happen.
Images of chains, your father’s fists and jungkook—they didn’t leave your mind.
You were scared that jungkook would hurt you once you slept, his facade slipping to reveal the real him.
Terror was threatening to swallow you whole.
“I won’t break.” you whisper, hoarsely.
Saying it as much to yourself as to the universe for always attempting to destroy your life.
“I won’t let him break me…”
Your father had been the first man to hurt you, to ruin your life and jungkook was here now.
You didn’t know if you could fight them both, you didn’t know if you had the strength.
But you clung to the memory of your mother's love.
And hope.
The only thing that had ever guided you.
۶ৎ
The bedroom was filled with silence after your departure. The sheets were rumpled from where you sat, along with the faint traces of your perfume.
jungkook stood motionless in the center of the room, his broad shoulders slumped, man bun loose now, tugging his hair in his fist as if the pain could anchor him.
His eyes burned with emotions he couldn’t name.
His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for another cigarette, taking a sharp inhale, brows furrowed in a scowl that was more pain than anger.
Your words went through his mind, each one cracking the wall around his heart that he'd spent decades forming.
“forced… sold… I hate you.”
He could hear them endlessly.
He'd been deceived by your father's lies and the betrayal stung not because of the man's audacity but because it had cost him you.
You with your tear streaked face, saw him as a monster—a reflection of the very man who'd broken you.
The realization made him smoke faster, wanting to distract himself but that was barely working.
He exhaled the smoke as he fought the urge to go after you.
He wanted to break down the door of the guest room, to kneel before you and beg for forgiveness, which was something he has never done for anyone.
To promise you the world if it would erase the fear in your eyes that you held for him.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Not when you run away when he approaches.
Someone had hurt you, had taught you to fear a raised hand and the thought made him want to hunt down the culprit.
Make them suffer.
His first clenched, knuckles whitening
“Damn it.” he signs.
A snarl leaving his lips, it was a sound of frustration and agony of a man struggling with feelings he'd long buried.
He turned, pacing the room like a locked beast.
He stopped at the window as he gripped the glass hard enough for it to crack, staring outside at the darkness, the same as what he felt within him.
“Who made you so afraid?” he breathes.
He thought of your eyes wide and shimmering with tears, the way your small body trembled under his gaze.
He'd seen terror before—in the eyes of his enemies—but never like this, never so raw, so personal.
You were so delicate.
So breakable.
Yet you’d stood up to him, your voice rising in a way he hadn’t expected.
That courage buried beneath years of misery, only deepened the ache in his chest.
The need to protect you.
To shield you from a world that had already taken too much.
He sank into the bed and buried his face in his hands.
He didn’t know what love was—had never felt it, never trusted it—but what he felt for you was something fierce.
It was a hunger, a desperation to keep you safe even if it meant fighting his own nature.
He'd been called a monster, a man without mercy and perhaps he was all those things.
But for you he wanted to be more.
He needed to be more.
“Forgive me.” he murmurs.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know.”
The confession meant that he'd failed you before he'd even begun.
He'd trusted your father's lies, believed you'd chosen this and now you were locked in another room, crying and hating him.
He could barely breathe.
“I’ll fix this.”
He promises with a rasp, he swore he'd try.
“I’ll make it right even if it kills me.”
He meant every one of his words said to you today, even at the wedding.
He didn’t know he could be the man you needed, didn’t know if he could learn to love but he knew he couldn’t let you suffer.
Not you.
Never you.
Not the girl who’d given her meal to a stray, who’s so selfless and had endured too much injustice all her life.
The night stretched on.
In the guest room you drifted to sleep, your body curled on the floor weakly, the entire day taking a toll on you.
In the bedroom jungkook stood, not being able to sleep, his heart filled with fury and longing.
Two souls bound by a marriage.
Their paths entwined with an uncertain future that could change.
Or ruin them both.
────
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if-then
pairing: jungkook x reader
wordcount: 7k
glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.
alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.
[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]
notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.
He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.
Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.
He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.
In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.
Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.
The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.
He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.
Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.
He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.
Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.
.
.
.
Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.
You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.
You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.
Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.
“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”
“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”
“Oh,” you blink once, twice, a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”
“I see.”
“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”
“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”
You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.
You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him.
You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.
“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.
“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”
“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”
You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”
“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.
“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”
You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.
“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.
“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.
“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”
“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”
“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”
( ♡ )
Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.
The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.
Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.
With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.
With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.
With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.
Heartbreak is a human emotion.
The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.
The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.
All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.
You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.
“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."
They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.
No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.
"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.
Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."
You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent.
Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.
It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.
You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again.
Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.
"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.
He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.
Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.
Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.
“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time.
You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.
Your whole flight home is quiet.
Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.
( ♡ )
Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.
He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.
Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.
All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.
The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found.
Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.
.
.
.
You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in.
Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.
He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.
The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.
“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.
Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.
“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.
“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.
“I asked your brothers.”
Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.
“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.
“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”
( ♡ )
Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.
The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.
He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.
The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.
You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.
You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.
You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.
You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.
What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.
“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”
You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.
“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.
“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”
You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.
You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—
That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.
“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.
“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”
If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.
Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.
“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”
“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”
“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”
You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.
Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.
“I’m not-…”
“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”
“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”
“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”
( ♡ )
You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.
It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.
Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.
You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.
It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,
It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.
You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat.
Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.
Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.
“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”
“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.
“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.
“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”
“It’s no problem.”
“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.
“You really didn’t.”
“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”
It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.
The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”
“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.
“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”
Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.
“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.
The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.
Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.
He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.
He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.
He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.
Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.
Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.
He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.
Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.
The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—
The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.
Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.
“Who hurt you?”
He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.
“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.
“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”
Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.
His feelings, even.
“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.
Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.
“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.
The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.
(It is taking everything in him.)
“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”
“You’re-…”
“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”
The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.
He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.
To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.
Jungkook wants to love you all the way.
#heh :D#jungkook imagine#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook angst#jungkook angst imagine#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook au#alien jungkook au#jungkook scenario#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#bts jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook x reader
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mera....my goat......
mayhaps yan silver with #32? silver who you've always assumed is just one of those recurring dream characters, until you start paying too much attention to your 'real' life... ??
idk there's not a ton of yan silver content out there and i feel like he would be so so scrumptious in your style ehehehe
😼🙏 one yan Silver coming up~ I listened to Kikuoworld album while writing this, so I hope the whimsy can be felt. <3
(cw: yandere, gender neutral reader, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, obsession, surreal dreams)
(monstrously yandere prompts)
DREAM JOURNAL; LOG 01 - the umbrella and the birthday cake rainstorm.
When you step outside, a three-tiered birthday cake comes falling from the sky. It lands in front of you in a smattering of buttercream frosting. Its rainbow of fondant flowers and sugar lace trimming are immediately squashed from the impact. Above you, dozens more come careening towards the earth, smacking into the awning. Frosting drips in syrupy trails from the roof, trickling into a puddle of sweetness.
You look on with a confusion that is palpable. The forecast didn’t call for rain.
Unexpected weather aside, you didn’t think to bring an umbrella. Normally you’re always prepared for these things, but a cake storm wasn’t on the list for today.
You wonder if you can run the way back to your dorm without getting drenched in cake crumbles and cream. A slice of cake is fine, but if a whole cake hits you over the head… You’d like to avoid that, if possible.
So you stick your hand out as if testing for rain droplets. A cake sliver lands on your palm, perfectly intact and preserved. You sample some for yourself and immediately cringe. That’s not your favorite flavor of cake. Too much cream. Or maybe not enough. Were you even holding cake just now? Because suddenly nothing’s there, your palm is dry, and it’s still raining steadily beyond the steps.
You sigh and resign yourself to your fate. A fate that’s filled with cake. There are worse things.
Preparing yourself for the sugary onslaught, you take one confident step out from under the awning and…
You’re dry.
You look up and notice an umbrella has taken residence above your head, shielding you from the downpour of slices. Sprinkles trickle off the cake-proof umbrella like multicolored droplets. When you look to your left, you find a silver-haired man standing there, his arm outstretched as he holds firm to the umbrella’s handle.
“Oh.” You notice he has the prettiest eyes, and for a second you’re so lost in them that you forget he’s watching you. “Um, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m just happy to have noticed you before you made a run for it. If you don’t mind, I’ll walk you back.”
“No, not at all. Thank you.” You search the silence for his name, but all you get is a stoic nod.
As you walk home, the lumpy piles of birthday cake melt onto the pavement. Eventually, they’re nothing but rotten slop that attracts all kinds of insects and animals.
A trail of them follows behind you and this peculiar man.
“This is me,” you say upon approaching Ramshackle Dorm, which looks less like its name and more like a luxury apartment.
You turn to acknowledge him, but he’s not there.
The umbrella remains suspended in the air, as if some invisible force is continuing to hold it.
The birthday cake rainstorm is gone just like that.
DREAM JOURNAL; LOG 02 - the shark(?) and the surgeon.
Somehow you’ve washed ashore.
Half of you, anyways.
There is nothing left of you from your waist down, your legs bitten off in one ravenous chomp. You’re certain it was from a shark, but then maybe it was an eel or a sea turtle—but turtles don’t have a maw of sharp, jagged teeth.
That doesn’t matter right now. You’re bleeding out and coloring the golden beach in a fatal shade of red.
You take in a ragged breath, shut your eyes, and decide this is fine. Everything is fine. You’re fine.
When you open your eyes, the silver-haired man is kneeling above you.
“Don’t move,” he says, already threading string through the needle. “I’ll help you.”
It occurs to you that he’s about to sew your lower half back on. How he managed to get it, you don’t know. Somehow he reads your mind, for his next words answer that question.
“The lamprey was kind enough to give it back.”
So it was a lamprey????
You blink up at him. “T-Thank…”
“Don’t push yourself.” And then he smiles a soft, sincere smile, one that matches the light in his eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”
When he touches your cheek, suddenly the sun isn’t so searing and the waves aren’t so choppy. Suddenly, you’re at peace with everything. You feel like liquid as you lay on the beach, a doll stitched up with string.
He fills each of your legs with sea glass and sand so that you won’t flop over when the next marine creature wants to display you on their coral mantle.
“How do you feel?” he asks after the operation has concluded. He helps you to sit up, one hand at your lower back to keep you steady. When he looks at you, you feel like you’re the only human in the world and he’s an alien peering in at Terra’s Last Homo Sapien (New Exhibit!).
You reach for him. “What’s your name?”
He opens his mouth and says—
It’s carried away on a gust of wind.
DREAM JOURNAL; LOG 03 - the day of the absentee shadow.
What is this one about?
Oh, right.
It’s the day your shadow pulled itself out from beneath your feet and disappeared. The laws of this world dictate that everyone needs a shadow. If you don’t have one, one will be found for you. Replacement shadows. The echo of a shadow. A person filling in for a shadow. Everyone needs to work, even shadows.
Your shadow is silver. It’s a beautiful color that shimmers when caught in the light, but you only ever catch it in your peripheral and then it’s gone.
Your shadow is more like a stalker.
It creeps after you, a slow crawl across the terrain. It follows your every move. It waits for you, always a few steps behind. This shadow has eyes and a mouth. It smiles at you in the dark, but you can’t see that.
“You’re doing a rubbish job,” you say, knowing your shadow is listening.
They really should fire the guy who’s working temporarily as your shadow.
He’s not very good at it.
Your own shadow isn’t supposed to scare you.
It’s the projection of a second shadow that should.
The shadow that shouldn’t be there.
DREAM JOURNAL; LOG 04 - fever dream.
You’re sick.
You bathe in tubs of soup. You suck the salt from your sweat and cry blood. You lean over to find the bucket at your bedside and you empty your guts in an ugly, retching wheeze. You sit up in bed like a reanimated corpse and cough out one of your lungs.
You slip in and out of the folds of a strange dream.
Heat. And then cold. Blankets off. You’re awake.
But then you’re sleeping. Blankets back on. You feel a warm compress drape itself over your forehead. Someone rubs their knuckles against your cheek.
“Get well soon,” the flowers left at your bedside whisper, petals fluttering against your lashes.
You laugh at the sun, which isn’t really a sun but a singular eyeball peering down at you. “My imagination is so wild,” you say, or maybe you think it. The grass is so soft here. You never want to wake up. Here, the cotton candy clouds weep caramel and the trees sway in jovial greeting.
You’re awake again. The curtains have been shut. You rest your head against the pillow once more.
You’re lying on your back in the grass. Silver rabbits jump over you, making a game out of how high they can jump if they get a running start. It’s so peaceful here. The stream is crisp and clear, babbling softly over water-worn stones.
The sky is silver. The grass is silver. The rabbits are still silver. It’s all silver.
Silver.
You wake to find the silver-haired man standing at the end of your bed.
He smiles. “I’m not so imaginary anymore, my darling.”
You blink and you’re back asleep.
It’s so quiet.
Are you still dreaming?
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Writing Reference: Food History
B.C.
10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup
8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard
6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize
5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt
4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates
3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots
2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron
2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds
1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles
900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds
500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar
300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince
1st—13th Century
1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup
3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant
7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg
10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup
11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan
12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries
13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous
14th—19th Century
14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread
15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs
16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad
17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie
18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs
19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad
20th Century
1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza
1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli
1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail
1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)
1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies
1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing
1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies
1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini
1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies
1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips
1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers
1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie
1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies
1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme
1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon
1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos
1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake
1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster
1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini
1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake
1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees
1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup
1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas
1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken
1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels
1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini
1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes
21st Century
2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops
2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers
Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
#food#writing reference#writeblr#dark academia#spilled ink#literature#writers on tumblr#writing prompt#studyblr#poetry#poets on tumblr#light academia#writing inspiration#creative writing#writing inspo#food history#writing ideas#writing resources#history
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Heyyy!! I’m back with more LW stuff! But ig you could mainly count it as Batlanter- I js love the way u write them:,))
But basically the idea is: batlanter wedding. Like how would their wedding would go out? who would be who? would there be any complications during the venue or ceremony? How old would Mouse be? Would they even want to plan a wedding?
Anyways there I go again, going off on a tangent for you to read through, anyways take care chef!
-🌻
Ohhh I like this question a lot. I'm trying to write out a Batlantern proposal story actually, but I can certainly tell you the rest!
Who would be the bride?
Neither one! They're grooms! They'd wear matching suits and pin some flowers to their suit pockets because they're going into this on equal footing.
Who would plan the ceremony?
The kids and Alfred! They have to plan it because Bruce and Hal are perfectly content to just go to the courthouse and fill out a marriage license, and when they tell the family that, they lose their fucking minds. What do you mean you don't want a bunch of people to come and stare at you exchange extremely intimate and personal vows as you pledge your love and loyalty to each other? What do you mean you don't want to throw a huge rager with cake that's way too expensive and covered in bad-tasting fondant and be surrounded by drunk people that need to be herded around afterwards?
Dick forces them to have a ceremony.
Are there any complications at the wedding?
Oh I'd imagine so, but the bat family would scramble to handle it in the background so Bruce and Hal don't notice a thing (they notice and they're very amused). It's a very simple and sweet affair, and if Jason suddenly has to become an ordained minister and step up as the officiant in less than ten minutes because the guy they hired to do it was secretly a goon for the villain of the week and planning on kidnapping Bruce, well —
It's worth it to see 4-year-old Flittermouse wandering down the aisle in a pantsuit throwing flower petals on the ground. Did they need a flower person? No. Do they have a thousand pictures of Mouse with some stray petals in their hair? Yes, and two of them are framed.
It's worth it to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian all dressed up so nice by choice for once, trying not to cry during the ceremony and laughing loudly and dancing together at the reception and organizing fun wedding games to play.
It's worth it to see Bruce and Hal so openly happy together, barely able to leave each other's sides the entire time before they head out to enjoy a two-week honeymoon.
A honeymoon that only lasts four days before another global crisis happens, but Bruce had bet they'd only make it three! So, win-win!
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#IFTTT#Flickr#tulip#red#curl#petal#leaf#flower#fondant#emotion#design#studio#square#blackbackground#colour#nikond7000#magdaindigo
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Okay can I request wedding headcannon to reader for Angel Dust, Husk, Alastor Adam and Lucifer? I need some fluffiness in my life right now
A/n: YES!!!!
Angel Dust will be paired with a male!reader
•Angel Dust•
You were the one to propose to Angel Dust, it happened on the day you were able to free him from his contract.
Angel Dust breaks down, he's never felt more safe than he did in your arms.
Uses Anthony, it feels right to use his name when he is marry you.
Charlie officiated the ceremony,her words spoke of redemption, love, and the power of choice. She reminded everyone that love transcends boundaries—even those between Heaven and Hell.
You and Angel Dust stood before the alter with your eyes locked, Angel's voice cracked as he recited his vows promising to love you through eternity. Your sweet voice followed, promising to heal Angel’s scars and cherish him forever.
Husk raised a glass to you both with a grin on his face. "About damn time."
You two met with a kiss, the kiss tasted of redemption, forgiveness and love. The guests erupted in applause, and even the demons shed a tear or two.
As newlyweds, you and Alastor danced your first dance on a cloud conjured by Lucifer. Your steps were light, Angel Dust's laughter echoed through out the room.
The wedding cake was a masterpiece,a tiered creation with silver fondant wings and red rose petals. As they cut into it, confetti exploded, and chaos ensued. Husk downed a shot, Lucifer blamed Alastor as Vaggie twirled Charlie.

•Husk•
Husk proposed late one night, drunk. He was scared you'd leave him. Find someone better, he stood in silence as you said yes.
The wedding took place in the ballroom of the Hazbin Hotel, the room was adorned with crimson and gold drapes, flickering candles, and ethereal flowers.
The guests, a mix of demons, fallen angels, and curious souls, gather in anticipation.
A haunting melody of a violin fills the air as you walked down the aisle.
Husk, in a tailored suit with a single red rose pinned to his lapel, awaits for you at the altar.
Your voice soft, you gave the man you love a smile as you recited your vows “Husk, you are my redemption. Your gruff exterior hides a tender heart. I promise to cherish your flaws and love you unconditionally.”
Then Husk recited his own. "you’re my light in this chaotic realm. Your kindness heals my scars. I vow to protect you, even from my own demons.”
Your closest friend Angel Dust gave you a teary-eyed smile as he raised a glass: “To Y/n and Husk! May their love be as wild as a demon’s dance and as tender as an angel’s touch.”
You and Husk sway to a haunting waltz.The room holds its breath as they twirl, your love defying fate.
The wedding cake held White roses intertwine with black orchids.
You feed Husk a delicate slice, and he smudges frosting on your nose playfully.
As the clock strikes midnight, you and Husk share a kiss another. It tastes of redemption and second chances.
The room erupts in cheers, and even the walls seem to hum with joy.
Husk whisks you away for a little pre-honeymoon fun.

•Alastor•
The Wedding of you and Alastor took place in Hazbin Hotel Courtyard.The courtyard is adorned with crimson roses and obsidian candles.
You descend the grand staircase, your gown—a blend of ethereal silk and charred lace—trails behind you a veil conceals your face, but your eyes—resolute and curious—betray your emotions.
Alastor awaits for you at the alter, his top hat tilted. His crimson suit is impeccably tailored, and his cane rests against his shoulder. His gaze never wavers from the staircase.
You smile up at your fiancé, light tears in your eyes as you finish your vows I choose you, Alastor.”
Alastor states his own oath“I, Alastor, relinquish my darkness. For you, Y/n, I’d trade my infernal powers.”His words echo through the damned souls, who watch in awe.
Your lips meet, a deep kiss. Alastor holding you tight afraid you might slip away.
Niffty supplying the treats, sinner themed pastries adorn the dessert table. Angel Dust sneaks a cupcake, giving you a wink.
For your first dance, you and Alastor swayed to a waltz.
Sinners gossip. Charlie smiles, Vox scowls as Husk grumbles about the open bar.
You Whisper: “To redemption,” she adds, and Alastor’s grip tightens.
You and Alastor sneak away to the roof top for a moment alone.

•Adam•
Much to his disappointment, the wedding takes place in the grand cathedral of the Hazbin Hotel which it is then transformed into a celestial sanctuary. Stained glass windows depict scenes from both Heaven and Hell, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor.
The guests, a mix of angels, demons, and curious souls, gather in awe.
The ethereal melody of harps fills the air as you walk down the aisle.
Adam, in a pristine white robe, awaits for you at the altar, his eyes reflecting both duty and longing.
Your vows are with love, and Adam does his best to keep things PG.
Archangel Michael steps forward, his wings spanning the aisle. His voice resonates through the halls.“May your love transcend realms, Adam and Y/n. May it heal the wounds of Heaven and Hell.”
You and Adam waltz gracefully, your steps echoing the celestial dance of creation your love story unfolds in each twirl—a delicate balance between duty and desire.
The cake, a fusion of angelic white and infernal crimson, stands tall. Feathers and flames intertwine.
You feed Adam a delicate slice, and he smiles, savoring the sweetness of your union.
Adam pulls you into a passionate kiss, his whispers a promise of nothing but love
You and Adam exit the cathedral,the guests hold their breath, witnessing the union of realms

•Lucifer Morningstar•
The wedding takes place in a cathedral in the heart of Hell that stood adorned with twisted ironwork and flickering candles. The air hummed with anticipation as demons,and lost souls gathered to witness an unprecedented event.
The setting of the cathedral’s stained glass windows depicted scenes of redemption and damnation, casting colorful patterns on the cold stone floor. Row of crimson velvet pews awaited the guests, their eyes filled with curiosity and skepticism.
You walked down the aisle your gown flowed like liquid silver, and your eyes held a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lucifer stood at the alter, his black suit was impeccably tailored, and his crimson eyes bore both mischief and longing.The Devil’s presence commanded attention, and the room fell silent.
Your voice quivered as you recited your vows..
Lucifer’s own voice cracking as he recited his own.
As you lent in for your first kiss, the cathedral’s candles flared, casting shadows on the walls.
The reception hall was a decadent affair. Demons danced with fallen angels, as lost souls clinked glasses.
Your laughter echoed as you twirled with Lucifer, your steps defying gravity.
Vox, the media mogul, smirked. “A match made in Hell. Ratings will soar!”
You swayed in Lucifer’s arms, your head resting on his chest as you looked up at him
“Why me?” You whispered.
Lucifer’s eyes softened. “Because you see the light even in Hell.”
The stars above flickered, and Lucifer kissed your forehead. “Together, we’ll rewrite the cosmic order.”

#hc#hcs#angel dust#angel dust x reader#angel dust x you#angel dust x y/n#husk#husker#husk x you#husk x reader#husker x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x y/n#adam#adam x reader#adam x you#hazbin hotel adam#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x y/n#hazbin x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel x you
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Hi!! Could you do Sam HCs? It can be literally anything. I just love him so much :)
ʚ🛹ɞ ˚ · . Random Sam Headcanons
Tags: Sam from SDV x gn! reader
Hi! I'm so sorry for the super super super late response. Life has been pretty busy for the past few months and I haven't had the time to get on Tumblr. But, I'm slowly coming back to it! Anyway, likes and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy, loves! 🌷🫶

🎸 He was absolutely thrilled when you asked him to teach you how to skateboard. He immediately came knocking on your door the first thing in the morning the day after you brought it up, carrying his skateboard and some gear. You two spent the whole day going over the basics, with Sam holding your hands and trying not to laugh when you would scream over the tiniest things (“I’m going to die, Sam!” “It’s just a pebble!”). A cute add-on: Vincent and your pet would tag along sometimes, and they took it upon themselves to be your personal cheerleaders. After some time and a few bumps and bruises, you and Sam would often skateboard all around the town, trying to impress each other with tricks. Sam has your name etched on his skateboard, and you have his name on yours.
🎸 Personal HC where Sam and Vincent stumbled inside the fruit bat cave while they were visiting. Sam got bit by a bat, nothing too serious. Vincent is horrified, and Sam decided to mess with him by pretending to be a vampire. Suspiciously, you find yourself missing a jar of your homemade jam. Turns out, Sam “borrowed” it (And by that, I mean he scribbled a little note on the place where your jam used to be), and covered it all over his face pretending it’s blood. He got a big scolding from Jodi right after though.
🎸 Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship, Sam and Krobus friendship! It all started when Sam looked into the sewer to show Vincent that no, there is no monster in the sewage canal. He was soon face to face with a shadow man and it was over. Krobus has a knack for beating the hard levels on Sam's video game and their friendship budded from there. Sometimes, Sam would disguise Krobus with his clothes so they can watch movies in the cinema together. You found out about them when you walked in on Sam trying to teach Krobus how to play the drums in the greenhouse.
🎸 Sam asked Jodi to teach him how to bake after he had the bright idea to ask you out on a picnic when you two started dating. It all started when Penny showed him those fancy little cakes that she ordered from Zuzu City as a treat for Vincent after the kid passed his math exam. Penny mentioned how you saw those cakes when she bumped into you by the bus stop and thought they were cute. Cue a light bulb in Sam’s head. Sam’s not the best cook, but he’s got the enthusiasm. He ended up with a lopsided two-tier cake with a little blob of fondant on top of it (Vincent’s lips pursed, “What’s with the brown rock?” Sam sputtered while Jodi’s laughter chittered in the air close by. “It’s a chicken!”). Sam would make up for it years later when he would remake the same cake for your wedding anniversary.
🎸 Sam would randomly call you in the middle of a rainy day and just play guitar riffs. No words exchanged. When he’s done, he will just hang up.
🎸 Sam gives you pretty seashells that he and Vincent dig up on the beach (sometimes with a little help from Elliott and Willy) instead of flower bouquets. He doesn’t want to risk sneezing all over you when the pollen would inevitably make his nose red.
🎸 Sam had a whole phase of wearing a cowboy hat when he’s working on the farm for the first few months.
#stardew valley#stardew valley x reader#sdv sam x reader#sdv sam x farmer#sdv sam#stardew valley sam#sdv headcanons#🌱 writing :: sam
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Happy birthday, Sylus!
Tags: fluff, established relationship, reader is female and married to sylus, they kiss hehe, nicknames used:my love (both you and sylus cakl each other that), part of my LADS parenting au, appearances of sylus' kids (nyx, asteria, and seth), NOT PROOFREAD
A/n: birthday fic for sylus!! Birthday fic for sylus! Happy birthday to Sylus my beloved loml!! Here's a little birthday fic from me to you! And yes this is under my parenting au so we get to see the little twins and Seth. For reference, nyx and asteria are 7 and baby seth is 10 months old . Many thanks as well to @deusfoundry and @abyssyby for helping me figure out how old the kids should be😭😭 and additionally dedicating this to my own sylus @sylusonychinus mwah
Wc: 873 words

“Happy birthday to you!” You smiled, handing Sylus the cake you and the girls—Nyx and Asteria picked out for him. Luke and Kieran repeated the same sentiments as well, clapping their hands as they began to sing Happy birthday.
The children, Nyx and Asteria looked up to their father with expecting eyes.
“Do you like the cake we picked, papa?” Nyx asked first.
“I picked the color!” Asteria smiled, “I said to mommy that it should match your eyes!”
Sylus hummed knowingly, getting the cake from your hands and inspecting it. It was a red cake with white buttercream icing. Red fondant shaped like flowers slowly cascaded down from the sides with red edibles crystals filling the center.
“What an interesting selection, Asteria,” Sylus smiled, glancing at the cake. “It does match my eyes.”
Asteria beamed. “It does! And Nixie picked the designs!”
“I picked flowers because you always give them to mama…” Nyx said, glancing up at her father. “Do you like it as well, daddy?”
Sylus looked down and smiled, ruffling her hair with a free hand. “I love it, princess. It's very nice.”
“And what did Seth contribute? It can't be just you two…” Sylus asked. The smaller twins looked at each other and giggled.
“He picked the candle!” They said at the same time, pointing at Seth, who was asleep in his uncle Kieran's chest. Luke immediately grabbed the candle from the bag and showed it to him.
“This one!” He said, “Little boss picked it for you!” Sylus lets out a hearty laugh. “Lovely…”
He sets the cake down, placing the candle at its center. You kissed him again, mumbling a simple Happy birthday.
“And what did my sweet wife get for me?” Sylus teased, glancing at you. His eyes are soft and full of love and devotion. He knew what you got him— the destination, the cake, the surprise, the utter love and devotion you had given him with your efforts every year on his birthday.
“Everything.” You whispered.
Sylus rarely celebrated his birthday.
He would wake up on the 18th, go to work or the gym, and give himself a nice glass of liquor with the sound of his recorder playing in the background.
On the rare years he celebrated, he would buy a small cake and enter his room. He'd try to sing a quiet happy birthday before blowing the candles and taking a small bite of the cake and then leaving it in the fridge of the base.
When Luke and Keiran came around, they made it their life's mission to find out their boss-man's birthday.
They knew it was April, but not exactly when in April.
Thus, they celebrated every single day. Cakes, streamers, speakers blasting Happy Birthday to You everyday throughout the month of April.
But when you came around, the 18th became a date that you both looked forward to together— quiet nights were replaced with lively dinners and singing, a bigger cake to feed everyone, more gifts from you and the twins (though that is proven quite difficult for a man who had everything).
They sang Happy birthday again, with Nyx and Asteria leading the song. Mephisto and the Orioles recorded it for them to watch later. As it came to an end, Sylus closed his eyes, made a single wish before blowing the candle out.
They all cheered around Sylus once more, taking photos of the surroundings as they opened the picnic basket you brought that stored food and utensils. The excitement seemed to wake up even the youngest of the family.
“Bababappy!” Seth coos. The twins lit up.
“Sethies awake!” The smaller twins said, waving hi to their baby brother.
“Hello little-boss. Should we sing Happy birthday again?” The larger twins asked.
“Babawaaa!” Seth said, reaching out for Sylus. He immediately stepped in, placing the cake aside and picking up his youngest into his arms. He kissed his little forehead and smiled at him.
“Thank you for picking out my candle.” Sylus whispered. Seth looked at him and smiled, showing off his tiny baby teeth. He clapped his little hands and babbles along.
“Yes, yes. Lovely day today, isn't it?” Sylus said, as if interpreting his cheers.
Another happy squeal.
“Thank you, little one. Papa appreciates your birthday wishes for me.”
The family sat down under a maple tree, a large blanket laid out beneath their feet. You sat beside Sylus, leaning against him as the twins, both big and small, ran around the fields of grass and played. They even dragged baby Seth as well, who was happy to be there. They chased and rolled over the grass, his sisters and uncles making sure he wouldn't get too hurt.
“Who decided to dress him in a crow onesie?” Sylus asked, glancing at the youngest. He was wearing a crow onesie, the black feathers in the arms making it look like wings.
“Asteria.” You answered with a smile, looking at them too. “She insisted , and well Seth doesn't mind.”
He laughed. He looked at them once more and then back at you, the cake slice in between.
“Thank you.” Sylus whispered gently, kissing your forehead. “Thank you, my love.”
You smiled, kissing his cheek. “You're welcome, my love.”
#love and deepspace#nezusdesk#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#lads#nezuswriting#sylus x reader#lads sylus#lads sylus x reader
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