#some pain for your dashes ily

[dirtbagdefender]

[rainintheevening]

Steve and Sharon, 1.

From 100 ways to say ILY

In the vein of the other MCU ones... but more fluff this time. Staron4ever

1. “Pull over. Let me drive for awhile.”

Sharon woke to darkness, to glowing lights on the dash, and Steve singing quietly with Coldplay on the radio.

She was facing him, curled onto her side under her seat belt, and she stayed still for a while, watching him.

There was a softness in his mouth that she hadn't seen in months, an ease in the way he moved his chin and shoulders kind-of in time with the music.

He yawned in the silence between songs, and she stirred, sighed.

"Hey, Sharry," he murmured in response, though he kept both hands on the wheel. "You slept through Pennsylvania."

"Mmm, nice. It's not particularly impressive in the dark." She sat up, stretched. "Leg okay?"

"Yeah."

Of course she expected him to say that, and unless she could tell otherwise, she would take him at his word.

The clock said 12:49.

"Good. But still. Pull over. Let me drive for a while."

He did that thing with his mouth that meant he wanted to argue, but wasn't sure how to defend his position.

"Please," she whispered, a sudden lump swelling in her throat. "Please trust me."

A slow careful exhale, before he flicked on his turn signal. "Okay."

The truck halted on the shoulder, and a semi whooshed past in the other direction. They sat for a moment in the hush left behind, before Sharon nodded briskly, unsnapped her seat belt.

"Come on," she said. "We should both stretch our legs."

The heat and humidity hit her in the face like a physical slap, and she closed her eyes, inhaled the smells of warm asphalt, car fumes, goldenrod, and distantly... She sniffed. Ah, cow manure!

She strolled around the front of the truck, shaking out her arms and limbering up her back. "It's always better to take the scenic route."

Steve watched a car budge over before it whooshed by. "Yeah, sure."

In the glow of the truck's headlights she went to him, touched his arm lightly. "Steve?"

He turned, blinked down at her, smiled slightly before he pulled her into a hug. "Sorry," he murmured against her hair, "maybe I am that tired."

"Well, maybe you can try for some sleep." She aimed for casual, and he didn't tense under her hands; a good sign.

"Yeah, we'll see how good your driving is." When he stepped away, Steve grinned at her. "I do seem to remember that you once ran over the neighbour's bed of prize roses."

She groaned, but giggled, headed for the driver's door. "Oh, come on, I was 15, and it was a standard! I bet you weren't much better when you first learned to drive."

They both swung into the cab, and Steve made a face over at her. "Well, I learned how to drive in New York. There weren't any flowerbeds there."

"Mhm, just little old ladies to run over."

"Sharon!"

She raised her eyebrows at him, and his scandalized expression cracked. She took the opportunity to pull back out onto the road, pleased when his chuckles only quieted.

Settling back, she switched the radio over to the country station, coming in in the middle of 'She's In Love With The Boy', which actually made her blush. But Steve didn't seem to notice.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him bend over his right leg, propping it up carefully, before he pressed a button under his jeans, and suddenly relaxed.

He sagged back against the seat, and Sharon's heart squeezed in her chest. He looked so tired.

"It's an adjustment," Bruce had said, quiet, intent. He'd been saying it to Steve sitting on his lab table, face creased with pain and frustration. "You can't go back to the way you were, you have to change. We all have to adjust in our lives. Adapt or die, it's your choice."

Thank God, he'd chosen change, and the life that went with it. And every day she thought she loved him just a little more.

The next song was one of Sharon's favourite Tim McGraw songs, and she sang all the way through.

Though when she looked over and saw Steve asleep, she almost cried. He was trusting her to drive safely, and she fiercely blinked back her tears, fastened her eyes on the road.

She would not betray that trust.

[maehemthemisfit]

MUTUALS

This is a LOT and probably half of it doesn't make any sense and looks like gibberish but yk what thats fine. Sorry I couldn't fit everyone!

@clovers-garden-co - my first ever moot, my one and only, bae, love of my life, my beloved, and the person who helped me make this blog so BIG SHOUT OUT to them!! ALSO CHECK OUT THEY'RE BLOG THEY DESERVE SO MUCH LOVE 💕💖💘

@fitzkn - my dawg, my guy, my fam, he's canonically a cat and part of the menace society. If you ever see me rb a convo with him, 9 times outta 10 it's gonna be something... idek how to explain it but you might laugh, you might cry, you might log out and rethink your life on this app. Conversations can range from genshin to a lawn mower don't ask me cause I have no words. He's also a talented writer an artists but will never admit it. If you're a fan of angst and genshin, I recommend digging through his blog and finding a fic called butter knife... I was in tears. HIS OTHER WORKS ARE CHEF KISS TOO MWAH

@some-stale-bread - we don't interact much but they're one of the OGs who welcomed me when I first started my blog. They're really cool and they're a good artist so check them out some time!

@senjusonlygirlfriend - we go way back, though we didn't interact much in those early moments. They're an amazing writer and friend and I love chatting with them <33

@path-of-yaksha - we also been moots for a while but I got hella confused bc you changed your url. They're a pretty chill system even though we don't interact much

@y-umiko - fell in love with their blog aesthetic <3 wish we interacted more. They like genshin and TR so it's a yes for me

@mansplain-manipulate-malewife - I don't know how this happened, but it did and I don't regret it. I feel like im falling through portals from rick and morty whenever I open their blog. It's a nice change of scenery. Hii Alex, hope you're doing well

@official-megumin - The best wizard in tumblr so powerful I had to follow. IDK WHAT CHECKMARKS MEAN AND WHY IS THERE MORE THAN ONE??? EXPLAIN??? She's cool, though I rarely see them when im active

@oddshroom - MY GURL, MY G, MY SHROOM- MUSHROOM? HAMVKTIRLOE. ANOTHER ONE PART OF MENACE SOCIETY. They're an awesome person, really sweet, amazing writer, we also speak in code 🦞 but you'll never know what we're saying. They gang fr doe 💅🏾✨

@dorothy-rainbird - WE DONT INTERACT ANYMORE *sobs* or have we ever? I see you in my notifs a lot though so you're part of the misfit gang. RESPECTT. Wish I seen you on my dash more tho :')

@vellichxrr6782 - HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU HUGGING YOU. You're really sweet and I wish we talked more <33 I wish you the best my friend

@cross-crye - ANOTHER AMAZING WRITER HELLO??? They bouta put me on twst fr im this 🤏🏾close into falling down the simp rabbit hole. HELLO SETH I ALSO WISH U THE BEST

@omori-1 - daily reminder that I need to finish watching omori... I PROMISE I WILL AJUFKRI. VIRGO GANG. TALENTED CREATOR GANG. IF I COULD EAT THEIR BLOG I WOULD. Put it inna air fryer and drizzle some sauce on afterwards yum. Another one part of menace society. LOVE YA CHAI, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND THEN SOME

@xiao6ao - My love. My life. My will to write. MY LOVELY EDITOR. MWAH MWAH I LOVE YOU. She's my life support for real and also deserves the world and good fortune and just Nbhvgtdikmk This world shall know pain if anything happens to her. AMAZING WRITER YET ANOTHER ONE WHO DOESNT ADMIT IT. Grammarly 2.0. Always come in clutch. Menace society CEO. AHH I LOVE YOU PLEASE TAKE CARE

@atskas - MY FAM. TALENTED AUTHORS ALERT. TIMEZONES SUCK FR BUT I STILL LOVE THEM. Another one locked in, in the menace society, rip their sleep schedule. HI ARII ILY- HIARIILY... That actually looked like one word- GIRL I WISH YOU THE BEST MWAH

@lunartcmpest - it's always the aesthetic blogs that melts my heart. TALENT WRITER ALERT BEEP BEEP BEEP. GO CHECK OUT THEIR BLOG RN OR IM SNATCHING YOUR ANKLES. Wish we interacted more but it's all good. She's pretty cool tho. SHOUT OUTS TO YOU KAIRI, WISH YOU WELL

@alhara - AUTOCORRECT BE DAMNED. HELLO HARA. SHOUT OUT TO ANOTHER UNDERRATTED WRITER. Wish you the best

@albed0kreideprinz - They haven't been active in a min and I hope they're okay, but here's an amazing rp blog for all those interested. They're amazing and really sweet and I hope the world treats them well <3

@araranas - aka @primojade aka TALENETED WRITER aka AMAZING PERSON aka MNJNJENKI I LOVE YOU. TIMEZONES BE DAMNED

@ventisweetheart - IF ONLY I COULD HUG SOMEONE THRU THE INTERNET! You're so sweet and I'm glad we're moots and I always look forward to our interactions

@micheya - I dont know why and dont ask me, but if I could squish you like a gummy bear I would... IT MIGHT BE THE AETHER PFP IDK. We don't interact much but <333

@1eaf-me-alone - This year, I think you should turn a new 1eaf... g-get it BECAUSE MUYGITKR,ICRLT. Forgive me, I had to. PFF S,MUTFR THEY'RE REALLY COOL CHECK THEM OUT. HI HELLO HRU. I love our interactions please dont block me for my Cyno jokes, I'll 1eaf you alone if you- AUMSUFKRDE IM SORRY I CANT HELP IT!!

@scaranya - the fact that I had to basically type your full name out because scaranation is so big on tumblr... N E WAYS, RECENT MOOT HERE. Love to see your comments <3 Please stay safe and well!

@qingxin-dream - ENVIOUS OF YOUR WANDERER KEYCHAIN GRRR GRRR SUNYUFKRIKRCF. Another great writer here, please check them out!

@sweet-almonds - COMFORT WRITER BC ANGST BREAKS MY HEART. SHE'S AWESOME AND SWEET AND I ADORE YOUR BLOG

@enassbraid - Yall with these url changes. I HAVE BAD MEMORY OKAY! She's lovely okay and deserves the moon and back

@wanderersbell - WWEEEE WOOO WEEE WOOO TALENT WRITER ALERT, YES OFFICER? RIGHT THERE -> YOU'RE LITERALLY SO AMAZING AND FUN TO TALK WITH IM SO GLAD WE CROSSED PATHS EEEE PLEASE I FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING EVERYDAY I WISH U THE BEST

I KNOW IM MISSING A FEW AND IF I CAN I'LL ADD THEM LATER BUT MY HANDS ARE GETTING TIRED AND SORRY IF SOME OF THE THINGS IVE SAID WAS REPETTITIVE I TRIED MY BEST

@cynotical - RECENTLY BECAME MOOTS BUT IVE BEEN A FAN FOR AWHILE ✨✨✨ Another talented writer please check them out as well as their other blog!!! THEY'RE AWESOME AND SUCH A LOVELY PERSON TOO

@sonder-paradise - idk how but their writing manages to break me down and put me back together again every time like— UGHHH I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. Talent writer alert x20. Should have 2 novels and an ongoing series already because wth

[mayahawkins]

no one asked me to list my fav blogs but i’m just gonna make my own end of year follow forever bc i wanna rant abt my talented friends, beloved mutuals, and just people i follow that i have never spoken to but who are such a joy to see on my dash. so, without further ado, maddy’s 2022 follow forever:

@strangeswift abby strangeswift, my beloved. you were the first person i talked to in this fandom and i’m so glad u were bc u are the sweetest most kind person ever. you are so supportive of all your friends and mutuals and u make me wanna be a more outwardly loving and supportive person fr. i remember when u wrote that lil ficlet based on my text post and i’m p sure i almost cried bc i felt so special that someone had been inspired by something i had said to write smth so wonderful. you’re an incredible writer and i am always so excited anytime you post any of your writing. i can’t wait to read more of your fics and am so patiently waiting for MilevenVision (as much as i may bug u for crumbs). i’m so glad to call you a friend <3

@elekinetic ella ella, bonded in shared discord trauma so ur never getting rid of me. i feel so honoured to call you a friend bc you are one of the best people i know. you are so smart and level-headed and loyal as hell to your friends. you are also so kind and you're so deliberate with what you say and how you say it. you defs intimidated me the first few times we talked but now im like oh ya ella, my amazing talented friend ella. your scripts give me so much life. and not just your st ones but your original ones as well. can't wait to one day see "ella elekinetic hexagirl" in movie credits (bc obviously ur last name is ur url). and your OCs?? i have never once become obsessed with someone's OCs the way i can't stop thinking abt yours. that's what you've done to me. you are so incredibly talented and ily <3

@andiwriteordie ANNDDIIIIII ILY FR <3 u are so insanely talented and kind and wonderful. i’m so happy we started talking recently bc u have truly brightened the last few weeks of the year. u got me back into watching merlin so thank u for the pain u will surely cause me as i rewatch this show i haven’t seen in almost a decade. ur fics were some of the first that i read in the byler fandom and that means u will always hold a special place in my heart. i remember the first time i read your let's hear it for the boys series and i was just like omg i'm obsessed with this. i have absolutely adored every single one i’ve read (even though i’m a lil behind on them rn oops but i will catch up) and can’t wait to see what else you write. your atla!au (and the newly brainstormed merlin!au) live in my head rent free and i can’t wait to read them if you write them.

@nnilkyway my fellow emo will truther <3 yvie i love you dearly. you are so incredibly talented i could scream abt ur artwork literally for days. your fanworks and your original art and your doodles are all beautiful and stunning. the day we started talking and you sent me the lil doodle you did of emo will byers i think i actually cried at how much i loved it and that it had come from our conversation about it. i saved it onto my camera roll so i can come back to it easier that's how much i love it. you are also one of the funniest people on here, your tags almost always have me rolling. i can't wait to see what beautiful art you draw in the new year.

@finalgirlbyers sierra lovqbrl madcleradin finalgirlbyers!!!! i know we haven’t talked much but i love seeing u on my dash and u always have the best takes and theories and just posts in general. i know i've said that literally multiple times to you but it cannot be overstated how correct you always are. one of my fav people to follow on here.

people i don't talk to but whose presence is a joy to have on my dash:

@astrobei an absolutely incredible writer that wrote some of my fav fics. one of the best will fics, not all the prayers, that truly is just so unbelievably amazing. like the care that you can just tell went into that fic is just incredible. Some absolutely incredible lines that will punch you right in the gut in the best way possible.

@blueeandyellowmakesgreen jade! one of the coolest people, has some of the most amazing art over on @azuries, like it's actually so amazing and people need to go look at it and reblog it now immediately

@mlchaelwheeler an absolute joy to follow. so many good posts and im fr rooting for mike with a sword in s5 just for her

@elmaxed their fics were some of the first i read in the byler fandom and i absolutely fell in love with them. they hold such a dear place in my heart. also one of the sweetest people fr, one of the first to compliment my gifs and so they are forever in my mind for that <3

@smoosnoom omg their fics!!! are!!!! incredible!!!! so many wonderful fics, i was just looking through my bookmarks and i swear half of them are theirs. the one about mike's will voice has my whole heart.

@wiseatom another lovely fic writer, and one who titles her fics with taylor swift lyrics bc she Gets It!!! also one of the sweetest people in the fandom, always seems to be supporting other people.

@kidovna one of the most talented artists in this fandom oh my GOD. i cannot praise her and her art enough idk how what else to even say besides amazing incredible talented showstopping

@byeler wrote one of my all time fav fics, Heavy Hopes, with my beloved trope, oblivious jealous mike, which is truly *chef's kiss*. such a good writer like it cannot be overstated

@ice-sculptures a truly amazing gifmaker. gifs so many little byler moments that are so precious that i've definitely missed when watching the show.

@william-byers an absolutely incredible gif maker. taylor swift and stranger things together on one blog, what more could you want?

@padme-amidala makes some of the most beautiful gifs ever oh my goodness, her gifs are part of what inspired me to start making gifs and to challenge my gifmaking. i hope to one day be as good as she is.

@robiinbuckley also makes some of the most beautiful gifs, literally in awe of her gifs. also inspired my gifmaking journey and has inspired me to challenge myself when it comes to gifmaking.

[logan368]

hiya I was wondering if you could Empires smp solidarity x f!reader?

Where the reader gets injured by a skeleton

AHHHHHH MY FIRST ASK, YES YES ILY /P. Also sorry I didn't make the reader female, I prefer to give them gender neutral pronouns so my content can be read by everyone :)

Warnings: Mention of injury

It's okay! I'm fine!

Solidarity x Reader

You hadn't even realized how late it was until you got out of the cave you were mining in and grumbled to yourself. Checking your inventory for a bed you saw that you didn't have one on you. "What idiot doesnt bring a bed with them when mining!" You grumbles to yourself and sighed putting your elytra on. You were quite a bit away from your base and the closest person around was Jimmy in his Mesa so you decided now was a good time as ever to stop by the sheriff's humble abode.

You had been flying when you reached the outside of Jimmy's empire. You smiled he had a nice empire building up. You realized that this was the first time you'd stopped by as you'd been busy setting up your own empire in the desert. You softly flew down and landed on the ground right outside his empire with a yawn. You walked down the path it was really dark and there were mobs everywhere but you sped walk. The faster you got there the quicker you could get to safety and bed. As you were walking you yelped in pain, a skeleton shot you in the shoulder. "Ouch!" You turned towards the skeleton and pulled out your sword attacking it while getting hit by another arrow in the leg by a different skeleton. You searched for your bow pulling it out and killing the skeletons after a few hits before ignoring the pain in your leg as you dashed towards the mesa.

By the time you got to the door of a specific sheriff you caught your breath your leg aching and both your leg and shoulder bleeding. You slowly knocked a few times feeling bad for waking the poor man. You stood there a few moments before the door opened with a confused Jimmy standing there.

"Whos knocking on my door in the middle of the night?" He yawned and looked at you. "Oh dear Joel! (Haha get it cus Joel's God i swear this needs to become an actual thing) Y/N you look horrible."

You chuckled sheepishly at the sheriff using your good arm to rub the back of your head. "Sorry to bother you so late Mr. Sheriff but I'm incredibly tired and your place was the closest nearby."

"Dont apologize! Come in, sit down let me get you some bandages for your shoulder!"

"Its okay Jimmy im fine really, it's nothing too terribly bad." You tried to calm the man in font of you down while sitting in the chair as it felt nice to stop standing on your leg. Jimmy dissapeared for a second before coming back with a first aid kit.

"Here let me pull the arrow out of your shoulder." He rolled your sleeve up and slowly and gently pulled the arrow out of your shoulder.

"Ow." You whined out As soon as the weapon was pulled out of you he put it on the table and put a bandage on it before wrapping it up. Him accidentally nudging your leg which caused another "Ow!" To slip from you.

"Oh Y/N! I'm so sorry I didn't even notice." He quickly finished wrapping up your shoulder before pulling the arrow out of your thigh and doing the same process. "I'm going to go get some of my spare clothes so you can change out of these bloody ones, and ill help you to my bed."

"Oh no Jimmy im fine! I can sleep on the couch, I don't need to sleep in your bed."

"Hey, it's okay I don't mind, you're injured."

You sighed as he helped you out of the chair and too his bed. "Thanks Jimmy."

"No problem, im the sheriff its my job to help people."

He helped you sit on the bed and grabbed some spare clothes out of his closet. "Here you go, ill be just down the hall if you need me at all just shout."

"Alrighty Mr. Sheriff."

He rolled his eyes at the little nickname before heading back to the living room to get settled on the couch.

[sixzeroes]

high school boys.

summary | a drunk night with your cousin’s best friends leads to a little fraternizing with the most mischievous of them all; lee donghyuck.

characters | donghyuck x reader(f); ft. cousin!jaemin, jeno, renjun, karina (aespa).

genres | smut, pwnp, non-idol au.

warnings | profanity, alcohol consumption, underage drinking (korean age), kitchen sex, sex on the counter, gagging, pet names (babe/baby), tipsy rina cockblocking bc she needs a cup of water, mischievous hyuck, all filth with bad smut writing lmfao </3

word count | 3.7k.

pls read!! in no way am i sexualizing teens; in korea, the school year starts in march, seven months later than north american schools. in this ff, mc is the same age as hyuck, but bc she’s not from korea, she’s already graduated and in university whereas 00l + rina are set to graduate soon in february. hope that makes sense!!

you: jaemin who the fuck are the ppl in the living room

In the heat of the bathroom, you crouch against the locked door, ears attentively listening for any voices that sound from the other side. Your heart beats at a rapid pace, resonating louder than the running fan. Sweat mixes with the shower residue and you briefly ponder if you need to step in the shower again. One hand clutches the bath towel hugging your damp body, the other gripping your phone for dear life. When you fail to receive a reply from your cousin, you furiously send another text.

you: JAEMIN!!!1!1!!!

Beyond the bathroom door, you hear a girl call, “Jaemin! You’ve got a text from someone!”

“From who?”

“Uh—‘Thanos’?”

Oh. That’s you.

In a matter of seconds, your phone buzzes from a new notification. It’s from Jaemin.

bane of my existence: ??? what

you: the ppl??

bane of my existence: they’re my friends

you: can they leave?? or move into ur room?? i need to pass by and i can’t w them there

bane of my existence: tf? don’t be shy just walk past us damn

you: dude. i’m in the bathroom naked. you: all i have is a fucking towel you: u should’ve told me ur friends would be coming over at 10 fucking pm

bane of my existence: i forgot lol we came straight from school

you: asshole you: my clothes r in my room so pls relocate ur friends ???

bane of my existence: ur so annoying

you: thank u ily <33

“Let’s move to my room,” you hear Jaemin say, a chorus of agreements following shortly. It takes less than a minute for the party to move from the living room to Jaemin’s bedroom, a text message from the boy letting you know that the coast is clear.

Slowly, you push yourself up from the bathroom floor, a spark of pain jolting down your legs—a cramp from crouching for too long. You turn off the fan, unlock the door, and poke your head out to scan the area. The living room is, indeed, void of any humans, allowing you to dash across without being caught semi-naked.

You click the bathroom light off, prop the door open, and sprint to your room as fast as you can. The door to your bedroom closes with a soft bang behind you.

Safe.

A feeling of ease settles within your gut as you move over to your closet, digging around your suitcase to find a set of undergarments to wear. After slipping on some comfortable pieces, you grab a black sweater and toss on a pair of white sweatpants. You flop on your bed, ready to scroll through your social media.

And then you remember the dirty clothes you accidentally left in the bathroom.

Specifically, a beige bralette and a pair of bear-print underwear.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Panic rises to your throat as you scramble off of your bed, twisting the door handle and scurrying out of your bedroom. You dart to the bathroom, but it’s too late; the door opens as a boy clad in a school uniform shouts, “Hey, Jaemin! Tell your girlfrie—woah!”

You nearly crash into his tall figure, frantic eyes making contact with his surprised ones. Just behind him, you spot your undergarments littered on the floor. Embarrassing.

“What do you want?” Your cousin’s voice grows louder with each word until he’s standing at the doorway of his bedroom. His eyebrow cocks up upon seeing you. “Y/N? Are you seducing my friend or something?”

You reel back in disgust. “No! God, Jaemin. Just go back to your friends.”

“One of my friends is in front of you, trapped.”

Ah, right.

You glance at the guy Jaemin’s referring to and stiffen. He’s hot, lowkey your type, but adorns a playful smile. He reeks of mischief.

“Are you the owner of those cute panties in the bathroom?” he muses, leaning against the doorframe. If you weren’t feeling hot before, you sure are now, embarrassed out of your mind.

You clear your throat. “Yes. Now, move aside, please. I need to grab my cute panties.”

When you try to step into the bathroom, the guy shifts over to effectively block you from entering. You glance at him with mildly puzzled eyes, and he returns an amused expression. “Hey, come hangout with us.”

“No thanks,” you decline, “I don’t hangout with high schoolers.”

Jaemin snorts from behind you. “You’re literally the same age as us.”

Fuck you, Na Jaemin.

You regret leaving your room. It would’ve been better had you just stayed snuggled underneath your warm sheets, letting Jaemin explain to his friend the undergarment situation. At least then, you wouldn’t have had to endure whatever embarrassing predicament this is.

But here you are, in front of the bathroom, a hot guy standing in-between you and your bear-print panties.

You’re about to push past the hot guy barricade when a girl steps out of Jaemin’s bedroom. She spots you, and her head tilts in confusion. “You guys were taking too long. Who’s she?”

“My cousin,” says Jaemin. “Y/N.”

You awkwardly smile.

“Oh, oh!” Her eyes brighten and she clasps her hands together. “I remember you telling me about her. Will she be joining us?”

You purse your lips. “I was just about to go—”

“We have drinks,” the guy whispers, catching you off-guard. “Soju, beer, chicken.”

Well, that’s something you can’t pass up on.

“—go join you after I wash my hands!” you beam, and the girl cheers. From your peripheral vision, you see Jaemin’s friend smirk. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

You watch as Jaemin ushers the girl back into his room, following through after tossing a ‘hurry up!’ to his friend. Great. Now you’re all alone with his insufferably good-looking friend.

“What happened to ‘I don’t hangout with high schoolers?’” he teases.

You scowl at him. “You’re even worse than Jaemin.”

He simpers. “Am I?”

In response, you finally shove past him, walking over to your undergarments and scrunching them up in your hand. You turn around to leave, but he’s still there, his smile never falling.

“Don’t tell any of your friends about this,” you say, gesturing to your undergarments with a red face. “Please.”

“Sure,” he replies, smug, “but only if you have some fun with me. You’re too cute to lose.”

It’s easy to discern the sexual innuendo in his comment, and the brave boy’s words leaves your entire body burning.

Pervert.

His name is Donghyuck, and he is, indeed, the most mischievous of them all.

“I think Renjun would look cute wearing Rina’s skirt,” he suggests, flopping an arm around the drunk blonde. “Don’t you agree, Jeno?”

You look at the most built of them all—Jeno, the only one of Jaemin’s friends you’d heard of and Donghyuck’s twin brother. The said boy’s got his back against your cousin’s bed, one arm on the mattress, the other supporting a drunk Karina. He shrugs at Donghyuck’s words. “Renjun wore it before, and he looked like a fairy gone wrong.”

“Hey! I’m not drunk!” Renjun slurs—a lightweight at its finest. He flops forwards, laying on the floor. “But I’m g’na take a nap.”

You suppress a snort, and take a glimpse of your cousin. Jaemin is knocked out cold on the floor, two empty soju bottles scattered beside his head. Unconsciously, your hands reach for your phone, and you snap a photo of his drunk state.

Perfect blackmail material.

“Let’s play truth or—let’s play truth or dare!” Karina shouts, slumping into Jeno. “No—let’s play Monopoly!”

Donghyuck chugs the rest of his soju bottle and lets out a satisfied burp. “I’d rather play a game of Overwatch.”

You watch as Karina pouts, wailing an ‘I hate you!’ before toppling to the floor. She’s the third one to blackout. Only you, Donghyuck, and Jeno are awake.

Slowly, you stand up, your head buzzing from the amount of alcohol you’d consumed. You’re drunk, but you’re sane enough to walk on your own.

“I’m gonna go back to my room now,” you mutter, garnering the attention of the Lee brothers. “Bye bye.”

You don’t wait for a response, stumbling out of Jaemin’s room and into the dim corridor. Neither your aunt nor uncle are home tonight, down at the countryside for some business retreat.

It’s too dark for you to move around, and you nearly knock a portrait off the wall. To stay safe, you shuffle over to the living room, dropping onto the couch. Dazed, you decide to take a quick nap to sober up before finishing the journey back to your room. Currently, it’s twelve a.m. At one, you’ll go back.

You wake up at three a.m. to a loud bang from the kitchen.

“Shit,” you hear a guy swear, and your sluggish mind manages to process the familiar voice.

“Donghyuck?” you yawn, sitting up on the couch. The boy startles at your presence, having been unaware of your sleeping form on the couch. With a much clearer mind than three hours ago, you push yourself off of the couch. No headache; the alcohol is no longer prevalent in your system. You walk over to where he is in the kitchen, rubbing your eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Donghyuck lifts a glass cup up. “Grabbing water. Want some?”

You nod, another yawn escaping.

While Donghyuck pours you a cup of water, you heave yourself up onto the counter. The house is dimly lit, the only source of light being the moon. You watch Donghyuck place the jug back in the refrigerator, handing you the cup afterwards. You quietly thank him, grabbing the cup and taking a small sip. The cold water feels like a slap to your taste buds and you cringe at how dry your throat is.

“Sober now?” asks Donghyuck, back against the counter. He’s looking ahead, past the living room and through the window at the city lights below. You take a moment to admire his side profile—he truly is your dream man (physically).

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “The nap helped a lot. How about the others?”

He downs the water. “Dead. Knocked out cold. They’re all heavy sleepers once drunk, so they won’t be awake ‘til lunch.”

You blink. “Jeno was drunk?”

Donghyuck chuckles. “You’d be surprised. He’s one hell of a lightweight, but he’s good at acting sober. Jeno was out of it the moment he took his third shot of soju.”

“Wow.” You didn’t expect a sturdy guy like Jeno to be an absolute lightweight. “And you? How’re you feeling?”

“Hm,” hums Donghyuck, “better. Definitely don’t feel like puking anymore.”

“Same,” you giggle. You lean your head against the cupboards, gazing down at the guy. “Your uniform is all wrinkled. Don’t Korean schools give you bad points or something for improper uniform wear?”

“When I’m in school, yeah.” He turns to stare at you, and you suck in a sharp breath. Donghyuck looks a little too good underneath the moonlight. “Why? You gonna dock off points?”

There’s a suggestive tone and you perceive it instantly. A part of you is feeling brave, a little (a lot) horny, and it’s difficult to not follow along when a guy as hot as Donghyuck is interested. Playfully, you twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. “Should I?”

Something in Donghyuck shifts, and he positions his body to face you, inching himself between your legs. His hands clamp onto the edge of the counter, and he gazes up at you with hooded eyes. You’re not too familiar with the world of sex, but you’ve encountered enough horny high school boys to know what Donghyuck wants.

And he’s in luck, because what he wants is what you want, too.

“Have I been bad, Miss Y/N?” he coos, a thumb circling your clothed hip bone. “Do tell me what I did wrong. I’d love to know.”

“Your uniform is such a mess,” you purr, gently caressing his tie. “I think I’ll have to dock off five points for that.”

“Oh, but that’s too mean. Any way I could gain back those lost points?”

You lose yourself in his lustful eyes. “Maybe if we have some fun…” With courage, you tug his tie upwards, his body jerking along as a result. You smile coyly. “One point back each time you make me cum.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “Bonus points if I make you cum more than five times?”

You gulp. “Yes.”

Perhaps you should let Donghyuck know you’re a virgin; it’s a vital piece of information that any person should know prior to intercourse. But you miss the chance to inform him as he presses his lips against yours, tongue prodding at your teeth. You let his tongue slide against yours, the heat sending your pussy quivering. At least you’ve locked lips with guys before, so you’re not a mess trying to return Donghyuck’s passion.

He kisses you fervently, hands secured on your waist. Your own fingers are tangled in his wavy hair, plummeting deep into an abyss of excitement. With every second that ticks by, your heartbeat accelerates, the kiss awakening a certain type of desire you’ve never experienced before.

“Donghyuck,” you whine when his hand grasps your inner thigh. His lips ghost your neck, eyes fixated on your every expression.

“Hey, are you a virgin?” he breathes, pressing a kiss on your collarbone.

You nod. “I’ve only been fingered before.”

“So I’m your first,” he grins, seemingly cocky. You roll your eyes. “Should we move to the bed then?”

“No,” you whisper, firmly gripping his shoulders. “I’ve fantasized about being fucked in the kitchen.”

Donghyuck smirks. “Oh? You’re quite kinky for a virgin.”

You pinch his cheek. “Virgins have wet dreams, too. Idiot.”

“Noted.”

His lips envelop yours again in a hungry kiss, his left hand hovering above your waistline. When you force his hand down your pants, Donghyuck laughs into the kiss.

“Needy, baby?”

“Shut up,” you mutter. “Cocky motherfucker. Pervert. I’ll take off more points if you keep teasing me.”

“Aw, don’t be so mean.”

You don’t get the chance to refute as Donghyuck slips a finger into your panties, prodding your clit with the pad of his middle finger. You nearly squeal at the sudden touch, a knot starting to form in your stomach. Watching your face, Donghyuck drags two fingers down your slit. Pushing the tip of his fingers in, he then glides them up, grazing the sensitive skin of your labia.

You let out a shaky breath. “Do it already.”

Donghyuck’s response is to shove two fingers in at once, an easy feat considering how wet you’d gotten from kissing. Weak whimpers tumble from your lips, your body leaning against his shoulder for support. His fingers work as if its rent is due, relentlessly moving in and out of your pussy. You try to keep your moans to a minimum, but it’s difficult to stay quiet in the heat of the moment.

“Shh, babe,” whispers Donghyuck, “don’t wake the others up. What would Jaemin do if he saw his best friend fucking the living daylights out of his cousin?”

Jaemin would probably ban you from entering Korea ever again.

“K—Kiss me,” you shudder, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Help me stay quiet, Hyuck.”

Something in Donghyuck’s eyes change when you use his nickname.

You’re left breathless (literally) when the boy tilts up to kiss you, his mouth devouring yours with a newfound ardour. His fingers prod your sensitive spot, and you feel a fire spark in the pit of your stomach. Over and over again, Donghyuck shoves his digits into your heat, garnering mewls and writhes of pleasure from you. With a harsh thrust from him, you cum, a shaky gasp spilling from your throat. Donghyuck attaches his lips to your neck as you come down from your high, leaving pretty marks as evidence of tonight’s fraternizing.

“Shit,” you sigh, head falling back against the cupboards. Gazing down, you see the bulge in Donghyuck’s pants. You lean down to kiss the boy, trailing a hand down his chest and tracing the outline of his hardened dick. You elicit a gasp from him, and he curls his fingers inside you, resulting in a soft exhale from you.

Slowly, you remove Donghyuck’s fingers, feeling empty when you do. You hop down from the counter and nearly topple forward, but he catches you with a chuckle. “Don’t you think it’s a little too early to fall for me, babe?”

You slap his bicep. “Shut up, moron. I don’t even know you.”

“True, but you’ll get to know my body better soon enough.”

You nearly shriek when Donghyuck grasps your waists with a strong grip, spinning you around to push you on top of the counter. Your hands land flat against the marble top, the surface cool compared to your rather sweaty palms. He tugs down your sweatpants, rough with his actions. Instead of taking your panties off as well, Donghyuck chooses to keep them on, and you yelp when the waistband slaps your bare skin.

“Oh, dear,” the boy tsks, disapproving the noise you made. You hear him rustle from behind. “Can’t have you waking up the others now.”

You attempt to look back. “Hyuck?”

Donghyuck kisses your ear. “You okay with gagging?”

You choke on your spit. “I—Yes, yes I am.”

“Good.” he murmurs. Seconds later, a tie appears in front of you, and the fire rekindles within you. Donghyuck gags you with his school tie, tying a messy yet secure knot. “Tell me if it’s too tight, baby. Don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Mhm,” you answer, muffled.

“I’m putting it in now,” he purrs, and as he does, you feel his bare dick rub against your ass. His cock falls into the crack between your cheeks, the tip nudging your clothed slit. He smears his precum all over the crotch of your panties, the liquid mixing with your own.

Desperate, you groan, “Hurry.” Only, you’re gagged, so it comes out sounding more like “Huh-hee.”

“Patience, Y/N.” He croons.

Donghyuck drags his pointer finger down your back and over your folds, teasingly poking your hole before moving the fabric aside. You moan when his dick enters your pussy, a slow penetration so you can adjust to his size. When his hips connect to your ass, you revel in the way he fills you up.

“God,” he growls, “you feel so good.”

There’s no wait time as Donghyuck pulls out, plunging into you with all his energy. Repeatedly, he rams his dick into your cunt, finding a quick-paced rhythm that has you struggling to stay quiet. You can feel the tip of his penis graze your cervix with every thrust, the boy bottoming out. His force has you laying on the counter in a heap of whines, the immense pleasure sending you into overdrive.

“Hyuck,” you chant his name, albeit a little muffled.

“Keep saying my name,” he groans, accelerating his steady pace. Donghyuck’s hands keep a firm grip on your hips, screwing you with fluid thrusts. You fall apart at the seams, barely staying intact with the help of his embrace.

The fire spreads throughout your entire figure, flames licking every part of your body. A knot forms in your stomach again, and soon enough, your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You whine as Donghyuck continues to chase his high, ramming into your sensitive cunt with all he’s got.

“Shit—I’m cumming,” he pants, snapping his hips into your ass at an inhuman pace. “Fuck, fuck, you feel so damn good.”

Donghyuck empties into the condom, slumping onto you as he does. He holds the position for a while, his cock in the warmth of your pussy, his lips littering kisses on your nape. You breathe heavily, and so does he.

“Huh? Who are you?”

Panic overwhelms you at the sound of a fatigued Karina, and Donghyuck quickly draws out of you. Your hands jerk up to unravel the tie, muttering a ‘thanks’ when Donghyuck pulls your sweatpants up. Tossing the tie aside, you swivel around just in time to see Karina exit the corridor, stumbling towards the kitchen. She’s tipsy, possibly still drunk. Either way, she’s not sober, and you thank the heavens that she isn’t.

“Rina,” Donghyuck softly rasps, his pants sloppily hanging onto his hips. The dirty condom has been tossed to the ground, hiding behind his feet. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”

“Got thirsty,” she yawns. “Oh, hi Y/N. Neither of you able to sleep?”

You fervently shake your head. “No. We just, uh, were talking about life.”

It takes everything Donghyuck has to suppress a snort and you jab him with your elbow.

“How exciting.” She yawns again. You watch as Karina heads for the refrigerator, attentive to her every move. She grabs the water jug and asks, “Hey, Hyuck. Can you pass me a cup?”

Donghyuck nods, picking up a random cup from the dishwasher and handing it over to the girl. The two of you observe her under the dim moonlight, praying she doesn’t catch onto the deeds that had occurred just minutes before. Karina downs the cup of water, letting out a satisfied hum after. She sets the cup in the sink and begins to shuffle out of the kitchen. You inaudibly sigh, about to snatch the tie when she abruptly spins around. You stiffen, standing awkwardly next to the counter.

“Goodnight guys,” she mumbles, “hope you can fall asleep soon.” With that, Karina steps out of the kitchen and back into the corridor. When her back disappears into Jaemin’s room, you release a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Donghyuck stares at you, and you stare back at him. Simultaneously, the both of you break out into silent fits of giggles and laughter.

“Poor Rina,” gasps Donghyuck, clutching his stomach. “If only she knew what we’d done…”

“I hope she never finds out,” you whisper back, fighting a silly grin. “Anyway, grab that condom, Donghyuck. We’ll need to throw it out in my trash can.”

His eyebrow cocks upward. “The one in your bedroom? Are you inviting m—”

You flick his forehead and roll your eyes. “Take a break from being horny, stupid. You’ve been asking for a fuck since our first meeting. But,” you glance at him, soaking in his tousled state, “you still have three more points to go.” At that, Donghyuck smiles—the same playful smile from earlier in the night. Your cheeks grow hot.

This morning is going to be a long one.

© NABI (2022); ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[horanghoe]

warm milk & honey - SKZ fic

A/N: I just realised I forgot Han ^ I am screaming

Pairing: OT7/reader

Rating: PG friendly (with a friendly warning of poly / multiple person relationship).

Genre: POLY!SKZ / Fluff / Very slight angst & mentions of bad sleep patterns.

Word Count: 3.6k exactly, my doods

Summary: A restless night, ultimately remedied by your sweet baby man angel boys. Or alternatively: Istg if Jisung makes one more weird noise imma end this man’s whole life no cap, Binnie hold me back -

Back to ~ SKZ Masterlist

Back to ~ Main Masterlist

Special Mentions <3

 @domjaehyun​ for being a yoghurt eating legend that takes a year to respond ASKDJF ILY BICH//

@seowoos​ for inspiring this whole damn thing & helping me feel more comfortable w publishing more niche content models. Even if it’s just cheesy enough for the two of us <3 //

@chocolvte​ for being another OG on this list, n just generally being a sweet bean <3 baby girl ur reactions were the second inspiration to get me INTO SKZ in the first place. ily uwu // 

and lastly, surprise @mikoto-ica-fics​ !! You were the last part of the equation that got me to write smin for these boys. I binged practically all your fics in two nights bby, keep making michellin star fics <3

Tonight wasn’t working out quite as you had expected.

To be honest, it was fucking shit.

Well, the night itself was okay. In terms of activities. An evening in with your boyfriend, Chan.

Just you two versus the world. The poor boy was so tired that honestly, it had only consisted of a walk through the park to grab snacks, and returning to the empty dorm to laze around the whole evening. A Netflix date with some *ahem* late night fun to settle you both into a deep, restful state.

It was brilliant, fantastic. Until it wasn’t.

Until you lay painfully awake in his bed and suffocated in the dark silence and space between you. It wasn’t Chan’s fault; the obnoxious whirring of electronics made your head spin, tiny flashing lights and minute feelings of unease at the cupboard door leaning open; all made it virtually impossible to sleep.

It was too cold. Too hot. You were so comfortable, melted into the mattress. But it was swallowing you and your claustrophobia was starting to make you twitch. Moving off of your angelic boy’s limbs, you shimmied to the cooler side of the bed.

He stirred a little, before settling on turning away, onto his side. Phew. At least you hadn’t woken him. It wasn’t like you were trying to be selfish, but fuck. This was insufferable.

Every time you looked at the clock you were sure it slowed down - balls, at this point it could’ve skipped back an hour and you wouldn’t have batted an eye. Mostly because if they weren’t checking the clock, they were staring dead straight up at the ceiling.

Eh. Ugh. Fuck. I can’t sleep.

That’s all your brain could think. Stuck - monotone and on a never-ending loop.

It seemed like everything you had ever thought was swimming around in your brain like some kind of primordial juice. Feelings and emotions swelling and bloating in your belly until they settled.

And then a car passed outside, and everything started to swell up again.

Chan was on his side, turned away and peacefully gaining some shut-eye. He was only lightly sleeping though, that much you could tell. His body gently lifting, then falling with breath. Like you; he often struggled to sleep deeply, usually not lasting very long when he did manage to.

You were so pissed.

How dare he sleep. And look so good doing it. Even just his bareback looked hot as shit - here you were, a messy, greasy big toe wrestling with your stupid ape brain to shut off the useless brain thoughts, next to this slice of heaven - just, ugh existing so perfectly.

“Oh my god, this is torture.” You cursed quietly into the dead space.

Maybe the frustration was all from hormones?

Nah, fuck that. Feminism and all that jazz. That’s just part of the human condition, babycakes. Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.

No, what it was, was the constant whirring coming from the TV screen and Felix’s PlayStation tower and large monitor. The tiny little flashes, whirrs, huffs from the fan and rotating lights. It was driving you abhorrently insane. FUCK.

“Chan? Channie, baby, are you awake?.” You whispered into the air. His breath faltered a little, stirred mostly by your movement to groan, gruff and flip the duvet off your hot, sticky body. Gentle though you tried to be, it was still enough to wake his fuzzy brain.

“Chan, please. I’m sorry babe but that TV is driving me fucking insane.” Your voice was too alert and frustrated for him not to stir. His heart panged a little at the distress laced in your tone.

“Please, Channie. I’m so sorry…”

He rolled on his back to look at you. Slowly, and with much effort. He groaned softly before wiping his eyes and leaving his arms above his head.

“Hey.” He whispered, warmly smiling.

“Don’t be sorry – can you not sleep again, baby girl?” Chan asked softly, watching you sit stiffly upright. His deep voice made your heart flutter, nodding as he groaned. He smiled despite any resentment you may have allowed him to feel. Resting his warm palm against your rib as he muttered a response - you excused his fumbled words for definition - so tired he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You can turn it off, yeah?” Chan sighed.

What he meant was ‘You know how and where to turn it off, without messing up the whole system like last time, right?’. You nodded quickly, squeezing his bicep lightly before slipping from the exposed mattress.

Dashing up to scramble behind the low TV unit and find the one wire to end it all. Your infernal pain that was.

He watched you, letting his eyes rest occasionally. Truth was, you looked so beautiful to him when you were concentrating on something. For example, pulling out the HDMI cord triumphantly. And holding in a small squeal (scream), of relief when the high pitched buzzing cut out with a slight electronic fuzz. He chuckled, not missing your little feet pattering in step with a tiny little victory pump.

“Yes. Fuck. The noise, it’s gone!” Chan chuckled softly, keeping his arm outstretched until you landed beside him. Pulling you toward him, under the covers.

“Yeah, you really got that wire Y/N. Showed it who’s the boss, huh?” His tired enthusiasm outweighed his sarcasm, owning a soft kiss to the cheek as you clambered over the bed, only to flop with a weighted sigh straight down onto his shoulder.

He giggled, smiling with a yawn as he tucked his arm against your ribs, tucking you up against his chest in a bearhug.

You fell asleep quickly; soft breaths and just the presence of Chan's being, enough to satiate the gnawing ache in the back of your brain.

And it was peaceful. Restful. Warm, and so pleasant.

Until it wasn’t.

Turns out tonight wasn’t your night. The clock read 1:28 am – and the boys were due to come home from practice any moment now. To be honest they were pretty late.

Chan had originally had the day off, hence the chance for you to be led here in his arms. But you were starting to think it really hadn’t made that much of a difference.

It wasn’t just the high pitched whirring that had aggravated you, but now the uncomfortable heat radiating from Chan's body. The small whoosh of cool air against your neck at any vehicle that passed by. Or just the evening breeze. You groaned softly, dropping your head back to Chan’s chest with a soft thud, lulling back into a light and unrestful sleep.

Ten minutes or so passed. Waking from a fuzzy dream, you were disorientated. The worst dreams always happened in short little bursts. Like little hellish fever dreams.

The clock now read 1:39 am and the time between minutes was becoming unbearable. Too long to bear . You had to move. Speak. Scream. Cry. Kick. Do something.

Peeling off Chan’s arm, and replacing yourself with a large fluffy pillow, you left your lover to rest. You dread to think that it would be able to replace you, but hey, at least it wouldn’t move like one big fat sweaty ferret, right?

Sigh. Sad times.

You abandoned Chan for the disgustingly bright hallway. Seeking new comforts, from whoever would take you. The boys were home; noises of beings floating down the hall, past Chan’s room.

By the time you had gathered the strength to rise off the bed though – blinking away the stars and excited little lines in your vision and raising enough chi to move your soul, and body upwards off of the bed – an inkling of tiredness was starting to itch into your consciousness.

You ached to be held. Loved.

You weren’t sleepy enough to get back into his bed though. Though; you missed Chan’s body as soon as you had tumbled yourself away from it.

---------

Fetching your favourite fluffy square pillow and putting on one of Chan’s big shirts, you padded out and into the hallway. The door closed behind you with a soft putt, pillow tight against your belly.

The tired but comfortingly loud voices of your other lovers were coming from the kitchen.

You wobbled forward, groaning to yourself as your thighs began to ache. Just from being alive, you guessed. Your thighs tingled your skin into little chilly goosebumps, a shiver sparking down your spine.

Maybe the heat of Chan’s bed wasn’t so bad, you began to consider. Before a voice echoed down to where you were slowly walking from.

“Ya – hold up, I’ll grab my jumper then we can watch that stupid shit-film you were on about earlier?” You heard Jisung shout over the kitchen to the boys gathered on the sofa.

The boys muttered some form of agreement and before you could process it, the firm but soft body of Han Jisung had swung right around the corner and straight into your zombie path.

Being conscious, and not half-dead like you, he was able to stop abruptly in front of you and step back a little. The shock of a body blocking his path was quickly masked with warm love as he cooed at the sight of you.

“Y/n-ieeeeee look at youuuu~” He whispered loudly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you firm against his body.

His presence eased you, despite the chaotic energy he may have appeared to have. He was just one big squirrel with muscles. The perfectly-right size to pull you against him, your neck flopping so skin met skin, cheek to shoulder in that white sleeveless shirt of his.

You melted into his caring touch, groaning when he gave a squeeze and actually, not hating how firmly he held you. For a moment, he seemed to be just quietly accepting your unspoken words. Night-long grief expressed in the way you clung to him.

Eventually, he asked the inevitable questions, though.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep? Hmm, pretty? It’s like, 2 am already!” He exclaimed softly, somewhat conscious of Chan’s sleeping presence down the hall. And your zombie-eardrums.

You couldn’t answer, instead, you let him pull you away so he could peer down at your head against his shoulder. The pillow was a soft barrier between you, though he removed it to place it softly on the floor.

“As cute as you look in Chan’s top right now, baby, this hallway is pretty cold. Gosh damn, your legs are shaking so much. How long have you been standing out here princess? Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” He squeezed you against him once more - rubbing his warm palms against your trembling, shivering thighs.

As he stood back up you groaned again, reluctant to articulate how badly you just wanted to be softly touched. Not aggressively rubbed. Even if you appreciated the notion, it was cutely awkward. Your expression made him laugh softly, tucking hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your cheek, head, forehead.

“You okay though? Wanna come sit with us?” You nodded quickly, body flopping into his hold as soon as his arms went to lift you. Your head rested on his shoulder, Jisung’s body dipping to lift you and wrap your knees around his hips. He was such a careful, sweet baby boy.

“Ya – come on you big baby, you. Who do you want to be delivered too for the meantime, huh? I gotta go change out of my gym stuff.”

“Hyunjin-ah... please...” You mumbled airily. Despite how unused your voice was, it was sweet as honey. He smiled, responding with a soft “Sure" before turning back to where he had come from. Heart warmed by the opportunity to care for you, even if for just a moment.

And even though he was a bit sticky – and the thought ‘yuck' registered quickly in your half-conscious brain – you didn’t mind the smell. Or the languid way he carried you.

You nuzzled against his neck, groaning once more as his entrance was announced to the room. A loud “Han Jisung's Special Delivery Service!” was projected, I.N. slipping by with a quick ruffle of your hair before moving to turn down the hall, into his room. The boys looked up at the noise and your entrance into the room, immediately softened by the sight.

You, entirely snuggled against a buoyant Jisung, that held you so carefully against his chest. Messy hair tucked under his chin; your eyes were puffy, sore, and barely open as he came into the centre of the soft-lit room.

“Nawww – cuuuutieeee~” Changbin cooed, Lee Know giggling as Seungmin stepped forward to kiss your cheek, sweetly brushing hairs away from your face. The proximity to Jisung didn’t seem to spook his intimacy.

Your eyes fluttered close from the embrace, Seungmin smiling to himself at his ability to soothe you. Even just a little.

“That’s a funny looking jumper, Ji.” Seungmin quipped, before adding a quick “Hi Y/N.” With a small squeeze of your cheek, before heading toward the kitchen.

“Hyunjin-ah you have a special request delivery here, where shall I put her?” Jisung questioned, approaching the sofa nimbly.

Hyunjin smiled, shuffling a little before holding out his arms, patting his lap.

“Right here~” you heard, before feeling gravity weigh at your back. You got off early, aided by Jisung and Hyunjin’s hands on your hips. Quietly you yawned, turning to a barefaced beautiful boy, smiling at you cutely.

Jisung pecked a kiss on your shoulder before passing, leaving to go sort himself out.

Hyunjin smiled up at you with a coo, pulling you down towards him with his long limbs. With you laying, legs tangled above him he wiggled back so you could lay comfortably on his chest.

He kissed your cheek before tucking your forehead against his chin, your eyes slowly bobbing open and shut as his calm vibe washed over you. Changbin shared some of your weight on the somewhat roomy sofa; kissing your hair softly and curling against you to keep you warm.

The television was on a late-night MC show playing. Though it registered to you as white noise. The boy’s voices over you were soothing, even if they edged a little loud occasionally.

At some point, you had started to drift off again. For the most part, Hyunjin was a gentle giant anyways. So despite his resistance to skinship, your body (and some of the boys), was never left out in terms of body-pillow-comforts.

Meaning, he treated your limbs like a very bony pillow he could encapsulate entirely.

You weren’t sure where the others were. Or what part of the sofa you were even on. You figured the end since the guys had their feet up. But you didn’t mind. It was safe. Here, in their arms. Against their bodies.

Even the bright overhead lights of the kitchen and hallway weren’t enough to stop you lulling into sleep.

At a later point, you awoke again with a startle – Jisung shushing your tired whines with a kiss as he jumped onto the sofa to your left, a little too enthusiastically. Hyunjin moaned like a brat, ultimately having a play fight underneath you until you mustered up a death stare to end all squabbles, ever. Period. Jisung settled, intertwining your fingers on Hyunjin’s belly until your breath softened. Falling into a weak slumber once more.

Once again; your sleep was great. Perfect. Until it wasn’t.

An abrupt jostle of Hyunjin jolting to stop spilling the food he held above your head, was met with an unattractive grunt of pure disgust on your part. Eyes squinted, head wrinkled and body tense, you were once again awake.

“Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to wake you!” Hyunjin whined, too loudly next to your throbbing head. Changbin noticed your tense limbs and pulled you backwards against his chest. This merely caused another squabble to ensue between them - who held the right to hold you, like a fluffy comfort blank.

Suddenly everything was bothering you again.

Their constant jostling and boyish movements were just too much. You pulled up from Changbin. Avoiding the tugging, whining, needy arms and hands from Hyunjin to stand weakly once more.

Frustrated. Tired. And all coupled with a reasonably ugly scowl weeping over your face.

They were so engrossed in their silly little arguments, little kicks, punches and teasing laughter, that they barely even noticed your sluggish movements to get up.

Until you were on your feet. Your body heat sapped from them in a bitter attempt at being sour. Hyunjins hands immediately flew out to steady you. Changbin pouting but ultimately letting you retreat once more.

“Y/Nieeee~ Come baaack, I didn’t mean it. Come lay back down, baby~” Hyunjin whined warily, the other two boys still giggling amongst themselves. You swatted against the tiredness on your face, grumbling before stumbling backwards.

You made it a few steps before you folded over on impact at hitting the kitchen table. The table thudded on impact and the boys winced, watching your face scrunch up in pain immediately.

A new pair of hands caught you this time, stuttering before lean arms caught you.

“Woah! Careful there pretty girl, nearly took the whole bloody table out. You okay?”

Felix's. Soft, caring and most importantly soft voice and calm motions of support waved over you in a way that gave you immediate comfort. You rested your head against his chest as he tugged you up, body slumping into him with an inaudible impact. He giggled, despite your weighted movements, speaking lowly with that deep, tired voice of his.

“Y/N, you silly sausage, are you alright?” He prompted quietly, leaning his head down to capture your whines and huffs of pain.

“Owww, my butt… That hurt~” You groaned, not minding his giggles but sending a puffy glare to the others snickering away on the sofa.

The table (or your idiot bulldozer body), had set a deep ache right into the cheek of your butt. Your hand kneaded it gently before Felix’s hand quickly replaced yours, rubbing and squeezing softly until your face scrunched, the pain subsiding.

“Ouch.” You whispered, peering up at him with a pout. He kissed your nose cutely with a little eruption of giggles, helping you crack a pouty smile.

“Come on, cutie.” He mumbled before grabbing your hand to guide you slowly into the kitchen. “I could kiss it better?” He prompted, ultimately softening at your lack of response. You were so morgue-ish you hadn’t even registered his words. Letting him tug you blindly as your eyes struggled to stay open.

You could barely register his hands, pressing at your waist. Weakly managing to hold on as he lifted you on top of the counter. Squinting, you could see the clock read 2:23 (am) on the cooker. Ugh. What a night.

You’d feel shit in the morning. But that was nearly impossible to think about with the way Felix was holding you right now. Like a baby. Or a puppy. A little ball of fluff.

He kept some form of contact as he moved around you – a hand to the knee or his hip between your legs. Or even lips against your hairline, using the counter space around you to do something. What he was doing, you were tired to even care.

“You know what used to help me Y/N? When I couldn’t sleep at night?” He prompted gently. You shook your head, pulling back with a weak sway

“Warm milk and honey!” He exclaimed quietly. Too cute for his own good. You smiled, and he pulled you against his chest to kiss your cheek and giggle delicately.

“You want some? Then we could try to sleep? You look like you need some shut-eye, baby. Don’t wanna miss out on that beauty sleep! If you want - we can always sleep in – just call in sick? Your boss is honestly so nice, I'm sure she won’t mind. You say you’re always working through lunch breaks anyway?”

Despite his rambling, you just nodded. Tired eyes once again resting as the hum of the radiator, the vibration of his chest eased your brain. Your head tucked so right underneath his chin. His palms folded behind your lower back.

At some point, Changbin had appeared. Sweeping a thumb over your forehead before kissing you sweetly, cheek resting on Felix’s shoulder.

“I love you, princess. Sorry for waking you.” He had whispered against your lips. “Mmm-I-love-you-too-Binnie~” You managed in one tumbling sentence. In fairness, the touch would've probably led you both somewhere (the bedroom), if you weren’t in such a zombie-like state.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your puffy cheeks before retreating. He let you both be, cold marble beneath your thighs now warmed by your constant body heat. You passed out pretty quickly against Felix’s chest. Cocooned, safe.

What you did miss in your deep, deep sleep was the way they carried you.

Felix physically, to their shared room. Changbin carrying your drinks and fetching your favourite pillow from the hall.

And what you heavenly missed in the night; they made up to you in the morning.

And the next night. And the night after that.

Because even though you occasionally suffered restless nights, you knew one of them would always be there to catch you.

And you’d do the same for them.

P.S. Fuck Chan’s wiring system. Extension cables were the bane of your nightly living. *holds up fingers in a cross and hisses*

well would you look at that: updated 03/OCTOBER/2021

[periminkle]

blazes of deceit

this fic is a part of the disney collab hosted by @btswritingcafe​!! please go check out all the other talented writers and their works 💕

+ summary. When the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide.

+ pairing. jungkook x reader

+ genre. fluff, angst. tangled!au.

+ word count. 26.052

+ rating. 18+

+ warnings. threats against a baby’s life, unwarranted death, mom problems, trespassing, pan violence, hiding a (not dead) body, tying people up with hair, curse words, drinking, thievery, deadly chase, sword/pan fight, recklessly jumping from a great height, graphic descriptions of wounds and blood, general violence, dark family matters (it’s pretty twisted!), orchestrated infidelity.

+ author’s note. happy early birthday to golden baby jungkook!! this fic took me wAY too long to write but she’s finally here! HUGE thank you to my big brain frenemy @guklvr​ for beta reading and hyping me up by boosting my confidence level +2000 even tho she’s on vacation and should be relaxing LMAO i would’ve postponed this until next year if u didn’t push me so TY ILY LOADS CARL 💘 i also wanted to shoutout #1 jk ryder supporter @dewykth​ and wofe @yeojaa​ for encouraging me every step along the way, y’all are the best n ily both to pieces 💝💕

You are positively ravenous.

Flurries of people scurry past the towering bars of your crib, yet none spare a glance in your direction despite your boisterous wailing. Like moths to a flame, they’re all huddled in one corner, surrounding a panting woman that clutches her rotund abdomen in one hand while tightly clasping onto a bejewelled crown in the other.

“What are you waiting for?” she spits out, hardened orbs narrowed in on your pathetic form.

“Your Royal Majesty, it’s only been an hour since you have given birth, please reconsider—”

Her glower is redirected onto the younger woman’s trembling form. “Are you questioning your Queen? Shall we reconsider your life as well?”

“No,” she begs, her tone quivering with anguish, “please spare my ignorant self.”

Your facial muscles begin to cramp and the walls of your throat feel like sandpaper, which only serves to exacerbate your violent sobs. The insistent suckling on your thumb is doing nothing to quell your raging stomach.

Her lips peel back to reveal two rows of pearly white, dazzling teeth framed by a nasty snarl. “Somebody slit that brat’s throat!”

Another midwife adorned in the bloody rags of childbirth darts across the cramped space with a weeping bundle of rough canvas in her arms. As she scrambles to deliver the shuddering newborn into his counterfeit mother’s arms, the clumsy woman trips over thin air, flying across her enraged Queen’s lap. Without a second thought, her backside is pierced by a shiny steel sword, sullied in a crimson liquid when it reappears.

The introduction of another babe deters your cries for attention. Instead, you distract yourself with a dull glimmer that you catch in your peripheral. Your chubby fingers hopelessly extend toward the dingy stars dangling above your head, just out of reach, reflecting the bright orange tiger lily printed onto the high ceiling of your cage.

“Not a soul shall speak of today's treachery.”

You’re well aware that your short arms could never stretch the distance required to satiate your unending curiosity; but they stay aloft, searching for the reassuring warmth of your mother’s embrace.

“Our blood will remain on the throne.”

Screams of agony overwhelm your developing eardrums as your tiny hands come to cradle your head, willing the pain to end.

Every inch of your walls is covered with abstract paintings, doodles of twisting branches snaking around the edges, dainty birds in every colour under the sun, and a joyous little girl dancing in her own brilliant freedom. No matter where you look, bespeckled tiger lilies are buried within the intricate linework like easter eggs, waiting to be found.

Your favourite by far is the uncanny depiction of the image stashed deep inside the crevices of your memory, a sight your heart desires to view most from up close. The miniature illustration captures your longing gaze pinned on the multitudinous lights ascending from a foreign location, golden hair streaming down your back and flowing over the fireplace in your determination to capture its vast length.

You attempt to steel your nerves for the umpteenth time, but you can’t help your nervous pacing across the minuscule length of your room. The entire tower is spotless as a result of your mindless cleaning—floors scrubbed twice, nonexistent dust wiped away, and trinkets set at the perfect angle to encourage your mother to comply with your outrageous request.

Today is the day, after all. The day that you’ll finally convince the stubborn woman to bring you out to watch the masses of floating lanterns disappear into the night sky.

The pitter-patter of your bare feet scuttling against the concrete floors nearly drown out the melodic appellations from outside your window.

“—down your hair!”

You dash over to the aperture, hastily gathering the ends of your mane to fling down while fixing the bulk of it onto the hook above your head. When the figure enshrouded in a black cloak snatches up your tresses, looping it around to create a foothold and carefully wedges one leg inside, you haul them up through the makeshift pulley.

By the time both of their feet are safely planted on the ground next to yours, sweat is beginning to form by your temples and the perpetual ache in your arms flares from consistently being forced to heave another grown adult up the stretch of the colossal tower.

“Welcome home, Mother.” You pull the rest of your hair inside and turn to face the stunning woman who lowers her excessively long hood, the extra length of fabric intentionally stitched on to keep her identity obscure as she travels.

Your mother sweeps you up into her comforting embrace and you allow yourself to relax in her arms, resting your cheek on her chest while your digits tightly clasp on to one another around her middle. Her chin settles onto the crown of your head.

“You would think that lifting me up all these years would give you some more upper body strength,” she says, her disappointment practically tangible. Placing both manicured hands upon each of your shoulders with a light squeeze, she pushes you back to examine your body from head to toe. “But look at you! My poor, delicate, little flower.”

Your forehead creases from your raised brows as a tense smile completes your agitated countenance.

“Oh, darling, what’s wrong? Come, come with Mother.” The adamant woman latches onto your forearm, dragging you over to the rustic fireplace and pressing down on your shoulders. Ever the obedient child, you kneel down onto the thick rug below.

Your mother delicately takes a seat on the antique chair beside you, a weary sigh slipping past her lips before she starts sweeping a brush through your golden strands. As per tradition, you sing the incantation that’s essentially engraved in the back of your mind at this point.

“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine,”

A gleaming shimmer races across your tresses at the verse and from the corner of your vision you watch the light creases marring your mother’s features fade in rapt attention. She hums along to the tune with a detached, distant look in her eyes.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine,”

You allow your lids to slide closed, gathering all the courage you can muster for the following conversation.

“What once was mine.”

Once the last note fades and a deafening silence reigns, she gently urges, “Tell Mother everything.”

This is it, it’s now or never.

“Uh, well, as you know,” you mumble, clearing your throat, “my eighteenth birthday is tomorrow.”

“Mhm, and I’ve already gotten your present as well,” she hums, steadily working her way down your mass of hair.

You falter at the information she casually reveals, guilt eating away at your conscience for preparing to ruin her good mood. “Yes, I know you’re always thinking of me, but, uh, well—”

“You can tell me, darling.” You register your mother’s heavy palm stroking your head, coaxing the words to tumble out of your mouth.

So you lay it on her. “I was just wondering if you would take me to see the lanterns this year.”

“What was that?” she questions, rightfully so when the garbled words blurt out quicker than you can process.

Before you can second guess yourself, you stammer, “C-can we please go see the lanterns?”

The brush suddenly halts in its path, suspended within the waves and dips of your many strands. Although you can’t see her, you know your mother well enough to feel her stiffen up, peeved at the topic you’ve brought up many times before.

“Petal—”

You interrupt, desperate to plead your case, “Mother, please, I’ve been waiting for—”

“Zip it.” You instantly clamp up at her hissing.

Your mother takes her time to stand, stalking over to halt directly in front of your hunched form. Her daunting figure looms above you, fierce orbs evoking a filthy shame that sinks its claws into your spine, and you lower your stare to her ankles from its intense weight. “Enough. I don’t understand why you keep asking this idiotic question when you already know what my answer is going to be.”

Her spontaneous refusal dampens your spirit, but you press on. “I just, uh, thought that I could see them once for my birthday a-and then I’d never ask to leave the tower again.”  

With a scowl as cold as an executioner’s axe, her arms come to cross beneath her bust. “I’ve already told you time and time again that they’re to celebrate the healthy birth of the Prince, any special ‘connection’ you feel to these lights is simply misguided and naive.”

You scramble to gather the scraps of bravery she shredded in order to sputter out, “But it’s my b-birthday too. Even if it’s just a coincidence, I wanna see them with my own two eyes.”

“How many times do I have to explain to you how dangerous the world is outside these walls? Do you know how many people are jumping at the chance to use your magic for themselves?” She rolls her eyes, chiding at you as if you’re a petulant child who disobeyed their elders one too many times. “If your little heart wants some adventure, you can go downstairs and explore the living room, besides darling, you should be thankful that nothing has happened all these years.”

“How am I supposed to be thankful for anything when you keep coddling me like this!” you lash out, frustration bubbling over at her usual response and refusing to toe the line any longer. Any notion of gently swaying her judgement or prompting her to consider your point of view is thrown out the window.

But your mother is nothing if not resolute.

“What?” Her words turn to ice—syllables forming razor-sharp blades that figuratively line your throat, poised to strike the second you step out of place. “Do you want to repeat that?”

Your breaths quicken, deathly afraid of the repercussions that will follow if you decide to continue your rebellious act. It wouldn’t be the first time that she punished you for begging to leave the tower.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, head hanging low and voice laced with resignation, “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Aw, my precious petal,” she coos, her mood drastically flipping one hundred and eighty degrees as the edges of her lips subtly point upwards at your obedience. “That’s why Mother is here, to guide you in the right direction. You know that I’m only looking out for you, right?”

“Of course, Mother.”

Evidently content with the outcome of the conversation, she turns back to continue brushing through your tresses.

By the time her ebony cloak rests upon her thin shoulders, hood draping over her face, your hair is already hanging by the hook above the window and she hops through the opening to lower herself to the ground below. You watch as her figure shrinks with the increasing distance, only turning back once to give a short wave before disappearing through the lush greenery.

And then you’re alone once again.

In the hours that pass after your mother’s departure, you become well acquainted with the five stages of grief. Of course, your requests to leave have been denied more times than you can count on both hands, but you foolishly believed that mentioning the eighteen years you spent cooped up in one place, fending off boredom, would hit a soft spot.

You forgot that your mother doesn’t have any of those.

Obviously, she anticipated your attempt to convince her by throwing yourself a pity party, as she deliberately mentioned purchasing a gift in advance. Out of all your celebrations, you couldn’t recall a single time where she prepared—much less remembered—your birthday.

Utterly absorbed within your final stage of acceptance, you lose yourself within your thoughts. That’s why the steady, rhythmic tapping on the cobblestone metres below makes you jump, mind wiped clean of everything except questioning the origin of the sound. Goosebumps manifest across the length of your arms, already slick with cold sweat.

Initially, you believe that your mother may have misplaced something, but your doubt accumulates when you don’t hear her usual jingle follow the rapping. You wonder if she is harbouring acrimony at your earlier outburst—even though she seemed quite pleased as she left.

Thus, like the loving daughter you are, you gather the ends of your hair, about to throw the lump over the aperture when you take notice of the stranger’s bulky frame and lack of disguise. Last time you checked, Mother certainly hadn’t chopped all her curls off either.

You can feel your heart thumping in your head, chest rising and falling expeditiously to compensate for the sudden rush of adrenaline surging through your veins. In your distress, her words come back to bite you, echoing within your mind that he must be after your magic.

Mother knows best, after all.

Discreetly glancing back down, you spot the man scaling the wall using two arrows, a feat which you’re sure he wouldn’t be capable of performing without those well-defined muscles, attractively outlined through his thin clothing. Realizing that you’re wasting time ogling at the intruder, you spin back to survey your room, scanning the area for any weapons you can use to defend yourself.

You disregard any prospect of overpowering him and decide to approach the confrontation by taking advantage of your ability to startle him. Before long, the sounds of the rigid arrowheads wedging into the spaces between the stones are no more than a couple of metres away, and you grab the nearest object in a blind panic.

All too soon, his large hands are gripping the window sill, and you scurry to press your body against the wall directly next to the opening. You grip the handle of metal tighter, struggling to keep your heavy breaths silent as you watch his fit form effortlessly raise himself up past the open window.

When he lands inside, you’re transfixed by the way his shirt hangs on his brawny body, the veins in his arms enlarged from the physical exertion of carrying his weight up the tower. Just for that moment, you let your eyes roam his lean figure in unadulterated fascination.

“Hah! Stupid guards, thinking they could catch me after—”

And then that moment ends.

A loud clang resounds throughout the cramped space as a result of the pan in your hand bashing into the back of his head. For a split second, you worry if the force behind your swing is enough to knock him out cold, but then he meets the floor headfirst. You wince for him.

With the substitute weapon in hand, you circle around his seemingly unconscious form up to his head, which is turned away from your prying stare. In order to decipher his level of cognizance, you crouch down and bow over him to get a better look at his face.

Long, dark locks that were perfectly mussed before his fall now cover nearly half his countenance, so you push them to the side to reveal his closed lids and strong brows. Following the curve of his cheekbones, you pass his cupid’s bow to gaze upon his thin lips, a tiny beauty mark laying directly underneath—an intimate detail that you feel uncomfortable knowing.

A faint blush colours your cheeks as you comprehend how utterly breathtaking the stranger is, drastically disparate to the stories your mother told you as a child, where men resembled ogres that lived under bridges, grotesque and unkempt.

He is nothing like that. Not at all.

He reminds you of the princes you read about in picture books—dashing and strong, willing to go to extreme lengths to find their Princess, their one true love. You know you’re taking it too far when you begin to fantasize about his personality purely based on his, admittedly, strikingly handsome appearance. With a vigorous shake of your head, you force yourself out of your reverie and get back to your task.

You stretch two fingers out to rest just beneath his nostrils, feeling the warm air that leaves his body at constant intervals, a good sign that he was not only alive but knocked out cold.

You prod at his shoulder, whispering, “Are you awake?”

No reaction.

With this confirmation, you take hold of one of his wrists with both hands and clench your jaw while leaning back, trying to use your body weight to help drag him. He proves to be much heavier than you initially believed, though you feel him moving inch by inch. Rather than another human being, you simply think of him as a heavy sack of potatoes for the sake of your conscience as you shuffle backwards, heading for the wardrobe on the other side of the room.

By the time you reach said armoire, you collapse on the ground next to him, gulping in as much air as you can. Now, there was simply the problem of shoving him inside. You turn your head to face the stranger, pouting at the prospect of having to lift his bulky self.

After much pushing and rearranging, the doors finally close behind him, although, as you predicted, stuffing him in there took much longer than you would like to admit. You aren’t sure how comfortable he is in the disfigured pretzel position you left him in, but his contentment is not at the top of your list of priorities right now.

Rubbing your palms together, you go to pick up the frying pan that lay discarded on the floor near the window when you take notice of the brown satchel that sat next to it. You have no use for any kind of travelling equipment, obviously, what with your whole life existing in this tall building, and your mother only carries a quaint, woven basket around. She is insistent on living as modestly as possible, and that includes whatever goodies she brings back from her adventures.

That rules out everyone but the stranger. The bag does look more masculine, anyway. Grabbing the strap, you raise the object in question up to have a closer inspection and find the leather to be heavier than expected. There are odd bumps protruding from its exterior, filling you with a tenuous curiosity.

Carefully, you lift the flap open to expose a heavily jewelled crown. Perplexity is written within the creases of your brows as you reach to grab the item within and drop the empty satchel. From your inexperienced eyes, the thing is as real as it gets, a shimmering gold decorated with the finest jewels in the kingdom. The different colours of each gem catch the light, reflecting the brilliant rays onto the walls of your room.

Your impromptu analysis concludes with an inexplicable pull towards the diadem, which you’re uncertain how to act upon until you involuntarily place the crown on your head. You turn to face the mirror leaning against the wall and it feels so right, as though two matching puzzle pieces have finally been brought together. The reflection staring back at you seems complete in ways you have never been before.

Yet, you can’t begin to fathom the reasoning behind all these strange epiphanies, unfamiliar with the tranquillity that quiets the constant buzzing in your head. Overwhelmed, you remove the crown and not a moment too soon, for a familiar, shrill shriek meets your ears.

“Petal!”

Your stomach lurches. Eyes darting to the wardrobe, you’re reminded of the man inside. You know if Mother saw him, she would definitely freak out, maybe even refuse to visit for the next week to drive you insane with solitude. But, then again, you could use him as an example to show that you could handle yourself out in that dangerous world she was always going on and on about.

“Let down your hair!”

You stuff the diadem back in the bag and stow it in an empty flower pot.

Giddy at the prospect of having a legitimate argument to reinforce your reasoning to leave the tower, you dash to the window sill and fling your hair over without a second glance outside. The rush of excitement blinds you from the sensitivity of your sore muscles as you haul her up.

“Petal,” your mother grits out, staggering inside due to your rushed actions, “what did I tell you about checking who’s calling before letting your hair down?”

“Hello, Mother!” you brush off her question, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I have something really important to show you!”

“Don’t change the subject.” She squints her eyes at you, lips pursed with frustration. “You're getting more and more reckless. One of these days, a crook will make their way up here and you’ll be foolish enough to invite them inside, maybe pour them a cup of tea while you’re at it?”

“I’m truly sorry.” You decide to humour her to prevent her temperament from flaring, throwing out a meaningless apology—one you’re used to blurting out left and right.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” she says, as smug and haughty as always. Your mother removes her coat, handing it off to you. “But today’s your lucky day! Just as I was about to visit, I remembered to bring your present!”

Your heart warms at your mother’s unusual thoughtfulness, although you’re much too eager to prove your strength first. “Ah, thank you, Mother. But I really want to show you—”

“Something more important than your mother’s present?”

“Of course not! I just wanted to get it out of the way so that I could enjoy your present later.” She seems unconvinced, so you add, “Y’know how they always say to leave the best for last?”

The older woman heaves an exasperated sigh, shoving you out of the way as she heads for the armchair in the corner. She slumps her tired form on the rickety seat as it creaks its refusal, then waves her hand, gesticulating that you get on with whatever it is you have up your sleeves.

Perspiration gathers within your palms and you fight to ward off the minuscule smile that plays on your lips while you gradually make your way back to the wooden armoire, “So, you’re always going on about how weak and fragile I am…”

“Yes.” She rests her chin in her hand, scrutinizing every hair on your head as though the answers to your ridiculous behaviour are buried within the multitudinous strands. “And what of it?”

“Well, I just thought that I should show you,” you start as your back hits the old furniture and your fingertips graze its rough texture. “That I’m more than capable of handling myself when we go out to—”

“When we go out?” she interrupts, irritation hardening her sharp features as she fixes you with an enraged scowl. “And where do you suppose we’re going exactly?”

You hesitate as your earlier confidence slips and you scramble to correct your word choice before she completely blows you off. “Uh, I just meant that this will show you how strong I am, and, uh…”

An eerie silence occupies the room when you find yourself at a loss for words. You know that your blabbering will get you absolutely nowhere, so you tighten your grip on the handles of the wardrobe, counting on your actions to speak louder than your words ever could.

“How old are you turning again, Y/N? It was eighteen, was it not?”

You shrink under her abrupt question, choosing to play along to pacify the shreds of annoyance flickering in her orbs. “Yes, Mother.”

“And for how long are we going to play this game?” she asks, standing with her basket in tow. Your mother rounds closer to you and your gaze automatically flies to the floor.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“What’re you hiding this time? Did you find another mouse? A rat?” she mocks, resting one hand on her hip. “Ooh, did a raccoon find its way inside?” Once her face is a mere couple of inches from your nose, you allow your eyes to meet her own, dreadfully empty ones. The sight sends a chill down your spine.

You release your hold on the furniture, dejection seeping from your tone. “Two mice this time.”

Her boisterous cackle echoes off the stone walls and she clutches her stomach in an attempt to quell the onslaught of laughter. The gesture reminds you of the countless other times you tried to ‘prove yourself’ through similar methods when you were younger, catching rodents that occasionally found their way into the nooks and crannies of the tower.

The first time you caught a mouse, you’d been ecstatic, rushing to show it off to the only person you knew. Although at that age, rather than a ticket to freedom, you were simply seeking your mother’s approval and perhaps a few praises here and there. You wanted to prove that despite your lonely upbringing—with your mother lounging around the tower for only a few hours every other day—you could handle yourself. She wouldn’t have to worry.

Evidently, you were too young to understand your mother’s rash nature, and she immediately assumed the worst—that you had somehow managed to sneak outside and wanted to prove your calibre by hunting down a nearby animal. The harsh scolding you received that day still lingers as a scar on your wrist, a painful reminder to never cross your mother.

“The outside world is not a simple matter of ‘two mice’ darling. You should know better than to think I’ll ever be impressed by these foolish displays of strength.” She swoops you up into her arms and you automatically bring your hands to circle her lithe waist. “That’s why you’ll always need Mother to protect you.”

Your chin rests on her shoulder, stare unfocused as you dismally state, “Yes, Mother.”

“Now, onto more exciting matters.” A couple of light, successive pats strike your back and you’re released from her hold. She is quick to open her wooden basket and rummage through the contents, reaching inside for what you assume to be your birthday present. The vegetables in her hand don’t excite you, but you put on a fake grin for her anyway. “I’m making your favourite soup!”

She scurries away from your static form to head past the doorway, but you stop her in her tracks with a low voice. “I’m not really feeling up for soup today.”

“You know how far the journey is to get some of these vegetables, let alone how expensive each one is!” she exclaims, waving said produce in her hand as she spins to face you.

“I’m really sorry, Mother,” you mumble, flashing her your best puppy-dog eyes. “But I ran out of paint recently and I’m feeling kind of down about it.”

She tuts. “That’s a three-day journey, Petal.”

“I know, it’s just that when I can’t distract myself with painting, I get these horrible thoughts of leaving the tower.” Doing your best to reason with her, you shift your weight to the other foot and fiddle around with your fingernails, attempting to appear as innocent as possible. “And I think those paints are a much better idea than going out to see the lights.”

A few seconds pass before a groan escapes your mother’s lips. “You’re lucky Mother loves you dearly.”

You stumble into her torso, grateful that she is unintentionally following along with your plan—a tedious scheme that you were saving as a last resort. She strokes the crown of your head, allowing you to nuzzle your cheek into the comfort of your mother’s embrace before her immediate departure.

Goodbyes are exchanged with some more reprimands sprinkled into the conversation, then she scales down the building and is no longer in your line of sight. You rub the nape of your neck, inching towards the armoire as you ponder whether a trip to indulge in your greatest desires is worth it when weighed against the lifelong bond you have with your own blood.

While navigating through your moral dilemma, you twist open the knob and watch as the scruffy man’s body slumps down to the floor without the support of the door to hold him upright. You refrain from cringing at his reddened nose.

Prioritizing your safety first, you retrieve your trusty pan and manhandle his body onto a chair, the seat still warm from your mother’s presence. This time around, you won’t be able to attain the upper hand by catching him off guard, so you settle on tying him up.

The question is: with what? You have no reason to keep ropes casually lying around the tower and one glance at his bulging biceps assures you that sewing thread will not be enough either.

As you’re thinking about stuffing him back into the wardrobe until you come up with a better idea, the blond strands at the edge of your peripheral catch your eye. For the first time in your life, your excessively long hair proves to be of use.

When he is tightly restrained to the armchair, your tresses acting like a straitjacket around his torso and snaking around his legs, you step back to appreciate your work. Your eyes drift over his corded muscles and roam over his face once again.

Before you let yourself get lost in his model-like features, your free hand reaches out, palm outstretched, to slap him across the face.

You nurse the stinging pain ebbing atop your outermost layer of skin, cradling the appendage to your chest as you hiss out a low whine, although the sound is masked by the low timbre of a groan. Your body stiffens while you gawk at the stranger, watching him gather his surroundings, whipping his head back and forth before his chestnut orbs land on you.

Your grip on the handle of the pot tightens.

“Wha—”

“No! Uh, I mean, hush!” you exclaim, deepening your voice for a rather weak, intimidating effect. “I’m doing the talking here.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat before you can utter another word. His doe eyes bore into yours and you step back, instantly feeling threatened by the intensity of his gaze. He wriggles around in his restraints, testing his extremely limited range of motion.

A prolonged, slightly awkward, silence stretches in the air as you attempt to recall the interrogation questions you practiced while tying him up. Regrettably, you come up blank.

He rolls his eyes at your lack of speech, raising a single brow.

“Well?” he questions, seemingly accepting his lack of free movement and slouching comfortably against the back of the chair. “I thought you said you were gonna do the talking?”

You grit your teeth at his impertinence, shaking off the nerves of talking to another human being that was not your mother as you adorn a superficial, bold facade. Striving to exude the same persuading tone that all those mystery books depicted, you mimic the slow strides you’ve read detectives take around their suspects.

“How did you find me?” You round the corner to escape his unimpressed glare, circling around him.

In turn, he cranes his neck to peer over at you, bewilderment written in the slack of his jaw. “Find you? Who says I was looking for you?” He whistles lowly catching sight of your mane, “That’s some hair you got there. Is that what’ve you tied me up with?”

A scoff escapes your lips, unconvinced at his act.

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, marching back to the front of the chair to dramatically slam your hands down onto his bound wrists, effectively halting his faint wriggling. “Then why did you come all the way up here, huh?”

The dashingly handsome stranger’s tongue prods at his cheek, serving to rile you up further. Taking his sweet time, he inspects the space around him before his focus comes back to you, and he leans in, smirking devilishly. “Sure as hell wasn’t for you, Princess.”

At the odd nickname combined with the close proximity, a flush tints your cheeks and you take a few steps back. He chuckles at his small victory—a deep, melodic sound that sends your flustered state into a muddled craze of butterflies, threatening to burst from within. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the man, more so to collect yourself than to unnerve him.

“Got something in your eye?”

You tilt your head back and grumble, exasperated at his lack of cooperation followed by his audacity to tease you further. “For your information, my eyes are working perfectly fine.”

“Good for you. Now, if you’ll just untangle me and give me back my bag, I’ll be out of your hair. Literally.” He grins at his joke, which you don’t find quite as funny.

“Like I’ll believe that.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’ll ask you again. How exactly did you find me?”

“As I said, Princess,” he jeers, his impatience made visible by the bulging veins lining his neck, “why would anybody be after your poor ass? I mean, just looking at the place, doesn’t look like you’ve got much else other than a bunch of hidden property and a shitty old tower.”

“Shitty?” You repeat, accosted at the stranger’s portrayal of the place you grew up.

He takes another look around the place as if to confirm his accusations before curtly nodding his head.

You glower at his blunt words, taking personal offence for the many hours you spent decorating, cleaning and doting over the building. “Well, I didn’t know we were expecting a rude guest. Then again, guests are invited inside, aren’t they?”

“Listen, you seem like the ditzy type, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. I got into a bit of a scuffle with some scoundrels and before I knew it, I was outnumbered!” he recounts slowly and melodramatically as if he is presenting a bedtime story to a child. “Then I stumble through some vines and find this gigantic tower!

“And to my surprise, rather than hidden treasure, this place has some naive, pan-wielding maniac at the top,” he concludes with a sigh, soundlessly implying that you should pity the unfortunate situation he stumbled upon—the unfortunate bit caused by your interference. All you feel is a burning itch to sock him across the face again, although that wouldn’t be too helpful in discovering his real objective.

His whole story sounds like pure bologna to you, but you feed into his obvious lies with a hum of acknowledgement. “Must’ve been so hard for you.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he whines, a pout forming on his pink lips.

You flash a close-lipped smile and thrust the metal weapon centimetres from his nose with more force than intended, though it seems to do the job when you catch his eyes widen slightly before reverting to the same relaxed stare as before. His posture is evidently tenser than a few seconds ago, which builds your pliant determination.

“Either some truths are gonna come out of that smart mouth or you’re gonna take another nap,” You threaten, waving the pan back and forth.

“Okay, easy now.” The stranger bends his hands upwards by the wrists, waving his fingers down slowly, as though he were calming a raging bull. “There’s no violence needed in this okay? We can make a deal.”

The sound of his cooperation piques your interest, so you inquire, “What kind of deal?”

“First of all, can you lower that?” You comply with his request, although you keep the skillet in the air, ready to strike at a moment's notice if he tries anything funny. “Okay, Princess, how about you give me the satchel, let me go without any trouble and I won’t tell anyone about your little hideout here, hm?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m the one with the upper hand here.” If you two are to come to a compromise, you’re going to need more from the stranger than his word to keep quiet. “And I need you to take me to see the lanterns at the capital.”

A hacking cough morphs into a distorted chuckle in his throat. “Hm, you see, that would be a bit difficult considering the rocky relationship I have with the royals.”

You cock your head to the side, raising the metal menacingly.

His fists curl into balls as a strained grin stretches across his face. “But I guess we could make it work.”

Pleased with his compliance, you continue with your conditions, “You take me to see the lanterns tomorrow night, bring me back home in one piece and I’ll give your bag back. Then you can jump out of the window for all I care, just keep your mouth shut about this place.”

“Do I even have a choice in the matter?”

“Nope.” His lack of protest makes you giddy, and you allow yourself to credulously overestimate your influence over the man. It has to be that or your frightening frying pan, right?

“Then what’re we waiting for?”

A childlike wonder brightens your countenance as you speedily unravel your locks from around the stranger, whipping the bulk of it over the hook and out the window. With his newfound freedom, you catch him combing through miscellaneous trinkets and in fear of him identifying the location of his bag, you call out, “There’s no use, you could ransack the whole tower and never find your precious satchel. You’re better off fulfilling our agreement.”

Fitting your trusty skillet under your arm, you don’t spare him another glance and hope that your bluff is enough to deter his scouring. Thankfully, the clattering of objects ceases and he saunters past the vase with his dear bag inside. Your attention flits to the verdant scenery below.

You allow an exuberant screech to rip through your vocal cords while you effortlessly fly down, your body wrapped around your hair as though the strands have solidified into a firepole and land on the plush, vibrant grass with a bounce. The prickly sensation on your bare skin is not what you imagined the spindly plant to feel like, yet you revel in its oddities nonetheless.

Your companion follows along with less flair, steadily climbing down using the two arrows that were left between the stones. By the time he reaches the ground, you’re already feeling the consequences of sticking your bare feet in the mud by a river.

He rolls his eyes at your antics and darts off while you tread toward the water to wash off the muck between your toes. You swish your foot back and forth, watching the current run off with the dirt and avoiding the miniature fish that gather around you. Their bright orange bodies are stark against the rocks underneath, easy to spot due to the clear, crystalline stream that you’re splashing around in.

When one of them decides to start nipping at your ankles and the rest of his posse tag along, you wade deeper—searching for a grassy area to withdraw from their persistent suckling. As you’re scouring the landscape, enjoying the slight breeze blowing through your hair, you find yourself alone.

This doesn’t bother you at first, used to the notion of having only your own inner thoughts as company. You’re preoccupied with rinsing the brown stains that mark one section of your tresses and gather the clean, soaked mass into your arms before you realize that the tour guide you recruited has gone missing.

At first, you can’t believe he abandoned the precious crown that he appeared to cherish so greatly, but before you can think too deeply about it, a light smack meets the nape of your neck.

“Looking for me, Princess?”

“Stop calling me that,” you whip around, a glare directed at his triumphant smirk. “And where were you anyway? Not trying to run off already, are we?”

He raises his hands up as though he has been caught red-handed, although his digits are curled around what looks to be strips of tree bark and long strands of weeds. Just as you’re about to question him further, he crouches down and grabs one of your ankles, lifting your leg out of the water and closer to him. You yelp and shift your weight to rest on your other foot.

“What?” He secures a few layers of the rough wood to the sole of your foot, wrapping the flexible plants around the bark and expertly tying it at the top. “This is what I get for being considerate isn’t it?”

“Is considerate even part of your vocabulary?” you tease, the relief at his presence causing you to lower your guard.

He freezes halfway through fastening the second makeshift shoe onto your other foot when the orbs staring up at you light up with mischief. Changing position, he folds forwards then rocks back to stand up to his full height. “Ah, I see how it is. Then I would never do something so thoughtful, right?”

“I take it back! I take it back, just finish it up,” you beseech.

“That’s what I thought, Princess.” He bends over to complete the second knot then scampers off to the forest as soon as the job is complete.

As you test out the peculiar slippers—inwardly marvelling at the barrier they provide against the elements of nature—you vocalize your displeasure with the nickname he has taken to calling you, “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

His strides ease up from his hurried pace, shortening to compensate for your smaller steps. “Aw, does Princess dislike being reminded of who she is?”

“I’ve never heard of a Princess living outside of a castle before.”

He hums, tilting his head in wonder. “Is your tower not considered a castle?”

“Not when I’m the only one living there,” you mutter under your breath, although you’re not sure if he catches it or not based on his silence. Regardless, you change the subject before he has a chance to respond. “So are you gonna tell me your name or what?”

Sneaking a peek at his side profile, you catch the endearing crinkle that appears by his eyes when he grins. “What’s with the sudden interest? I mean, I understand the enthusiasm but—”

You strike his elbow with the bottom of the skillet and he whines like a kicked puppy.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just thought we should be on a first-name basis if we’re going to be travelling all this way together.” You amuse yourself by twirling the skillet around in your grip, acting as though there’s a gigantic pancake that you professionally flip onto its other side. “I would prefer my name over ‘Princess.’”

“I kinda like the ring of it though.” He winks at you, but you’re too invested in your cooking charades to notice. “You can call me Geum.”

“Geum? Like ‘gold’? What kind of name is that?”

“Ooh, someone’s judgemental.” Snatching the pan, he brandishes it around like a deadly cutlass in a seasoned pirate’s hand, bounding around you. He ends his show with the tip aimed straight at your heart.

“Just saying. You’ve got to admit it’s a bit… unique.” You halfheartedly brush him off, fighting to keep your grin from showing. As a side note, you announce your name.

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

Before he can prance off, you pluck the skillet out of his grasp and tear through the dense bushes with your treasure. His war cry echoes throughout the expansive woodlands as he rushes after you, untangling your hair from lone branches as he goes.

To claim that your feet are about to fall off is a gross understatement.

You have been travelling alongside Geum for hours now without a single break. Despite the high spirits that you two kicked your trip off with, the elation from brushing against the silky plants, cooing at the wildlife that crossed your path, and inhaling the fresh scent of damp moss and wet tree trunks from yesterday’s showers wore off quickly.

You’re inclined to believe that your enthusiasm began to subside when Geum yanked you away from running your finger along one set of rich emerald leaves—narrowly avoiding what he explained to be poison ivy. Your curious hands have been cemented to your sides ever since that close encounter.

After your lively bickering dies down, rather than a peaceful, quiet walk, listening to the whispers of the wind and the pleasant chirping of the birds, the antsy man beside you puts you on edge. He can’t stop looking from side to side, trying to peer past the endless birches and elms that obscure your view.

Is Geum expecting someone?

Perhaps some parts of his story are true. Perhaps having a ruffian with other delinquents hunting him is not the best partner to accompany you on this journey—not that you have much of a choice in the matter, it’s either him or no one. You’re unsure which option is worse.

Any conversation you strike is met with teasing remarks, so you give up on prodding him for any substantial information. But with the sky darkening and the breeze turning brisk, you’re about to mention camping out somewhere when Geum says, “We should settle down for the night.”

“I never thought I would agree with something that came out of your mouth.”

“That’s why you’re wrong most of the time.” And there it was, another snotty retort that practically begs you to deck him with the pan you keep tucked in your underarm.

The quibble ignites a fire under your skin, the flames licking at your sides and providing some warmth amidst the chill in the air. “Most of the time? So you’re saying that you’re wrong sometimes?”

“Yeah, nobody can always be right.” He flashes a lazy smirk your way, adjusting the bundle of your locks in his arms. “Like when I said that your hair isn’t an inconvenience.”

You take a second to process his snarky words. With your mind occupied, stuck in a whirlwind of potential reprisals, you unintentionally head towards the distant outline of the castle when you approach a crossroad branching in two opposite directions.

Just as you’re about to let loose a nasty quip, his warm hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from the faraway mansion. You overheat at the source of the touch, thoughts going haywire.

“Hey, hey!” In hopes of snapping him out of his reverie, you raise your voice. “You can’t blow off our deal now, don’t you want your precious satchel back?”

When he offers no explanation for his cryptic actions, you attempt to pry off his fingers with your other hand—making sure not to trip over your own two feet while you’re at it. Your wriggling is all for nought because Geum’s iron grip is too durable to be outmatched by your fumbling digits.

“Geum, please just,” you plead, ceasing your struggle when the delicate skin in his grasp begins to sting from his strength, “let’s talk about this, okay?”

You’re so preoccupied with regaining your freedom that you don’t notice the dingy sign you two pass; a rubber duck with the words The Snuggly Duckling etched onto the wood. “Shut up and hurry.”

Your jaw drops at his insolent tone, astounded at his change in demeanour. There’s no playful spirit behind his words this time, only a sharp annoyance accompanied by his sudden haste that you feel all too strongly in your wrist. You stumble after him and duck your head through a small doorway, your mind caught up in formulating a coherent response that consists of sounds other than your outraged sputtering.

“Don’t tell me to—”

You’re cut off by the ruckus inside the establishment. Burly men surround the two of you, drinking, howling in laughter, practicing their aim with throwing knives—there’s even a large group of people fighting in one corner. The amount of blood streaked across the walls, their clothes, and pouring out of their open wounds is concerning. You can smell the metallic tang from the entrance.

When the hand around your wrist disappears, you find yourself yearning for the physical connection, serving as some kind of reassurance that he is not leaving you to the metaphorical, and sort of literal, wolves before you. In order not to lose Geum as he wades through the crowds, you latch on to the thin hem of his shirt. He pays you no mind and continues onward.

Skillfully slipping through the giants while you bumble behind him, you two arrive at a row of vacant barstools. You loosen your grip at the unexpectedly tranquil space, such a drastic contrast to the commotion in the background that it’s like you’ve been transported to another place altogether.

You’re brought back to reality from the loud grunt that booms throughout the joint, although you tune out again when you hear a punch being thrown, then a crack that you can only hope isn’t a bone. Or two.

“Uh, Geum?” you ask, although he pays your appellation no mind. His attention is focused on the intimidating, tattooed man behind the counter.

“Joon.” Your unofficial tour guide takes a seat. “A mead?”

Determined to stick close to the only familiar face in the building, you slide onto the seat next to Geum. The overwhelming scent of liquor hits you hard, causing you to crinkle your nose the exact moment that your narrowed eyes spot the bartender, Joon, awkwardly cough into his fist, trying to stifle his snickers for your sake.

“Just a water for her.”

While Joon confirms Geum’s order with a slight nod, you cast your head down to stare at your twiddling fingers. Your mind is still reeling from the abrupt change in scenery, unsure how to carry yourself in this new setting. It was no problem in the dense forest, with only Geum to judge you—but it isn’t like you’re trying to impress him anyway.

In here where hordes of broad men are gathered, drunk out of their minds with crimson staining their attire, you’re scared. Everything is too raucous, too rancid, too overwhelming. You’re uncertain whether the trip to the capital will play out as you’ve imagined and you turn towards Geum to tell him as much when—

“Was this from me?” You instinctively flinch at his tug on your elbow, although regret rushes down your back, clawing against your spine like ice-cold water when hurt flashes across his shadowed orbs. Before you can blink, it’s gone.

As a feeble apology, you offer a tightlipped smile. Referring back to his words, you examine your arm and grimace when you spot the blooming scarlet streaks encircling your wrist, taking the shape of Geum’s slender digits. “Oh, uh, don’t worry. It’ll fade.”

It’s not a lie since the marks will eventually fade. You hope it doesn’t turn black and blue before that though.

A clear glass is thrust your way, which you’re overjoyed to snatch from Joon’s hand, noting Geum’s copper liquor from the corner of your eye. Hours of travelling without any form of hydration definitely took its toll on you, evident by your severely chapped lips that you can’t help but swipe your tongue over every minute—not that the dried saliva is doing you any favours.

Before you have a chance to sip from heaven in liquid form, you’re halted by a gentle finger tracing the length of your forearm. Thankfully, you’re not as skittish this time around, remaining frozen until Geums pulls back; the pale, discoloured scar he was following having tapered off into your natural skin. “Where’s that one from?”

His strange inquiry confuses you with its unusually intrusive nature considering his inability to chat seriously five minutes ago. You pause for a second to debate on revealing the truth or constructing a comical narrative for the sake of avoiding a sombre turn to the light conversation. Despite your decision, your lips rebel, taking on a mind of their own. “A punishment.”

Bronze orbs snap up to yours, boring into the deepest parts of your soul and uncovering each of your secrets one by one as if they’re gems, buried within the layers of your lonely childhood. You’re transfixed. “Mother said it would remind me to never leave the tower.”

The condensation running down the side of the chilled cup meets the edge of your palm, sliding down your index finger and becoming a stark reminder of your parched mouth. You lift the glass to take a sip, but a taste renders your control inoperative as you guzzle down the rest, leaving not a single drop inside.

Your famished stomach makes itself known with a growl when your thirst is quenched. Attracting the attention of the bartender with a small wave, you ask, “Is there any chance you’ve got some food here?”

“We’ve got anything as long as you’ve got the coin for it, blondie.”

You shudder in alarm at the introduction of another patron in the bar. Leaning away from the repulsive drawl to your left, you shift over to position yourself as far away as possible. Seeing your discomfort, the stranger takes a few steps forward to invade your personal space once more and you recoil back with a jerk of your torso.

The abrupt motion messes with your centre of gravity, tipping you over the edge of the barstool. Just as you’re about to have an unpleasant meeting with the floor, a palm darts out to the small of your waist and steadies you. You follow the arm up to Geum’s clenched jaw.

“She’s not looking for anything that you guys can offer.”

Your throat tightens at your companion’s harsh answer, wary of how the other men will react. The burly man to your other side bursts out in obnoxious laughter and a glint of light reflecting off of his silver teeth catches your eye, which you recognize from earlier. He’s one of the goons that was involved in the fistfight near the entrance.

“As if you’re packing anything better.” He nudges his lackeys behind them and they chuckle along like they’re all in on one big joke.

“It’s not hard to top a baby carrot.”

Panicked at his provocation, you glimpse at the challenging smirk plastered across Geum’s lips. You aren’t sure why he’s trying to pick a fight or if there’s any logical reasoning behind his actions at all, but you tap on the arm still attached to your torso, conveying your opinion on his moronic pride with your widened eyes.

Of course, men will be men, and the little posse arranged behind the silver toothed boss riles their leader up, encouraging him with disgruntled yells and unintelligible speech to prove their dominance. With you in between the two blockheads, you’re sure that you’re not going to like how this plays out.

Dismissing your distress, Geum takes a sip of his drink. He seems unbothered by the commotion surrounding him and you envy his nonchalant demeanour.

“You got any bite behind your bark, pretty boy?” His lackeys change tactics, switching over to goading Geum on. You assume their greater numbers spark their courage, reassured that they could overpower one man. “Or are we just trying to impress this little miss right here?”

“I’m not sure if it’ll be very fair for you guys,” Geum says cockily, scrutinizing each member from head to toe then returning to his sweet mead. “I mean, just looking at you boys, doesn’t look too impressive if you ask me.”

If the atmosphere didn’t thicken with a fatal tension, you would have giggled at his smart mouth. But the other man’s nostrils flare in resentment, beginning to surge forward before he’s interrupted by a spindly boy who thrusts a paper below his nose. “Boss, you were right, it’s him.”

His unsightly features twist upwards in joy, displaying his horrendous set of chompers once more as he chuckles. That’s when you realize that a sinister smile can be much more frightening than any bellow of rage. “Looks like you’ve got quite the bounty on your head there, Geum.”

At the snarl of his name, your eyes dart to the wrinkled sheet in his hand which he graciously flips to face your direction. An uncanny depiction of Geum’s face is drawn, a sum containing many zeroes painted underneath his name. What appalls you the most is the red, bolded letters at the very top, distinctly spelling out wanted.

Geum is a wanted criminal.

While your mind is reeling, sight blurring and breath quickening from the influx of information, the man in question unabashedly finishes off the last of his alcoholic beverage and proceeds to slam the glass onto the counter. Through all of the clamour, you pick up Joon’s exasperated sigh in the background.

The door to the establishment flings open, hinges creaking as the wood bounces back from the sheer force of the blow. While everyone is distracted by the bustle, Geum stealthily hops off his seat, slipping an arm around your waist to soundlessly lead you to the other side of the counter. Although you’re reluctant to follow, you refrain from squabbling with him in order not to attract any unwanted attention.

“We’ve received a report that a well-known thief has been spotted in the premises—”

Geum kneels in front of the shelves lined with drinks of all shapes and colours, fiddling with something you can’t see from your position behind him. Following his lead, you crouch behind him, softly muttering in disbelief, “You really think they won’t find us hiding here?”

A click is heard as a few of the racks cave in on themselves, revealing a concealed passageway. Geum shakes his head towards the opening, silently directing you to enter first. You’re hesitant to accompany him any farther but you’re pushed forwards by Joon’s calf on your back and you understand that you don’t have much of a choice in the matter anymore.

If you’re caught now, you’ll be accused of being an accomplice to whatever crimes Geum committed.

You spare a thankful nod to Joon, stealing a glance at the guards blocking the entrance while you’re at it. Their white uniforms are decorated with accents of bright oranges and reds, a familiar flower fastened to the right side of their chest. One of them holds another copy of Geum’s wanted poster which you tear your gaze from, willing yourself to escape from this mess before thinking about anything else.

Geum shoves you through the opening, and you crawl through the underground passage as fast as you can in order to keep his pinching fingers away from your ankles. You two are far enough to safely whisper short phrases to one another, but he insists on being a nuisance as he urges you to pick up the pace.

It’s pitch black when the trapdoor shuts behind Geum, and you’re unable to make out your own hands in front of your face; with no other path in sight, you blindly head forward. As you continue, you pass torches burning with a bright fire that provide light, illuminating the stones around you and the shadows following you. You wonder how often this underground system is used to have fire running at all times.

Eventually, the tunnel’s height expands enough for the two of you to comfortably tread through on your feet. If you weren’t tired enough from walking for hours on end, the brutal jog which Geum sets is more than enough to tire you out within mere minutes.

“Geum,” you heave, unable to catch your breath with your chest fruitlessly rising and falling, never passing enough air for you to gather your senses. He’s too far to catch, effortlessly sprinting ahead, yet you still uselessly reach out to capture his attention. “Geum.”

You push yourself to the limit, another few minutes passing by before your powerless body can no longer handle the stress of the strenuous activity, and you slow down, coming to a full stop. One hand on the rocky wall steadies your dizzying sight as you hunch over, throat burning and stomach aching. Even though you try to remain standing, your legs involuntarily give out and you end up on the floor.

As you try to regain your breath, hands grasp your shoulders and gently shake you back to reality. Geum’s intense gaze is only centimetres away, torso bent to level with you. “You can do this, come on. We have to lose them.”

“I,” you huff, “I can’t… It’s… too much.”

Geum’s arms return to his sides, his brows furrowing as you watch the gears whirring in his head through your blurry vision. When he spins around to face the exit, you cry out in a hoarse voice, believing that he’s leaving your pathetic, crumpled form to fend for yourself—but instead of running off, he crouches to the ground with his backside to you. “Get on.”

In spite of your resolute will to arise from your folded position, your legs can’t seem to extend outwards in order to climb onto his back, which you convey by tapping his shoulder and pitifully shaking your head. Geum’s lips pry apart to respond, but his words are drowned out by the pounding footsteps that echo throughout the tunnel walls. He curses under his breath as he turns and scoops your fetal form into his arms.

All you can register is his natural woody scent enveloped in the sweaty musk that drenches his frame, your body clutched tightly to his torso as he races to the end of the tunnel. You grip his thin shirt in one fist, unfamiliar with the warmth fluttering in your chest, so you brush it off as another side effect from the arduous sprinting.

A bright light can be seen at the very end, but your eyes are locked on the well-defined jaw of the man carrying you as if you were as light as a feather, running as if your lives depended on it—which they kind of do.

You couldn’t differentiate the pounding of Geum’s shoes from the mob of guards pursuing you two. As you slowly recover from your exhausted state, the guilt of becoming a burden settles into the creases of your face, worrying lines etching onto your features from thinking about your impending fate.

Your thoughts wander to the reasoning behind this violent chase. By the fancier uniforms they sport, you suspect their position to be rather high, perhaps palace guards or ones belonging to the royal family. Reminded of the wanted poster clutched within one of their hands, the image stirs unease within the depths of your stomach that’s already stinging from the massive amounts of cardio you’ve done today.

Before you can connect any dots, you’re out in the wilderness again, although instead of the sun’s blazing rays on your face, the moon’s tender beams spill over your surroundings. The sort of serenity that accompanies the stillness of the later hours are interrupted by your rapidly beating heart, which is amplified by the pulse felt on your left side.

After a few more strides, Geum comes to a sudden halt.

“What’s wrong?” You tilt your neck to look at his face in curiosity. Although he doesn’t appear fatigued, his cheeks only slightly flushed from exertion and a few sweat droplets racing down his temples, you ask anyway, “Are you tired?”

The grip under your legs lower you to the ground and you stand in front of Geum, beginning to worry about losing your advantage over your pursuers. He doesn’t provide a verbal response to your questions, simply shaking his head and causing the tips of his hair to sway back and forth with the motion. The strands cover his eyes when he stops, but he doesn’t bother to brush them aside.

Geum’s shoulders slouch, heavy from the weight of defeat. You’re unnerved at his strange actions, turning to look ahead at the obstacle that’s forcing him to give up all hope.

You two are standing at the edge of a cliff.

Your knees buckle at the length of the drop, which seems never ending from your viewpoint. The tenebrous shadows of the night obscure the bottom, painting the jagged walls with uncertainty at any chance for survival. Your heart constricts as the despondency emanating off of Geum slithers its way into your rapidly diminishing resolution.

“When they get here,” he announces, bravery shining through his firm tone, “I need you to run as fast as you can. I’ll distract them, just focus on getting back to the bar. Tell Joon to take you somewhere safe and trust no one but him.”

You’re baffled at his complete change in attitude as well as his idiotic plan. There’s no trace of humour in his piercing orbs though, simply an obstinate determination that implores you to obey his orders. But you aren’t about to abandon the first friend you’ve ever made. “Are you insane? What do you think you can do against trained soldiers?”

“There’s no other choice.” He nudges your torso to position yourself behind him, both your backs to the cliff, watching the guards get closer and closer. Dread weighs ponderously on your limbs, the adrenaline pumping in your veins with every footstep marching to surround you two. You’re cornered.

The soldier closest to Geum unsheathes his sword and steadily approaches. You slip the rusty pan into his hand and he inconspicuously reaches back to pat your thigh, reminding you of his reckless scheme.

Seeing your defensive stance, the guard rushes forward, thrusting his sword forward to slice through layers of skin. Instead, the clang of metal against metal resounds throughout the empty cliff and your apprehension increases tenfold with your front row seat to Geum’s doomed duel, fending off a glinting sword with your rickety skillet.

Although he’s fighting well considering his enormous handicap, you spot more soldiers creeping their way into the skirmish, unable to stand and watch one of their own be bested in battle. Overall, the odds weren’t looking too great for your pan-wielding knight.

You have to do something. With Geum’s plan off the table, you can’t think of anything other than taking your chances with the cliff. You gather all your faith in the landscape, Geum, and yourself while taking a deep breath. Waiting for an opening within the clash, you cautiously inch towards Geum and when one particularly hard blow jolts both men back a few steps, you snatch up the opportunity.

Before another guard can take his ally’s place, you rush over to snake an arm around Geum’s lithe waist, tugging his back to meet your chest. During this process, he nearly elbows you in the face, writhing around in your tight hold until he recognizes your delicate hands on his stomach.

With the enemy frozen in confusion at your ostensibly desultory actions, you take advantage of their shock to stumble backwards, proving harder than necessary due to Geum’s long legs tangling with your own as you head towards the edge. You’re nearly there when one of the guards pick up on your plan to escape, jumping into action with his razor-sharp sword and waving it in a deadly arc that nearly slices both of your heads off clean.

Thankfully, you lose your footing on a slippery rock and tip over.

While airborne, any air is momentarily robbed from the heavy drop in your gut and a terrified shriek rips past your mouth as you lose your tight grip on Geum, utterly absorbed in your fear. The distance between you two grows, but because of his quick reflexes, Geum is able to fist a clump of your clothes in his hands and pull you into his chest with one hand resting on the nape of your neck.

You don’t have enough time to react to the new position before both your bodies are enveloped in gelid water. All of your nerves fire off, enraged at the sudden change in temperature. A violent shiver overtakes your limbs in a weak attempt to warm yourself up.

Although Geum’s palm on your neck withdraws to wade your bodies back up to surface, the grip around your middle only tightens.

The stream parts as you two float back up to meet the chilly air, greedily filling your lungs as you unravel from one another in order to paddle your way to shore. The current sweeps you along, aiding your furious efforts to reach the ground again.

Geum arrives at the muddy grass before you, swiftly lifting himself out and turning to fish for your soaked form. White puffs of your breath escape your mouths because of the low temperature, yet they dissipate as quickly as they’re formed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You close your eyes and nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

The fire crackles alongside the chirping crickets, forming a peculiar orchestra with the breeze blowing through the rustling leaves. You extend your frigid digits as close to the flames as you dare, desperate for its warmth, yet recoiling from the sting of its heat all the same.

“Might as well stick your whole hand in there while you’re at it.” Geum emerges from the tenebrous thickets of the forest, making his way into the dull glow of the bonfire with a bundle of skinny twigs in his arms.

You’re drained from the day’s events, but you flash him a smile brimming with gratitude, appreciative that he’s intent on keeping the fire alive despite his inevitably numb appendages. You insisted on swapping turns, allowing his body to warm up a bit while you scavenged for wood, although he dismissed your offer multiple times, claiming that moving around was much more effective for him than any flames.

You’d have to disagree with him there. The burning fire feels incredible heating up your skin from the outside in.  

“If you take a second to come and enjoy the warmth, then maybe you wouldn’t be so moody,” You jest, rotating the fish skewers that Geum expertly caught in the river with a sharpened branch. By the slightly burnt edges, you suppose it’s ready. “C’mon, let’s eat before you head off again.”

He grunts his affirmation, depositing his findings on top of the ever-growing pile of wood and taking a seat on a fallen log located a couple of feet away from you. You allow the meat to cool down before separating the fish from the stick it’s impaled on and passing it to him.

“Is your hair dry yet?” He’s too preoccupied with forcibly ripping the fish in half to avoid scaling it, so he doesn’t catch your affectionate, lingering gaze.

You hum, grabbing a lock of your wet strands. “Not quite.”

He places his meal next to him on the log and leans over to take the bulk of your tresses in his grasp. You watch as he lays the blonde strands near the fire, quietly giggling at his strange logic.

“You think the heat is going to make it dry faster?” The appearance of his wide grin elicits the return of the bizarre tightening in your chest, a crushing pain that makes it difficult to breathe. You haven’t had a bite of the fish but nausea swirls in your stomach as your hands turn clammy and you rip your eyes away from Geum in hopes of collecting yourself.

Seeing your doubt towards his surely infallible rationale, his brows scrunch together and he pauses his movements in his perplexity, a distant look swirling in his eyes. He should be completely unaware of the turmoil raging within you, yet all your previous worries dissipate with the smoke of the fire as his face becomes increasingly wrinkled, flashing an expression more ludicrous than the last.

After you beg and plead with him to stop, cheeks aching from smiles and belly throbbing from laughter, he breaks out into his own set of snickers. More than satisfied, Geum grabs his fish again and begins to nibble on the meat inside. “You never considered getting a trim?” he asks between bites.

A few seconds pass as you calm yourself down from your hysterical state. “Never allowed to,” you answer, short and vague to keep the pleasant atmosphere.

“Allowed to?” His voice is laced with his astonishment. “Who’s telling you what to do at your age?”

Fidgeting with your own skewer, you ponder over an answer that’s precise enough to satisfy his curiosity, yet obscure enough to conceal your identity at the same time. Your eyes dart from side to side, following the light of the fire as it illuminates a wet, crimson stain on the sleeve of Geum’s jacket.

“What’s that?” you question, scuttling over to his log and sitting down next to him. To get a better look, you grab his elbow and pull it towards you.

“Nothing. Don’t change the subject.” He tries to shrug off both your concern and your hand that’s clutching onto his arm, which only makes you tighten your grip. At the increase in pressure, a low groan slips past his lips and you instantly release your hold at the sound.

“Does it hurt?” The memory of the guard wildly slashing his sword in the air comes to mind and you realize that although the blow didn’t cost either of your lives, his upper arm must have borne the brunt of the force instead.

“It’s fine.” He attempts to brush you off again, but you’re as clingy as a leech and refuse to budge from his side.

You latch on to the lapel of his jacket and tug. “Take it off.”

Despite your solemnity, his low chuckle sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Already asking me to strip? I’m not that easy, Princess. How about you take me on a date first and I’ll think about your offer?”

“You know what I mean,” you grumble, exasperated that he persists on maintaining his incessant teasing while injured.

When he finishes cleaning off one half of his meal, about to reach for the other, you move to stand in front of him. You dismiss the wild pounding of your heart to focus on slipping his jacket off of his opposite arm.

He puts forth no effort to stop you, although he’s definitely not helping much with his limp, bulky appendages that are a lot heavier than expected. Slowly but surely, you tenderly thread his injured arm out of his sleeve with careful hands.

The white, short-sleeved shirt he’s sporting underneath makes it easy to spot the splotches of crimson dyeing the hem of his sleeve through the dim, orange light. You approach his laceration delicately, treating him like a frightened animal. He snorts at your earnest actions.

Lifting the fabric covering the entirety of the gash, you gasp softly at the depth of the wound, grimacing as though it’s your own limb that’s been hurt. “You shouldn’t be moving around with this, you’re not letting it heal.”

“I’ll endure any pain to keep you close,” he whispers, sweet honey dripping from his words as he loops his other arm around your waist, effectively pulling you in between his open legs.

His chin is a mere few centimetres from your belly button, gazing up at you with a flirtatious wink as he perches his hand onto your lower back. You hold your breath, worried that he can hear the utter chaos erupting within your chest due to the close proximity.

Flustered, you push at his broad shoulders, desperate for some room to breathe. Geum flinches at your touch and you instantly regret your thoughtless behaviour. Your concern at the severity of his wound multiplies tenfold, feeding into a disquiet that nestles into every cell in your body. “I’m serious, it doesn’t look good.”

One hand falls into his lap while the other comes up to ruffle his damp locks. “Don’t get shy now, Princess.”

Taking in the defeated slouch to his back, the distant glaze that darkens his bronze orbs, you think about your hair. You think about how much younger your mother appears after she detangles each strand. You think about all the scars you’ve avoided throughout the years by singing a simple tune.

This man saved your life, and it’s time for you to repay the favour. You consider waiting until he’s asleep to heal his arm, plagued by the distress of being mistaken as a witch. Mother warned you about those kinds of people, who are ready to ruin your life in order to improve their own—anything ranging from taking advantage of your unworldly qualities to selling you for a pretty penny.

Mother always knows best. Right?

You peer into his expressionless eyes that stare holes into the dancing flames, the other uneaten half of the fish still laying untouched. From the limited time you’ve spent together, you shouldn’t feel this distraught at his pain, as though a chunk of your heart is bleeding out with him and leaving you in a puddle of your own misery.

But one look at Geum’s laceration and even a child could tell that the relentless stream would end his life before long. No matter how well he can conceal his shallow, rapid breathing, you begin to make sense of his sweaty, pallid countenance that shreds any remaining skepticism you hold against him—dismissing the wariness brought about by those wanted posters.

“Geum.”

His eyelids shut close at your grave tone. “I know. It’s fine.”

At your hesitant tone, he sluggishly spares you a placid, tame smile. You hate it.

The Geum you’ve come to know is exuberant, taking all his hardships in stride with a sly smirk to boot. He’s brilliant, craftier than any artist, and resourceful even in the face of despondency. He’s compassionate, extending his own neck to save yours, always sympathetic to your plight.

This Geum is hollow, a shell of the person you knew.

The crushed downturn of his doe eyes doesn’t belong to his captivating features. You yearn to watch that classic, mischievous glint sparkle in his irises as he taunts you endlessly, testing how high your pulse can spark when he invades your personal space yet again.

You take a seat next to him. “No, uh,” you stammer, “I got a solution. You just can’t scream or freak out or anything, okay? Most importantly, you can’t tell anyone. Not a single soul.”

Before he can react to your cryptic warnings, you separate a lock of your hair, wrapping it around his wounded bicep. He raises a single brow at your strange antics but provides no further opposition. You’re pleased with the amount of trust he’s placed in you.

You close your eyes, and then you sing.

“Flower, gleam and glow Let your power shine,”

Starting from your roots, a golden glimmer races across the tresses of your hair. Bewildered, Geum recoils in his state of shock but remains rooted in his spot nonetheless.

“Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine,”

He follows the scintillating shimmer in your strands until he reaches the portion wrapped around his bicep. You absentmindedly wonder if he can feel his flesh reconstructing, cells dividing at a rapid rate to close the smooth gash.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the Fates' design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine,”

Your lids slide open to stare at his wide eyes, his jaw hanging ever so slightly. You’re glad to see that his previously pale complexion has given way to his natural, lively undertone.

“What once was mine.”

When the last notes fade out, eventually overpowered by the lone hoot of an owl, you gingerly untangle your hair from the shell-shocked man. Geum slaps his other hand over the healed skin, his head rapidly darting between examining his arm and making absurd facial expressions that convey his amazement. From his naturally cool composure, you treasure this rare moment of awe.

“Wha—”

Your stressed squeak halts him in his speech. “Please don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself more so than you when he continues, “Not freaking out. What’s there to freak out about? I mean, magical healing hair? Completely normal.”

Your grin is filled with mirth at his nervous tone, and you lift his prodding digits from the site of the wound. Or at least where it used to be. “You feel okay?”

With all of your attention directed towards analyzing his healthy appendage, ensuring that your magic had not screwed up somewhere along the process, you miss Geum’s tender gaze roaming over every inch of your countenance. “Yeah, I guess I’m more than okay now.”

“I promise I’m not some kind of witch or anything like that. Just, uh, was just born with it,” you try to explain despite being in the dark about many of the nitty-gritty details yourself.

“Born with magical hair?”

You giggle at the absurdity of his question, although the validity remains true, it’s rather peculiar to hear it out loud. “Some of us are born with more talent than others. But that’s also why I can’t cut it,” you smile sheepishly, deciding to answer his earlier question now that your secret is out in the open.

“It turns brown and loses its magic.” You gather all your strands into one fist, pulling the mass to the side to expose the short, chestnut coloured strands underneath. You feel vulnerable and exposed with your neck out on display, sharing the fragility of your powers with a man you’ve known for less than twenty-four hours.

But it’s Geum, and he doesn’t feel like a stranger to you. “An overbearing mother is also part of the reason, but that’s a story for another time. Carrying it around can be heavy and the tangles can be brutal, but I guess it has its perks.”

He hums, stretching his torso to throw some twigs into the fire in hopes of enlarging the dwindling flames. “Yeah, I, uh…”

You stay silent, neither dismissing nor pressuring him into voicing his thoughts.

“My name isn’t actually Geum.”

A teasing smirk lifts the corner of your lips as you lean closer and nudge his arm. “You don’t say?”

He scoffs at your playful demeanour and pushes you back with one finger on your forehead. When your upper body is tilted away from him and your head is facing the starry night sky, he retracts his digit and speaks so softly that the noise is almost carried away by the wind. “It’s Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” you test it out, matching the syllables to the face. It’s a bit strange after getting accustomed to associating him with the name ‘Geum,’ but in a way, it complements him better.

“Yeah.” He pauses and you shift your body to study him, memorizing the slopes and angles of his side profile. His orbs reflect the flickering fire, engulfing the newly added branches in its blaze. “I just thought somebody should know.”

“Is Geum your alias... for when you’re being a criminal?” Although you’re hesitant to delve into the subject, especially right after he’s begun to unveil his true identity, your curiosity outweighs reason and you can’t contain yourself. You can’t say that you’ve never questioned the diadem hidden in his satchel.

Crowns don’t belong to convicts who run from justice.

You wait for his answer with bated breath, unintentionally trapping your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation. Please, Jungkook.

“If you’re trying to ask what I did,” he hisses, knuckles turning white from his clenched fists, “Yeah, I stole it. Those assholes don’t deserve their riches.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his anger radiating off him in waves. You wish you could eat your previous words because of how furious he’s become, but you’re committed to finishing the job. “Are you talking about the King and Queen?” Your brows pinch together in your discomfort. “Was that their crown?”

“This is your first time out of that tower, right?” You confirm his inquiry with a quick nod of your head. “How much do you know about the kingdom?”

“Jungkook—”

He tuts, fixing you with a strict glare. “Answer the question.”

“Well…” While recalling all the knowledge you picked up from your mother and the few historical books within your collection, you fiddle with a strand of your hair and organize your thoughts. “The castle is located in the middle of the capital, said to loom over the entire kingdom with its height. After it was rebuilt to accommodate more space for the Prince, everyone, from poets to milliners, cried over the beauty carved within those walls.”

He expels a deep sigh, causing you to question the legitimacy written in those pages you recited. “I asked about the kingdom, not the castle.”

His question leaves you dumbfounded. The information you collected over the years is limited to everything inside that grandiose, opulent building. There was nothing about the land, animals or even the common folk.

A gust blows the smoke of your little bonfire towards you, and you blink rapidly to avoid any soot from lodging itself into your eyes. Jungkook plucks a large leaf from one of the plants nearby, lazily fanning the fumes away. “That cozy castle and the royal family sitting on top of it all couldn’t care less about their people. They rake their luxuries from our hard work when even one jewel off that crown could feed hundreds.”

You process the cold truth in silence, a shiver overtaking your limbs in spite of the heat in front of you. “Is that why you stole it?”

“I don’t care if they want to plaster my face all over the kingdom and put a bounty on my head, I’m not going to stand around and watch people die from their greedy hands,” he states, proud and resolute.

You’re torn between the anguish nipping at your heels and the relief washing over your head. Living sheltered in that tower, you had no clue about the perils outside your own stone walls, is this what Mother was trying to protect you from?

However, discovering the true nature behind Jungkook’s crimes restores your faith in him, and your shoulders relax as you crane your neck to peer at the stars again. With your curiosity quenched, you move on to another question. “So, how many people get to call you Jungkook?”

He follows your example, leaning back and revelling in the breathtaking sight. “Nobody knows my real name, everyone calls me Geum.”

Your jaw drops a fraction from the admittance, feeling rather privileged that he chose to share it with you. “Your family calls you that too?”

“Don’t have any,” he brushes off your sympathetic gaze with a shrug.

“Why the name Geum?”

You catch his tiny, forlorn smile in your peripheral. “I grew up hearing all about the royal family’s massive parties, overflowing with family, friends—people. They were never lonely. And since they were parading their money around, I thought that was it, that was the secret.”

The dejected tone in his voice clogs your airways and makes it difficult to breathe, stunning your motionless form into remaining as still as a statue, the magnitude of his sorrow sweeping over you in fatal waves.

“And I hoped that maybe naming myself ‘gold’ might give me some luck with that.” With his shoulders downcast, his eyes flicker over to you, gauging your reaction.

You desperately wish you could turn back time to console the young boy whose heart was too big to fit inside his tiny body. Although he’s grown into it now, you strive to ease his suffering by even the slightest fraction. “I think ‘Jungkook’ is even better for making friends.”

The edges of his lips flip upwards as he navigates his face to halt directly right in front of your own, pressing one hand to the other side of your farthest thigh and caging you in. “Would you be my friend, Princess?”

All your blood rushes to your head, warming your cheeks. In a futile attempt to preserve any of your remaining dignity, you shrink back to maintain some distance. But his smirk grows at the sight of your shy response to his advances, his orbs flitting down to your pink lips before returning to your eyes. He looks absolutely ecstatic over your flustered state.

His hot breath fans over your lips and you gather any rational sense you have left inside your muddled brain to push him back, missing the split second his confident facade cracks and a sliver of insecurity shines through. It’s instantly replaced by a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No matter what you decide to call yourself, I’ll always be your friend.”

Seconds seem like hours as the two of you stare at each other, seeking to uncover the words left unsaid. Jungkook’s palms press against his knees, pushing off of them to come to a standing position and effectively ending your little moment. “I’m gonna go get some more wood.”

You nod, staring at his retreating backside that ventures into the adumbral forest once more. Even though the perpetrator of all these complex emotions is no longer within sight, you feel unsettled from the mere thought of him, yet your heart yearns for him all the same.

“Oh, Petal, I thought he would never leave!” A distinctly high-pitched cry rings out in the empty space, a voice which you didn’t expect to hear until at least tomorrow night.

Your head whips to the side to confirm your suspicions. “Mother?” Her dark figure emerges from the shadows and your heart drops to your stomach. You fumble for the right words, at a loss from her unexpected appearance. “How did you—”

“The better question is how could you, Petal?” she corrects, continuing to step into the light provided by the fire. The once comforting flames turn harsh, sharp pops bursting forth from the aggressive combustion. She lowers her hood to reveal the disappointment etched into her youthful features—and without fail, the sting of upsetting her burns through your conscience. “Really, how could you betray your own mother like this?”

You stand, determined to explain yourself, “Mother, he’s different from the monsters you told me about. If you get to know him, he’s sweet and caring and kind an-and he isn’t after my magic!”

“And that’s where you’re wrong, my naive, little Petal.” She tilts her chin up slightly, peering down at you. “Everyone is the same out here, all looking after themselves.”

You approach her within a few strides. “Mother, please listen to me, he’s different! Even though he puts on a tough front at times, he’s really considerate on the inside.” You fiddle with the tips of your fingers as you whisper the next part, “And I, uh, I think he might like me.”

The reaction you least expect is her startling outburst of laughter, powerful enough to fold her in half, and you wait for her giggles to quiet down before warily stepping forward. Your mother is acting awfully strange. “You think he likes you? And what makes you think that?”

You blanch at her ruthless words, wincing as though they assumed a physical form and punched you repeatedly in the gut.

Her maniacal snickers abruptly cease and a frown mars her lovely face once again, her expression one you recognized from previous reprimands, whether it was shattering a vase or begging to go outside. Your chin falls down to meet your chest, unable to muster up your faux bravery for any longer.

“I’m asking what gave you the idea that he would like some insolent, unsightly brat like you?”

You can’t open your mouth to respond, frozen in fear.

“Hm, what’s with the silence? You seemed so certain earlier, Petal. This is why you never should have left, look at this pitiful romance you’ve created,” she mocks, rounding your nervous form like a predator playing with their prey. “Let’s put him to the test then, shall we?”

Your head snaps up at her odd suggestion, eyes widening at the satchel she uncovers from behind her slim form. “You found it?”

She tosses the bag to you and you outstretch your arms—only to catch it a second too late. The bag drops to the floor and the flap flips open. You race to collect the sparkling crown that tumbles out, hastily shoving the diadem back inside before Jungkook wanders back, even turning towards the fire to ensure his continued absence.

“Why so scared?” your mother questions smugly, “I thought you said that he’s different from the rest of them?”

“He is!” you exclaim, rushing to defend him.

“Then give it to him, let’s see if he stays once he has the crown back in his hands. But don’t come crying back to Mother when he runs for the hills,” she snarls, lifting her hood over her short curls and withdrawing into the woods.

Your mind reels from your mother’s visit, but your concern lies with where to stash the leather satchel in your grasp. Dead leaves crunch under approaching footsteps and you examine your body, contemplating the best area for your idea.

Hiking the hem of your dress up to your stomach, you loop the strap of the bag through your left foot, twisting and repeating until it’s coiled around your ankle and the pouch snugly rests against your skin. You shimmy the satchel until the middle of your thigh where it refuses to go any higher.

Satisfied, you release your dress, smoothing the fabric down and confirming that nothing is suspiciously sticking out. You violently shake your leg back and forth to ensure there would be no future problems and sure enough, the straps tenaciously cling onto your thigh throughout all your testing.

“Hey, look what I found! He’ll definitely save us some travelling time tomorrow, but I don’t think he likes me much.”

Jungkook appears from the area your mother disappeared with an overwhelming pile of lumber in his arms. You stroll over to lessen the load, but he brushes you off and bypasses you to drop it beside the fire.

A white horse tromps along after him, trying to nip at the crown of his head while he shoos it away with a waving hand. The comical sight distracts you from the dreary thoughts of your mother, although the stiff strap wrapped around your leg forbids you from forgetting about it.

When you snap out of your reverie, Jungkook is cocking his head to the side at your unusually spacey behaviour.

You spare him a weak smile and shake your head.

Rather than sore feet, the next day your entire crotch is painfully numb from riding Maximus, the quirky horse who holds an obnoxious grudge against Jungkook for reasons unknown to you. While Max allows you to rub his cheeks, scratch his neck and run your fingers through his mane, he huffs if Jungkook so much as breathes too loudly.

Oddly enough, the stallion follows Jungkook around like a lost puppy despite his cold attitude. What is with males and their inability to show their appreciation for one another?

Jungkook insisted on being in front and taking hold of the reins even though Max refused to let him mount his back at first. After some caresses and loving words with the sweet animal, Max permitted you to hop on—which Jungkook was not pleased with. It was a nice change of pace to watch the ordinarily suave man lose his cool over a horse’s favouritism.

In the end, the only way Jungkook was allowed on was by sitting behind you, latching onto you for stability. The animosity growing between the two males adds to your amusement, so you remain unbothered by the hostile glares you can feel Jungkook throwing over your shoulder and the aggressive puffs of air that blow through Max’s nostrils every once in a while.

“Tell me how you found Max again?” Skepticism leaks into your tone, courtesy of Jungkook’s thieving habits.

You could practically feel his eyes roll back into his head as his arms tighten around your waist. His built torso is glued to your back, which repeatedly distracts you from the path ahead. “I told you that I was collecting some twigs off of the ground when this guy appeared out of nowhere! I was scared shitless.”

“You mean to say that someone accidentally lost their horse in the middle of the woods?” You glance sideways to peek at his chin, lodged into the crook of your neck. His face is merely a couple of millimetres from your own.

When he insisted on resting his head there, you had thoroughly embarrassed yourself with a flaming face, resembling a ripe tomato ready for the picking, coupled with your inability to enunciate any word properly. But after hours of his head smooshed against the side of your face or leaning against your upper back, you finally relax into his hold, finding comfort and safety in the appendages coiled tightly around you.

“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”

You scoff at the impish grin stretching across his cheeks at his own horrible excuse.

The castle comes into view in the ensuing half-hour, the imposing building no longer obstructed by the towering trees of the forest. Your spirits are dampened slightly by the cruel secrets Jungkook revealed yesterday night, although your giddiness at the prospect of living out your dreams makes you vibrate in excitement. You remind yourself that you’re here for the magical lights, not the castle.

The faint pounding against your back picks up speed for a reason drastically different to your own. He is essentially walking right into his own imprisonment—his wanted posters more than likely plastered across every flat surface inside the marketplace with soldiers littered around the premises. You gather the sturdy reins into one hand, freeing the other to hold Jungkook’s conjoined digits over your stomach.

Completely engrossed in Jungkook’s dilemma, neither of you notice Max racing into town until a screech pierces your ears. You apologize profusely for the spilled legumes that begin rolling away from the young woman, and you whip Max into trodding off before she curses you out.

Once you’re satisfied with the amount of space between yourselves and the unlucky woman, you tie Max’s reins to a nearby fence and race to join the festivities carrying on all around you. Spotting Jungkook’s unsure form lagging behind, you dart back to tug on his wrist, flashing him an encouraging smile before lugging him from one stall to another.

You don’t get far before you experience a sharp pain on your scalp. With the large amounts of people bustling around the tiny square, your hair is a tripping hazard that you try to quickly bunch up into your arms. Your hair is way too long to carry by yourself, so you turn to ask Jungkook for help, though he’s nowhere to be found.

Your mind races to the worst-case scenario. The guards must have caught sight of him, capturing him off guard while you were none the wiser and now he’s going to be hanged for his crimes all because you were too stupid to—

A couple of little girls with flowers decorating their braids physically yank you out of your trance, their tiny hands gathering your multitudinous strands and dragging you off to the side. You’re about to protest against their actions, more concerned over Jungkook’s whereabouts than anything, but after catching a glance of said man playfully waving at you from a few feet away, you allow yourself to be whisked away.

The three girls deftly move from left to right, taking locks of your hair with them as they knot it all into one humongous five strand braid. When you stand up to your full height, you’re amazed to see that none of your hair touches the ground. Considering the hefty weight that pulls at the back of your head, you know this solution can’t last too long.

They scatter various fresh flowers all over, the scent of the blossoms wafting around your figure. As you’re appreciating their handiwork, an arm wraps itself around the curve of your lower back, drawing you into a herculean chest while you blow air kisses filled with your gratitude to the snickering girls.

Jungkook maneuvers you into a narrow alleyway, and you get a chance to admire his glittering irises from up close.

“Guards?”

He only grins.

You’re certain to keep an eye out for any wandering soldiers from that point on, with you pulling Jungkook behind crowds or him dragging you into the gaps between small buildings. Despite the situation being rather stressful with your lives at stake, your escapade is thrilling nonetheless and you enjoy being pressed up against his lean frame, carelessly giggling to yourselves.

Although neither of you carries any silver, window shopping proves to be equally as amusing—browsing through homemade accessories, toys and masks that you play around with, flashing ridiculous faces at one another.

The delicious smell of baked goods drifts through the streets and prompts your mouths to fill with saliva. You appreciate the artistry behind their beautifully decorated exteriors, adorned with colourful frosting and sprinkles. One booth catches your attention and you latch onto Jungkook’s hand to drag him along.

Rows and rows of shiny green bottles are positioned in perfect rows on a table inside the booth and plushies hang from the sides, acting as bait to any passerby. You tug on the hem of Jungkook’s dark vest, gesticulating towards the game with awe.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few silver coins that glint in the sunlight. Your eyes widen into saucers at his mischievous grin and you smack his arm, chiding him for his wandering hands as he assures you that he found them on the ground. When he goes as far as to insist that he saved them from being trampled on, you can’t help your tinkling laughter from escaping.

Perhaps it’s karma that prevents your rings from landing on top of any bottle, but the exhilaration of watching the rings soar in midair with a flick of your wrist as Jungkook’s chants fill your ears is priceless. Certainly more precious than any stuffed animal.

You two amble about the streets again, side by side. Long fingers intertwine with your own and your heart flips in your chest, suppressing the raging flush that threatens to colour your cheeks whenever Jungkook is involved. You look around your surroundings, trying to conceal the cheeky grin on your face, resembling that of a toddler with their favourite candy.

Before long, your travelling gaze takes notice of the people hunched over on the ground, concentrated on the stones below them. With a closer look, you discover the sketches littered across the stone pathways—some spanning the entire street and some smaller than your palm.

You bolt over to join them with Jungkook in tow. This whole hand-holding business is proving to be more useful than you thought.

There are pieces of different coloured chalk dispersed throughout the streets, and you pick up an orange one, urging Jungkook to do the same. He searches around for a bit until he decides on a white coloured chalk.

By the time you’re finalizing the tiny drawing you sketched onto the uneven stones, the stub in your hand is half the size of your pinky. Your joints ache from kneeling for so long, but you’re more than satisfied with the bright tiger lily staring back at you.

You stand up, brushing off of any stray rocks that have embedded themselves onto the bare skin of your legs and nudge Jungkook’s arm with your foot. He grumbles under his breath that you ruined the white blob he claims to be a bunny, but you jest that it was doomed the moment he picked up the chalk.

The retort silences him and you stretch your hand out to help him stand, grinning sheepishly at the pout on his pink lips. He accepts your peace offering, although rather than using your aid to get up, he yanks you downwards and your unstable body lands right into his lap. You squeak at his retaliation and wriggle violently in his hold as he curls himself around you, his chin resting onto your shoulder and arms wrapping around your torso to quell your futile efforts of escape.

“You like the nation’s flower?” He questions, nuzzling his face into your upper back.

“Nation’s flower?”

He hums his confirmation and you feel the pleasant vibrations on your neck before he’s nodding towards the purple pennants that dangle off of thin strings, stretching between buildings. Now that you’re actively inspecting the marketplace for the flower, you notice the continuous motif of the orange lily sprouting everywhere from decorations to paintings.

Jungkook seems to have abandoned all hope on his own masterpiece, for he lifts you up by your underarms and leads you away.

As you venture through the rest of the market, grazing through the various stalls, you examine all the knick-knacks depicting the famous tiger lily. It soothes you slightly, recognizing the flower decorating your walls back at the tower.

Lost in your trance, you don’t catch Jungkook slinking away, disappearing into the crowds.

As you turn the corner to browse the next stall’s wares, a massive stained glass window depicting a family of three catches your eye. The man appears stern with his furrowed brows and deep-set frown, and the woman’s forced smile fits awkwardly onto her face. She’s holding a tight bundle of canvas, a tiny face peeking through the layers of fabric in her arms.

Rays of the setting sun pierce through the coloured, translucent material and surround the art piece with an ethereal glow. You’re transfixed by the woman, reminded of your own mother’s delicate features.

You shake off the unpleasant feeling of your last encounter with her and analyze the three squares dedicated to the child’s crumpled face. The only noticeable detail you can make out is his chubby cheeks.

“Interested in the Prince?” A warm breath whispers into your ear, “Am I not good enough for you anymore, Princess?”

You spin around to face Jungkook, barely able to contain your delight as you examine the playful glint in his eyes. “Bold of you to assume there was ever a point where you were good enough for me.”

He scoffs, hands automatically coming to loop around your middle. “I know you’re not suggesting that I’m anything less than stellar company.”

You hum aloud, feigning contemplation by rubbing at your chin and a wide grin breaks his irked performance. He tries to hide his little slip by burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

His soft cheeks on your bare skin along with his large hands squeezing at your sides elicit all your muffled giggles to burst past your lips. Pure, unadulterated glee bounces around your stomach.

Some of the lilies lodged within your golden strands fall loose and flutter onto the ground with the movement. You intercept one that drops from near your temple, plucking it out of the air and slotting the stem just above Jungkook’s ear.

He pulls away from subjecting your clavicle with his tiny nips in order to rest his forehead against yours. Your head is cradled by one of his palms and you watch as his heated gaze roams down to your lips. Entranced by his overwhelming presence, your eyelids slide shut as he leans forward slightly, tilting his head to the side before a meaty hand encloses around the circumference of your upper arm, yanking you away from him.

Panic seizes your muscles. Your heart threatens to shatter your rib cage with its fierce pounding. The soldiers. You extend your other arm to reach out for Jungkook—the same alarm piercing your flesh is reflected in his blazing orbs. Before he has the chance to rush after you, a dainty woman clothed in a primrose dress sweeps him away as well.

Barely a whole day has passed since you began running away from the soldiers, yet you’re more than certain that the soldier’s attire solely consisted of their royal uniforms, which did not include any flowy, pink garments. You whip back to your own abductor; a stout, jolly man with a cheshire grin stretching from one ear to the other.

He releases you in the middle of a swarming mass of people, moving their bodies left and right to the beat being pounded out on tabors and the sweet melody spilling from a nearby flute.

The man spins you around, encouraging you to let loose and sway your hips to the upbeat song as you’re handed off from one partner to the next. Somewhere within the chaos, you spot Jungkook’s longing stare and you subconsciously inch closer to his side.

The second that you two are within reach of one another, you dart into his arms. Just as you’re about to slip into his comforting embrace, a scrawny boy takes your place while an older woman wraps her arms around your shoulders. She wastes no time before guiding you into a dip, her palms supporting your back.

Upside down, Jungkook’s annoyed countenance is an amusing sight that you gleefully chortle at. Knowing that he is similarly distraught at the prospect of being unable to dance together soothes your aching desire and you savour the thrilling experience of moving as one part of a greater whole.

You prance and twirl your heart out as if it’s your last time. And you’re sure that it will be.

Eventually, both of you are able to slither your way out of the dancing crowds, and the cheers die down the farther you get from the main square. The sun is rapidly falling past the horizon and the capital is shrouded in the deepening twilight. You assumed that he would lead you to see the lanterns about now, but you’re clueless as to why you two are heading away from the castle.

“Jungkook?”

He turns back to you with a breathtaking smile resting on his lips, the dwindling light casting an otherworldly radiance around him. Reaching for your hand, he intertwines your fingers with his own as he leans down to softly bump his forehead against yours. “You’ll see.”

Jungkook directs you towards the moat that surrounds the marketplace, ushering you into one of the many gondolas lined up against the dock. You narrow your eyes at him and he attempts to reassure you with a simple, “We’ll bring it back.”

This man will truly corrupt all your morals.

But you’re so entranced in his spell that you follow along without more than a tiny squeeze at your interlaced digits. You release his hands before he jumps into the boat, the wood swaying back and forth under his weight, worrying you instead of the unbothered man a few feet away. As you take a sharp inhale, about to follow in his footsteps, Jungkook grips the sides of your hips and lifts you into the gondola with him.

You fix him with a reproachful glare at his unexpected actions yet the silent scolding doesn’t last long, for you’re hopeless to the sight of his elation, sticking to him like a second skin. Powerless against his charms, you sit on the thin wooden seat on the other side of the boat and watch him grab an oar, dipping it into the water and propelling you two forward.

You want to admire the unobstructed view of the sparkling night sky, but nothing can beat the galaxies hidden within Jungkook’s eyes, thus you try to seem as inconspicuous as possible in ogling him from your peripheral. However, your futile efforts are rather pointless considering your position, facing the handsome thief rowing the boat at the other end.

You think the title is fitting since he’s stolen your heart without a problem as well.

Once he deems your spot satisfactory, Jungkook strolls over to your side, taking a seat on the bench across from you. His legs slot in between the spaces of your own.

“Now that I think about it, it’s the Prince’s eighteenth birthday too,” he states. “He must be pretty excited, taking over the throne and everything.”

You perk up at the news. “He’s succeeding the King?”

“Mm,” he affirms, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “King announced an early retirement or something because they’d already found the Prince’s betrothed. His coronation is today.”

You nod your understanding, thinking about the responsibilities bearing down on the poor boy. “It’s kind of weird to think about, y’know, being the same age and even sharing the same birthday but leading completely different lives. He’s about to get married, lead a country and me...” you falter, pausing to string your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Well, this is my entire dream. Seeing these lights is everything to me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re living your own life, on your own journey. Comparing yourself to others does nothing but rob yourself of your own happiness.”

You hum with a teasing lilt to your tone. “Suddenly the boy who named himself ‘gold’ in the hopes of attracting some friends is giving me advice?”

He breaks out into a chuckle, doubling over and laying his forehead on your shoulder. His hands reach out for the locks of hair resting on your lap, plucking one of the flowers swimming in your strands. Like Hansel and his bread crumbs, many of the blossoms that fell off throughout your time in the marketplace left tracks of your whereabouts. Only a few flowers remain with you.

With the delicate daisy between his thumb and index finger, he rolls the pads of his fingers against each other, spinning the white petals so fast that they blur together into a splotchy circle surrounding the yellow centre. Once he becomes bored with the flower, he lifts his head and stretches his arm out with a classic smirk that heightens his flirtatious nature. “For you, my lady.”

You huff at the offering. “You act as if it wasn’t already mine in the first place.” Despite your sharp words, you gingerly pluck the stem out of his grasp, fingers brushing against his own. When you raise the daisy up to your nose, the invigorating floral scent startles your senses once more.

With not much else to occupy your time, you decide that now is a better time than ever to dislodge the wilting buds from your tresses. You face the side of the gondola overlooking the water, grabbing onto the ledge and leaning forward.

You muster all the grace you have within your bones to place the ivory daisy onto the water’s surface. The flower drifts along the calm current, painting the atmosphere with a tranquil serenity.

Despite your best efforts to suppress them, your clumsy tendencies shine through when you tip your torso over a smidge too far, losing your balance and diving headfirst for the water. Jungkook is quick to latch on to your wrist, steadying you before you accidentally throw yourself overboard.

You’re sheepish in both your apology and thanks. To avoid any further mishaps, one of his hands remain on your lower back and the other collects the remaining blossoms in your tresses, handing them off to you.

A slow rhythm develops between you two and your raging thoughts come to a standstill, a red light halting the traffic within your mind. In front of you, a garden of assorted blossoms assembles, floating gently towards the ornate castle. One sprout catches your eye.

A tiger lily.

Directly below its long petals, a flash of bright red catches your eye in the reflection of the water. Jungkook’s deep voice cleaves through the soft sloshing of the water. “The lanterns.”

“It’s…” You struggle to piece together proper words to describe the sight before you. One lantern lightens the dark sky, drifting alone in the expansive space before a bunch of others race to join the first. Their warm, yellow glow overpowers that of the moon, painting the landscape in an orange tint that seems to welcome you into its embrace.

“Beautiful.”

You’re too distracted by the enchanting sight before you to notice his eyes trained on your profile, and so you soundlessly agree with a nod of your head. It’s as if time has ceased in its endless ticking, halting in its tracks for another world to open where only you and Jungkook exist.

You don’t mind the idea as much as you think you would.

“I have a surprise.”

You turn over to face him, head tilting in curiosity. He carries a paper lantern in his open palms and your brows furrow at his attentive, considerate behaviour. “Jungkook?”

“We should join in on all the fun, right?” A genuine smile illuminates his soft features instead of the usual smirks he casually throws your way. Oddly enough, despite your inability to operate in front of his flirty personality, you adore both sides equally.

“Kook, wait.”

He perks up at the nickname, reminding you of a dog with its tail violently wagging back and forth—you can’t help but be enamoured by him. You raise the hem of your dress up to the middle of your left thigh and he sputters, looking away. “Hey, hey! I know I’m pretty irresistible but this boat is not the place to—”

“No, you idiot.” You snicker at his unexpected timidity, shimmying the coiled strap down your leg and covering your decency once again with the fabric. “I have something for you too.”

He peeks at you, ensuring that you’re sufficiently clothed before turning to face you. A cold sweat settles over the outer layer of your skin as you watch his brows raise at his satchel in your hands. Keeping the lantern in one hand, and his steady gaze focused on your eyes, he gently pushes the bag down to the floor of the boat, the metal of the crown banging against the wood.

“All I need is you,” he whispers the words into the empty space of the night, the syllables getting lost somewhere within the mellow breeze blowing by. Your heart constricts at the reassurance that this time, Mother is wrong. You fight back the tears gathering at your waterline and grab the other edge of the lantern after he lights the candle inside.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod and the two of you slowly lift your arms to release the lantern with the masses drifting above you. After a bit, you lose sight of your paper lantern and you glance back at Jungkook to ask whether he was able to keep track of its location, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you become captivated with the childlike wonder buried within his orbs, roaming over the sky and examining every single lantern at once.

His scouring eventually leads him back to you. He catches you staring, but neither of you care enough to break the moment. His eyes soften and you two shuffle forward on your seats, being pulled toward one another like magnets. Your legs entangle with his in the cramped area and you lean forward until your lips are millimetres from one another.

From this close, you have a perfect view of your reflection within his brilliant irises, the shallow scar that runs along his cheek, the cute birthmark right under his mouth. His eyes are locked on your mouth and you take that as the go-ahead signal to close the gap and slot your lips against his soft ones.

With your evident lack of experience, Jungkook takes control immediately, a hand flying to the back of your head, threading through your hair to keep you in place as he sucks at your lower lip. His tongue swipes at the closed seam that blocks him from your mouth, and you instantly open up to clash tongues, although you shrink back soon after, letting him explore your hot cavern.

You sneak a peek at him every time you two separate for air, confirming that this is indeed reality and not some product of your wild imagination. He invades all your senses and keeps you locked to him like an addict desperate for their fix, his other palm searing through your clothing with its heat and burning a hole through the thin fabric of your dress.

When you finally pull away, you feel feverish and dizzy as a raging blush colours your cheeks. You can’t find it in yourself to look directly into his eyes, but he reaches for your chin and forces you to study the haze of passion in his gaze.

Every part of your body is lit aflame from his touch. Hooked on the feeling of his plush lips pressing against yours with your tongues swirling in tandem with one another, you’re about to lean in for more when his eyes dart off to the side and he abruptly jerks away as if you burned him with your embrace.

His startling jolt snaps you out of your dazed state. With your head out of the clouds, you notice that the lanterns have already moved onto the next town over, taking their warmth with them. The fire within you, kindled by Jungkook, dwindles with the uncertainty of your future together.

Without so much as another word, Jungkook snatches the oar from the bottom of the boat and jumps back to his position at the front of the gondola. He urgently paddles the two of you back to land and you fumble for words. “Jungkook, I—”

“It’s not you.” His statement is reassuring in writing, although his tone is detached, distant in a way that crushes the passages to your lungs. Lost in your dejection, you’re powerless to prod him for any more information than that.

Before the boat can hit the edge of the dock, Jungkook springs out with his leather satchel tucked under his arm, pausing to mutter, “I just—I have to take care of something. Please believe me when I say I’ll be back.” His anguish leaks into his voice and you will yourself to nod, a forced smile on your lips. “Wait for me.”

He dashes off with your heart in his hands. You steady your shaky breath and place your faith in him, the man you have come to trust with your life.

You spend the next half hour struggling to get out of the gondola, craving the flat land to ground yourself. By the time you manage to clamber out, there are a couple of discoloured blotches on the length of your dress that put your many failed attempts on full display. You fan one of the bigger spots to help it dry faster, but the fabric becomes chilly with the extra wind and a shiver slips down your spine from its icy temperature.

Languid footsteps approach your frigid frame and you brighten up, forgetting about the cold. “Took you long enough. Y’know, for a second there I was worried you’d actually lef—”

You pick up more than one pair of feet advancing on you and your eyes widen at the lanky, redheaded twins that stop in front of your path. Cursing your quivering limbs, you cringe at the tremor in your voice when you ask, “What did you do to him?”

They simultaneously snort at your question and the one on the left replies, “Sorry about this, lass, but you’re gonna have to come with us.”

The blood drains from your face and you repeat, louder, “What did you do to him?”

“Aw, don’t get all riled up now. But don’t worry your pretty little head, we’re going to take you right to him.” They corner you back to the dock and you scramble to locate a weapon to defend yourself with. At your wit’s end, you prepare to jump into the murky waters.

However, before you get the chance to move another muscle, an intense pain blooms at the back of your skull, wrapping around to your temples accompanied by a flash of light exploding behind your eyes. Then everything goes black.

Your head pounds as a dull ache nestles itself deep within your bones. Your vision is nothing but a blurry, indecipherable mess of colours, so you opt to keep your eyes closed instead. You’re kneeling on cold tiles that rub your knees raw when you subtly shift into a more comfortable position, discovering the existence of the shackles around your wrists and ankles.

“—nd the girl. We expect you to keep your end of the deal.” The rugged tone that speaks is one that you recognize from before your blackout—one of the redheads.

“Yes, yes, all the charges laid against you have been cleared,” a high-pitched voice meets your ears and you subconsciously grimace, physically recoiling from the sound. Thankfully, your sharp motions go unnoticed. “You’re free to go.”

“What?” You hear shuffling nearby, the rustling of clothes getting farther away from you. The distinct, metallic sheen of a couple of swords being unsheathed follow and the footsteps come to a sudden stop. “You promised us gold.”

The woman scoffs, “Now why would I give you crooked-nosed knaves anything more than a death sentence?”

Many polished boots clamber against the ground with such force that the vibrations can be felt through the flesh of your folded calves. The grunts and garbled screams that ensue are silenced within seconds and two hefty weights hit the floor with a limp, lifeless thud.

“A pleasure working with you boys.”

There’s more shuffling, then something is dragged past your crumpled form. The throbbing across your cranium worsens and you’re incapable of fending off the blissful oblivion of desolation any longer, thus you surrender to the darkness once more.

The next time you open your eyes a harsh light coats your surroundings and the blocks of colour are clearer, sharp enough to decipher the intricate detailing painted on the tiles beneath your knees. Someone chokes on a wet cough, and your eyelids snap shut once more. Your nose crinkles in disgust as well.

“Her tiny skull should have been rolling through these halls eighteen years ago.” The woman’s wretched tone fills your ears, words full of deadly poison.

You remain chained, kneeling against the ground with your head lowered. A numbing sensation lingers no matter how much you fidget in place, bearing down your limbs with the weight of your useless nerves that refuse to fire off.

Another, deeper, voice responds, “Tone it down. Her magic is powerful, the advantage we hold over the other kingdoms is colossal with this kind of sorcery on our side. If she falls, the whole empire will fall with her.”

Sorcery? Although you can count the number of people you met on one hand, you’ve studied heaps of books and drilled your mother with enough questions to know that your magic is unique and rare—a product of alchemy that occurs merely once every millennium.

“I see no point in keeping her around when we cannot access her magic at our will, she is as good as worthless to us. That halfwit of a sister was incapable of locking this churl in a tower for long enough, and look at her now, running around, wreaking havoc with a criminal.”

Your mind swirls with the sudden barrage of information, unsure as to why these two strangers hold deep insights into your life, as well as the knowledge about your unusual hair.

“There is nothing to worry about, Jimin is on the throne. We will simply send her away once again,” the gruff voice states, exasperation clear in his tone.

A deafening thud reverberates throughout the spacious room. Helpless to the dreadful fear swimming in your veins, your body shudders in response to the noise.

The woman shrieks, clearly at her wits’ end, “I want her dead! Guillotine, hang, drown, burn, I could care less. She poses a threat to Jimin’s throne with her existence, and we have gone through too much to have our plans foiled by this knave. We were merciful enough in having my imbecilic sister continue to meet with Jimin throughout the years.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh before the man answers, “Have some heart, darling, that is her son you speak of.”

“In the eyes of the people, he is my son and the King,” she seethes. Her enmity is strangely familiar, yet you fail to identify the woman through her voice. “Quit acting as if I am the only sinner here and remember how much we both sacrificed for our blood to inherit the King’s throne.”

“It is not your blood though, is it, dear wife?”

The tension within the room is thick, palpable in the dense air in the way that makes breathing difficult. “You must have enjoyed sleeping with my sister more than I believed. Do you want to call her back here? Play a good husband and wife for the counterfeit King?”

You couldn’t keep the tremours from breaking out over your body as your breaths quicken and an abundance of liquid races to your eyes. It was all beginning to come together, but you wait for the two to confirm your suspicions.

The man chuckles with hollow intent. “Do you fail to recall your own words, pleading with me to follow this foolish scheme of yours? I would have much rather preferred a foreigner rule the kingdom alongside our daughter.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said eighteen years ago.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to repress the sounds of anguish that tears at your skin to brutal shreds. Enraged rivulets stream down your cheeks, and you lift your torso to stare at your legitimate parents. They turn to you, the man distraught and the woman with pure disgust.

“How—” you stammer through your heavy wails, “how could you?”

“So the Princess found out.” Your biological mother raises from her royal seat, storming over the short distance to your trembling form. “Fine, we can strike an agreement.”

She reaches behind your head to grab a handful of your hair, yanking your head up to peer up at the exquisitely decorated ceiling. When you yelp in pain, she crouches down to your level, baring her pearly white teeth as she threatens, “Leave. Be a good little girl and go hole yourself back up in that tower. Don’t worry, Mommy will come get you if we ever need that magic of yours, hm?”

You desperately wriggle around to loosen her hold, but she only grips your strands tighter, pulling downwards to introduce more pain to your scalp. “That thief will stay right here to ensure you keep up your end of the deal, alright?”

At the mention of Jungkook, your heart stutters and your expression morphs to that of despair, momentarily forgetting about the strain to the sensitive skin of your head. “Where is he?”

She smirks and snaps her fingers. The door to the throne room is pulled open with a loud clack, and Jungkook’s weak, bloody form stumbles through the grand entrance, hanging upright with the help of two sturdy guards.

“Kook,” you achingly howl.

“Mopping all his blood off the floor would be terribly tiresome for the maids.” She jerks your head down to bear witness to the sneer stretching across her lips. “It’s all up to you, really.”

“Let me heal him!” you agonize, sobs ripping through your chest, burning through every tissue to the outermost layer of your skin. “Pl-please, please let me heal him. I’ll leave, I won’t say a word, I’ll do anything you want—I’m b-begging you, please.”

The wicked smirk playing on her lips grows wider at your pleading. She shoves your head away, the momentum of the push throwing your whole torso over to the side, bringing about a harsh meeting with the floor. With Jungkook occupying every crevice of your mind, there’s no space to register the pain pulsing through your groggy body.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You scramble to your hands and knees, disregarding the scrapes and bruises littering your limbs. Despite your tunnel vision directed towards reaching Jungkook, your movements are sluggish from the extended period of time spent kneeling in one position.

The guards supporting him release their hold on his arms, and you scramble to catch his limp frame in your arms, but your depleted muscles can only manage to soften his fall with your body. You detangle yourself from him and hurriedly begin wrapping your hair around his torso.

Your jaw trembles at his damp locks, sodden with sweat and stuck to the side of his head dripping in crimson. The vicious colour oozes out of the deep gashes you locate across his back, peeking through the tears in his shirt and stains the bloody spit drooling from the corners of his cracked lips. Great purple welts fill the rest of his exposed skin, completing the heart-wrenching picture before you.

You pick up the weak croak of your name, and you hiccup from your fierce laments at his red-rimmed eyes. “Guess I was right all along, Princess.”

Your mother’s cruel words follow the nasty glower she shoots his way. “Shut up or we’ll end your pitiful life now, you filthy criminal.”

“Jungkook, I’m here,” you reassure him, beginning to wrap your excess strands around his arms before he stops you with a stained hand. “Jungkook let me—”

“Stop,” he mutters, gripping his side in pain.  

“No! I can’t—I can’t let you die.” You grit your teeth, disobeying his words and going to wrap your tresses around his broken body once more.

“If you go back there,” he coughs, an alarming amount of blood spurting out, “then you’ll—”

“It’s fine, everything will be alright, okay?” You press your palm over his hand and the icy bite that greets you hardens your resolve. “We’ll figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to sing the incantation engraved into the back of your mind when Jungkook’s fingers graze your cheek. You unconsciously lean into his touch, examining every crimson stain marring his delicate features.

His doe eyes soften at your orbs roaming his face and when your gaze settles on his thin lips, he snatches the chance to land a peck against your mouth. The fleeting kiss fills you with greed, and your eyes flutter shut despite your rationale as you dip towards him for another.

You halt, gasping at the gut-wrenching sound of your tresses being severed from the base of your neck, the noise snapping you back to reality. Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s relieved countenance as his torso reclines to the ground, the sharp dagger in his hand rattling onto the tiles beside him. When you reach back to assess the damage, your hand grips onto the short strands that reach no further than your shoulder.

You glance back at the heaps of dead, brown hair sprawled across the palace floor and your mind wipes clean of any coherent thought. Instead, your chest caves in on itself, breathing made impossible because of your collapsed airways and you choke out, “Jungkook, what did you—”

“What an absolute halfwit, does he think he did anyone a favour with that little stunt of his? Without your hair, we have no need for either of you.” Your biological mother laughs, the notes turning ominously maniacal towards the end. “Kill them.”

Guards immediately surround you two, and in a weak attempt to protect him from their pointed swords, you cradle Jungkook’s powerless form to your chest. You prepare yourself to bear the end of their piercing blades.

“What do you roaches think you’re doing?” she seethes, blazing orbs flashing with white-hot fury. “I said, kill them!”

The gigantic doors burst open again, but this time, a lean man strides forward. His blond strands are neatly styled away from his forehead and the regal red robe hanging upon his shoulders elegantly sway after him. The soldiers part ways to make room for the intimidating man and one of his retainers at the door announces, “The King is here!”

You struggle to even out your frantic breaths, thankful for the distraction that grants you a break to rack your brain for a method to escape the dreadful situation you two have found yourselves in. Debating whether you should fight back, sneak away or plead for forgiveness, your eyes dart wildly around the room. A woman donned in a black cloak lingers slightly behind the King, gazing at you with a murderous glare that sends pin needles into the thin lining of your stomach.

“That’s enough,” the King states.

“Jimin.” The former Queen races up to him but is stopped by the retainers that encircle the King.  “What business do you have here? There are more important matters for you to attend to.” Her eyes narrow at the sight of the woman behind him.

“No, I think this has gone on long enough.” He sweeps his gaze over to the two of you, Jungkook barely clinging onto life, nestled within your protective embrace. The woman latches onto his bicep, her head vigorously shaking back and forth, yet you’re uncertain whether her disagreement will relieve your anguish or worsen it.

Despite her insistence, his head nods in your direction and the woman that raised you begrudgingly marches up to you, barely acknowledging your presence in favour of pressing her palms against Jungkook’s open lacerations. He winces at the pressure and just as you’re about to tell her off, you discern the thick gauze that rests between her hand and Jungkook’s side, the sterile white shade expeditiously being replaced by a bloody crimson.

“What are you talking about, dear?” the former Queen asks, a hard edge to her tone. “These two are hedge-born lowlives, simply not worth your time.”

He crinkles his nose in disgust, flicking his hand towards the former King and Queen. “Lock them up in the dungeons.”

Both their eyes widen comically, jaws dropping to the floor. However, you can’t find joy within their despair when Jungkook’s survival is still up in the air.

The woman sputters, recklessly thrashing her body to escape the soldiers’ grip. The man simply lowers his head, seemingly having accepted his fate as he follows the guards without another word.

“Did you forget who put you in that throne, Park Jimin?” the woman screeches, the blood vessels lining her neck about to implode. “How dare you disrespect your pare—”

“How could I ever forget your treacherous actions?” he spits out, disgust lacing his voice, “How could I ever forget how many lives you’ve ruined, dear aunt.”

“We did it all for you!”

“You did it for yourselves,” he hisses. Relief trickles through the tips of your fingers, spreading across your body like wildfire from the King’s aid. “Get them out of my sight.”

“You worthless—” Her shrieks echo throughout the halls, though you’ve long lost focus in their conversation after watching the two wretched souls being punished and put in their rightful place.

Your aunt passes some thick bandages from inside the bell sleeve of her cloak. You gratefully accept the offering, pressing it against his lower back—wishing that it’s not too late, that Jungkook has not lost too much blood yet. The passive stare that your aunt fixes you with crams your head with doubt and you begin to panic, bringing one of your hands up to cradle his face.

Although you’re convinced that you wailed through an entire year’s worth of sobs, the tears sliding down your face refuse to stop, dripping down and landing onto the dirtied skin of Jungkook’s cheek. You press your forehead against his, hoping against hope that some magic remains within your body, that the tiniest bit will reveal itself like a bag trick and heal his wounds.

But your magical hair was extraordinary enough, and this is no fairytale.

“Get those two to the physician’s,” the King orders.

Guards scramble to action, ripping you apart from Jungkook as you unsuccessfully attempt to resist being separated again. You’re absolutely spent from the tiring events of the past couple of days and your weary legs give out as the soldiers lift your drained form into a standing position.

Jungkook is moved onto a sturdy sheet, then carried away past the double doors and out of sight. Your flimsy arms wrap around the shoulders of two guards as they assist you in following Jungkook to the physician, passing the King on your way.

His plush lips stretch into a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile, but the adrenaline from earlier wears off and the sting of your own wounds drains you of your manners, uncaring that you’re facing the King. Thankfully, he dismisses your discourtesy instead of beheading you, and you’re hauled away from the gracious man.

On the way, you’re close enough to overhear what he mutters under his breath. A garbled scream rips through your throat in protest, and you shoot the King the deadliest glare you can muster. He releases a deep sigh at your childish antics, waving as you turn the corner.

“Poor guy doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”

You spend the next few, rather tedious, days in a luxurious bed, being fretted over by everyone from the maids to the chefs. It was difficult to indulge in the extravagance that the castle had to offer when you were anxiously awaiting news regarding Jungkook, which they refused to disclose until your own condition improved.

After all the pampering, you were permitted access past the confines of the expansive room you were forced to recover in. Your injuries were minor in comparison to Jungkook, thus you were granted freedom much earlier than him.

Not like he was capable of stepping outside of his room anyway.

Although his body is repairing his torn flesh incrementally, he shows no signs of consciousness—not the twitch of a finger, the flutter of an eyelash, nothing. Doubt claws a bit higher up your torso each day, waiting for the moment that the disquiet slithers up your esophagus and suffocates you.

Despite the crushing news of his coma-like state, you work diligently to ensure that neither you nor Jungkook becomes a burden to the castle by picking up various duties. Jimin continuously waves off your attempts to help, but you’re restless and desperate for a distraction from wondering about Jungkook’s condition all the time.

Jimin banned you from performing some of the maid’s tasks once, then sorely regretted it when he had to tend to your nervous breakdown in the afternoon. Since then he has kept his comments on your excessive working habits to himself.

Today you’re in Jungkook’s room, dusting off the spotless shelves that house the many herbs being grounded into powders and rubbed as a salve onto his injuries daily. You organize the rolled bandages for the second time in the past hour and mop every inch of the floor.

You can’t devote yourself to lingering by the unconscious man’s side for too long, otherwise your mind gradually begins to spiral into every possible worst-case scenario and you simply can’t handle the reality of a future without him. It sounds overly dramatic—many of the maids you have grown close to over the months claimed as much when you brought up your journey together.

But they didn’t hear his melodic laughter that followed his teasing smirks when he said something flirtatious, effectively making your heart skip a beat. They didn’t feel his hand always reaching out to make contact with you in some way, craving your touch to ground him to reality. They didn’t see his eyes softening when he gazed at you as though you were holding his entire world in your eyes.

They didn’t know Jungkook the way you did.

You strain the mop of its excess dirtied water before stowing the tool away in the storage room. When you return, a draft filters in through the open window and you race over to close it, worried that Jungkook may catch a bothersome cold that will delay his healing process.

You take a seat on the lavish mattress adjacent from his thighs as you stare out the window in front of you. The air remains stale in spite of the fresh breeze that blew into the room seconds prior, and the dull atmosphere persists due to the lifeless man inhabiting its space.

You’re uncertain how many more times you can handle walking into this room with his weak body lying motionless on these pristine sheets, but you will endure it all without complaint for him. A knock at the door catches your attention, and you twist around to meet Jimin’s friendly beam. “How is he?”

“Same as he always is,” you state, allowing yourself to take in Jungkook’s sunken cheeks and pale face. “Unresponsive.”

“You wanna join me in the gardens for some fresh air?” At your unsure raise of a brow, he convinces you with, “You’ve been cooped up in the castle the whole day.”

The both of you head out to view the lush scenery outside, seated amongst the blooming tulips, although your eyes are drawn to the lilies that border the lilac cosmos. You trace the familiar shape of the orange flower with your pupils, reminiscing on the doodles decorating your room’s walls back at the tower. That seems like forever ago now.

Other than his lack of consciousness, Jungkook’s condition remains relatively stable and yet you still find it burdensome to stray too far from his side. The staff is under orders to instantly notify you should he arise while you’re away, but that doesn’t ease the disquiet that rouses whenever you leave the castle walls.

You’re convinced that the second you wander off, he will wake up without you there; a thought too unbearable to consider. You crave to lose yourself within his molten ember orbs once more, exploring the undiscovered galaxies in his gaze.

“These past few months must seem unfathomable,” he starts, pressing his lips together to ponder over his next words before continuing. “I don’t know how my mom treated you in the tower but, knowing her, I’m guessing it wasn’t too great.”

His casual mention of the affectionate term you pleaded to call your mother for ages—the topic she despised almost as much as you begging to venture outside the tower—stung the slightest bit. From her actions, it was evident that she never cared for you as much as her own, biological son, but it was difficult to dismiss the joyful memories you shared with her, no matter how few and far between they were.

“She started visiting me a few years back, explaining all their horrendous crimes and insisting that she was the only one I could trust. She told me about you, too. Your mother ordered her to lock you away in that tower and ensure that nobody ever found out the truth in exchange for my seat on the throne. ”

Your head lowers at the information, brows furrowing as you contemplate your true relationship with the woman that raised you from birth.

“When my mom caught word of you travelling with the thief, she returned the crown in hopes that Jungkook would run for the hills, and you would be left to come back with her. Her goal was to overtake the kingdom from your mother.” His eyes gloss over with a distant sheen and you sympathize with him; the boy was used as a tool, just like you.

“It’s reassuring in a way.” His strange admittance prompts you to glance up at him, confusion swirling within your orbs. “At least we’re both suffering from our family’s despicable actions.”

Our family.

His optimistic viewpoint hits you like a wave crashing against the shore, sharing his vast fortitude and washing away a fraction of the sombre agony tormenting your heart. Although Jimin’s life was no doubt disparate from your own, you two are connected through the blood running through your veins. Even if those same bonds brought you to a tragic meeting with your own wicked parents, at least you could rely on one person within your family.

The edges of your lips curl into a tiny smile aimed at the blond man across from you, your own short, chestnut coloured hair providing a stark contrast. “I’m glad I can rely on you, Jimin.”

He readjusts his weight on the green, iron chair and leans forward to rest his elbows on the metal table between the two of you. “I think this is the first time you’ve called me by my name without me having to remind you.”

You quietly giggle at the memories flooding your mind, from the hostile attitude you first approached him with, then the days he comforted you over Jungkook’s motionless form, to Jimin demanding that you call him by his first name. You consider yourself extremely lucky to have someone as gracious and compassionate as Jimin to be your half-brother.

“I know we’ve already gone over this,” he starts with a serious edge to his tone, “but this is your last chance.”

You rip your gaze away from the plants to lay a couple of light pats to his hand. Despite the lack of context, the topic is familiar to you, as he has gone over this with you many times. “No, I don’t want the throne. You trained for this position your whole life, so I’m entrusting the kingdom to your capable hands. All I ask is for you to fulfill my request.”

Jimin releases a heavy sigh. “If you really want him free of all his crimes, there’s no way you two can live within the capital.”

“That’s fine with me.” You shrug your shoulders, unconcerned about the prospect of having to leave the busy city. “I don’t think I could live somewhere like this anyway.”

You don’t expand on your reasoning, and he doesn’t question you further, simply sparing you a solemn, understanding gaze. Supposedly, you aren’t supposed to pick favourites within your family, but Jimin is definitely golden in your eyes.

“Deeply sorry to intrude, Your Royal Majesty, but your betrothed is at the door and wishes to meet with you.” A guard inches his way towards your table with his head bowed, hands respectfully gathered behind his back.

Jimin looks to you with an apology on his tongue, but you wave him off before any explanations can spill from his plump lips. “Go get your girl.”

A bright smile enlightens his features as he springs up from his seat, dusting off his uniform before bounding after the guard. When he quirks his head back, you demonstrate your encouragement through a thumbs-up that you wave from side to side until he is satisfied, facing forward with a gleeful snicker.

You inhale the outdoor air, about to head inside yourself to rearrange Jungkook’s bandages again when your eyes wander back to the tiger lilies that caught your eye earlier. Within a few strides, you reach the vibrant buds, stretching your hand out to pluck a few stems. The sweet smell invades your senses.

With a tiny bouquet in hand, you make your way back inside, the metaphorical load on your shoulders a bit lighter than it was before. You expertly maneuver your way through the halls towards Jungkook’s room with the dwindling hope that today will be the day that his honey orbs reflect the sun’s light filtering in the window, filled with the mischief and tenderness that you remember.

When you’re met with his unmoving form instead, another sliver of that faith shatters into tiny shards.

You shake it off and head back to the windowsill, where an empty flower vase rests. The lilies within your grasp are carefully inserted inside and you place the bouquet back onto the tiny platform. Their floral scent wafts throughout the space as you take your place beside his legs.

As part of your usual routine, you use this time to relax. Just for a moment, you give yourself the room to breathe, giving your brain free rein to feel the emotions raging within you and fantasize about your future with Jungkook. You imagine yourself in a tiny cottage, craving a quaint place to live after the immense tower you were raised in.

The two of you would settle down there, adopting a pet to keep you company before you inevitably brought a few children into the world. Their genders didn’t matter, as long as you could raise them with Jungkook, forming a tight-knit family that shared all the love the both of you lacked growing up.

A warm hand wraps around your wrist. Your head snaps to follow the direction of his arm, curving into his broad shoulders, and past his sharp jaw with your heart in your throat. Tears gather at your waterline, spilling over onto your cheeks as you hiccup from the sudden sobs that overtake your body.

The doe eyes that stare back at you carry your whole world in their weight.

+ epilogue.

Tiny footsteps scuttle around the wooden floors, screaming in delight from being chased by a much larger, yet still very childlike, man. “Betchya can’t catch me, daddy!”

Your husband playfully roars at the taunt, speeding up his strides to snatch the little girl up into his arms. She shrieks at the hand that comes up to tickle her little torso.

“Okay, okay, enough playing you two,” you command, calming the baby boy in your arms that becomes far too excited from the chaotic energy erupting within your cottage. “It’s dinnertime!”

“Dinnertime!” your oldest repeats, violently wriggling around in her father’s grip to force him in lowering her back to the ground so that she can run to her spot at the table. She looks from side to side, doe eyes flitting back to you with a pout on her lips. “But where’s Pascal, Mommy?”

You pass the baby to Jungkook, freeing your hands in order to bring the steaming hot food from the stove to the table. The beige chameleon fades back into his natural emerald colour once you grab him by his scaly torso, dropping him into your daughter’s awaiting hands.

Her squeaky voice chides, “You can’t hide from Mommy.”

A boisterous, yet melodic neigh notifies you of Max’s presence in your backyard, and you shamble past the wooden door to hand the carrots you prepared for him. He snorts in delight as he lowers his head to the floor and begins chomping away. At the sight of his dirtied mane, you take a mental note to give him a thorough wash and brush later on.

Before you head inside, you catch sight of a blond man making his way towards you. “Jimin!”

His eyes reduce to two crescents from the wide grin that occupies his face. He swapped out his imposing robe for a commoner’s shirt and slacks, and they strangely suit his lithe form better than his bulky uniform.

“And where’s our lovely Queen?” You tease, elbowing him when he reaches out to ruffle the top of your head.

“Taking care of things that I don’t want to do.” You two snicker, ecstatic to see one another, and you step aside to let him coddle your children. The slight breeze in the air gingerly kisses your face, rustling the leaves on the trees surrounding your tiny house, and you close your lids to relish in the tranquillity of nature.

A pair of familiar arms curl around the shape of your waist and a smile creeps onto your lips as you open your eyes to examine Jungkook’s face, inches away from your own. He brushes your brown strands over your shoulder, leaning in for a quick peck as a loud chorus of disgust is vocalized behind you.

Both of you break out into giggles at your daughter’s behaviour and turn to face your family waiting for you inside. With your hand tangled with his, you walk to a brighter future together.

[cyancherub]

ahh !! i haven't seen you on my dash in forever ?? & the first thing i see is you being nauseous ?? are you okay ?? do i need to beat up some germs or whatever make-sick bugs infected you ??

how are you feeling rn tho ?? if you're more emotionally stressed... wanna tell me about your favourite fictional man ?? or just about whatever makes you happy ??

anyways, ily & i hope you'll feel better soon <33 drink some water & try to take it easy <33 take some vitamins, too, if you're sick & can't properly eat <33

helllooo beloved,,, YES i am okay !!! so basically LAKSDLKkl i just had some mild back pain which is definitely muscular.. but bc ive had weird stuff with my kidneys before it freaked me out to the max and then my anxiety gave me the worst nausea and cold sweats etc etc i thought i was dying for a hot minute LMAO but!!! im okay !!feeling normal now for the most part HAHAHA

BUT YEAH !!!! yes.. thinking abt my favs taking nice care of me :> <33 all of them bringing me water and such ;;; <33

THANK U FOR THE WELL WISHES!!! im hydrated and i have my heating pad and im feeling a lot better !! thank u for the kind message!!

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

This is a somft thing I wrote because my platonic scoundrel @roseforthethorns was feeling sad. Ily bby

(3k+ words, Family Gossip, Geralt being good with kids, something akin to a binding..... just fluffypuffy stuff)

~

“You are an absolute darling, Geralt!”

“Hmph,” he grunted, and tucked the honeysuckles into the circlet before placing it carefully on Jaskier’s head. “You need to be pretty for the party,” the Witcher said firmly.

Jaskier beamed at him, eyes shining with affection. “That I do, my dear,” he said, adjusting the flower circlet to be at a jauntier angle. “Oh, do you like the ring, by the way?”

Geralt nodded, raising his hand. It was a lovely ring, but rather cheap. Bronze band, yellow agate cabochon, and tiny pearls. It was well-used, though. Jaskier grabbed his hand, squeezed gently, then skipped to the door. “Come on, then!”

~

Geralt was expecting the stares. He was not expecting so many nobles to glide up to him, give a nervous greeting, and then inquire about his relationship with Count Julian. Geralt was too baffled to answer with anything other than, “He’s my bard.”

One sharp-eyed old lady with an ivory cane showed up at Geralt’s elbow, and poked his middle with her cane. “Hmm. Too skinny,” she declared, while Geralt fought the urge to splutter. “How do you expect to take care of little Julie when you can’t keep yourself fed?”

“We’ve been getting along just fine for fifteen years,” Geralt retorted.

The old lady sniffed in disapproval. “Of course you would say that, you’re a man. Both of you need plumping up.” She smacked his middle with her cane and added, “Be careful with that ring, boy. It’s precious.”

Geralt grunted, hands automatically coming together so he could touch the ring again. The old lady nodded and walked away.

Jaskier had said this would just be a short jaunt to say hello to his cousin and leave--but said cousin was a queen, and asked him to stay for the whole evening. Of course, Jaskier agreed. And now Geralt was leaning on a wall sipping honey wine and feeling superfluous. There was nothing to do here. He should be hunting, gathering coin for their journey, not letting nobles stare at him.

A man in a military uniform approached him, and Geralt tensed, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t think he was going to be taken away; the soldier was alone, and Geralt came with Jaskier.

The soldier stopped, bowed, and said, “Greetings, Witcher. I’m Captain Yetzii, of the Palace Guard.”

“Geralt,” Geralt said.

The captain nodded, his heavy mustache and eyebrows hiding most of his expression, but the wariness and aggression in his scent and posture waning. “I suspected as much,” he said. “Not many people hover in corners watching Count de Lettenhove with such a worried expression.” The captain’s mustache twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled, and Geralt was hit by the realization that, though this man was human and had red-brown hair and was as lean as a youth, he bore a striking resemblance to Vesemir. Even his scent had a familiar tang.

Geralt frowned and answered the captain, “He gets into trouble more frequently than we Witchers. If I don’t watch him he’ll do something stupid and end up wearing a casket of wine as trousers.”

“He’s already done that,” the captain said. “On his twentieth birthday, he and some of the troops got so drunk that they started a contest of what they could wear that was within uniform regulations. I don’t know how, but they all ended up agreeing that a wine casket and some sheafs of straw was within the rules.”

Something stirred in Geralt’s memory, and then jumped to the forefront: a few years ago, when he and Jaskier met again in spring, and got so drunk that--Geralt’s mouth twitched, but his voice was dry as he told the captain, “I know exactly how. I once witnessed him convince a king that he had created a dashing outfit out of moonlight and fresh air, then encouraged the king to wear it while giving a speech to the commoners. The fool actually believed him and stepped onto the platform before the crowd naked.”

The captain snorted, his posture relaxing further. “We heard of that, but no one knew it was M’lord Julian. Have you ever caught him dueling? He’s never been good at it, but by the gods, he tries. Especially when he was younger; whenever he visited, the Guard had to follow him when he went on a quest to seduce every barmaid in the city, because it was inevitable that he would end up trying to duel some poor citizen.”

Geralt’s mouth twitched again, visibly this time. “I can believe it.”

Somehow, swapping stories about Jaskier’s ineptitude with fighting rolled right into passive fighter roles; Geralt admitted that he’d rather be bitten by a manticore than pose as a bodyguard, and Captain Yetzii commiserated, saying that he had much preferred being in his village’s guard and patrolling the county to being a stationary captain. This led into how to prepare for long journeys far from humanity, and then a mild argument about horses. Geralt was offended by Yetzii’s insistence that horses should be bred for their lines, instead of for their traits; Yetzii was skeptical of the fact that the size of a horse’s heart was the defining factor of its speed, arguing that lungs and bone-structure were more important.

A noble boy, perhaps sixteen, drifted over and began asking questions that seemed to boil down to, “My tutor said that’s wrong.” Both Geralt and Yetzii immediately dropped the argument to speak to the boy seriously about how to choose, care for, and ride a good horse. A young lady of about thirteen took up a position close to the three of them, straining her ears to hear them while pretending not to.

It wasn’t long before Geralt and Yetzii had accumulated most of the attendants below the age of twenty, and were answering their questions about fighting, hunting, and survival. Yetzii was polite and deferential; Geralt spoke bluntly. So many curious faces, so many wide eyes--it felt like he was talking to his Witcher brothers.

Somehow, that didn’t hurt.

“I wish I could hunt trolls,” sighed a boy with lanky limbs.

Geralt frowned and said, “You’ve got the bones for it. Heavy laundry every other day, laps, and wrestling will get you started.”

The group went silent, gaping at him. Geralt stared back, then looked up to find Jaskier. He really had forgotten these children were nobles. He needed to get out of there.

“Do you think I could hunt trolls?” a young woman asked, her eyes bright with hope.

“You’re tall enough for it,” Geralt replied cautiously. “You’re almost done growing, but I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to.”

The young woman beamed at him, and Geralt felt very uncomfortable.

“Mr. Pankratz, sir,” piped up a pudgy child with a cloud of golden curls for hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever be tall. Could I still fight monsters?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Other warriors in training may tell you not to, but they don’t know your limits,” he said. It was so peculiar. He felt like… like he was saying Vesemir’s words in his own voice. He looked at all of the children, and added, “Any of you can be warriors. And warriors don’t always hunt monsters in dark places.” Something Vesemir had told him when he was small popped into his head, and he said it aloud, not quite seeing the children: “Sometimes Witchers kill. Sometimes Witchers talk. It doesn’t matter if you do one or the other more: you’re still a Witcher.”

“What does that mean?” asked the lanky boy.

“It means…” Geralt frowned, trying to put his words into order. “It means, no matter what your fighting looks like--whether you kill monsters or negotiate with kings--you’re still a warrior. We fight with what we have. A sword, a pen, medicine, knowledge; none of these are more important than the others. It’s what you use them for that matters.”

There was a moment of silence in the little group. All eyes were fixed on him, including Yetzii. He tried to think of how to escape, but before he could, Jaskier appeared, beaming and bubbling. Geralt had never felt such relief as he turned to Jaskier, who told those assembled, “Hello, everyone! Very sorry to interrupt, but the queen wishes to meet Geralt. We’ll be staying a few days, you’ll have plenty of time to talk to him.” Jaskier winked at Geralt with an evil smile; Geralt rolled his eyes, but followed his bard willingly.

“Their parents are annoyed,” Jaskier murmured teasingly as they approached the royal dais. “You’re far too interesting for them.”

Geralt snorted. “If they actually taught their little ones useful skills instead of drilling them on how to blow their noses, they wouldn’t be interested,” he muttered, and smiled just a little when Jaskier laughed. He liked Jaskier’s laugh. When did it go from painful to pleasant?

The queen, Jaskier’s cousin, was just as beautiful as him, but not nearly as theatrical. Her eyes were blue, but more washed-out. One of her ladies-in-waiting had lined her eyes with coal, but it was not nearly as neat and delicate as Jaskier’s. Her hair was a sandy blond, well-maintained and shining like gold, but Jaskier’s hair was shinier.

He bowed without giving anything away on his face.

“Queen Chrysanthemum, may I introduce Witcher Geralt,” Jaskier intoned gravely. Geralt shot him an annoyed look. Jaskier never made it easy to greet royalty. “He’s my friend.”

Geralt bowed again and muttered, “An honor to meet you, your Majesty.”

Queen Chrysanthemum smiled prettily. “The honor is mine, Witcher Geralt,” she replied. Then her eyes twinkled and her smile turned crafty. “We were all wondering what kind of man Julian would settle on,” she teased.

Geralt tensed, but it was embarrassment, not anger. He was used to this.

Apparently, Jaskier was not.

He turned red as a tomato, and spluttered a bit before objecting weakly, “I haven’t settled on anyone! When I do, you’ll know, because she will be the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen!” He avoided Geralt’s eyes firmly, even though all the Witcher did was raise an eyebrow and repress a teasing insult. How odd.

The queen snickered. “Yes, yes, I understand, Julian.” She turned to the matronly noblewoman sitting beside her and flicked her fingers subtly; the woman rose, curtseyed, and walked away, joining a circle of other noblewomen. Geralt’s stomach dropped as Queen Chrysanthemum smiled at him again and said, “Sit with me a moment, Witcher.”

Geralt did so, stiffly. For some reason, Jaskier seemed reluctant to leave, but also reluctant to sit. He shifted his weight, fiddled with his cuffs, bit his lip, and then nodded sharply, before turning and marching to one of the refreshment tables. Geralt shook his head. Jaskier was always very odd around his family.

“You don’t seem surprised by him,” the queen remarked, beckoning with her fan for a servant to bring them drinks.

“I’ve known him nearly fifteen years,” Geralt replied. “If he wanted to surprise me, he’d stop singing.”

That startled a laugh out of her, as she accepted a glass of wine from the servant. Geralt followed suit, but did not drink from it. He’d already had too much ale; his tongue was loose and his mind was too relaxed.

“Tell me, how did you meet?” she inquired. “I know Julian, his penchant for dramatics is devastating. Did you really defeat Filivandrel?”

“With words, yes,” Geralt answered, feeling that pinch of irritation again. That fucking song. He hated it. “There was no dramatic battle. Still, humans have no need to fear him anymore.”

Queen Chrysanthemum nodded sagely. “I thought as much. Julian has never once had the courage to face a fight willingly.” She must have seen Geralt’s confusion, because she smiled and explained, “He hated hunting rabbits, for the gods’ sakes. Anything scarier than a bee, he ran away from. We used to laugh about it.”

Geralt remembered the times when Jaskier had thrown himself into a fight to help him, had acted as bait or a distraction even in near-certain death situations, had stared down a griffin and run it through with Geralt’s own sword. Jaskier had never run away. Jaskier wasn’t courageous, but he was braver than any other human--if foolishness counted as bravery. Geralt ran his thumb over the hem of his “fashionable” surcoat; the money used to purchase the fabric, tailoring, and embroidery had come from Jaskier talking down an enraged nagani, negotiating with good will and good humour until she laughed and agreed to his terms. 

Why would anyone think Jaskier had no courage?

“He’s changed,” Geralt murmured, instead of snapping at her for being so condescending.

“Pankratzes never change,” Chrysanthemum replied dismissively. “I’m a Pankratz too, and I haven’t changed one bit since I married. His parents and siblings conform to tradition so easily you’d think they were actors. You can ask a Pankratz any question and know exactly what he’ll answer with.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said.

“At least he gave you the ring,” Chrysanthemum said, nodding at Geralt’s hand. “So many women he could have married, even at his age, but never one could wear that.”

Geralt frowned again. ‘His age’? Jaskier was barely thirty-six. That wasn’t an old age. “It’s a nice ring,” he allowed, because he could not imagine arguing that Jaskier was available for marriage.

Chrysanthemum smirked and answered, “Yes, it is. It’s been in the family since the Conjunction.”

Geralt almost told her that was impossible, a ring that old would be completely destroyed, surely. He looked at it, perfectly fitted to his sausage-sized fingers, and wondered why Jaskier would give him a family ring. “Hmm,” he said again, making a mental note to ask Jaskier about it. Then he decided to change the subject. “Which side of the family are you related to Jaskier on?”

A sly smile preceded her answer. “His mother was my first cousin,” she explained. “She was amazingly beautiful, and men from every social class asked her to marry them. She chose our third cousin twice removed, instead. Probably because she’s always loved the sea more than people.”

Geralt hummed encouragingly. The queen took the hint, and continued. “She was an odd one before she had Julian. Always singing at feasts and dancing at fetes. When I was small, I thought she was the most magical person in the world. Her mere presence could make one smile. Mother told me it was strange--that her own father was one of the Seelie court.”

“Should you be saying this in public?” Geralt cut in, glancing around sharply. There were five people close enough that he knew they could hear the queen, and eight more who probably could if they tried. Jaskier was near the back of the hall, laughing with some servants.

Chrysanthemum scoffed. “Everyone knows the stories. That’s probably why he’s so strange, too. Do you know, he refuses to claim the title of Count unless he’s visiting me?”

“Can’t imagine why,” Geralt muttered, and drank his wine.

Soon, the king announced that his dear wife was tired, and they should all go to their beds. Geralt stood, bowed to the royal couple, and made his way to Jaskier.

“You spoke to her for a while,” Jaskier said as soon as they were in earshot of each other. “What were you talking about?”

Geralt shrugged. “Gossip,” he grunted. When he heard Jaskier’s heart speed up, Geralt shook his head. “I didn’t find it important.”

Jaskier beamed at him. “Oh, well, if that’s the case,” he said, and changed the subject. “Chryssie told me that we can have the Celadon Suite. You’ll love it, Geralt, there is not a single corner that isn’t brightly lit and everything is so soft--”

Geralt listened to Jaskier’s chatter, focused more on his voice than his words, as they walked surely down a hall to the guest suites. A Seelie grandfather… no, not for Jaskier. The Seelie court were kind, mischievous, and tended to stay in Skellige. The ones he’d met had all said they preferred their own monsters over the main Continent’s, thank you very much.

The Celadon Suite was, frankly, much too green for Geralt’s taste; but it looked well against Jaskier’s teal-trimmed dusky blue outfit. There was a small receiving room with a dining table and two seating areas; the bedrooms, large and lush and leaden with silence; one bathing room tiled with white marble, the bathtub large enough for Geralt and his brothers to lounge in; and a small balcony off of the bigger bedroom. Geralt chose the smaller one immediately.

“Oh! Oh, Geralt!”

The Witcher turned, and Jaskier grabbed his arm. He’d taken off the circlet, and unbuttoned his doublet, but Geralt’s nostrils flared as he caught a scent that was not as carefree as Jaskier’s appearance.

“We should eat and drink water before sleeping,” Jaskier said, faking a smile. “Don’t want to throw up at breakfast!”

Geralt nodded, reluctantly, and followed Jaskier to the dining table.

They were both silent for a moment, looking at each other. Geralt relaxed slightly, taking in Jaskier’s familiar face, his reassuringly broad shoulders, the little curls of hair over his ears and his collarbone. This was Jaskier. His bard. His traveling companion. There was no need to be on high alert with him.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, “What did she tell you?”

Geralt tapped his finger on the table for a moment, sorting his words. “She told me the ring you gave me is very old, and has always been in your family. She told me you were a coward when you were young. She said Pankratzes never change. And she implied that your grandfather on your mother’s side was of the Seelie Court. I don’t believe those last three for a moment. But I would like to know more about this ring.” Geralt set his hand on the table, palm down, and they both looked at the ring.

It was so small. A simple bronze band, a piece of agate, and six little pearls. Not that interesting. But it felt like... like being brought into Jaskier’s family, if only for a day or so. Having something so steeped in history pressed against his skin at all times felt like he was being asked to join that history.

But he was a Witcher, and human families were not for him.

Jaskier shrugged. “Mother said it would fit the hand of the person it was meant to,” he said, softly. “I don’t really remember the rest of her explanation. I was… lonely. So I decided it must mean that it would fit my very best friend.” He lifted his gaze to Geralt’s, and smiled. A real smile, one full of affection and happiness, so warm and enveloping that Geralt felt uncomfortable. “And it does! So you can’t say you aren’t my friend, because obviously you are!”

Geralt opened his mouth to deny it, then huffed in frustration and shook his head. Jaskier reached out and tucked his fingers between Geralt’s, interlocking their hands like cogs in a machine. The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitched. It always amused him that their hands were the same lengths, but Geralt’s was blockier, meant for work, and Jaskier’s hand was perfectly shaped to play any instrument. It was also interesting how Geralt’s wax-pale skin contrasted with Jaskier’s peachy hue, tanned ever so slightly.

He just liked looking at their hands.

Jaskier hummed a bar from a new song he was writing, and carefully wiggled his hand so that he could slide it under Geralt’s fingers, joining their hands. The Witcher didn’t mind. It felt nice, oddly.

“I… might have drunk too much,” he muttered, but he couldn’t look away from the tiny valley formed by their fingers. 

“Mm, me, too,” Jaskier murmured.

They sat in silence for even longer, watching the light from the lamps cast warm flickers on their clasped hands. It was so calm.

Idly, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s wilting flower circlet and draped it over their hands. Jaskier smiled.

“I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine,” the bard whispered.

“Hmm. Friends and comrades,” the Witcher murmured back. “Joined in battle.”

“Bound by time.”

“Forever yours--”

“--Forever mine.”

Geralt’s medallion might have stirred, but probably not.

Jaskier pushed their hands upwards, so that their palms touched. “This isn’t for anyone else to know,” he whispered.

Geralt squeezed his hand back. “No,” he breathed. “This is ours.”

[minghaocouture]

Pairing: Hong Joshua x Fem!Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, fluff, angst

Warning: mentions of a toxic relationship, loneliness, language

WC: 3.6K

A/N: Happy Holidays @yutacrush​!!! You absolutely amazing bean!! ily SO MUUCCCHHH! You are such a joy to be friends with and i hope this fic brings you even half of the joy you bring our group chat <3333 

Age 10

“Sweetheart, this is Joshua. He’s our new neighbor.” The boy across from you stood before you, all smiles and cheer as you cowered behind your mother’s legs. You didn’t have too many friends in school and more often than not, felt isolated from your peers who seemed to almost look down on you. This boy was a stranger, a potential new villain in your life and you wanted nothing to do with him. 

So when your mother left you in the room alone with him, while she and Joshua’s mother went to go have tea in your kitchen. You quickly dashed to the living room and snatched your favorite Whinnie the Pooh plushie off of the couch, and made your escape to the far corner of the room where you crouched down and hid behind the plush bear. As if Pooh bear was the perfect line of defense 

The sound of soft footsteps hitting the hardwood floor had you cowering, covering your eyes as you prayed that he would just leave you alone. When the footsteps stopped you assumed that he had done as you silently wished, left you alone to continue your day in peace despite the wishes of your mothers. So you slowly pulled Pooh bear away from your eyes. Only for your eyes to meet the rich deep brown of Hong Joshua’s, the male who was now crouching down not even a foot away from you.

A small shriek left your lips as you quickly brought your favorite plushie back to cover your face again. Your reaction seemed to prompt a small laugh to leave the male, obviously amused with the situation. 

“I’m Joshua, but my friends call me Josh!” He said, talking to you despite the fact that you were currently trying to disappear into the wall behind you. “You like Winnie the Pooh too? Roo is my best friend!” 

At the mention of baby Roo, you slowly peered out and looked over at him with your eyes barely peeking out from behind the plush bear.

Age 13

“Joshua Hong, I swear if you don’t get out from in front of the tv I’ll make you regret it.” Your threat wasn’t as real as you wanted it to seem. After three years, Joshua knew that you were all talk and no action when it came to him. Which is why he didn’t even flinch at your harsh words, he knew he was safe.

“Your mom asked me to make sure you did your homework while she was gone, so turn off the tv and let’s work!” He was almost too responsible for his own good, at least when someone asked him to do something. Most of the time, he was just a goof ball and you honestly wish that translated over when he had ‘responsibilities’ 

Currently your mother was out on a business trip, so you were left alone in the house so she had asked Josh to keep you ‘in line’ since he lived right next door. Apparently, he was taking that request more seriously than you had expected. 

With an overdramatic groan, you grabbed the remote and shut off the soccer game you were in the middle of watching. At your compliance, Joshua let out a small laugh. 

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Yeah, seriously doubt that Josh.”

Age 16

“Josh! Seriously, that’s what she said to you?”  You were fuming, pacing around your room while your best friend sat on your bed. You had honestly never seen Joshua so...down. This girl had stepped over so many lines and you were livid.

“Yeah, and then she left. So...guess I’m single again.” Even his voice lacked the usual energy it had. It hurt your heart to hear him this upset. 

You took a second to take a deep breath, calming yourself. Now wasn’t the time to be angry, that could come later. Right now, Joshua needed you more than anything. This was about him and the pain he was currently feeling. Your need to punch that bitch in the face could wait. 

You joined Joshua on the edge of your bed, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling the male into a tight hug. For a moment he was limp in your arms, just resting his head on your shoulder. It was soon followed by the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist, his hands gripping tightly at the fabric of your shirt as he clung to you. 

This wasn’t the first time you had seen Joshua cry, and it surely wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any less painful. Your heart ached for your friend, the feeling growing stronger as you felt moisture from his tears seeping into the fabric of your t-shirt. You hated it. 

The only thing you could think was that you never wanted to see Joshua like this ever again. 

A week later you were suspended for breaking his ex girlfriend’s nose.

Age 18

Over the years, your duo had become a trio with the addition of Yoon Jeonghan. He was...fun to be around but if you were being honest, a lot of the time it felt like you were being left in the dust. 

It wasn’t that you disliked Jeonghan, you were just...jealous. You kinda missed it being just you and Joshua. It had just been the two of you for so long that sometimes it felt like an outsider had come in and simply stole your best friend. 

Which is why you were currently sitting alone in your bedroom on a Friday night. Jeonghan had taken Joshua out for a ‘boys night’ as a way for Joshua to get to meet Jeonghan’s other friend group. 

You were lonely, and jealous and that didn’t make for a good combination. 

Your solution? Swimming. 

The pool in your backyard was cold, but the chill was something you needed at the moment. The water encompassing your frame as you delved beneath the surface, the ice cold waters completely chilling your core. It was terrible, but it felt better than being lonely.

Popping back up to the surface for air, you flipped over onto your back and stared up at the stars above you. Counting them as you slowly drifted through the water. Your thoughts began drifting from the stars and back to your friends, it was honestly pathetic how you were acting. You knew that Jeonghan wasn’t ‘stealing’ Joshua from you, he was your friend too! It just so happened that he and Josh were...closer, and yet here you were acting like a child because of it. You felt pathetic.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Your thoughts were quickly stripped from you as you heard the familiar, although muffled, voice of the person who had been running through your mind. Quickly you maneuvered yourself in the water so that you could turn and face the back door of your home where Joshua and Jeonghan had just exited from. Joshua moved quickly to grab the towel that you had brought out with you, while Jeonghan moved to the edge of the pool and knelt down to watch you as you swam over with a look of concern blanketed across his face.

“I think it’s a bit too cold for a swim, don’t you little Piglet?” The nickname hit your heart, it wasn’t a mean one. It was an old childhood nickname that Joshua had given you based off of your first interaction, how scared you had been of him. When Jeonghan had joined your friend group he just adopted it since Josh called you that so frequently. 

You brushed off his question, ignoring it in favor of asking your own. 

“What are you guys even doing here? I thought you guys were hanging out with Seungcheol all night?”

Jeonghan reached out a hand and you got the message, taking it as he helped hoist you out of the pool. He let out a small giggle as he watched you shiver when the cold air hit your skin. He quickly began rubbing your arms gently to try and warm them as Joshua rushed over with the towel. 

“Well, Pooh Bear here said he was worried about you, guess his little hunch was right.” Jeonghan tilted his head to gesture towards Joshua, who surprisingly ignored the male in favor of wrapping the towel around you which thankfully provided some much needed warmth. Though that could also be coming from the feelings in your chest at Jeonghan’s explanation. It made you feel better to know that Joshua...hadn’t forgotten about you. 

“Go inside and get dressed, we’re gonna go out for dinner and we need you to not die of hypothermia before then.” Joshua ordered, a stern look on his face as he spoke. It was rare to see Josh this serious, but you supposed that you did just go for a swim in the middle of a chilly autumn night so...it was to be expected.

“Anything you say Pooh Bear.”

Age 22

“I seriously can’t believe Jeonghan, our little Roo,  of all people is the first to get married.” You laughed happily. Sure this day had been coming for months but it was still just exciting to think about. You were doing your best to contain your excitement, but sitting with the two in Jeonghan’s dressing room as he prepared to stand at the altar and wait for his blushing bride, you couldn’t contain your excitement. 

Jeonghan laughed along with you and Joshua as he straightened his bowtie...for the third time in the past 10 minutes. You could tell he was nervous, though you weren’t sure what for, you had seen the couple together and you could tell just how in love they were. It was quite adorable.

“I mean, I’m surprised too,” He confessed, glancing back at you through the mirror. “I always thought you and Josh would get married first.” 

Across the room you heard Joshua cough loudly as if choking on his own oxygen, you flashed him a look of concern until he calmed down before turning back to Jeonghan. 

“Don’t even joke like that dude. Chan would flip if he heard that.” Chan was your current boyfriend, he was sweet if not a little possessive. Something that both Joshua and Jeonghan had spoken to you about in concern.

At the mention of your boyfriend’s name you saw Hannie roll his eyes before reaching up to fiddle with his perfectly styled hair once again.

“Red flag~” He sang out, causing you to roll your eyes. It was frustrating that they were talking about this today of all days. You didn’t notice Joshua’s face harden in something that could only be described as irritation. 

“If she’s happy with him then just drop it, Roo.” hearing Jeonghan’s familiar nickname warmed your heart. “Besides, this is your day. I thought you’d be happy to focus on yourself today.”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I’m going to bask in this. Doesn’t mean I can’t worry about my friends.

Age 24

To no one’s surprise, Joshua and Jeonghan had been right. Chan’s possessiveness had taken a turn for the worst. Asking you to cut off contact with your two best friends so you did the only thing you could do. You broke up with him, decided you would be cutting off contact and now you were driving away from your former shared apartment and making the hour trip to Joshua’s new place, hopefully he and his new roommate would be cool if you crashed on their couch until you found a new place.

Despite the fact that you knew this break up was for the best, it still hurt and you couldn’t stop tears from shedding while you drove. The liquid sadness blurring the road as you sped down the highway.

Once outside the door to his third floor apartment, you gave a firm knock. Eventually the door opened to the familiar face of Joshua’s new roommate, Seungcheol. You knew the guy fairly well as he’d been a mutual friend of Jeonghan’s and Josh’s during high school, you never really hung out with him too much but you knew he was cool. 

Seeing your puffy eyes tear filled eyes, he quickly moved out of the way and gestured you in. With a small mutter about going to grab Joshua. 

You took a seat on the familiar royal blue sofa, the plush fabric sinking down and pulling you in as you sat down. It was almost like the sofa was pulling you into a hug and you were grateful for the soft plush fabric. You had left your old Winnie the Pooh plushie in the car with the rest of the belongings you had been able to quickly pack after Chan had stormed out of the apartment. 

You heard the soft sounds of speech as Seungcheol explained to Joshua what was going on, you couldn’t quite understand the words but it was followed by the slamming of a door and the sound of footsteps rushing to the living room. 

All too soon, Joshua was in front of you and you felt the tears well up once more as you explained to him what had happened...why you had left Chan.

“He didn’t hurt you did he? I swear if he touched you I’ll go kick his ass myself.” You didn’t trust your voice so you simply shook your head, sniffling as you tried your best to keep a strong appearance despite the tears. It didn’t work, and he gently gripped your shoulders giving you a once over, looking for any sign of possible injury and letting out a sigh of relief when he found nothing. 

Just as you had done during his break up in high school, his arms quickly wrapped around you. Pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. It was like whatever had kept your sobs held it was completely broken, and soon you were all out sobbing. A complete blubbering mess as you gripped his shirt and buried your face in his chest. 

His hand lifted and gently patted your head, his other hand rubbing small circles on your back as you let out all your welled up emotions. It was all too much for you, everything was too much. 

"You were r-right," you exclaimed between sobs, your voice muffled as your tears continued to stain his sleep shirt with your tears. "H-He told me...told me that..." Just thinking about it made your heart clench as you tried your best to continue. Joshua shushed you softly, trying to lull you into a sense of security so that you could calm down. He knew that you would get sick if you continued to wail as you did. 

"You can tell me later, just breathe right now okay?" His soft calming voice hit your heart, but it was still quite a little while before your sobs died down. Once they did, you explained to him just what had happened. How Chan had told you that he didn't feel comfortable with you hanging out with Joshua or even Jeonghan anymore, despite you explaining that they were just your best friends and going so far as to remind him that he was AT Jeonghan's wedding. 

Despite you being calm, you hadn't moved out of Joshua's grasp and the two of you had simply...migrated. Now the two of you were laying on his insanely comfortable couch, with you resting on his chest. It was far too hard to look up at him right now, your heart hurt too much and looking up at him was just a reminder. Right now, all you needed was just to be in his arms, the comfort of your best friend flowing through you as he did his best to comfort you. 

"You deserve better than him anyway. Much better. You don't need someone who is gonna try to control you like that." He declared, his voice soft and calming as he rubbed your back. It was nice, it felt right. Maybe it was because it was natural at this point, the two of you had been there for each other through everything. "You can stay here as long as you like, I know Cheol won't mind. Hell, we'll even grab Hannie and go to help you grab the rest of your stuff." 

You heard Seungcheol rummaging in the kitchen for something for a minute before joining the two of you in the living room and plopping a tub of ice cream onto their coffee table, along with two sets of spoons. He smiled down at the two of you as he did.

"Just think of us as your own personal bodyguards. I've got a few friends too that could help move stuff. My friend's Hyunwoo and Hoseok are built like they lift boulders for a living. They'd probably be enough to scare away any evil exes." 

Joshua laughed softly at the mention of Cheol's two friends, glancing down at you with that soft smile of his. The same one that always warmed your heart in a way you couldn't describe. 

"We're here for whatever you need little Piglet." 

Age 25

"I am...so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I mean I just...” Trailing off, unable to think of the right words. You couldn’t look Joshua in the eyes, not after you had pressed your lips against his own...after kissing your best friend. You weren’t even completely sure why you did it, yet you had and you had also probably completely ruined the decade old friendship. Guilt welled in your gut. Out of everyone, you couldn’t lose Joshua. He was too important to you. 

As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you seemed to all at once understand the cause of your actions and why you were so scared to lose him. Somewhere along the road, you had fallen in love...with your best friend. Your heart sunk into your stomach, if you felt like this for him then this was even worse than you thought. It wasn’t like Joshua had ever shown any kind of interest in you like that.

“You can do it again if you want.” His words caused your brain to freeze as if someone had frozen you solid. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to think of an explanation for why he would say something like that. Confusion etched across your face as your eyes hesitantly lifted from the floor to meet his. “I really don’t mind.” 

“Josh, I just kissed you! I probably broke like, 30 laws of whatever best friend handbook there is!”

Your words simply caused Joshua to laugh, shaking his head lightly as he laughed. It was if you had just told the most hilarious joke. 

“You know I’m in love with you right?” Well it seemed that Joshua was determined to take you off guard today. Though to be fair...you caught him off guard first. 

“Since when? You never acted like it, or like...told me?” 

“I mean, not for Han’s lack of trying. Did you really think he joked about us being a couple for no reason?” Now that he mentioned it, Jeonghan did make...quite a few jokes about the two of you just settling down together and they only got worse after you broke things off with Chan. 

Rubbing the back of your neck in exasperation, your feelings being tugged in so many directions as you tried to comprehend the situation you were in. 

“Okay that explains one thing but like, since when?” You had just realized your feelings but from what he said this had been...a long time thing. A small humorless laugh left your best friend, avoiding your gaze. 

“You remember when we were in High school, and you got suspended for breaking my ex’s nose? Yeeeah.”

“That was...eight years ago Josh!” You were completely struck by this information. He had been secretly in love for that long? It would make sense when you truly thought about it, he hadn’t dated or shown any real interest in anyone after that year. As the pieces connected in your head, you felt Joshua grab your hand and lace his fingers with your own. 

“Yeah, nothing’s changed though. Honestly i’ll probably never stop loving you, even if you don’t love me.” He gave your hand a small squeeze. It felt right, like his hand was made to fit with yours just like it always had. Maybe this was why Chan had felt threatened by Josh, maybe he could tell, maybe he knew where your heart belonged even if you hadn’t known at the time.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I think somehow you’ve always had me.” You began, unable to stop yourself from smiling as you saw his eyes light up at your words. “So now, I’m going to kiss you again and then we have to let Jeonghan know that we’re not being stupid anymore.” 

You didn’t give Joshua a real chance to speak again before you pulled him close and once again connecting your lips once again. Your free hand weaving through his hair and your other gripping his hand tightly. Joshua wasted no time returning the kiss, free hand grabbing your hip and pulling you closer. 

In all your life, you had never imagined making out with your best friend, yet here you were locked in an embrace. You gently nipped his lower lip with your teeth before pulling away and resting your forehead against his own.

“You know, we could always just keep it a secret from Hannie? See how long it takes him.” you couldn’t help but laugh at Joshua’s suggestion. 

“I bet it takes him a whole year.”

“I’ll take you on that, baby.”

[petekaos]

2020 creator wrap + a follow forever

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

hiii hello everyone! sorry it’s taken me so long to get on this BUT it’s all for good reason! i thought i would combine this post into me sharing some of the works i am most proud of this year as well as spreading more love in this wonderful little community because i truly love you all tons and being a part of such a lovely group of people has made me beyond happy this year. it’s been a difficult year for all of us and i’m just so glad that i can give back the love and care y’all can give to me 💛

onward to spreading love to people who tagged me, in no particular order! thank you all for tagging me, it means so much and know that i have read through your posts at least twice with a smile on my face.

@wjmild: kylie!! you constantly surprise me with how kind and insightful you are, as well as your dedication to watching absolutely every show with lee thanat in it. you are so smart and educated and every time you talk about your research and your studies i can’t help but feel so incredibly proud of you. i really hope life brings you the peace and fulfillment you deserve. i love you!

@gigiesarocha: cata - it is always such a pleasure to see you on my dash. i can rely on you losing your shit over ingredients every two weeks and every time i see jeff doing things it 100% reminds me of you! you possess such a kind soul and i’m so glad to have had the pleasure of following you this year :’)

@yihwas: sometimes i still can’t believe you know who i am and that we’re grouped together, soph! your blog is such a refuge to me, i adore scrolling through your replies and laughing at all the witty things you say. you are simply so kind and thoughtful in your responses and criticism and you have such talent in gifmaking! i am forever grateful to you for introducing me to new lakorns and to you and shannon for creating @lakornladies​. 

@morksuns: sumaya! my url twin! i absolutely love seeing you on the dash, it really is that trans desi solidarity, no? your moodboards are always so aesthetic and your blog is so soft and calm. i see you sending such lovely asks to people, including myself, and i truly admire your personality so much!

@gayvlad: nico, my sibling! i love you so much and seeing you on the dash always makes me smile. sometimes you’re too hard on yourself, but that’s okay, because i’m always here for you. i loved your reactions to dbk in live time, and that you’re now as attached to the show as i am. we love a lot of the same things, and i’ll forever be grateful to you for indulging my headcanons and developing them with me, like the ram and bohn friendship. the ram fic of him finding the gym as a home was developed through much of your influence, and i’ll never stop being astonished at how kind and supportive you are. i love you! 

@khaotungthanawat: saaaam! your gifs are always a beauty to behold. i admire you so much for making those bl compilation gifsets because that takes so much patience and dedication, especially to find all the moments. i can always count on you for underrated gifsets, too, and i smile every time you send me an ask!

@tanwirapong: roa! oh i adored getting to know you better this year through the gifted gays gc. i remember still when you made a post about there’s an art to honesty and it truly made my day - i sent it to my partner and best friend and they were so fond as well! i will always be so happy about the fact that we both lose it over petekao every now and again, it means the world to me :’)

@emisfritish: your wisdom and way of expressing your thoughts will never fail to amaze me, emma. i can always count on you for calling things like they are and writing out well-worded, thought-provoking posts that express everything i have ever thought about fandom but could never quite write down. it’s such a pleasure seeing you on my dash and honestly, whenever i see tay, he reminds me of you!

so that was everyone who tagged me, for which i am eternally grateful! (if i missed anyone... i am so sorry ily...) now onto me rambling about how much i love specific people in the fandom generally that i haven’t already mentioned.

@earthfluuke: maddie... where do i even start. getting to know you this year means the absolute world to me and i love how many thoughts we can share together and how many aus and ideas we can plot out to the finest detail, but i also love how we can talk about serious topics and irl issues affecting us both and know that the other person will be there. i admire you so much for going on and persevering despite the many difficult factors in your life right now. know that i will always be there - to listen to you, to support your gifs and fics, to develop characters with you, to weigh in on problems or ideas you have. i love you!

@asianmelodrama: faiza!! i can never address you without immediately adding ‘jaan’ after it honestly. you are a sister to me in all things and knowing you has been such an honour. your wise words, your calmness in dealing with things, your infectious excitement - they are all facets of your personality that i both admire and adore. whether it’s getting angry about shitty muslim rep or freaking out about a movie, i know that i can always count on you to be there for me if i ever need it. i hope light and love touches your life always, and you find peace in everything you do. if i ever happen to be in england, i am definitely coming over for your chai :’) i love you!

@yioh: yura my laddoo! i say this all the time, but i simply am so grateful that we met. i love seeing your tags on my posts and i just... adore seeing you doing your thing on your blog, your posts always make me smile. i know school is hard right now, but know that i’m always rooting for you and believe in you completely. words cannot express how happy i am to have found another tamil lgbt person who can understand the same experiences, it really does mean everything to me. and know that i will begin reading tyk soon, i promise, and i’ll tell you all about my thoughts! i love youuu!

@1akorn: shannon!! i still cannot believe people group us together because i’ve always admired you from a distance - imagine my absolute surprise when i found out that you followed me! i 100% rely on you for the good mek content and love your gifs so much. you’re so articulate and speak your thoughts incredibly well, which i truly admire.

@brightwin: jelly - you already know the amount of love and fondness i hold for you. you’re such a kind and bubbly person and your personality shines not only through your tags and responses to people, but also through your gorgeous gifsets that are just so warm and lovely. i can always rely on you to give me updates on all things related to brightwin and 2gether. you’re wonderful!

@yibobibo: aamna! i know i can always get my yibo content from you, and i adore it. i love seeing updates about your bunnies and your kind responses to your anons, you truly are a ray of light! you’re also one of the fairly concentrated cql blogs i follow - and for that i am always grateful.

@metawwin: ali! your gorgeous gifs are always such a light on my dash. i remember once you called me ‘rahulito’ and it made me so soft. your voice and songs are so lovely and i don’t even know where to begin thanking you for sharing your art with us. i know it means a lot to me, and it means the same to many others.

@taytawan: nuriaaa! i remember seeing you so often in the petekao tag and i gotta say that your sets of both petekao and sarawatine, especially the heart eyes series, always make me so soft. and of course, the fact that you gifted me this wonderful url! i will always be thankful for that and for your general kindness and warmth that you bestow upon everyone.

@piningbisexuals: axelle! although we don’t talk that much, i always love seeing your gifs and your thoughts on shows on the dash. i’m wishing you all the best with your thai classes and hope that everything goes well with you! also, you should know that i read that manboss fic you gifted to me at least once a week because it just means that much to me - and i’m so glad i got you into this little silly ship of mine. 

@sunsetchimyeon: nene, my pk anon! i love seeing your asks in my inbox and writing essays as replies. having conversations with you was one of my absolute highlights and i’ll always be blown away by how kind and calm and supportive and patient you are! i hope life is treating you well, my friend.

@toptaps: zey!! oh i love seeing your gifs and kindness on my dash and know that whenever i see toptap in anything, he always reminds me of you! also your gifs of sammy? absolutely gorgeous!

@giftedgays: i love you all SO much it is truly insane. being part of our tumblr gc that evolved into a discord server with a thousand channels has been one of my 2020 highlights. i loved yelling with you all about tgg every week and i must thank you all for sitting through my chanonpom breakdowns every second day. 

in particular: 

@pangwave - dawnie, i love you! i admire you and your no bullshit attitude so much. i know you’re going through a process of change right now, and i could not be prouder of you for persevering through it, regardless of the painful and strange circumstances we find ourselves in. i have full faith in you, and i know that you got this. we’re all here for you! 

@doctorbahnjit: - alexa! i still remember when you wrote the first manboss fic and an anon sent me a link regarding it. you are genuinely one of the funniest people i know and you deserve the absolute world. i read out of the blue every day, no kidding, because it means so much to me! thank you for being my fellow chanonpomer, my fellow manboss-er, and just being an all around ray of absolute sunshine.

@gunatps: vee! i have already embarrassed myself enough in my post to you but it’s worth repeating. i adore our eden chanonpom breakdown sessions, which we should have again soon when you have time, and i love us roasting modi in the chat, it truly cracks me up! we have so much in common and i just want to say that i am so proud of you for studying and taking your exams - i know how difficult they are. 

@wavelovespang: cass!! how i adore your analyses and breakdowns of scenes and relationships, you have so much insight and wisdom that you spread in such thoughtful ways! you’re so supportive and kind and such a great teacher, i know that. your writing is so wonderful and i’m truly so honoured that we all get to read it, it’s a gift!

@class2clown: angel! i cannot say this enough but i admire your art so much, it’s so so beautiful! you’ve always been so kind and lovely, and just like with cass, thank you so much for organising the gifted week events! although i couldn’t properly partake this year because of time constraints, i loved seeing everyone’s creations and it was super thoughtful.

@soulmatelines: i’ve said this before, jo, but it must be said again: i cannot believe you thought i was cool. i’ve always adored your gifs from afar and you’re such a sweet person! i love love love talking with you in the kpop channel (even if you personally hate 3racha smh), and you truly do bear the novel agenda! i’ve learned about so many more novels i must read and for that i am so grateful :’) 

@billkinpp: violet, i will never fail to crack up at a) your and kylie’s plans to run away and get married, and b) you having a thousand sideblogs and complimenting yourself on your own gifs in the tags, as you absolutely should! i hope the next year is kind to you and that your sleep schedule isn’t too fucked up :’)

@vihokratanas: mel, i will always be in complete awe of your gifs! they are always so clean and crisp. i remember still when you were fondestphan and my phannie days flashed in front of my eyes fhsnfg but either way, you’re so kind and sweet! 

@pvrrish: eleni!! i don’t think i’ve ever told you this before but i’ve always loved the 2gether poster that you made, i sometimes go on your blog to look at it for like 5 minutes, it’s truly so beautiful! i hope you’ve had an okay year, all things considered, and that life is kind to you!

@lee-thanat: another leesbian, ke! y’all always crack me up in the lesbians for lee thanat channel truly. your simping for ms ladda is so valid, i miss her so much honestly. i hope that the coming year is kind to you, and that you find the peace you deserve!

okay, so i think that’s everyone that i either talk to regularly or admire a lot! in case i didn’t mention you, please please feel free to reach out to me because i mean no offense at all - my brain is small haha. would also like to shout out all my anons who send me asks and bear with my late responses these days because of life, i adore you all and i love answering your asks.

if you’re still reading after this... whole monster of a post, i’m just gonna quickly mention some things i’ve been proud of either writing or making this year. in no particular order:

1. my weary heart has come to rest in yours. this is a fic i wrote in an... interesting headspace, and i was really going through my chanonpom feelings at the time. i’m really proud of how it came out and i adored writing chanon through pom’s pov. also i kinda love how i tied in p’bird’s song prip dtah in with the fic because i adore the song and it fits so well with them.

2. petekao week 2020. i guess this is sort of cheating, because these are technically 7 fics, BUT. i am actually proud of myself for writing seven, and i think they’re all of fairly good quality. i just really love this little universe i created for the dbk characters after the show and this whole week was just so warm and lovely to be a part of.

3. this set of num and prang from a gift for whom you hate. this moment really stuck with me from the finale and i actually am really proud of the colouring and how it came out! i think the blues really popped and i managed to lighten this dark ass scene without whitewashing mek or aye. the fireworks gif also is one of my favourites i’ve made! num and prang’s whole relationship was so pure throughout the entirety of this show, i adored them. 

4. but love is impossible and it goes on despite the impossible. this is the longest fic i’ve posted so far and i’m super proud of it - it’s also my most well-received fic. the yunmeng brothers mean the world to me and i just... wanted to write about jiang cheng and his love for his brother and give them a somewhat happy ending, in one future at least.

5. there’s an art to honesty. i think i really nailed my version of kao in this work! i just really loved writing this fic so much, especially because it was right after the whole ‘scandal’ with new happened. i was really just finding a way to separate kao from him, and i delved into my feelings with this fic as well, because i relate to kao in multiple ways. either way, i thought writing this fic was fun and a lot of people loved it too, which made me so soft!

if you’ve read this far, i personally adore you! while this has been a difficult year, i am blessed to have been part of this loving community, and i really hope that next year will be kinder to us all and give us good shows and discussions! i love you all. stay safe and stay kind, friends 💛

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: royal au, magic au, hopelessly romantic, fluff, dashes of angst, taehyung is a brat but in a fun way, y/n is babie, could kinda be considered love at first sight? 

Warning(s): toxic royality (the king), brief mentions of isolation/selling of servants, one mean lady who whacks y/n with a dowel rod

Words: 8.2k

Series | One-shot | Two-Shot | Drabble | [Rated: T ]

Summary: You were born with magic. Born by two perfectly normal human parents, you were born in a bright light that others considered cursed. With your father walking out and your mother abandoning you, you were sold to the royal palace in the Lisha Kingdom who had heard of your magic.  You were handed over to them not as a person, but as a prisoner.  At the age of 5, the king placed you in magic binding items and placed a mask over your mouth, keeping your cursed words of sorcery locked away.  

Now, his eldest son who had been living abroad from far off kingdoms to the seven seas- learning and experiencing the world as he knew it- returns to the palace to take his place as the crowned prince and Lisha’s future king.  What he can’t seem to wrap his head around, however; is the beautiful servant girl who is always wearing a mask and no matter how much he talks to her, she never talks back.  

a/n: so, this is something I started late last year and while at the time, i was super excited to start it, as time passed I let it sit and then when I came back to it, I had no idea what on earth to do with it. So, instead of pressuring myself into something I wouldn’t be happy with, I dusted up the draft I had and I am posting this as an open? unfinished? piece.  I have no future intentions of continuing it, even if the ending is so open with room for questions, I simply don’t have the answers. I’m trying to be more fair to myself when it comes to my work and not pressuring myself into writing a story I won’t be happy with. That goes along with not stressing out either. Nonetheless! I hope that what I did get completed was worth the read!  ily <3 

“I sure hope you are not planning on sneaking off; now are you, Your Highness?” The prince froze mid-step as he was previously attempting to leave his carriage entourage, but got caught by the temporary attendant to make sure he got back to the palace in the process.  “We only just entered the capital, what could you possibly be going off to do?” 

The platinum-haired prince turned around with an over-dramatic swing and pitiful stomp of his feet on the carriage step.  Built with soft yet sturdy muscles from his days traveling and sailing at sea, his tanned skin was the perfect shade to swoon anyone who looked at him.  Eyes big and blue in color- a rare trait to have such bright hair and eyes in the royal family. 

“I haven’t been home in years!” The prince countered with a pitched fit.  “I want to explore before I go to the castle.  What’s so wrong with that?” 

His attendant only shook his head.  “I see your time abroad spoiled you rotten.” The prince inwardly scowled.  It did not.  “You need to head to the palace and greet your father- the king- immediately.  He is no patient man.” 

The prince rolled his eyes.  He highly doubted his father had changed.  Even when he was a small child and still lived with his father in the palace walls, he could remember his strict and blunt father.  The stereotype of royalty was upheld to a new level when the focus was put on Lisha’s king. The prince stepped back into the carriage interior before plopping himself across the plush bench.  Arms folded behind his head and one of his boot-clad feet kicked up across from him on the opposite bench as he huffed.  

“Prince Taehyung! Your attitude is rather uncalled for.” 

“Why stand around bickering about it?  I thought we had to go see the king immediately?”  Taehyung mocked as his leg that hung off the bench bounced against the velvet in some unpatterned rhythm that played the tune of annoyance.  The attendant kept his itching argument to himself remembering it wasn't just some bratty kid he was talking to, but the crown prince of Lisha.  

He just bowed his head before shutting the carriage door.  Soon, Taehyung jostled across his bench when the carriage took off moving forward.  The sound of clopping hooves paired with the sound of wheel crunched dirt and stone. 

An impatiently sat hour later and Taehyung had been taken into the palace ground, met with his father- as pleasant as that was- for the smallest amount of time used for a visit. Taehyung questioned if it was truly necessary in the first place and then was promptly sent off.  Not having nowhere specifically to go to other than his quarters later, he just wandered.  

Walking around with dark trousers and a shirt so white and worn it was nearly sheer and obviously two sizes too big as it’s thin fabric puffed as it stayed tucked into his bottoms.  The summer was much harsher inland than it was out in the open seas and he can say he had quite the distaste for warm weather. 

As he wandered and familiarized himself with his home again, he heard gossip from this way and that.  Some about royal unfairness- a fair complaint if Taehyung was honest.  Other about pains that began to come with their growing age.  And a lot about ‘her’- she never being named.  From what he could gather form just passing words of his eavesdropping, someone was employed as a castle servant and not well-liked by her peers.  Intrigued, Taehyung finally had a goal in all his aimless walking. 

Put his charisma and people skills to work and find the ‘not-very-well-liked’ servant girl. 

It was noon by the time Taehyung felt like giving up already.  He had spent hours walking around in circles and even talking to a few staff circles but turned up empty-handed to figure out just who this unliked girl was.  He stood on the second story of the west wing’s balcony as the summer air was as stagnant as a puddle of warm water.  Feeling his sweat roll down his back, he let out a small yelp when something touched the back of his neck. 

Jumping back and away to his right, he held his neck and looked to see what touched him.  Expecting to see some sort of critter on the ground, he instinctively looked down.  Instead of a rodent or bug, he saw a pair of feet.  Looking up, he was soon making eye contact with a pair of large- rather pretty- eyes.  

His eye shot back down to your feet. Wearing no shoes, but two anklets around each ankle, you were already an odd one to Taehyung.  Looking you over, you looked normal, yet not.  Dressed in a skirt and corset with a long-sleeved worn maids shirt, it looked like palace work clothing.  You wore no gloves as others did and wore a set of two bracelets around your wrists that matched the ones on your ankles.  Hair pulled back off your neck completely to try and outwit the heat, Taehyung looked at the mask covering the lower half of your face. 

Looking down at your hands, he saw you held a small handkerchief.  

“So that’s what touched me!” He exclaimed, letting out a breath of air- relieved it wasn’t a critter after all.  Even with all his time out in the open, he still got freaked out at the initial idea of anything creepy-crawly running around on his body.  “Sorry for the noise, I hope I didn’t scare you?” He asked, apologizing for how he scampered away from you so suddenly.  

You just smiled as your eyes pushed up and shook your head.  Taehyung tilted his head a fraction. 

“You’re… not a talker are you?” You shook your head again.  “What is it? Shy or something?”  You shook your head again before you pulled something from a small pouch that was strapped to your side.  A small little notepad and a worn, wooden pencil.  Scribbling on it with speed to impress the best writer, you were soon holding your notebook in front of Taehyung’s face. 

‘I’m not allowed to talk.’

“Not… allowed? Who made that rule up, that’s just ridiculous.” He breathed out.  

‘It’s true!’ You wrote as you pointed at it for emphasis as he could see your cheek puff from under your mask.  

“But, you can talk, can’t you?  Just not allowed to?” You nodded. Taehyung watched as you started scribbling again.  

‘I haven’t seen you around here before.  Are you visiting the capital?’

“Oh, no- nothing like that.”  Taehyung rubbed his neck.  “You see, I’m actually-” 

“Y/n!”  You jumped as you whirled around and saw an older servant at the corner of the balcony- not too far from you and Taehyung.  She stomped her way around the corner and to your side, lightly swatting your bare leg with a thin, wooden dowel.  “I’m certain you haven’t finished your tasks!  You cannot delay, the king expects results and you- cursed child- are hindering them!”  You bowed in silent fret before straightening your back.  

You turned to Taehyung as quickly as possible, placed your handkerchief in his open hand and pointed to his neck.  You fanned yourself as if telling him ‘it’s hot, take care of yourself’ before you rushed off with another thwack of wood to your calf.  

Taehyung didn’t even have the chance to get your name- although he heard the servant woman say it.  He couldn’t tell you his name, or who he was and here he stood.  On the second floor balcony with your white and pink embroidered handkerchief.  He wasn’t even able to scold the servant for whacking you with a dowel before she scampered off behind you.  It must’ve stung on your skin. 

Taehyung was a young man, but as he remembered you writing on your book and how your eyes looked, he chuckled like a child in puppy love. He looked at the handkerchief and folded it neatly before tucking it into the pocket of his trousers.  As long as he had that one piece of cloth, he would see you again anyways.  He had to return it, he was a gentleman after all. 

Xxx

The next morning, Taehyung snuck out of his room before any palace official came to usher him off to his royal princely duties.  Walking around in a pair of loose silk trousers and a black button-down of the same fine silk fabric, he padded around in the gardens. The fresh air reminded him of his time outside the palace, he already missed the memories of days prior. 

His steps halted when he saw someone crouched by a line of rose beaded shrubs.  A pair of shears in their hand as they snipped roses from the bush and placed them into the basket at their side.  He smiled when he saw their bare skin and anklets.  He walked up behind you before speaking. 

“What are you doing out here?” You jumped, shears falling out of your grip and stumbling back onto your rear-end.  Looking up and behind your shoulder, you saw Taehyung biting back laughter. Instead of rolling your eyes, he could see them bend into crescents and your cheeks push up under your mask.  Lifting the small notepad and pencil at your side up into your lap, you begin scribbling. 

Taehyung moved to your side and squatted down at your left.  You were soon showing him the notepad. 

‘Good morning.’ 

Taehyung waved cutely at you.  “Good morning back.  Now, about the shrub?” He pointed to the flowers before you started writing again. 

‘I heard the prince came into the castle after a really long time yesterday.  I was going to place a basket of flowers as a welcome home for him outside his room.  Anonymously of course.’ 

“Oh? So, you don’t know who the prince is?” You shook your head. “Well!” He perked up.  “I’ve heard he’s pretty handsome.  Better watch out, cute girls like you could totally be his type.”  You just shook your head, denying his little outburst as he just giggled at you.  Taehyung hopped closer and picked up your sheers.  “So, how do you know which ones to cut?” 

You pointed to a bloomed, vibrant rose.  You motioned with your hand to find bright, big petaled stems.  Following your pointed finger to each bloom he should cut, he snipped roses and placed them into the basket you didn’t yet know was actually for him. 

When you finished,  you took your shears and the basket and stood.  Taehyung offered to walk you back to your room before your royal servant duties began.  You allowed him to and you both were on your way.  Taehyung did most- all- of the talking. You tried expressing conversation with your hand waves and gestures.  Taehyung had a bit too much fun trying to decipher them like a game of charades. 

“Hey,” he called when the two of you just walked in silence. “Why can’t you talk?” You looked down and pulled your notepad out. 

‘The king hates my voice.’

“Why?  You're always barefoot and always wear a mask? Are you sick?” 

‘No.’  You started to write, but scribbled something out and wrote something else instead.  ‘I don’t think I can tell you.’ 

“Is it a secret?” 

‘Well, no.  But, sometimes it’s hard to admit.’

Taehyung nodded and placed his hand on your head.  “Sorry I asked.  I didn’t mean to upset you.” You only shook your head.  “I look forward to seeing your flowers after you’ve arranged them.” You rose your brow before you pointed at your room door, arriving at your room finally. 

He let you in and practically danced back to his room.  He stopped in his tracks and pressed his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose realizing he once again neglected to tell you his name. 

“Next time!” He shouted to no one, promising himself that next time he wouldn’t forget as he marched back to his room. 

Xxx

You entered your room that you shared with another servant girl.  She often got along with you and didn’t alienate you as others did.  Walking in, she was already dressed and awake.  She was quick to ask you where you’ve been as you’re not normally allowed to go anywhere without permission or supervision.  Royal orders. 

You showed her the basket to her before shoving your note in your face.  

‘Do you know some guy with light hair who is allowed to walk around the castle in pajamas?’ 

“What? Some nut-job in his pajamas?” You nodded, lightly flapping your notepad at her for calling him a nut-job.  “You’re making it up in a fit of loneliness.  Oh god,” you huffed, throwing your notepad down before moving to sit and place flower after flower from your basket to a glass, aqua vase.  “The silent treatment, huh?” She teased.  She soon left to start her morning. 

You waited.  Unable to do anything until the sun began to finally rise.  The king refused to let you wander the castle unless it was daytime.  You had planned to finish the flowers and hoped your supervisor would allow you to deliver them to the prince’s door before your work started.  You sighed, doubting it would happen.  You soon dressed in your work clothes, took the small vase and left- deciding to take a trip to the prince’s quarters first then meet your supervisor. 

Trotting down the hall, you rushed to place the flowers and then run back to your room to wait for your supervisor, hoping not to be caught.  Though, luck didn’t seem to be favorable with you in the grand scheme of things. 

“Y/n!” The voice of the old woman that is your superior echoed behind you.  You immediately stopped in your tracks, slowly turning around to meet her angry stomps approaching you with a glare that pinned you down.  You unconsciously held the vase closer to your chest.  “What in the world are you doing? Heading down the royal halls of our royal family. On top of it all, unauthorized!” You shrunk under her scolding. 

“What’s going on here?” A voice calmly addressed behind you.  Looking back, it was Taehyung behind you.  He had changed his clothes since earlier.  Black pants with a white long-sleeved shirt and black vest.  Hair now parted and brushed.  His fingers decorated in rings and ears pierced with small hoops.  Black boots covering his feet. 

“Ah-” your superior stuttered.  “I- your highness!” you whipped your head back to the old woman.  “I apologize for the commotion so early! Y/n here was simply disobeying a set of very specific rules and-” 

“I am only hearing excuses.” His voice was sharp in contrast to the warm way he spoke to you earlier on.  He grabbed your elbow lightly, getting your attention.  He smiled at the red peeking out from under your mask.  “You were going to give those flowers to the prince, yes?” You slowly nodded.  “Well, can I have them?” 

You looked at the flower vase and then back up. You turned around in three clumsy, unsure steps before presenting them to Taehyung.  He laughed lowly, graciously removing the vase from your grip into his. 

“Thank you, Y/n.  I, Taehyung of Lisha, truly appreciate it.” You nodded.  He called for your ear as he shot your supervisor a look of ‘stay back and hush’. “Come meet me later, I want to talk more is possible. Okay?” He whispered as you nodded again before you were pulled off to finally start work. 

Taehyung took the flowers you gave to him inside his room, placing them in the sunlight on the small side table beside his bed.  He laughed smittenly as he poked at the flowers' soft petals.  At least he was finally able to tell you his name this time. 

Xxx

Taehyung had forgotten how suffocating it could be to be inside the palace.  It may be grand and large in scale and size, but the constant hovering and directions as to what and what not to do as prince kept him clicking his tongue.  He’d find himself muttering prayers of patience to get through just the formalities.  He may have been gone for years, but he didn’t forget how to be princely.  

He crossed paths with his father a few times in the halls, only stopping to lower his head to him in respect as he just kept on going, his attendant in tow.  Taehyung hissed at his father’s back each time- not even granted a nod in return.  He wasn’t sure why, but since knowing that his father hated your voice, he grew ten times more annoyed towards him.  

In fact, you occupied many of his thoughts of the day.  He just met you, yet he seemed undeniably drawn to you for reasons he wasn’t sure of.  Was it because you were dressed so differently than the other servants? Or perhaps you had certain guidelines and rules to follow under the king's directions? 

He was currently sitting in the private library with his temporary attendant as they droned on about something or another. Taehyung- much to his aides jargon- sat slumped forward, elbow on the small round table he sat at and cheek cupped in his palm. Utterly bored, he finally found a chance to speak among a minuscule break in his attendants lecture. 

“What is the story behind the serving maid with the mask?” He voiced finally. The question brought his lecturing aide to silence before they cleared their throat. 

“Your Highness, you needn’t worry-” 

“I’m expecting a proper answer,” Taehyung fought. “Do not run me in circles. I will just simply ask about her again.” His eyes kept staring off to nowhere, focusing on nothing in particular. His jaw snapping shut each time he spoke as his palm pushed into his chin from slouching. He heard his aide sigh. 

“As you wish.” Taehyung almost tutted with a snide smirk with his clear victory over the barely started discussion- but he refrained. “She was sold to His Majesty as a child.” Taehyung’s heart dropped to his gut, although his face was as calm and unchanging as before. He has had much practice in keeping a bored expression to hide his true emotions from others. “She was sold on the condition the king suppress her abilities because her parents simply did not want a cursed child.” 

Taehyung lifted his head to his aide for the first time that afternoon. “Excuse me? Abilities and curses? Are you pulling my leg after I advised you not to?” In actuality, he knew what his attendant was referring to. Magician’s and sorcery. 

An exceedingly rare breed of human. He's met only a few before in the past during his travels abroad, but the way this attendant spoke about you was angering him. Pushing him towards a sour mood. Like mentioning your beyond normal abilities would cause some sort of bad karma. 

“No, Highness. That servant girl is under constant surveillance and strict restriction as ordered by His Majesty- your father. Every accessory she wears is a restriction.” Taehyung remembers how you explained that the king hated your voice. His brow dipped. His father hated your voice because you had magic? No, that can’t be it. The king must be frightened of your voice- the voice that should be free to recite spells because it was your birthright. 

“And that woman’s mask?” Taehyung asked. “What of that?” 

“It is a final resort to keep her silent. She cannot use or speak of magic so long as she wears it. That is the royal order. She is not even able to remove it herself, only royal blood may do so.” Taehyung’s brow ticked back up. Only the Royal bloodline can remove it, huh? He bit back a snide smirk. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled. The attendant was pleased to finally drop the topic altogether. 

The prince continued to partially listen to his ‘catch up’ lessons on palace do’s and don'ts; however, in the grand scheme of things he was always wondering when or if he’d get the chance to run into you again somewhere. He felt guilty for being the son of the man who is keeping you from reaching your true potential as a sorceress. He was the only son of Lisha’s king and you were his caged animal.  

The magic users he had spoken to before in his past had always told him the same thing when he asked how magic felt. It felt like the ocean breeze at dawn and that breeze turned into a cold, harsh storm when the magic was gone.  Without magic they felt suffocated. The torment of magic repression was enough to bring some to the brink of insanity. However, he wondered how you felt about it inside. Restricted for so long, were you in pain? 

Did you even know what magic felt like? Could you remember from your childhood before it was pushed down into the pit of your stomach and smothered? 

The moment he had the opportunity to slip away from his forced shadow, he promptly took it with haste.  Ducking out and rushing off, he was able to camp out in an alcove before the coast was clear for him to wander again. He walked with a sense of near urgency as he hoped to run into you as he’s done before. Or perhaps meet his father in the halls, that would suffice as well. 

Heading down to the royal halls where the royal families rest in their private rooms, Taehyung quickly slipped into the room that used to belong to his mother and former Queen of Lisha.  

Just the air in the room and how she had decorated it with vases and painting in the past brought the weight on Taehyung’s chest off. The room had been untouched just as he had wished- a sort of tomb of remembrance in her honor. She had not lived past 40 before illness and improper- obviously botched- treatment took hold of her. Leaving her son behind, he still missed her every morning when he woke to the sun. 

He opened the permanently unlocked wardrobe and wooden trunk in the room. Revealing dresses, corsets, hair pieces, accessories, jewels and nightwear with the occasional pair of trousers- however improper for a lady they were. The trunk had shoes that he could vaguely remember dancing on with his mother leading him when he was smaller. 

He trifled around before he pulled a pair of open top, black shoes from the trunk that could easily be worn without crafting the ankle- or anything around it.  For himself he grabbed a ruby earring that hung from his lobe as soon as he placed it on himself. It bounced off his jawline with each turn of his head.  This was his mother’s favorite color- ruby red. He smiled into the mirror that hung on the wardrobe door and hoped his mother would be proud of the man he grew up to be. 

Shutting everything back up, he grabbed the flats and left the room. He rushed around and asked any servant or guard he could find if they knew of your whereabouts. He was in the midst of asking yet another when his attention was grabbed from behind. 

“Highness, are you searching for Y/n?” He turned at the mention of your name. Not one servant he had spoken to had addressed you by name but this woman who approached him did without wavering. Young and with kind eyes. “Unfortunately, she’s wrapped up in chores until this evening. Her curfew is at sundown, so she won’t have any time for much extra activity.” She explained to him. “However, if you need to pass a message to her, I’d be happy to deliver. She and I share a room in the servants' wing, so it’d be no trouble in the slightest.” 

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. At least you weren’t completely isolated from the rest of the castle. You seemed to have a kind enough roommate- at least at surface level. It was always possible this woman with the kind eyes was lying to look good in front of him- the prince who obviously had no ill will towards you. 

“Would you? If I find out you haven’t, I’ll be very upset with you.” He lightly teased, only half meaning it the underlined threat of ‘don’t do what I ask and a royal fit is in your future’. She simply nodded. Taehyung lifted the flats into view “I’m tired of seeing her run around shoe-less because the castle won’t provide her proper shoes that don’t encase the ankle. These should help.” 

Something in the woman’s eyes shined. Like someone being kind towards you was something so asinine and rare. She gratefully took the shoes from Taehyung’s grasp as she smiled down at them so purely it almost seemed she would weep. She nodded to herself before she looked back to the prince, glee written on her features. 

“May I tell her the prince gifted these? Or shall I be anonymous with it?” Her voice perked, almost seemingly excited to deliver your new ‘royal’ shoes. 

Taehyung smiled. “Please do tell her it was me. I’d like the credit for the safety of her feet,” he chided. She nodded and before she could run off to put them in their shared room, Taehyung stopped her. “Oh, what was your name? I never caught it.” 

She smiled at the prince.  “I am Akina, Highness.” Taehyung nodded to her.  He wanted to learn as many names and faces as possible of his servants of the castle. Unlike his father, he wanted to appreciate his staff for their work.  She scampered off as Taehyung turned and went back to wandering the halls. That is until he got caught from his out of breath, frantic aide that chewed him out for simply running off.  

Taehyung was in for an earful he had a feeling he couldn’t sneak away from. 

Xxx

When you entered your shared room with Akina you slumped against your door with a silent huff.  Ever sense Taehyung had run into you and lain into your supervisor, she had gotten even harsher on you.  Your feet were sore and your legs hurt from all the dowel swats you received if you were to even step wrong walking down the hall.  Still, you just took a breath and calmed down, holding your sour disposition about your treatment. At least you weren’t executed- so you could deal with the harshness. 

“Madam Hana was too strict today, wasn’t she?” You looked up and saw the small figure of Akina sat in her bed. You nodded before you walked to her, plopping on her bed beside her.  You pulled out your notepad and ever shortening pencil as you wrote in the dimly lit room. 

‘My legs hurt from all her whacking,’ your paper whined for you. 

“Well, maybe I can cheer you up. Or, maybe our charming prince can.” You looked at Akina, your brow shooting up. She hopped off her bed before going to the small shared wardrobe in the room that held both your and her items. She grabbed something from the bottom before whirling around and coming back only to plop something into your lap. Knocking your notepad and pencil away from you. “These are from Prince Taehyung, for you.” 

You were speechless- not that you could speak anyways. Sat in your lap was the cleanest, more lovely pair of black flats you had ever seen. Enclosed around the toes and open to the top of your foot with just enough room to hook over your heel and not an inch higher. They’d be so convenient to wear. You ran your finger over their edges before you were reaching for your notepad again and scribbling furiously. You shoved the paper into Akina’s hands. 

‘Are you sure they’re for me?’ 

“He strictly instructed me that I give them to you with the message that he wants you to wear them because he doesn’t want you to hurt your feet anymore,” your roommate explained. You just stared at them star struck. The prince really wanted you to have these shoes? Where did he even get them? Regardless of if it was really him who gifted you these shoes or not, you just nodded in acceptance. 

The idea of not padding around barefoot anymore was blissful to just think about. You grew excited to wear them in the morning when another day of grilling work and dowel whacks began. Akina just smiled as she set your notepad aside, watching you kick your feet with your under eyes pushing up in a smile she couldn’t see. 

“You are just too darned cute,” the older one insisted. “If I were 10 years older, I’d adopt you in a heartbeat!” She gushed before she sat on the bed beside you and grabbed the shoes. “Let’s try them on!” 

Xxx

Taehyung woke up early that next morning, taking to the halls as they were quiet and empty in his silk, royal pjs once again.  Peach colored button up shirt that matched the same peach silk trousers that hung off his hips.  Slippers of tan on his feet and a robe of gradient corals to fight off the morning chill.  He hadn’t bothered in fixing himself to be presentable in the halls, simply because it was far too early to care about physical appearances.  

He left his room that morning and made a dash for the gardens.  He had hopped to run into you there again, but he wasn’t very hopeful. The only reason he saw you last time was because you were gathering flowers for him- the same flowers he kept in his window sill and watered. But, even if you were not in the gardens, maybe you would be somewhere else?

He stopped mid stride in the hall when he remembered that Akina had told him that you had strict surveillance and curfew.  You most definitely wouldn’t be allowed out of your room until fetched.  He groaned to himself as he then spun on his heels and backtracked towards the servant’s halls. 

Thankfully, he knew where your room was- he did drop you off once after all. 

He never realized how many servants were under the king’s employment until he was walking down halls of the servant’s wing.  It seemed they were endless before he finally turned down the hall he knew was yours. He nearly jogged when he caught sight of the door he remembered dropping you off at before. 

He came to a stop in front of it before he was knocking lightly. He turned and looked out the window behind him- the sun was almost ready to appear for the day. Although it was not yet upon the horizon, the sky had already begun to change colors. His attention fell back to the door when the door handle jostled and then twisted. 

The door was cracked open and he was greeted with Akina standing in the open crack. She seemed shocked to see Taehyung in front of her room- of course that was a valid expression. He wasn’t even properly dressed after all.  He smiled down to her as he tried to peer inside of the room- but it was too dark to see properly. He looked back to Akina ruffling his messy, blond hair. 

“Is Y/n awake yet?” He asked her.  Akina twisted her body around and watched as you remained sleeping in your bed. Curled into your blankets and softly snoring. She turned back to her prince. 

“She isn’t. Shall I wake her up?” Taehyung shook his head. 

“May I come in? I know it’s not proper for a male to enter a female’s room, but could I?” Akina’s face twisted in a few moments of shock before she was stepping back, taking the door with her as it opened further.  Apparently, she didn’t mind.  Taehyung thanked her as he stepped in, Akina shutting the door behind him. 

He stood in the room as he looked around. It was dim, the lantern on the desk in the middle of the room unlit as the morning sky only barely gave the room light.  Though it was bright enough to navigate, Akina still rushed to strike a match and light the lantern for better view. She didn’t want the crown prince falling over something and getting hurt in her room. 

The small, two bedded room was far different than his own grand room.�� He felt almost guilty at the difference between staff and royal standards. However, it was something not even he could change- it was part of how the world has been.  Perhaps though, one day he could at least improve servants’ quarters. 

He shook his head, his thoughts wandering before he turned to Akina. Asking for silent permission to come closer to you. She nodded as he tiptoed to your bedside and knelt beside it.  He smiled as you slept.  

You slept curled up in blankets, tucked into your chin and curled up like you were cold. Your head had completely slipped off your pillow as you occasionally squirmed. He started poking at your face; your cheeks and nose and tracing your forehead in dumb patterns. He even poked at your mask that he was annoyed you still had to wear even while sleeping. He watched your face pout as he curled his lips to keep himself from laughing. 

“Y/n,” he called. He kept prodding at your face until your eyes started to twitch under your eyelids.  “Y/n,” he cooed again. As Taehyung tried to wake you, Akina moved to her own bed as she sat down still a bit in shock that the prince was in her room and messing with you. Eventually, your eyes slowly opened, before blinking slowly. He smiled at you as your eyes moved to look at him. “Good morning,” he greeted. 

He laughed as your eyes shot open now realizing who was in front of your bed.  Tangled in your blankets you shot up and tried to get out of your fabric prison. Sitting up, your torso free of your blanket, but your legs still trapped in it’s folds, you looked past Taehyung to Akina. She was simply smiling at you, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders before you looked back at the prince. 

You looked around to the desk and saw your notepad and pencil sat there, but too far for you to reach.  You jumped when Taehyung stood from his knelt position beside you and started to pull at your blanket.  You moved as he tugged and before long he was pulling the blanket off you completely. 

Taehyung looked at the notepad on the desk before he was grabbing it and placing it in your lap before he was sitting himself down beside you on your mattress.  He decided to keep his opinion on your white nightgown to himself- you looked adorable in it. He giggled as you started to scribble down words quickly before shoving it into his lap. 

‘What are you doing here, Your Highness?’ 

“I didn’t get to see you all day, so I came to see you.” He gently set your notepad back in your lap before he was talking again. “I know you're under some strict scheduling, but do you want to go walk with me? I have something I want to talk to you about.” Your eyes widened before you looked down at your lap and lightly kicked your feet against your bed frame.  Your being filled with nervousness as Akina was soon standing up. 

She moved to the trunk at the end of your bed before she reached into the wardrobe and grabbed a bag to hang your notepad and pencil in.  She was now kneeling in front of you, grabbing your feet around your anklets before she was slipping your new, black flats onto your feet. 

Taehyung smiled as Akina helped you, glad that she not only gave you the shoes like he asked, but they fit so well on you. She then grabbed your notepad from your lap and placed it into the small bag before helping you to your feet.  

“If Madam Hana comes by, I’ll try and stall for you. Go enjoy the morning before work, okay?” She held your hands before she slung the bag over your shoulder to let it rest on your hip. Taehyung was soon standing behind you and patting your back between your shoulder blades.  He smiled down at you, something that helped ease your nerves.  

Between the both of them, you were soon out in the halls with your nightgown on and Taehyung beside you in his pajamas as Akina shut the door behind you both. You shivered from the cool air in the halls compared to your small, warm room.  Taehyung was quick to pull the silk robe from his shoulders and place it over you.  

“Wear this,” he urged as you wanted to decline as it was a royal’s robe.  He just persisted before he pulled your arms through the sleeves and straightened it to sit on your shoulders.  Your shoulder didn’t quite fill it out like his did, but that was alright.  You had to admit, it was a lot warmer than nothing at all. “Let’s go talk,” he soothed as he was soon leading you off to somewhere. 

Xxx

Taehyung had taken you to a small, secluded part of the royal gardens where you’re not usually allowed.  Only royals are allowed beyond a certain point and the select few of servants who care for the garden.  Shrubs and bushes of healthy, green color.  Rows of flowers lining the cobblestone paths and marble busts of past royal rulers.  A small fountain at the center off all the intermingled paths of stone. 

He watched you look around and fidget with your fingers.  You were currently disobeying a number of rules at the moment. Leaving your room without permission, not being properly supervised, wearing the prince’s robe, entering a restricted garden where servants aren’t allowed.  Your mind couldn’t keep up with everything that’s happened in such a short burst of time.  

Taehyung pulled you along with him until he sat you down on a stone bench near the fountain before he sat next to you.  He sat in silence for a moment as you continued to fidget. He was slouched back, looking up at the color changing sky as the windy blew in small wisps.  He hoped his robe was enough to keep your warm. 

“I ended up asking my attendant about you, you know?” He started.  He could practically feel you stiffen next to him. “I learned a lot about you from him and learned why you do what you do. Though, I have a lot of questions to ask you about it personally.” He felt you moved beside him, taking out your notepad to write on it before you were tapping on his thigh. 

‘Are you angry about it? What you learned?’ 

“No,” he shook his head. “Or maybe I am, but not with you.” He sighed as he brought his chin down to look at the fountain. “I heard that you were sold to my father when you were a child and that the first thing he did was slap you in restraints. That is what I am angry about.” 

‘So, you know what my restraints are for?’ Your notepad asked him before he was looking down at your lap. Your fingers were trembling, but something told him it wasn’t because of the morning chill.  You were scared.  It was clear that you were isolated from your fellow servants because the knowledge of your magic wasn’t exactly a well kept, royal secret.  

“Yes, I know you’re a sorceress, Y/n.”  You ducked your head, tucking your chin into your chest in shame as you just wished to fade away and disappear with the wind.  It wasn’t your fault you were born like this and it wasn’t your fault that everyone thought you were some kind of tumor to be removed from society.  

Everything was taken from you since you were a child and it wasn’t your fault.  You slowly wrote before handing him the notepad again. 

‘I am sorry,’ you apologized. Taehyung’s slouched figure straightened before he was taking the notepad and setting it on the ground on top of the cobblestone and out of your reach.  Your eyebrows shot up as you went to go and reach for it before Taehyung was off the bench and kneeling in front of you. He grabbed your hands, stopping your attempts to retrieve your book back. 

“Y/n, I don’t want you to apologize for something my family did to you.” His voice was stern as he forced you to look at him as he spoke on his knees in front of you.  “It is my father and his awful rules against sorcery that put you right here, right now. It is in no way your fault, you were born with your magic- you can’t just get rid of it or outgrow it.” Your eyes didn’t move from his. You weren’t sure how, but he knew how you felt about it and he was putting to ease all your anxieties. “Listen to me, I want to do something. I have things I want to do that involve you- things I want to do to protect you.” 

You furrowed your brows as he let go of your hands and reached up to your face.  He traced around the edges of your mask. You reflexively reached up to hold it, keeping the straps behind your ears even if you knew it wouldn’t fall off.  You couldn’t take it off, no one could but His Majesty to your knowledge. Taehyung smiled up to you. 

“I have a request, and by the end of our conversation this morning, I’d like for you to answer me properly. Is that alright, Y/n?” You simply nodded to him.  He placed his hands over your own that were held up by your ears. “I heard that both your gauntlets and anklets are suppressors, and that this mask is also one. When you told me that the king hates your voice, you were talking about your magic, yes?” You nodded again. “Alright, then you also know that you’re unable to take your mask off.” 

You felt dumb just nodding to him. But it is all you could do. With him blocking your path to your notepad on the ground and his hands holding yours in place by your ears, you had no other choice but to nod or shake your head in response to his questions. 

“Only royal blood can remove your mask,” his tone suddenly changed.  It was short and quiet as opposed to his earlier stern monologue.  “If that is true, then I can take this mask off of you.” Your eyes widened.  “If that’s possible, I’m going to try. I’m going to pull this mask off and I want to hear your voice. I want to see your face, I want to know what you sound like and what you look like when you smile.” 

You felt him let go of your hands as he moved his fingers behind your ears.  You felt his fingertips feather around the shell of your ear before they hooked under your mask’s straps. Your breath halted.  

“When I remove this, I want you to call for me,” he instructed you. You didn’t even nod to him that time.  Just remained breathless and still. The sensation of him pulling your mask over your ears and away from your cheeks was odd.  It felt like static as you could physically feel something coming back to you. Your throat felt warm and your cheeks tingled with feeling.  Like something was being returned to you.  

When your mask was pulled from your mouth and away from your face, the wind picked up. The morning chill being blown away as a warm, summer breeze fell in place to comfort your bare face. You ducked your head away from his eyes. Taehyung took your mask before he placed it behind him, joining it with the notepad on the cobblestone before he lifted his hands back to cup your cheeks. 

Your cheeks were soft and warm. They pushed under the pressure of his hands as he lifted your chin to look at him. When your eyes met his again your face flushed and he could see the red hue that crept onto your skin under his hands. He smiled at you the moment the sun started to breach the horizon now. 

“Memorizing,” he told you. “Now, call for me.” He watched your pink lips open and close, unsure on how to do it. What to do and then the anxieties set in again. You haven't used your voice in so long. What did it sound like now? Would it be weak and hoarse? No, surely not.  Your throat was warm and smooth and you felt something magical in the absence of your mask. “It’s alright,” Taehyung soothed. “It’s just us here, just try.” 

He watched you stick your tongue out to lick at your dry lips before you opened your mouth again. He felt your jaw move under his hands and your cheeks hollow out at your lips unsure movements. Your chest inflated as you took a breath in. 

“Um,” the small noise that came out of your mouth made Taehyung jump as his fingertips pushed into your cheeks further.  Trying to urge you to speak, he just nodded as you tried again. “Prince Taehyung?” You whispered in a small, adorable voice.  

Taehyung’s jaw dropped before you gasped and pushed your palms against your mouth as if you had just committed a crime.  In a sense, you did.  It was a royal order that you not speak, but then again it was the prince who told you to speak in the first place after he took off your mask.  You were confused and shocked at your own choice of actually speaking again. 

“Y/n, would you consider being my lady-in-waiting?” Taehyung blurted out as your eyes bugged before he continued.  “I know it’s not proper, and that only noblewomen are assigned court ladies, but I am without an assistant and I want it to be you.” 

You had never heard of a prince asking for a woman servant to tend to him before.  It was absolutely asinine. However, when you looked at Taehyung, he really meant it.  

“Why?” Was your reply and he felt his hair stand on end at hearing your voice again. “The king would surely reject the idea.” It was so soft, like velvet to his ears.

“I will speak to him. He is my father and I will fight him on this.  He has no choice if I threaten my throne after all- it works as a last resort.”  Threatening his throne? As in threatening to not come to rule and dismissing his coronation one day in the future? That’s ridiculous! “Of course, I’d never really give up my place as crown prince, but it’s a good bargaining chip.” 

“But, Madam Hana. She is my supervisor, if I-” 

“If you serve under me, she will be unnecessary.  I do not want to see her hit you anymore.” 

“My prince, I don’t know.”  It was no surprise that you were unsure about it.  It was all so sudden, not to mention all the unknown variables about such a strong choice.  “What answer do you want from me,” you whimpered as you fiddled with the fabric of your nightgown.  Taehyung ran his thumb across your cheek as he pulled his lips back into a smile.  

“Whatever answer you give me, I’ll accept it. Unlike my father, I am no bully,” he teased.  You smiled at the prince calling the king something as lowly as a ‘bully’. His time abroad seemed to have fused this childish, refreshing nature into his persona. It made you feel warm and Taehyung felt like a spring shower. 

“If I agree, would you be happy?” 

“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat.  

“You are so sure of yourself,” you replied to his quickfire answer.  

“I am sure of you.” 

As you sat in the restricted garden of royalty, the prince of Lisha on his knees in front of you holding your cheeks in his silk pajamas with his hands that had removed your mask, you made a decision. Perhaps, it was a foolish one in the making.  It would surely anger the king and could create tension among your fellow servants.  It would undoubtedly cause Madam Hana to go into a fit. But when you thought of Akina and her support as well as your Prince Taehyung who knelt before you, all that didn't seem to matter any more. 

It felt like you were regaining a piece of freedom you were stripped of when you were young.  

“I would,” you told him.  “I would consider it, if you would allow me,” you finalized.  If being his lady-in-waiting and throwing out the standard status quo was what it was going to take to please your prince, then you’d just have to accept it and follow him.  He was the first royal to even show you a spec of kindness like his late mother did once very long ago. 

Yes, you should stick to Prince Taehyung’s side. 

[lizacstuff]

Hello, Liza! I hope you are doing well. Passing by because I (and everyone else I think) would like to know your thoughts about episode 25. I watch this show trying my best to avoid spoilers but today somehow I ended up seeing everything. Twitter was and still is mad about the episode and I thought I was going to have the same reaction as them. Surprise, surprise, I didn't which left me speechless. I feel like you might have the same reaction as me so I would love to know your thoughts! xo

Hello! I have a lot of asks and rather than flooding my dash, I think I’ll put them all in one place, so this is going to get very long.  I have mixed feelings. I didn’t hate it, but it was a hard episode to watch.

I wish I had seen the reaction before I watched, then I would have adjusted my expectations. The whole time I was waiting for a twist at the end that didn’t come. Partly because of my own speculation, but partly because I’d watch the live with Hande and Kerem and from the translations, Kerem said there was a shock at the end and called the ending beautiful. Never trust Kerem! LMAO. Not because he would ever intentionally mislead, but boyfriend never remembers anything that happens in any episode. Though he was right about the shock, just not about it being beautiful. (Prince be crazy!) Anyway I kept hoping for the twist of them working together and fooling everyone and it didn’t come. 

So I was disappointed at the end, but with adjusted expectations the episode, taken for what it is, is actually decent and I can definitely get onboard with Eda sacrificing everything to save him. That’s very romantic and they did a great job of setting up how devastated she was and how serious the threat is from Babaanne. Eda did not crumble in the face of a couple of idle threats. No, every moment that Eda waited to break up with him, Babaanne introduced some very real and catastrophic consequence to Serkan or his family. Shit got real and Eda was pushed into a no-win corner and needed to act fast. I’ll talk about that more, but first, I’ll mention a couple of thoughts about the writing and the new writers:

(more under the cut)

Good

Structure - The structure of the episode was a lot better than last week.  Scenes actually made sense one after the other, the emotions of the characters were consistent and it all flowed. 

Plot - I’m not necessarily praising what happened in the episode, more that there was one. And it’s one that will not be forgotten in the next episode and it feels like this plot could sustain a number of episodes which his necessary if the show is to continue.

Characterizations  - The characters felt true to what we’ve watched the last 20+ episodes. As I said above, work went into showing us both Eda and Serkan’s mindset and how that led to the ultimate outcome. It’s impressive that they put together one of the most heartbreaking breakup scenes I’ve seen, and the characters weren’t actually even together. 

Not-so-good

Proposal dream - I’m not a big fan of fooling the audience like this, and I’m really not a big fan of putting it in a teaser or promo. That is a bait and switch, and I think it’s a cheap trick for the production company to have featured it in the fragman. Badly done.  In next week’s fragman we see Serkan “punching” the Prince, I fear that is not real, possibly Serkan’s fantasy, and I’m really hoping that “fake scenes” are not going to be the go-to for these new writers. We’ve already spent 50+ hours with Eda and Serkan, we don’t need to see imaginary things, we need real scenes. No fake outs at this juncture. 

Humor and ‘sparkle’ - I think this is what’s going to be missing from the new writer’s scripts. They tried really hard with the game night at the newlywed’s house and Chef Alexander love triangle, (Team Aydan all the way, Ayfer can fuck off. If she doesn’t care about her niece’s happiness, then she shouldn’t get any herself) but it just didn’t get there comedy wise. Ayse really had a way of pulling together very funny scenarios and making everything sparkle, and I’ll miss that. 

Lack of Edser - This is their show, they are the ONLY reason most people watch. You can’t build a plot that separates them. When Serkan broke up with Eda they were able to build a scenario where they were still thrown together all of the time, and kept finding excuses to be with the other. Their screen time didn’t suffer that much. I’m not sure this scenario will allow the same with him being at risk if Babaanne spots them together.  However, for this episode I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt as @jan31​ brought up to me, Kerem and Hande were very busy last week with rehearsals and then shooting The Voice, so that might have contributed to why there was so much focus on the other characters this ep, they needed to release the leads for other commitments. 

hawaiigirl84 said: So I'm on a SCK Facebook group looking at a lot of irate fans. If you haven't seen the episode yet, I think you're going to have to gird your loins for this one.

@hawaiigirl84 Haha. I wish I’d seen this ask so I could have adjusted expectations. I went on twitter last night and then backed away slowly. Lots of dramatic rending of garments and gnashing of teeth.  You know the fan reaction is bad when both the producer Asena and Nesliyan (Aydan) tweeted out reassurances about the journey to love and then this morning the production company twitter account released video of Eda kissing Serkan in the jail. Trying to feed the fans who were out for blood, I’d guess. 

Anonymous said: Okay so the latest episode of SCK had to be the show creating a very low point for Eda & Serkan in order to build them back up, right? My thought after the episode ended was that things honestly could not get worse. That episode was just disappointing. While I get why Eda did what she did I still absolutely hated it and was pissed the writers could not come up with something better. And how heartbreaking was it to realize the proposal scene was a dream 😭. And now they released a clip showing Eda did kiss Serkan in the jail cell but they decided to cut it out? I get that the show has to create drama but the promotion of the episode as being super romantic was certainly a gut punch. The fragman has me hopefully that Eda & Serkan might finally work together to bring down Grandma or at least Eda will let him in on her plan. I will say even though that episode hurt the actors were absolutely killing it.

Are we the same person?? I think I went through all of these thoughts/emotions since watching, lmao.  

And 100% they are taking Eda and Serkan to their low point before building them back up. Also, think about it, after this they will both have a much better understanding of one another. Eda will understand how he could have made the decision to breakup rather than confide in her, and Serkan will understand why doing what he did hurt her so much and why it wasn’t easy for her to get over it. They’ll both have experienced the situation from all sides.  Ultimately, this will make them stronger.

Honestly, Eda has a LOT better reason to do what she’s doing than Serkan did. As I said above, Evil!Granny is not playing. She is deadly serious and seems to be capable of anything. In the course of 48 hours she had manufactured charges against Serkan that were serious and landed him in jail, she caused him to lose the tender they’d won which would have huge ripple affects for the business, and she was able to set up Alptekin and get him thrown in jail. At this point I could see her ordering a hit! Eda needed to call her off and get her to stop or who the heck knows would have happened to Serkan, Aydan and the business in the next 24 hours. Eda needed to move fast and she needed to be convincing. 

Right now I think Eda is just buying time, so Serkan is safe while she tries to fight her grandmother.  No way she’s rolling over. Not Eda. I’m still very hopeful that Serkan will figure out what she’s up to sooner rather than later and they will start to work together. 

Also, YES, to the performances. The actors were stellar. Hande and Kerem both brought it. I physically felt their pain.

Anonymous said: I'm completely convinced that the writers' room for this last episode wrote it without any knowledge of ep 24 except for the fact that it ended with Serkan getting arrested on NYE. Like I still wouldn't like it, but if we had gone from ep 23 to ep 25, it would make more sense. But not after ep 24. Did Ayse just say "fuck it" while writing that episode and gave the fans everything she could knowing full well what the other writers' plans were? Talk about some severe whiplash.

I don’t know what the background is on the writer change, but I don’t think this is fair.  I got whiplash from the fragman (proposal) to the episode, but not from ep 24 to this one. When watching ep 24 didn’t you think it was just a matter of time before the other shoe dropped? I thought that it was obvious that a dark cloud was gathering, just as Eda was willing to start fresh with him. Babaanne directly threatened Serkan several times to Eda. She told Eda she would destroy Serkan if she found they were together.  Episode 24 was Eda being defiant and letting herself be with Serkan and this episode was the consequences of that.  

There are things to criticize, but I completely disagree with you that this is one.

Anonymous said: I think Eda didn't say ily at that time because she must have already thought about maybe accepting what her grandmother had asked for. It would have been weird if she told him I love you and then broke up with him right afterwards. It wasn't the right time, I think the writers are saving it for a big confession like in episode 11. At least for now we could hear her say it in her dream.

Agreed on the timing, and you’re right about the dream. While I am annoyed they put it in the trailer, in the narrative it did serve to tell us exactly where Eda’s head is at in regards to their relationship.  She loves Serkan, she wants to marry Serkan.  So we know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that none of her actions are because of any lingering “confusion,” right now she is acting out of pure love for him. That’s beautiful. (maybe that’s what Kerem meant by the ending being beautiful, lmao) 

Anonymous said: Eda really breaking him by called what they had a mistake and threwing him the parents death in his face like it was his fault, he doesn’t deserve all this. At least im happy serkan walked away first! although he loves her with all his being, he's fed up with Eda behaviour... if she really wants him, she has to fight for him.

Oh boy. 

You understand that Eda didn’t mean anything she said, right?  That the only way for her to convince Serkan she was serious was to bring out the big guns, and that she only did it to save him?

Yes, that was hard to watch. My heart absolutely breaks for Serkan. Actually, it breaks for both of them.  But it’s supposed to, they are in love, and Babaanne is tearing them apart. Did you watch Eda all episode? She was devastated the entire time. That’s one of the reasons this ep was hard to watch. It’s hard to see a beloved character be at that low of a point for 2 straight hours.  

This storyline will be easier for you to watch if you reframe this from applauding Serkan for being “fed up” at Eda, to Eda loving him so much that she is going to do whatever is necessary to save him.  She sacrificed and now she’s going to risk it all fighting Babaanne, and all of it is for LOVE. 

Anonymous said: The ending is so ridiculous, and let's not even talk about the fragman of the next episode I really don't know if I want to continue watching

Okay, you’ve just hit my pet peeve. DO NOT come into my inbox with flounce threats. I don’t care if you watch or not. If you’re done, fine, move on, no need to announce it on anon or add it to any of my posts. Because why even talk about something you’re not going to watch? If you’re not serious, but just saying that cause you’re throwing a temper tantrum and think that you can bring about change that way or think you’re making a point by threatening to withhold your support, I’m not going to validate you. You’re being manipulative and all you’re doing is trying to make other people feel bad.  Anyone else who does this will be blocked.  

Anonymous said:  The new writers are really destroying the series. Eda blamed serkan for not telling her the truth and now she did exactly the same. They're ruining eda's character by doing that. Eda wouldn’t have ever, nor left herself be defeated like this by babaanne, nor used the words she did with Serkan, it was beyond mean, and unnecessary for this plot, im so upset

Dude, pull yourself together. It’s not that bad. The new writers are definitely evolving the series, if feels like it’s going to be more plot driven, than situational, but I think that had to happen if they were going to continue making episodes. Maybe you believe they should just end it, and that’s a fine opinion to have, but if it’s to continue, and I personally want it to, there needs to be a plot, there needs to be a big obstacle and this is what these writers’ have chosen.   

Out of all the thing they could have done, it’s actually a good direction to go. Once again, they’ve chosen to separate them, not because one betrayed the other. Not because of some third-party love interest. Not because one is uncertain about their feelings. Not because one of them made a bad choice that hurt the other. They’re separated because of something that happened when they were children, something completely out of their control.  And Eda made the decision she did, because she loves him more than anything. 

For drama in a romantic story its about as good as you can hope for. Because despite your knee-jerk, overly emotional take, the reality is there is nothing here that taints either character or their love for one another. 

They are NOT ruining Eda’s character.  Eda was pushed into a corner and she made a hasty decision to save the man she loves. Babaanne was watching her constantly, she was having her followed. Eda did what was necessary to get Serkan out of jail and then to stop Babaanne’s relentless, and successful, attacks against him.  She said what she said, because that’s the only thing that would have convinced him she was for real. Anything else he wouldn’t have believed, and if he didn’t believe it then Babaanne wouldn’t have stopped. Also, Eda hasn’t let herself be defeated. She did what she needed to do, so she can keep Serkan safe while she fights. This is just one battle, Babaanne won’t win the war. 

They’ll get to the point when they’re fighting her together, but we’re getting this part first. The part that will give both of them greater insight into the other, and the perspective they both need to truly understand how each felt during the first break up. And it will give us angst and longing and pining and jealousy and all sorts of things. 

Also, curious, why is it okay for Serkan to break her heart because he was afraid of her reaction to the truth of the past, but it’s not okay for Eda to break his heart to save him from huge and real threats to his safety, livelihood, freedom and family?

Anonymous said: I am so sad for serkan he doesn't deserve this. Eda ended up abandoning him like everyone else who comes into his life. The worst thing about it is that he knew it was going to happen and he was afraid it would happen and it did happen 😭

It’s definitely gut-wrenching. Serkan doesn’t deserve this, but neither did Eda. And Eda didn’t abandon him because she wanted to, she did it because very bad things were happening and she had to act quickly.

However, think about what you just said: he knew it was going to happen. It’s also not like the consequences of going against Babaanne are unknown to him.  He knows he was thrown in jail, he knows his dad is in jail, he knows there were serious threats to his business. So what that means is that it won’t take Serkan long to figure out that Babaanne is behind everything and Eda is 100% acting out of love for him.  

He will just need to shake off the sting of her words, and the haze of heartbreak and he’ll see that she did it for him. 

[embersrpg]

IT’S HONESTY DAY ----

We’re gonna do it up old school today my friends! Considering tomorrow is a very serious day that is going to have much pain (you didn’t hear this from me) and many of you guys have been so proactive on closing threads before Thursday, you guys voted, so honesty day it is!

Since some of you guys said you’d prefer to have a free-for-all type scenario, this will be an ‘honesty hour’ rather than ‘ask memes’ so to prevent the dash from getting cluttered, please don’t reblog any ask memes so we can keep our heads focused to our big brain questions.

As always, if you are participating, please post a link to your askbox so folks know you’re wanting questions. If you do not wish to participate (which is totally cool! Take a cool down day if you’d like you guys already do a lot here ily), just don’t post your ask.

Please send a question to everyone who posts their askbox link. If you’re unsure of a question to ask, just message me and I can help you come up with one! Some quick ways to help you think of questions, you can 1) look at their intro and see if there’s anything you want to know more about. You can 2) look at their task to see if there’s a loved one you’d like to know more about. You can 3) look at their established connections and see if there’s more you’d like to know.

Most importantly, have fun! Do as much or as little as you’d like. And, you know, be ready for tomorrow. This will last 25 hours, and when the plot drop posts (which will be 9am CST), I just ask you no long answer questions to focus on the new arc.

Please like this once you’ve read it.

[adversitybloomed-a]

hi everyone, HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE <3 i just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a safe & happy night & i hope the end of 2020 is good for everyone & that 2021 is the fresh start all of need and could use. just remember, that no matter what, even though 2020 has been hard on everyone, you are amazing & i really think the world of you. i also just want to say thank you to legit my support group. legit you guys have & always have been rockstars in my eyes. 

please stay safe & just know i adore you! see you next year ( yes i am this corny ) !!!

below the cut are just a few shout outs i wanna thank for making this year legit amazing even among all the chaos. 

@skjebne​: Arya you know why your on here, i tell you this often enough. i am so glad we got to reconnect. i adore you. i think you are hilarious. i love our freakouts together & the fact i can legit just randomly call you & we end up talking for hours or watching a move ( the crow is still a top favorite ). you know how much i adore your writing & the fact that no topic is really off limits just makes me so happy. thank you for finding me again. also i adore you & your boys ( all of them, you know this. & lets face it Tayna is Queen okay? okay. )

@aeraofhisheart​: Beth, you have been my support since like, the day we have met. your also legit a sister to me. i love talking to you, we always have a good time. & the fact is, i can’t imagine life without you. thanks for always been their for me at random hours & dealing with my hyper active butt for over a decade now. love you tons! 

@xthesparequeen​: Raven, my twin, you are just -- - i am so glad i got to meet you & that we connected just as well as our muses have. you are my ride or die girl & I ADORE. plus your ticktoks crack me the hell up. but no seriously, i’m so glad that i can talk to you everyday & we can share just about everything. you’ve been a blessing and i am just so happy we became friends. 

@huckleberrytm ( @earthbinder​ ): not sure which blog your on now so im tagging both. Ave!! i know you’ve been busy with school, but just wanted to let you know I adore you, i love your writing & your edits & i enjoy getting to talk to you when i can. you are an amazing soul with great talent && im really glad we got to connect! thanks for being amazing & so supportive!

my inuyasha squad: @archeracrosstime, @ka-go-me, @shirokodomo, @redratrobed, @arashisedai, @swordsmithtotosai, @chxmpionofjustice ( yeah your included in this love me ), @senpujin, @daikusedai, @dokusedai, @slayerled​ @anchoredstowaways​: dude you all forking rock. im sorry for grouping you together, but i didn’t want to make a huge spam post & i just... thank you for accepting me. thank you for just letting me adore upon you all & checking in and the major support group you’ve given. i love the messages you send me, when you know ill like something & the fact that you guys just take the time to make sure all is good just warms my heart. 

@kukyc​: Karei! i’m so glad to see you back on the dash. you know that i adore & i am so grateful when we get to talk. thank you for being supportive & helping me with questions on ps, legit i owe you so much. you rock & i adore your van <3 

@affcgato​: Monroe you really didn’t think i would forget you right? i know we don’t get to talk often, but just know i think you are fantastic & i adore you. thank you for being so amazing & kind <3

@purextheart: Alex!!! I wanted to make a quick little ily post because i do. thanks for being my ride or die & giving my mulan some loving ( even though sometimes its painful ). i adore you & i love your izzy ( have since i wrote jace lol ) & im so glad we got to reconnect!

@notacalavera​ ( @itwasntsexy​ ): Nat, you are seriously a kind soul. thank you for putting up with me & my crazy questions & ideas i sometimes have. I love your muses & i adore getting to talk to you <3 

i know i didn’t get to everyone, but i just wanted to make a quick little thank you post to all of you. if you aren’t on this list, its not that i’m not grateful, but again i just don’t want to do a massive spam thing. you are all amazing & i know 2020 has been a rough year, but just know that you have made it worthwhile for me & helped keep my spirits up. so thank you so much!