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yoonia · 6 months ago

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Ever A Never After: Act 1

⟶ Chapter Summary | It feels like a dream come true. Prince Charming comes to the rescue, and then he is suddenly proclaiming his love to you. The promise of your happily ever after is suddenly within arm’s reach. Yet sinister ploys are at play, coming in the way of your happy ending just when you are merely a step away from reaching it

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com ⟶ Word count | 19,688 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | PG-13, +18 / M for future chapters; slow burn, black magic, curses, fantasy beasts/monsters, fantasy violence, fantasy weapons, mentions of (possible) characters death, blood, self inflicted injury (pretty harmless, no weapons are involved in this part), sudden wedding proposals, coercion, hypnotism, betrayal. ⟶ Special thanks to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi, @theodea

⟶ Story Masterlist: Ever A Never After | next chapter ⇢

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⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom known as Andalasia…

A place where each story ends with happily ever afters and a dream can become reality with one simple wish. Ruled by the powerful Sorceress Queen Rosalyn, who reigns the kingdom with her iron fist, steel heart, and enchanting spells, the kingdom prospers with riches and an abundance of good fortune.

Magic exists in this place as the main core that holds the entire kingdom together.

It protects the people of the kingdom from the evil forces lying in wait within the shadows. Magic also brings light and joy to the people of the kingdom, opulence and prosperity to the land, allowing Andalasia to bloom magnificently for the past century among other magical kingdoms within the realm.

With magic, the people of the kingdom—even those who aren’t mages or sorcerers—are able to have a strong connection with the surrounding nature. The blessings of magic spreads through the land, providing crops and provisions for the people throughout the year. It also spreads through the waters flowing from the mountains and all the way to the open sea, enriching the land, the towns and the vast farmlands within the kingdom’s territories.

The blessings of magic also allows the humans and the creatures of the wild—the animals and fairies—to speak in the same language. Allowing all part of the kingdom to live in harmony and peace under the same sky.

But just like two sides of a coin, magic has another face that the people despises the most; dark magic, with its evil spells and curses, which often draws in malicious forces and lures the beasts and monsters that would pose a threat to the kingdom.

For years, the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyn, has managed to protect the people by using her powers. Yet dark magic has always been powerful. Enough to continue existing in the darkest places of the kingdom, hiding in the shadows, waiting in the crevices of the land for anyone who would be strong enough to wield and harness it.

There is only one kind of magic in Andalasia that is strong enough to defeat these dark spells.

Stronger than the magic that the Queen possesses and casts to rule the kingdom and its people. The most powerful magic that everyone holds out their hopes, dreams, and wishes for. The one that everyone most desperately seeks, no matter what risk they would take to find it. Even the animals and wild creatures of the woods would sing praises about it between the breezing wind, while people within the kingdom would write fables to commemorate its existence.

It is the magic mostly known as the true love’s kiss.

Ever since you were just a little girl, you have heard many stories about it. From the tales that had been written in the books and scribes about the magical moments that are shared by those who have embraced their happily ever afters with their true love’s kiss.

Once you become old enough to understand all there is to know about the magic made possible with true love’s kiss, you begin to feel a deep sense of yearning growing within you. A desire so profound to find your own happily ever after, and to find someone that you could share your true love’s kiss with. This desire has filled your thoughts and dreams, always keeping you wishing and praying for the opportunity to look out to the world so you can find it for yourself.

And last night, after a seemingly long wait, fate itself has decided to answer your prayers by sending you a wonderful dream. A dream filled with signs telling you that your wish may soon come true.

What you saw in your dream was everything that you had always pictured to happen. It got you feeling elated, hopeful, and it had woken you up with the strong desire to immortalise it while you had the chance to.

The sun was barely up when you first opened your eyes, yet there was no way you could remain idle, no matter how comfortable it would have been to stay in bed. Your energy was already high, pushing you to start working on bringing the key piece of your dream into reality while it is still fresh in your memories.

An hour or so has passed since, and you have been moving around your quaint bedroom, bringing with you scraps of fabrics, ribbons, and various other raw materials that you managed to gather from the garden before the sky grew bright. The rapid thrum of your heartbeat becomes the music you hum to while you carefully combine the materials, pinning each piece onto the wooden mannequin standing in the center of your bedroom—the same mannequin you would normally use to create your pretty dresses.

Except instead of displaying a dress, the wooden mannequin has been set up to display your newest creation. These beautiful scraps of fabric that you have collected and formed together aren’t meant to be any piece of clothing that you might be wearing later once the season changes, but to bring the object of your dream—the object of your deepest desire—to come alive.

As your creation is slowly forming into its final shape right before your eyes, you feel a rush of enthusiasm and joy brewing inside your chest. A feeling that you share with your busy little helpers that have been moving in tune with you from every corner of the room.

Their presence has become another reason why you are so full of energy this morning. They are the true blessing that had come from the forest, lured by the sound of your voice as you were singing the wistful tune of your aspiration the moment you woke up from your deep slumber.

Each animal now present in the room are either having fun watching and cheering for you, or helping you with all the different tasks that they can handle. You enjoy watching your small friends following your instructions obediently while singing along with the cheerful tune you are humming while you continue to work.

The wild hummingbirds that are usually shy and diffident are now fluttering around the mannequin, securing the ribbons that you have specifically chosen for your project. The fluffy chinchillas keep running back and forth to bring in more scraps and little accessories from your drawers to add to your creation.

Once in a while, some more of your fluffy little fellows slip into your room. Always carrying with them the various items that they could find from the forest and the small patch of garden right outside of your cabin in case they would be useful.

Just like the pair of wild sparrows that are flying in through your window right this moment. The sound of their cheerful chirping fills the room, drawing your attention to their arrival. “Here are some more leaves and fresh straws that you can use for the hair, sweet Blossom.”

A smile is lifted on your face as they drop some autumn leaves and fresh-smelling straws from their beaks and talons into your open palms. “Why, thank you, sweethearts,” you gratefully say to them, “These should make the hair look all fluffy and soft.”

Soft flutters rise in your chest as you lean to give each sparrow a light peck on top of their heads. A gesture that you give not only because you are feeling grateful for their help, but also for the way they are calling you with your childhood nickname in such an endearing way.

Blossom.

Your mother had been the one who gave you the special name when you were born. It was said that the flowers seemed to blossom more beautifully the moment you came into this realm, and the nickname has stuck on you ever since. The name that is interchangeable with your birth name, and one that anyone who is close to you would often choose to call you with.

You begin humming to yourself again as you drift back to your mannequin, pinning the leaves into the crown of the mannequin’s head. You have yet to get everything done when you hear soft voices calling for you excitedly from below.

“How about these bronze quartz for the eyes?” A pair of white wild bunnies call out to you as they hop around your ankles. Clapping your hands with joy, you bend down to gracefully accept their gifts.

“Oh, yes!” you squeal as you lift the pair of bronze quartzes to your eyes, loving how they glow under the bright morning sunlight.

“How lovely, and they look perfectly similar to the eyes looking back at me in my dreams,” you delightfully exclaim to them as you attach the dark-coloured crystals to the mannequin’s face, giving it a pair of eyes that are glinting beautifully as if they are coming alive. “Those eyes looked as dark as the night sky but were glowing like twilight when I looked deeply into them in my dream, and these pretty quartz are reminding me of them.”

Ada, the gentle deer, prances over, bumping her head against your calves to draw your attention to her. “Then how about these are some goose feathers I found at the lake this morning? Would these help too?” she gently offers as she drops the delicate feathers by your feet.

With an astonished gasp, you bend down to your knees to retrieve it. You take a moment to marvel at them as a flutter of delirious giggle rises in your throat. “What beautiful feathers, perfect for a prince. I wonder where I should put this,” you ponder to yourself, tapping your chin as you admire the feathers’ colouring—its golden-brown gradient shade that looks luxurious, like pieces of expensive materials that you can only see adorning the fancy dresses or suits that the nobles wear to the Queen’s royal ball.

With a soft bubbling laughter, you twirl on your feet before pinning the feathers on its upper torso, and you can almost see it shimmer as the sunlight falls on them.

“Oh, how perfect!” you marvel at the mannequin standing right before you with a sigh. Stepping back from it, you take in the result of your hard work, making sure that you have followed every little detail that has been engraved in your memory.

“Just what exactly are you making so early in the morning? Keeping everyone busy before you even had your breakfast,” Poppy, the sassy squirrel who is also your most loyal companion, huffs curiously as she climbs over your shoulder, wanting to have a clear look at what you are creating.

“Oh, Poppy. My dear sweet Poppy.” A dreamy sigh escapes from your lips, which only draws more confusion on your little friend’s face. “I had a dream last night.”

“A dream?”

“Oh yes, Poppy. A wonderful dream.” You cannot help but giggle as a giddy feeling fills your chest. You also feel a sense of longing, an odd sensation which has been plaguing you ever since you woke up from this magical dream.

“Tell us about the dream, Blossom,” your friends chirp and sing from all around you, “Tell us!”

With a smile, you slowly drop down to the floor cushions at the corner of your bedroom, finding comfort as you begin to share your tale, “I dreamed of a prince. A very handsome, charming, and powerful prince.”

With your eyes on the wooden mannequin, you gesture your hand at your nearly finished work, “And he looks just like this.”

The statuette figure that stands before you, shaped by the decorated and fully-dressed wooden mannequin, appears like the prince of your dream. Standing tall enough that you have to lift your chin up to look at it properly even while you were on your feet, the replica of the prince seems to come alive. You may not have been able to see his face as clearly as you would have liked, with how hazy that dream now seems to your mind. Yet as you run your gaze over your creation, you have to admit that you may have come close to getting at least something about him right.

The upper frame of the mannequin is draped with a made-up attire that looks like a three-piece suit. While it doesn’t look as refined as the suit you pictured in your mind, it still looks intricate enough to resemble the fancy suits made for nobles.

The jacket, made from a piece of wool which you once used to craft yourself a winter coat, is fitted to show the figure’s broad shoulders and trim waist. You didn’t forget to add a long tail at the back of the jacket, giving it a more sophisticated look—which you can imagine would flow prettily should the ‘prince’ walks across the room to ask you for a dance. The royal blue hue of the fabric allows the suit to stand out under the bright morning sunlight penetrating into the room. You can almost imagine it, the person wearing this jacket shining among the other people in a massive ballroom, drawing everyone’s attention just as you are unable to look away from it now.

The golden-brown goose feathers that Ada had brought you look like golden embroideries adorning the lapels of the jacket. With a subtle sheen on them, the feathers are able to catch the sunlight perfectly as you try to look at them from different angles.

Beneath the jacket, a waistcoat made of a matching fabric but in deep brown hugs the mannequin’s torso. Its snug fit creates an illusion of a broad and strong chest that would have filled its form perfectly as a powerful gentleman would. Various stones and crystals that you have pinned at the front of the waistcoat make up to replace the fancy buttons, and they all look almost like polished jewels against the dark backdrop as the sunlight falls on top of them.

A pair of trousers are set up to cover the lower part of the mannequin. Using a smooth fabric that looks almost like satin, the piece of clothing looks no different than what most royals or nobles would wear in the fancy parties that you had quite a few experiences attending to. The trousers seem to have added an illusion that looks captivating to your eyes; a silhouette of a pair of legs that are long and strong, with toned muscles hidden underneath and a sturdy foundation that would display class and elegance.

A crisp dress shirt in pristine white completes the entire ensemble. The light ruffles from the collar are peeking out from beneath the jacket, creating the illusion of the figure’s long neck. A silk tie is knotted around the throat, created from your silky scarf that has a spread of tiny blue flowers on a white background which seems like the perfect match to the dress shirt and the intricate looking jacket.

“Yes, this is all perfect. This is how he looked like in my dreams,” you muse with a contented sigh, grateful that you were able to bring the image of your prince to life only based on the memory of your lovely dream.

“But what did you see in this dream of yours, Blossom?” you hear the wild doves chittering from the windows, no doubt asking on behalf of your other animal friends who are present here, all silently swooning over your story, “What did you and the Prince do?”

“Oh,” you stutter as you remember the beautiful moments that you saw in your dream.

“It was so, so romantic. He was fighting this evil beast, a black dragon that was breathing out fire so hot it could burn down the entire magic forest—” you start by sharing the part of the dream that gave you a fright, drawing a collective sound of sharp gasps from everyone in the room as well as you talk about the fierce dragon who was fighting against your Prince from the top of a dark tower.

“—and then, once he won the battle and peace was reclaimed once more, he came to catch me as I was falling from height. We locked eyes with one another and had our moment, and that was when he chose to stay longer with me, ensuring my safety instead of returning to the castle. We talked for hours, walked through the forest, and he even took me on a ride in his glowing carriage. And when evening came, once the moonlight and the bright stars came to replace the sun, he finally asked me for a dance.”

A collective sound of dreamy sighs echo through the room, increasing the excitement you feel bubbling inside your chest. And you have yet to reach the best part of it.

“And then? What happened next, Blossom?” the fluffy and shy badger, Brew, asks you curiously from behind the curtains, where he had been hiding while watching you have fun with his friends.

With a happy giggle, you lean back against the cushions while keeping your eyes on your made-up Prince. “We danced, and danced, and danced all night, and right at the sound of the clock chiming at midnight, we shared one of the most magical moments ever”—you let out a long, deep sigh as you murmur softly—”with a true love’s kiss.”

“A true love’s kiss?” everyone gasps and sighs, sharing the elated feeling that is now surging through your chest.

“But how will you be able to have a true love’s kiss,” Poppy teases as she climbs over the right shoulder of your ‘dream prince.’ She bends and points at the empty space at the bottom of the face as she jokingly asks, “If this prince of yours doesn’t even have a pair of lips?”

Your eyes follow Poppy’s little fingers and an astonished laugh slips out of you. “Oh, dear me! We forgot the lips!” You quickly cover your mouth before the sound of your laughter reaches outside of your bedroom, realising too late that this is still early in the day. Yet your eyes remain on the mannequin’s expressionless face. “Oh, what should we place there as his lips? Does anyone have any idea?”

Almost immediately, your little friends begin to chirp and squeal and chitter with each of their own ideas.

“How about some fresh flower petals?”

“Red roses don’t bloom as much or as pretty in this time of year!”

“Berries?”

“How about red chilli peppers?”

The last response makes you laugh, joined by your delighted forest friends who seem to be enjoying their time with you, just as much as they seem to be enjoying the look on your face as you are filled with happiness and joy.

But before you can say anything to respond to their ideas, a gentle voice calls out to you from downstairs.

“________! Sweet Blossom, where are you?” the voice echoes through the small cabin, and your friends scatter to different places to take cover. Some remain, yet they choose to hide in small places, while others jump into safety right out the window. The voice continues, “I know you’re awake. I can hear you singing from all the way down here.”

“Oh, it’s Grandmother!” With a stifled laughter, you rise to your feet and rush to move. “Quick, help me hide this.”

Grabbing a blanket, you bring it to the mannequin, hoping that you would be able to cover it in case your grandmother ever decides to walk up to your bedroom. While it may not cause you any trouble should your grandmother ever finds out what you have been up to all morning, you know that she would only worry once she sees the ‘dream prince’ standing in your bedroom.

You don’t even want to try and imagine what your grandmother would say, or what kind of look that she would give you if she ever hears why you are using your working mannequin to create your own Prince Charming.

“Get your head out of the clouds, dear. We have other important things to worry about and focus on. It’s not good to be dreaming too much when you’re awake.”

That is what she would always say whenever you talk about your dreams of finding your happily ever after, or whenever you listen to your grandmother’s friends and customers about the most recent gossips and tales from the kingdom.

“Blossom, quick!” Poppy’s voice snaps you out of it, as she and the rest of your remaining forest friends begin to pull on the other side of the blanket to help you cover the mannequin.

Once it is perfectly hidden, you pull yourself together and turn away, only making one last glance at the now-covered ‘dream prince’ before making your way downstairs to see your grandmother before she starts calling for you again.

“I’m coming, Nana!”

The place that you call home is nothing more but a small wooden cabin located deep in the woods, right at the heart of the Amaranth Forest. Located quite a distance away from the Queen’s castle, your home serves as a place of solitude, away from the bright and bustling life of the kingdom.

This is where your sweet grandmother has raised you all on her own ever since you were a young child. You may have no recollection of your parents, being so young when they were gone. But everything in the cabin serves as the reminder of their existence. From the pictures that are being hanged on the walls and placed on the mantle above the fireplace, to the small trinkets that they left behind, each one holding pieces of their memories for you to remember them by.

Growing up without them, you barely felt the weight of their absence. To every void formed by the lack of their presence in your life, your grandmother fills it with her overflowing love and beautiful memories. Being under her care allows you to live with happiness and joy, as she continued to make sure that you could live your life to the fullest. She has also taught you to remain grounded, to be able to build your own life without losing your focus or getting lost in your dreams.

And there are also your friends from the forest, the wild animals that would often come to visit you whenever you are in need of company. They have kept you from feeling lonely, whether during the good days, but more so on your darkest days. The same way they are keeping you company right this moment, as you are trudging along the woods to finish the day’s errands which your grandmother had sent you out to do.

“I’m making breakfast for both of us before I will have to leave to the shop downtown,” she said once you joined her in the kitchen earlier when she called for you to come downstairs, “But I need help getting some ingredients from the gardens and the groves. I would go myself, but my knees have been bothering me. Will you be a dear and fetch them for me?”

There was no way you could have refused your grandmother’s request. Not when you saw the look on her face this morning when you first came down from your bedroom.

The dark pockets under her eyes have been more obvious as of late, so have the lines of age marring her skin. You cannot remember seeing your grandmother so tired and weary as she did today, but she has always known to hide her exhaustion well. Even if it means having to force a smile on her face just to stop you from worrying about her as she continues with her day.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wondering if there is something for her to be wary about. The thought follows you as you are gathering all the ingredients needed—the wild mushrooms from the nearby woods and some fresh vegetables from the small patches of gardens that your grandmother has been tending to.

Perhaps your worries have been written so clearly on your face, because the moment you announced your leave after seeing your grandmother, your animal friends immediately insisted to come with you. And you are grateful for their company. Because despite having these worrying thoughts filling your mind, you still find yourself enjoying your time in the open with them around to entertain you.

It is also a blessing that the weather is nice this morning.

The sun feels warm on your skin, while the canopy of trees above your head are keeping you safe from the rising heat. Small birds are flying between the trees above you while accompanying your walk with their melodic tune. You also have Poppy joining you, as she is perched comfortably on your shoulder when she isn’t jumping around to help you plucking out fresh ingredients from the ground.

The wild bunnies and Brew the badger are also there, jumping all around you as they follow you through the woods. Even Ada is following you close, as she acts like a guide before she will be making her way to the river to continue her morning stroll.

After quite some time has passed, and almost all of the ingredients that you needed have been gathered, your friends begin to remind you of your ‘dream prince’ once again when their constant teasing continues.

“Now that we have everything that your Nana needed, shall we go around to look for the perfect lips to give your dream prince?” Poppy suggests as she places the last piece of the potatoes into your basket.

“Oh, my! I almost forgot!” You gasp, and immediately, all the delightful feeling you had earlier returns to you tenfold as you remember about your Prince Charming. “You’re right! Now that we’ve gotten everything, we should continue with our mission to find the Prince’s lips. We do have some time left before Nana has to go to open the shop for the day.”

After sharing a quick discussion between you and your friends, everyone decides to follow Ada to the nearby river where she always does her morning stroll. Arriving there, she leads you to the thick bushes where the wild berries always grow during the season. The luscious shade of crimson from the fresh berries looks perfect, just the shade that you were searching for, and it makes you feel even more enthusiastic about finishing your creation.

Seeing the look on your face, Poppy rolls her eyes and makes a tutting sound. “Oh, Blossom, do you think that your dream boy truly exists?” she wonders out loud.

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” you simply answer, feeling optimistic about it still as you carefully pluck the berries and slip them into your basket. “If he could come into my dreams, then he must be out there somewhere.”

“Where?” Poppy teasingly asks as she dramatically begins looking around, peering through the woods to find your prince.

Rolling your eyes back at her, you simply laugh at her antics. “He could be anywhere. He might be somewhere within these woods, getting lost between the thick trees while he is making his way to find me. Or he could be on the other side of the mountains, fighting off dragons and monsters to claim as his prize while proving himself worthy before winning my heart and sweeping me off of my feet.”

With a sigh, Poppy shakes her head at you. “Oh, _______. I think your grandmother was right when she said that you have your head up in the clouds. Remember to get back to the ground before you fly too high.”

You can only smile as you recall your grandmother saying the same thing; that you have always been dreaming even when you are awake, and that you always let your imagination run too far, when your mind is filled with all the wishful thinking you have about finding your happily ever after.

You can understand why she would feel so worried about you, wondering if one day you would find it hard to face reality with how much you keep dreaming about your happiness. Even though it had been your grandmother herself who made you believe in happily ever afters in the first place.

“Your parents had their happily ever after. That was how you came into this world, and why they are still together now. Wherever they may be,” you heard her speak one time while she was lost in thoughts, soon after she was done telling you all the tales about happy endings and finding true loves.

It wasn’t often for your grandmother to talk about your parents. Except for the rare occasions where she would tell their stories, about how they met and fell in love, and how their happily ever after made it possible for you to be born.

She would always wear a look of longing in her eyes whenever she talks about your parents. Although it would always be accompanied by sadness and hurt — the emotions that are constantly written so vividly in her face. It has always made you feel hesitant about bringing up your parents when you talk to her. But there is something in the way your grandmother tells what little tale she has about your parents’ love story and happily ever afters that continues to bring you hope. It makes you wish that the kind of love they had does exist, and that you may one day find it.

Sighing to yourself, you embrace the blissful feeling that you have each time you recall parts of your dream which makes your heart flutter. The more you think about the dream, the more you refuse to believe that your dream had meant nothing at all.

Andalasia is a land filled with magic, after all. A place where dreams come true. And you believe that the dream had been a sign telling you that your happily ever after is near.

“I’m not going to fly off to the clouds just to find him, Poppy. Not when he might be somewhere close by,” you simply tell your friend as you finish up your hunt for the perfect lips that you are giving your made-up Prince.

Little do you know that your words are merely moments into coming to reality.

Because just as you are finishing up your errand, when you are ready to turn back home with your basket filled to the brim with fresh assortments, a commotion begins to rise on the other side of the woods.

Oblivious to the possible danger that is coming towards you, you continue prancing between the trees, enjoying your time with your animal friends playing by your side. You start singing along to the song that they are singing about your dream prince, the true love’s kiss, and your happily ever after, unknowingly luring the incoming peril that is coming to find you as the sweet tune of your voice echoes through the deep forest.

On the other side of the woods, beyond the steep hills covered in thick clusters of trees, the sound of a deep, feral roar echoes through the vast woodland.

Gone is the peaceful morning, and the entire forest wakes up to a sudden rising turmoil.

The trees are shaking with the echoing roar while the ground is rumbling violently, sending wild animals around to scamper away to find places to hide. Some have barely made their safe escape when the dense trees are suddenly parted, and a giant troll bursts through the thickets.

The creature’s massive foot stumbles as he rushes through. Avoiding the trees and boulders that are getting in his way seems like a struggle, yet his speed has yet to falter even when he can barely stay upright in his hasty run. It isn’t so much of the obstacles that appear on his path that are making it hard for him to run across the woods, but more because of the remnants of the broken restraint still dangling around his ankles.

As the creature continues to scramble to find escape, a white horse appears to be racing not to far behind. The sound of its hoofs hitting the ground in rapid speed adds to the entire commotion. The steed pushes forward, giving its full strength as it runs between the trees to keep up with the troll, while the rider continues to shout his commands, pushing his steed to keep giving a chance.

Following behind is yet another man in a horse, barely keeping up with the first rider and the relentless creature running before them.

“Sir Noah! How did you manage to let that creature escape? He’s running even faster than before!” the first rider shouts with a firm voice.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” the man following the first rider calls out between his heaving breath. He can barely keep his composure while his darker horse seems to be struggling to maintain its speed and trying its best not to get left behind.

“I was sure that I’ve tied the monster’s hands and feet as strong as I possibly could. I merely step aside to, ugh—” the man gets his breath knocked out of his chest as his steed leaps over a fallen tree, “To rest my old man’s back and all of a sudden, the rope on his hands snaps, and he just rose to his feet and began running.”

The man stops shouting to catch his breath while trying his hardest to control his loyal horse. Both himself and the horse that he is riding are old and withered, not as young or as strong as the Crown Prince who is riding ahead with his massive white horse. They have all been running and working on the hunt since the break of dawn, yet the horse has yet to show any signs of exhaustion. It doesn’t seem to be losing its strength, just as the Prince’s stamina has yet to falter even when he was the one to fight the creature to its submission less than an hour ago.

“It was the voice!” The man, Sir Noah, manages to scream out once he has his breath steadied. “There was a strong breeze coming while the troll was tied down, and I swear I heard a voice coming with the wind, a voice that sounded so beautiful. Like a birdsong. Perhaps the voice enchanted the troll to gain its strength!”

“Then we must find the source of that voice to stop the troll!” the Prince shouts back, still with vigour that has yet to fade.

“But, Prince—” Sir Noah tries to shout to stop him as the Prince rides ahead, speeding faster away from him. “Prince Jungkook, wait!”

To Sir Noah’s surprise and disgruntlement, the Prince seems to find joy in this entire predicament as he laughs and shouts to his horse to pick up speed right as the troll stops struggling in his run. “Go, Onyx! Don’t lose him!”

“No, Prince! Your Highness, you need to stop before you hurt yourself,” Sir Noah continues to shout, although his voice is slowly fading as he is beginning to lose his breath once more.

“No, I won’t. I can do it! I know I can!” Jungkook continues to shout back, almost like he is chanting to himself with pure confidence as he leads his horse to keep its steady pace through the thickets. “I’ve had him before so I can’t give up now.”

Sir Noah has lost track of time and distance, unaware of how far they have gone since the troll started making his escape. All he can see around him are trees, more trees, a couple of small hills to run over before the land opens up to a small meadow that fades into another part of the forest that is just as dense as where they first started this intense chase. He cannot help but blame himself for his recklessness, even more so as he watches in horror the moment the troll jumps off of a small hill to cut more distance to wherever he is heading to, with the Prince’s horse making a huge leap right after.

“No!” Sir Noah screams out, before his voice turns to a loud screech when his horse follows its younger counterpart to jump off the hill in his shadows. “Lord have mercy!”

“This is so much fun!” Prince Jungkook shouts with a boastful laugh, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s fright. The excitement that is palpable through his voice only makes Sir Noah’s stomach drop.

“No, this is not fun, Prince Jungkook!” Sir Noah yells out of frustration before groaning, “Oh dear, the Queen is going to have my head for this.”

Before he can say more, the previous sound that he heard through the wind is starting to reach him again. He can tell that they are getting close to the source. Close enough for him to listen to the alluring tune that has been calling for the troll more clearly and identify it as a female voice, singing to the animals and the forest, and his fear escalates further.

Oh yes, there is no doubt that the Queen will have my head for this, Sir Noah wonders to himself as he straightens up and clutches at the horse’s reign tightly to keep it steady. He knows that he is only going to put the Prince in danger, but Sir Noah has no other choice.

“Your Highness! It’s the voice! The troll is after the one who is singing this melody!” he starts shouting at the Prince, who now has his eyebrows furrowed with deep focus, growing concerned with Sir Noah’s pleading words.

“Prince Jungkook, you must hurry and stop him before he gets to the singing lady!”

“There you are, sweet little Princess. Such pretty voice. Pretty enough to eat!”

For a moment, you cannot comprehend what is actually happening.

One minute, you were walking between the bushes and the flower beds, admiring the wildflowers blooming under the morning sky while humming to the birdsong echoing through the woods. And then, suddenly, the lovely birdsong stopped, the forest fell quiet, and your animal friends became so agitated that their cheerful chirps and giggles faded to whispers.

The next thing you knew, your peaceful moment with your friends was broken when the ground you were standing on began to quake, the trees up the hill began to shake furiously before they parted, and a giant troll burst through the thickets. He spoke with broken dialect and a menacing tone of voice, followed by an eerie roar coming out of his mouth as he started barrelling his way towards you.

At first, there is nothing that you can do except to remain frozen. You are too stunned to move, unable to react as you watch this monster running straight towards you. It is also baffling to see that the creature is doing it while screaming and looking so happy about eating you.

“_______! Snap out of it!!” Poppy suddenly screams, snapping you out of your daze. “We need to run. Now!”

With a gasp, you hike up your skirt and quickly turn away. “Run, everyone!” you shout at your friends who immediately scatter to find their escape, while you struggle to run the opposite way to confuse the creature.

Although it doesn’t seem like your effort is needed, because the troll seems to have set his eyes on you and you alone, as none of your fleeing companions catches his eyes and he is still running to get you. “Why is it chasing me?”

“I don’t know, but keep running!” Poppy continues to scream, still perched on your shoulder with her claws sinking into the fabric of your dress as she holds on tightly.

Normally, you consider yourself quite a runner. There have been times when you would run in the woods, racing against Ada or the wild hares that would often hang out by the lake just for fun. Sometimes you would run with the fairies, even if only to see if you could outrun those who have magic on their side to give them speed.

Yet for some reason, running seems like a struggle as you try to escape the giant troll that seems so engaged in the thought of grabbing you with its filthy hands. You feel as if there is some weight slowing you down, forgetting the fact that you have a basket filled with assortments hanging in one arm while your long skirt is dragging you back.

“The basket! Leave it!” Poppy yells at you once she realises that you are struggling and notices the reason why.

“But it’s for Nana!”

Poppy growls—actually growls—in response. “There’s not even going to be any part of you left to bring them home to Nana if you get freaking eaten by that—that thing!”

As you take a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing how close the giant beast is getting to you, you realise that Poppy is right. At the corner of your eyes, you see the cluster of narrow trees leading up the hill and aim for it to find your escape, hoping that you can shake him off on a rising terrain.

It’s going to be a struggle running up the hill, yet your gut feeling tells you that it’s worth the effort. So you make a run for it, clutching the basket tightly to your chest to keep it safe until you can find a place to hide it.

As you slip between the narrow opening between the trees, you can hear the troll having a hard time following your trail without breaking and getting stumbled by them. You keep running, getting out of breath as you reach the top of the hill, and soon the cluster of trees opens up and grass gives way beneath your feet.

“We’re running out of trees!” Poppy screams, getting a good grasp of what you have been planning to do.

“No, we’re not! We’re almost there!” you yell back at her with gasping breath, and with your eyes set on your destination.

Right there.

Right before your eyes, there stand the twin old elm trees that have grown nearly doubled the height of the hill, with massive branches spreading out to look like two giant canopies of leaves covering the top of the hill. Situated right between them is a massive boulder, firmly standing like the crown of the hill and you have decided — sometime between the hysteria of seeing a troll in this part of the forest and the terror of knowing that he is hunting you — that this place would serve you perfectly in your escape.

Because that boulder marks the end of the hill, and there is nothing else but a massive drop of cliff with rocky walls and the rough stream waiting below.

“Hold on, Poppy!”

Your warning is barely enough to get your friend to tighten her grip on your shoulder when you hop over the boulder, using it to dodge the troll’s hand as he tries to swipe you off the ground. Tossing the basket to the side of the boulder with the hope of keeping it safe until later, you plant your hand on the rock’s surface and swivel around, using it as leverage to switch your direction right before reaching the very edge of the precipice and evade the troll as you roll to the left.

“Aahhh, Blossom!”

“Stop running and let Troll catch you!” the troll roars as he fails to grab you, and his voice grows louder, shifting into a pained roar the moment he loses his balance and trips over the boulder.

Seeing this, a victorious squeal almost escapes your lips. But before you even get the chance to celebrate the success of your escape scheme, you notice too late that your ploy isn’t going as planned.

“Oh, bollocks!” you cry out when you realise that the troll has fallen a bit too soon.

Instead of being thrown off the ledge as you had expected he would after tripping over the boulder, the troll is sprawled on top of the rock, with one hand holding on the edge to stop him from falling over. And the troll—although fallen over and is struggling to push himself up—is still determined to grab you.

Adding salt to your wounded pride, you seem to have also failed to measure the beast’s size. Even sprawled at an odd angle, the troll’s limbs are still long enough to reach you. Sliding back on the slippery rock, you try to put some distance between you, just in time for his massive hand to swipe over the rock, missing the hem of your dress merely inches away.

In desperate need of escape, Poppy jumps off your shoulder just as you are getting off-balance and nearly falling over the ledge instead. You watch breathlessly as Poppy starts climbing up the tree rapidly in her panic while you feel like you cannot move.

“Come on, ________!”

Once again, her voice snaps you out of it, and you begin to follow suit, seeing that there is no escape now with the troll blocking your way back down the hill and the long drop down the cliff walls waiting for you on the other side. Right as you start climbing up the trees, you sense the troll struggling to rise beneath you. Climbing up takes quite an effort when you are in your summer dress, but all the shenanigans you got yourself into growing up may have taught you enough how to climb up quickly.

From the corner of your eyes, you see the troll rising back up to his feet. Wobbling and swaying around as he tries to find balance over the rocky slip beneath him. But you barely pay attention to the beast when something else is grabbing your attention from not so far away.

You can hear the sound of hoofs rapidly racing through the trees. You have been hearing this noise for quite some time already, you realise, coming from a distance while you were focused on trying to escape the troll. Maybe it even started at the same time the troll first appeared from that other hill, chasing the beast the best it could even though failing to catch up on time before the troll reached you.

And now, you can hear it getting closer. And closer.

You can almost see it, the white horse that is running through the cluster of trees to get to you. Yet your curiosity to know where this stranger is coming from and who might be riding the white horse becomes a distraction, causing you to make another mistake.

You start to climb over the nearest long branch that looks strong enough to withstand your weight, hoping that it can keep you away from the troll’s reach. Yet you cannot help but keep throwing quick glances over the line of trees, hoping to see this stranger who is racing towards the foray instead of running away from it.

That is how you miss your footing.

Within a blink of an eye, instead of perching securely on the branch, you find yourself dangling desperately onto it, your hands barely making it in time to find a firm hold to stop you from falling over.

“Aaahhh!!”

“Blossom!” Poppy calls out in panic at the sound of your scream, and she quickly races back down, grabbing onto your wrist as she tries to pull you up. Only that the poor squirrel’s effort seems futile when gravity keeps pulling you down instead of giving in. “Girl, I don’t have enough muscles for this! Pull yourself up!”

“I’m trying!”

While you and Poppy are panicking and struggling to get you back up on the tree, the troll starts balancing himself on the boulder while humming, “Come here, pretty girl. Come to Troll’s hands!”

You open your mouth to shout back at the offensive troll with disgust, only to have another voice shouting before you can get your voice out.

“No! Keep your hands off of her!”

All heads snap to look at the white horse coming out of the woods. The steed races with full force up the rising terrain. But it is the rider that manages to catch your eyes the most. His eyes look fierce with determination but also a hint of thrill as he focuses on the troll.

As if he is having so much fun with this hunt and is eager to finish it.

And he looks captivating as he is doing it. Even more so when he pulls out his sword, wielding it to challenge the beast that barely takes notice, as he is busy trying to grab your ankles.

But you take notice of him. You also notice the way your heart is racing rapidly for a different reason.

Unable to process what—or, in this case, who—you are seeing, Poppy speaks first, ”And who in the Fates’ name is that?”

“That’s—”

There is no way.

Your words fail you in your shock and relief. Pure disbelief runs through you, and you almost feel your grip loosening with how astonished you are at what you are witnessing.

Because there is no possible way for the Prince Charming himself to come and save you. Just like he did in your dream.

“Hang on! Stay where you are!”

The thrill that Jungkook has been feeling while he was racing across the hills to chase the damn troll is slowly shifting into fright once he gets a clear sight of what is happening. He watches with wide eyes as you desperately dangle from the tree branch, your legs swinging to avoid the troll’s grasp and your hands barely strong enough to hold on.

He noticed that you stopped trying to pull yourself up for a brief moment, distracted by his arrival. Yet his shout snaps you back to focus, and he is relieved to see you pulling up, trying your best to climb back onto the branch with the help of a—a squirrel?

Now that he believes that you are going to be safe—even if only for a while—Jungkook focuses on the troll again. This time, he is ready to swing his sword, which reflects the sunlight as Jungkook raises his arm over his head. The strong shine is blinding, and Jungkook uses it to distract the troll and pull his attention away from you.

“Over here, you damn troll!” he shouts with a wicked laugh that will definitely give Sir Noah another headache.

With a feral roar, the troll turns to face Jungkook. “You again. Troll don’t want to go with you. Troll want little girl for snacks.”

A sharp, panicked scream escapes you while Jungkook marches forward with his sword swinging. The troll fights back, bending forward with his arms swinging left and right, back and forth, between trying to grab Jungkook and stopping the sword from reaching his chest—right where he would easily be wounded.

Yet Jungkook easily evades each swipe of hands, his white horse following his command to escape and slip away while bringing him closer.

Except while Jungkook manages to avoid the troll’s attacks, you aren’t having as much luck. Because with each swipe of the troll’s hands and each stomp of his feet, the troll causes the tree where you are dangling on to shake and sway along with the force of his movements. And it is making it harder for you to hold on, much less to climb back on top.

Jungkook waits until the troll is fully facing him before initiating his final attack, making haste about it before you lose your grip and fall over. With a grunt, Jungkook swings his arm back and flings the sword forward, aiming for the troll’s left chest. The sword floats in the air for a brief moment before it strikes its target perfectly.

The troll roars in pain. His hands reach up to grab the sword—which has lodged deeply into his chest—and he staggers back, losing his balance before he falls over the ledge and starts plummeting down the cliff.

Unfortunately, the troll refuses to fall alone. Right before his fall, he reaches out, trying to grab onto the elm tree where you are hanging from as if to stop his fall. Yet his grip never takes hold. Only his sharp nails manage to scratch the tree trunk, shaking the giant tree.

Shaking you, until you finally lose your grip.

A scream erupts through your lips as you start falling from height.

You close your eyes shut during your fall, fearing the long drop and the pain that may come after. Except the pain never comes. Instead, you fall right into something that is soft and hard at the same time.

Warmth engulfs you right away, even before a pair of arms wrap themselves around you. Whatever surface that you have just landed on is beginning to move, rocking back and forth as if it is trying to balance itself under your weight.

You are not too sure yet if you are safe, so you keep your eyes closed shut. It doesn’t matter if you just witnessed the troll falling off the cliff, you can almost feel the shadow of his presence. As if you still have to avoid his relentless attacks.

But then a soft voice reassuringly speaks to you, coaxing you to open your eyes, “It’s okay, Princess. I got you.”

Slowly, your eyes flutter open. And the first thing that you see once your gaze clears out brings those flutters down to your chest.

A pair of dark-coloured eyes that remind you of the night sky are looking back at you, glowing as if there are a million stars in them. He has a pretty face framed with strands of soft hair that have fallen in a flurry mess, perhaps from racing through the woods on his horse to get to you.

And that pretty face seems to grow even brighter when the man, your hero, smiles at you.

It won’t be until later for you to realise that the steady rocking you felt earlier had been the white horse’s movements, as it was struggling to adjust to your weight, while its rider struggled a little to adjust your position on his lap and control his horse until it calmed down. Yet none of it matters now. Not when you are completely entranced with his presence.

All because it feels like you have just witnessed your creation—the dream prince statue that you worked hard on this morning—coming to life right before your eyes.

“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” The words slip out of your lips before you can stop yourself.

Your voice comes out as nothing more but a whisper, but there is no doubt that he can hear you perfectly. You can see it from the way his smile is growing wider.

As if it pleases him to see you so stunned, while he takes pride in this moment when he says,

“It’s me. Your Prince Charming.”

He winks, and your skin flushes with warmth. “I’m Prince Jungkook. But you can call me Jungkook.”

An incredulous laugh begins to bubble its way up your throat, yet not a sound comes out of your lips as you look at him, stunned, as you are still feeling as if you are caught in a daze which leaves you speechless. It was mere moments ago when you had almost gotten trampled down and then eaten by a giant troll after all, and then he came out of nowhere, rescuing you from said troll right before you ended up getting flattened into the forest’s grounds or deep into his stomach.

And then you suddenly found yourself falling into your hero’s lap — quite literally. And that hero turns out to be Prince Charming himself, who seems to have pride as massive as the entire kingdom of Andalasia as he speaks about himself while smiling broadly at you.

It is quite a lot to take in, and you have no idea what to say or how to react. The only thing that you can do is to sit there, perched sideways above his massive horse with his arms holding you to him and keeping you from falling, while your gaze remains locked on the deep eyes that were similar to the ones you vaguely saw in your dreams.

Unaware of the reason why you are stunned to silence, the Prince, Jungkook, may have misread your loss for words as fear. Because he suddenly begins rubbing your back while speaking gently to you, “It’s okay. You are safe now.”

“Yes, thank you,” you mutedly whisper, before you finally snap out of it and realise — he did just save your life! “Oh, that’s right! You saved my life.”

“I guess I did.” There is a hint of relief in the sound of his soft chuckle, making you wonder if he was deeply concerned with you because of your silence. “Do you live anywhere near these woods? Will you be able to return home?”

Blinking your eyes, you turn and look around to notice how far you have gone. It’s not like you had paid much attention to where you were heading while running away from danger.

Yet you are quite familiar with this place, recognising the twin elm trees on the top of the hill which have always been visible when you look out the windows of your bedchamber. Except the distance has always made them seem smaller than their actual size, now that you are looking at it from a closer angle.

You are surprised to realise that you have deviated quite far from your original route, and most obviously, away from home. So surprised that you have no idea what to say to the Prince.

He asks you again, sounding more concerned this time, even if his smile has yet to fade. “Where do you live? How about I give you a ride home?”

Before you can answer him, a sharp gasp breaks the moment between you. Followed with a rushed, panicked voice, saying, “N-no, Your Highness. Forgive me, but you should really go back to the castle. I’m sure the lady is going to be fine without—”

“Forgive me, Sir Noah. But I won’t be much of a gentleman if I don’t take the lady home right away and let her run home on her own after facing such peril,” the Prince says, cutting the other gentleman off before he can say more, without even looking away from you.

You, on the other hand, are shocked that you have failed to notice that there is someone else who has been there with the Prince. Too captivated with your hero’s arrival to realise it. Now, however, as you look over the Prince’s shoulder, you see an older—much older, looking at his partly greying hair and his deep scowl—gentleman on a darker and slightly older horse slowly coming up to the Prince.

“Go back to the castle and collect some men to retrieve the troll,” the Prince continues as he pulls on the rein, ready to command his horse to start moving again. He only looks briefly over his shoulder to greet his companion with a smirk, “I’ll see you back at the castle.”

“But wait, my Prince! Your Highness!” the gentleman shouts, yet the Prince has already ordered his horse to set off to leave this place. But not before he expertly guides the horse to leap across the boulder, giving him a chance to snatch the basket full of goods which you tossed away earlier and allowing Poppy to jump onto your lap.

“Is everyone ready?” he asks, eyeing you as you hold your basket and Poppy securely in your arms. Without waiting for your answer, he nods and shouts an order. The horse takes off, heading downhill at a rapid pace as if it hadn’t been racing across the forest and working hard to help its master defeat the troll.

The other gentleman, Sir Noah, tries and fails to catch up as the horse begins galloping through the thick woods. The gentleman’s voice quickly fades in the distance as he calls out to Prince Charming desperately to make him come back, “Prince Jungkook! You must not do this!”

After reaching halfway across the forest, Prince Jungkook orders his horse to slow down, and the journey continues leisurely. It seems like he is giving his dear horse a chance to take it easy while he takes a moment to enjoy this moment of calmness.

“This is a beautiful forest,” he muses as he looks around. You cannot help but straighten up proudly at his comment. Because you cannot help but agree with him.

Here, away from the scene of chaos, everything feels right again. The breeze feels calming after the entire ordeal. The sound of rustling leaves above you becomes music to your ears, even though it doesn’t do much to drown the rapid sound of your heartbeat. Even the birdsong has returned. The rustling sounds in the bushes let you know that the little critters have gone out of their hiding places.

As if peace has been restored, and the upsetting event which disrupted the entire forest has been erased from existence.

But while the Prince is comfortably taking everything in, you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.

Feeling your gaze, Prince Jungkook suddenly looks at you. His deep, amused gaze feels so overwhelming that your face immediately starts to flush warmly. You look away when it becomes too much.

“The other gentleman from before,” you ask with a small voice, “Is it really all right to leave him behind and send him away? He seemed—concerned.”

Jungkook laughs. There is something wicked and naughty in the way he is smiling when you look at him again. “There is no need to worry about Sir Noah. He gets concerned of almost about everything. Mostly about me, though.”

“Ah, I see.”

Falling into a brief pause, you feel the tension slowly being chipped away. You realise only now that Jungkook has been using the hand that is not holding the horse’s rein to hold your waist, keeping you safe against his chest.

“So, um—Prince Jungkook?” you speak again to break the tension between you, “What were you doing in the forest this early in the day?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows form a deep crease at your question. “The castle received news about a troll that has been going on a rampage—ruining farmers’ properties, stealing crops and livestock from those poor farmers, and threatening to loot nearby villages. Sir Noah and I left the castle before dawn to catch the troll before it could reach another village.”

He stops with a grimace before looking at your face again. “Perhaps I should apologise. If only I had done a better job at capturing the troll and stopping it from escaping us, you wouldn’t have found yourself in such peril.”

You wave your hand at him. “Oh, that’s all right. You saved my life, so all is forgiven.”

The crease between his eyebrows eases when he smiles. “You said you saw me in your dreams?”

Your eyes grow wide when you recall the way you had blurted out about your silly dream when you had just met him. “Yes, yes I did!” you nervously admit to him, before adding with a whisper, “I—think?”

Jungkook’s grin widens as he admits, “I may have seen you in mine too, Princess.”

“Oh, I’m not a princess. I’m just _______,” you say to him with a nervous chuckle, “Although my friends and my grandmother often call me Blossom.”

“Blossom. Interesting nickname,” he muses, “My mother used to call me ‘her silly little rabbit,’ although I’m not quite sure what that means.” His eyebrows crease again as he thinks deeply about it, making you realise that he looks—adorable, when he isn’t focused on defeating beasts and having fun racing with his horse.

Yet your admiration fades when you come to a jolt, realising what he meant. “Your mother? The—the Queen?” you ask him and he nods. You have many questions running through your head right now, yet you simply ask him the one thing that seems to have gotten stuck in your mind, “What did you mean that you may have seen me too?”

With a grin, Jungkook answers you excitedly, “I might have. I don’t always remember my dreams, but I’m sure that I’ve seen you in it.” He seems sure of himself that you don’t feel any need to question it. Any doubt that you may feel disappears anyway when he is looking at you with those eyes of his, and with a smile that makes your heartbeat jump and gallop. Just like his white horse earlier, especially when you hear him say, “That’s why I know that our meeting must have been fated, don’t you agree?”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Is that so?”

“I know so,” he confidently says as he pulls you even closer to his chest. “Our dreams have shown us that we are meant to be. That’s why, I think we should get married.”

You let out a surprised gasp. “M-married?” The sound of your laughter erupts through the woods, drowning the sound of Poppy’s surprised screech.

“Yes, absolutely. We can get married tomorrow.”

The flutters that have been growing in your chest start to go wild. “To-tomorrow?!”

“Yes, isn’t that how the story goes?” he says with a wide smile on his face, reminding you of the smile that you wore all morning when you were talking about your dream prince. It seems as if you are still dreaming now, or that you have been brought back to your dream from last night when he recounts what had just transpired, making you think back about your dream. “I saved you from the evil monster who tried to harm you, swept you off your feet, and then we’ll marry in the castle, and then we’ll share our true love’s kiss—”

Your eyes grow wide. “A true love’s kiss,” you murmur to yourself, to which Poppy turns to look at you with an expression of shock and bewilder. Yet you pay no mind to her, when you are in too much in awe, unable to believe that this is real.

“—and we’ll live happily ever after,” the Prince continues with a beaming smile. “Isn’t that right? So why wait? What do you say?”

You can hear your grandmother’s voice in your head, reminding you not to get lost in your dreams and to always think rationally. You can also feel Poppy’s panicked little grip on your dress and the sound of her stuttering, asking you to pay attention to her.

But every part of your dreams—both from the one you have harboured since you were a young girl and the one you had last night—comes to drown everything to the background. This is it, you wonder to yourself, this is my dream coming true!

With an incredulous laugh slipping out of your lips, you wrap your arms around his neck and say, “Yes, let’s get married. Tomorrow.”

Prince Jungkook joins you in laughter, neither of you noticing the way Poppy is now shaking her head rapidly in disbelief when he says, “Then I shall send the news to the castle and we will have our magical wedding by noon tomorrow.”

“Yes!” you excitedly say with a cheer, “Oh, I can’t wait.”

Your chest is filled with joy and a flutter of nerves that it almost feels like you are about to burst. Things are happening so quickly, so suddenly, so soon. You had woken up this morning with joy and hope that came from the dream you had about your prince, believing that it was a sign from the universe. You never expected to have your dream coming into reality when the day has yet to reach past noon.

But here you are now, looking deep into your prince’s eyes as he is taking you home for the last time, merely a step away from your happily ever after.

Once Prince Jungkook has succeeded in bringing you safely back home to your anxious grandmother, he immediately races back to the home castle. He wastes no time making his way to the Queen’s sitting room, where he knows he will be able to find his mother enjoying her afternoon downtime.

“Queen Mother, I have news!” Prince Jungkook calls out as he marches into the den with a wide smile on his face. There is an air of joy and pleasure following him as he comes to greet his mother.

Queen Rosalyne was in the middle of arranging a flower bouquet when Jungkook rushed in. His excitement bounces against the walls, making her smile as she raises her head to look at her son. “News? What is it now, my Prince?”

Jungkook is nearly breathless when he stands before the Queen, announcing proudly. “I have good news! I know you’ll be happy.”

Holding back her soft laughter, the Queen sits back down and urges Jungkook to continue, “Fine. Tell me.”

“I have found my true love. The one I’ll be sharing my true love’s kiss with,” Jungkook declares proudly with his arms spread wide.

“Is that so?” Queen Rosalyne asks with her eyebrows raised. Soft laughter escapes her, while Jungkook has to hold back his own laughter when he notices that the Queen is saying the same thing as you did when he brought up the idea earlier.

“Who is she? From which kingdom did she come?”

Jungkook is so overwhelmed with bubbling excitement that his entire body is almost shaking. “Her name is ________, and she is from here, Andalasia.”

“Really?” the Queen asks, though she sounds quite doubtful about it. “And where did you meet this girl?”

“It’s actually an interesting story,” Jungkook says before he launches into a story time and shares with his mother everything that has happened since he left the castle this morning.

Starting from the reports about the troll and how he decided to depart at dawn to capture it, how he managed to defeat the troll the first time, only for Sir Noah to accidentally let the creature escape. Then Jungkook starts pacing back and forth as he enthusiastically describes how he raced through the forest to catch up with the troll, while the beast was focused on capturing you, and how he had saved you from the creature.

“It was love at first sight, Queen Mother. Just like the kind that people talk and sing about in their songs. The kind that is celebrated in written stories,” Jungkook concludes his story as he turns to his mother. “It was fate’s work of bringing us together, so it would be right for me to take her hand in marriage, share with her the true love’s kiss, so our love can spread magic all over our mighty kingdom.”

Silence falls between them. Jungkook feels nervous when the Queen barely shows any reaction.

“Mother?” he asks, slowly taking the seat next to the Queen. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, I hear you. I’m not quite sure that I heard you perfectly.” The Queen looks at Jungkook with a deep gaze, her brows furrowing when she asks him, “Did you say you wanted to—marry this girl?”

“I did. It would only make sense. That way we can celebrate with everyone else as we share our true love’s kiss.”

Queen Rosalyne purses her lips. She dislikes any talk about the ‘true love’s kiss,’ and she finds that she doesn’t enjoy it the most when she has to hear it coming from her own son. Yet seeing how excited the thought seems to be making him, as the Prince’s eyes are shining so brightly as he speaks about his possible marriage, and his smile grows wide, genuine, and free—something that the Queen hasn’t been able to see for a long, long time—she finds no reason to deny his wish.

It seems so wrong to deny him happiness. If any, the Queen feels relieved that she finally gets to send him off into the world and give him a reason to stop chasing beasts and monsters throughout the kingdom.

“Fine,” Queen Rosalyne says with a light scoff, “Have it your way. But you must deal with it all on your own. Have Sir Noah help you prepare for the feast if you wish to do this entire thing tomorrow.”

Prince Jungkook is so elated to gain the Queen’s approval that he is practically bouncing on his feet. The Queen holds back a smile, wondering to herself, my silly little rabbit.

She recalls how frustrated Jungkook made her when he was a child, unable to hold back his energy as he kept hopping and running all over the castle. The Queen had sniffed when she was too exhausted to catch up to him and called him out, “Stop playing like a wild rabbit and calm down,” and the nickname stuck with him—and she has used it to call him with it more endearingly—once he started growing up.

Lost in her thoughts, the Queen is caught by surprise when Jungkook bows before her and takes her hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Mother. Your Majesty. You are truly a great and wise mother. I could never repay you.”

Queen Rosalyne is too stunned to speak. She isn’t one to get affected by emotions too easily, but Jungkook’s words seem to have stirred something inside her heart that has grown cold and frozen after so long. She says nothing as Jungkook turns to leave the chamber, leaving her with her running thoughts and the unsettling feeling that has been growing so intensely in her chest since the moment Jungkook mentioned your name.

At the center of Queen Rosalyne’s sitting chamber, there is a small indoor garden with a small water fountain which is made of black stone. Surrounded by well-trimmed hedges of black blooming roses, patches of green grass and white cobblestones covering the ground, the water fountain becomes the center point of the space which represents serenity and solitude.

Yet this is also the place where the Queen often practices her magic, using the secret spells that she keeps mostly to herself. She does this only when she is all alone, whether to watch over her kingdom and cast spells to protect the land, or for reasons that have nothing to do with the well-being of her people.

By the time evening comes, the Queen often uses her spells to fulfil her secret desires. Something that she is planning to do to ease the uneasiness which has been plaguing her ever since the conversation she shared with Jungkook.

As the day slowly shifts into dusk, and the Queen is quite sure that Jungkook has been gone long enough to be deep in arranging things for tomorrow, Queen Rosalyne summons Sir Noah into her chamber.

“The Prince has found a maiden to marry,” Sir Noah announces upon his arrival, meeting the Queen directly in the secret garden which he has frequently visited before.

“Yes, he had come to me this afternoon to announce his intention to marry a girl,” the Queen says, in a most calm, yet dubious tone of voice. “I’m going to assume that you have met this—girl, since I know that you were the one to join the Prince in his excursion today.”

Swallowing hard to ease his nerves, Sir Noah nods. “I was with the Prince when the maiden, uh—fell into Prince Jungkook’s arms.”

This has the Queen’s attention. Turning away from the black blooming roses that she has been tending to, Queen Rosalyne regards Sir Noah with her eyebrows raised. “How��romantic,” she murmurs, “And where did this chance encounter happen?”

Sir Noah clears his throat before answering, “The Amaranth Forest, Your Majesty. It was where Prince Jungkook and I ended up after hunting the giant troll that has been terrorising the people in Sunny Brook Hills.”

All of a sudden, the Queen’s shoulders grow tense. “Amaranth, you say?”

The cold tone of the Queen’s voice and the expression she wears on her face draws chill running down Sir Noah’s spine. He has been working in the castle with the Queen for a long, long time. Long enough to know that she is not happy to hear the information that he just gave her.

After processing this, Queen Rosalyne rises to her feet and turns, making her way to the magic water fountain. The Queen merely stands before the fountain when the thing reacts to her presence. Immediately, the air grows cold and heavy, and it becomes even more intense as Queen Rosalyne raises both of her arms over the water fountain.

The surface of the water ripples as a dark green light emerges from her hands, shining brightly while the Queen enchants her spell. The green light descends into the water, blending with the ripples as the mana shines in dark green.

The Queen steps aside and gestures at Sir Noah to come closer. “Show me.”

Gulping nervously, Sir Noah comes to the Queen's side and slowly folds the cuff of his sleeve. Offering his hand, the Queen raises her sharp nails and slits the skin of his palm, causing a small wound which is enough to let a few drops of blood taint the water inside the fountain. Once the blood blends into the water, the surface ripples intensely until the green light within starts to stretch out, and images begin to appear on the water, framed by the green mana sparkling under the calm ripples.

The Queen bends over the fountain as she is shown the series of events that happened within the depths of the Amaranth Forest this morning. Everything seems to unravel just the way Jungkook relayed it to the Queen.

The giant troll in his escape. The Prince’s relentless chase. And the maiden who was running from the wicked troll before she finally fell into the Prince’s arms.

The scene in the water changes when the Queen swaps her palm over the surface, turning back time to see your daily life in the small cabin with your grandmother. She can see you singing with your forest friends, and then cooking and laughing with your grandmother.

Seeing your grandmother, the Queen’s jaw clenches with recognition.

Too nervous to remain silent, as he is unable to read the Queen’s hard expression and lack of words, Sir Noah begins to explain the events that happened this morning, “The troll was lured into the forest by the maiden’s voice, who was singing to the forest’s creatures. And right after the Prince was able to apprehend the troll, he captured her as she—”

“How uncanny,” Queen Rosalyne murmurs almost to herself, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s rapid blabbering.

“Y-your Majesty?”

Straightening up to her full height, the Queen moves her hand over the water to enlarge the image that she is now seeing on the surface of the water. With a glance, Sir Noah can see a close-up of your face as you are riding on the horse with Prince Jungkook, before the image switches back to you working in the gardens with your grandmother.

“She looks just like her. Exactly like her,” Queen Rosalyne continues to murmur gently, astonished by the sight of you—a commoner girl from the magic forest that even Sir Noah has never met before.

“The maiden? Who are you referring to that would look like her, Your Majesty?”

The Queen gives him no answer, and instead waves her palm over the water until the image dissolves, leaving nothing more but the calm, clear water.

“When will this wedding take place? Has it been decided yet?”

Sir Noah wrings his hands together with nerves. The tension has risen exponentially within the chamber. The change in the Queen’s attitude makes him wary, and he has no idea what is happening.

“Prince Jungkook insisted on having it soon. As—as soon as tomorrow, Your Majesty. The entire castle is already in the height of the preparation for the ceremony.”

The Queen holds back the urge to curse as she turns away, enraged, and she wipes her gardening tools off her work table. The noise and clutters and the flying objects cause Sir Noah to flinch. He has no idea what is currently going on inside the Queen’s mind and chooses to remain silent rather than risk having her unleash her rage on him.

He has witnessed what happened to those who aren’t careful with their words, especially when the Queen is losing her patience like this.

“Call it off,” the Queen suddenly speaks. Her voice has calmed down, yet there is an eerie chill in her tone which makes Sir Noah shudder in fear.

“My-my Queen? What do you mean?”

Queen Rosalyne turns to face him and snaps. “I’m talking about the wedding, you fool! Call it off!”

“But-but Your Majesty, you have given your approval to the wedding,” Sir Noah struggles to speak, “The preparation is already underway. Everything is almost ready, even the Prince has gathered enough—”

The Queen releases a frustrated snarl. Her energy erupts, and a few potted plants within the garden explode under the power of her rage.

Deep down, the Queen didn’t think that it would be possible for Jungkook to make things happen within less than a day. The boy has always been hasty, and she has secretly hoped that he would stumble upon obstacles and give up on the idea of having a wedding so suddenly and have it postponed either way. But now—

Now it’s too late.

When the Queen first gave Jungkook her approval to marry you, she never thought that you would be someone who would be related to her past. She should have been more careful and made sure to find out more about your identity first before she said anything. She had a feeling that something was amiss, and now she is regretting that she hadn’t been listening to her gut.

How? How could this be?

Holding her head in her hands, the Queen chastises herself for being so reckless. Memories of her past come back to haunt her. Guilt, remorse, and hatred, all mix into one. And in her mind, everything blends together to form the shape of your face.

The face that she wishes so desperately to forget.

“Fine. Then I shall do it myself,” the Queen finally says with an eerie calmness in her voice.

“My Queen? What—what do you mean?”

Queen Rosalyne looks at her loyal aide once more and raises her chin. “I’ll make sure the wedding never happens. My son can marry, as long as it’s not with her,” she says as she slowly walks closer to Sir Noah, who can only stare at her with his eyes widening in fear.

“And you are going to help me make it happen, wouldn’t you?” the Queen whispers to him as she gently places the tip of her finger on Sir Noah’s chin, forcing him to only look at her eyes, unable to move or look away.

Gulping hard, Sir Noah quickly nods his head and faintly whispers, “Yes, my Queen.”

The steady rocking of the carriage taking you to the castle should have been able to soothe your anxiety. Maybe lull you to sleep, even.

Yet you have been too anxious that your eyes remain wide. Your hands continue to fidget on your lap and trace along your wedding dress. Not that you have no faith in yourself about the dress. But focusing on making sure that you haven’t missed a seam feels better than looking out the window and focusing on how close you are getting to your destination.

Soon enough—much sooner than expected—the carriage stops with a jolt. The rough sound of cobblestones cracking under the wheels snaps you back to focus, forcing you to raise your head just as a royal guard opens the door for you.

“Welcome to Castle Andalasia.”

Clutching the skirt of your wedding dress, you slowly step out of the carriage. Yet you fail to take notice of how tense your body has gotten. Your muscles have grown so stiff that your steps become clumsy, causing you to lose your footing.

“Oh, my!”

Barely catching yourself from falling, a nervous giggle escapes you as you straighten yourself up before anyone can step up to help. “I’m fine, so sorry.”

The royal guard steps away, leaving you alone with your little friends who have decided to keep you company, all jumping out of the carriage to surround you.

Standing at the castle's threshold, just a few steps away from entering through the main gate, you feel as if you are walking into a dream. There is a giddy feeling rushing through your body that is hard to shake. The urge to pinch yourself is also strong, yet there is nothing that you can do but clutch your skirt tighter until you feel pain in your palms to know that this is real.

That you are now standing right in front of the castle.

The castle.

The place where Queen Rosalyne resides with Prince Charming and her loyal aides. And you are not here simply to come for a formal visit like other common people would do to seek an audience with the Queen to confide about their problems. You are here today for the wedding.

And it will be your wedding.

It still hasn’t truly sunk in yet that you are to be married to Prince Charming. To marry Prince Jungkook, who is loved by everyone in Andalasia for his heroic actions in defeating all the beasts and monsters posing threats to the kingdom.

Before proceeding further, you take a moment to turn around, taking one final look at yourself through the reflection you see on the glass window of your carriage.

Pride blooms within as you look at your wedding dress. The dress is immaculate, handcrafted by your own talented hands since the moment your wedding date was made official and your loving grandmother gave her blessings. Despite her misgivings on your upcoming wedding day, your grandmother stayed up with you, assisting you as you spent all night creating this dress.

Looking at yourself, you must admit that this dress is your true masterpiece.

The bodice of the dress is made of delicate lacework that hugs your figure perfectly while hiding your flaws. The floral patterns on the bodice represent the beauty of the forest and your lovely garden back home perfectly, intertwining and cascading down your form like fresh vines with wildflowers blooming at every tip.

The lace, meticulously stitched by your own hands, is filled with every drop of hope and love that you harbour for the happily ever after that you have dreamed about for as long as you can remember.

From your shoulders, down to your arms, a similar ensemble of delicate lacework covers your skin in a comforting fit, adding modesty and elegance to your dress which seems presentable for your special day at the castle.

From the waist, the fabric flows down like a river of light, billowing into a skirt that trails down to your ankles, rippling in subtle waves with each step that you take. Layers of soft, finely crafted tulle form the skirt to create an illusion of a cloud, making it seem as if you are floating as you slowly turn and twirl to see yourself in every angle.

Around your shoulders, a veil made of the finest gossamer falls in a delicate cascade down to your back, instead of acting like a cover to shield your face from view. You have the veil fastened to your hair, which is styled in a fancy yet simple twisted bun. Tiny pearls and crystals in different sizes and shapes are woven into the fabric of the veil, and they sparkle like dewdrops under the soft glow of the bright sunlight.

Growing even more tense with nerves, your hands continue to clench and unclench around your dress, feeling lost with nothing else to hold on to. You wish that your grandmother had been fit enough to be here so you could hold her hand for support, yet you force that thought away, knowing that she hasn’t been well enough to travel far from home. Much less to walk you down the aisle to give you away to the Prince.

“Stop that right now before you ruin your dress,” Poppy suddenly scolds you, slapping the back of your hands until you let go from where she is perched on the side of the carriage.

“Here,” she says, shoving a small bouquet of flowers—filled with a collection of wildflowers, carnations, and baby’s-breath—into one of your hands while Brew, the wild badger, and the white bunnies run around the skirt of your dress as they shove a glowing tiara into your other hand.

“Put this on your head, Blossom,” they sing together cheerfully, forcing you to lean down as you accept their little gift and gently place it on the crown of your head.

“Thank you, my sweet little angels. I don’t know what I would do without you,” you whisper with a content sigh, feeling your nerves calming down as you look at your little friends.

Your eyes meet Poppy’s worried gaze as she sighs. “Are you really sure about this, ______?”

Smiling at your friend, you bend down to match her gaze. You know that Poppy has been feeling unsure about all of this. She may have kept her words to herself when the two of you were on your ride home with Prince Jungkook yesterday, yet you could still sense her concern along the way. She has also voiced her concerns about how quickly everything is unfolding, yet she did nothing to stop you from carrying on with this wedding plans when you showed how hopeful and confident you were with your decision.

Even your grandmother had been worried when you first came home with the news. Yet the Prince was there with you when he asked for her permission to marry you, which melted her heart a little that she had no other choice but to let you go.

“I am sure. What are the odds that I was to meet with Prince Charming the morning after I dreamt about him? It was definitely a sign from fate, which I must follow if I want to find my happily ever after. Surely, you’d understand.”

You said the same thing last night, when Poppy was there to help you finish your wedding dress. The same thing you also said to your grandmother once Prince Jungkook left to return to the castle, reassuring her that fate wouldn’t have given you the signs if this wasn’t meant to be.

“I do. I’m happy for you,” Poppy says with a small smile, “But you must promise me that you’ll never leave us behind and forget about us.”

“Never. The forest will always be my home. I’m sure Prince Jungkook is open to helping me make arrangements so I can still spend time with you,” you gently reassure her, “And for me to visit grandmother too from time to time.”

Poppy shakes her head and shrugs. “All right, if you say so,” she says, finally giving in, “What are you waiting for, then? It’s time to go.”

Your other forest friends who have been silent while watching you and Poppy going back and forth about the wedding are now cheering for you to go. “Let’s go, Blossom! Go!”

Their positive energy quickly rubs on you. It helps build up your excitement. A bubble of laughter comes out of you as you feel every bit of your apprehension being chipped away.

“All right, I’m ready!” you shout, inciting more cheers from your friends. “Let’s go watch me get married!”

Hiking up your skirt just enough so you won’t be stepping on the hem, you turn and start to track down the pathway leading to the main gate of the castle, carrying with you a new determination and your little friends shadowing your footsteps.

At the main gate, you are welcomed by a familiar face. Standing right before the gate is Sir Noah, still looking as graceful as how you remember him. Wearing a royal suit in dark plum colours and gold linings, his greying hair neatly combed back instead of falling down his face, he looks just like any royal advisor would.

A smile grows on his face when he sees you coming near, and you greet him with a curtsy. “It’s so nice to see you again, Sir Noah.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Welcome to Castle Andalasia,” he says in return. As you straighten back up, you see him looking around you while looking confused. “Are you, perhaps—on your own? Do you not have anyone with you today?”

Smiling ruefully, you slowly shake your head. “I no longer have any family other than my grandmother,” you answer with a soft voice. “It’s unfortunate that my grandmother isn’t doing well and she couldn’t travel far in a carriage.”

Something flashes in Sir Noah’s gaze—surprise, pity, sadness, and an odd look of guilt, although you cannot understand why he would feel so guilty about hearing this—before his expression clears to normal.

“But, there is nothing to worry about,” you cheerfully add, “because I have my friends here with me to witness this wonderful moment.”

Sir Noah raises his eyebrows while your friends release a loud cheer. Yet Sir Noah quickly clears his throat and shakes his head. “I see. Unfortunately, I’m afraid your friends will have to enter separately. They are guests, after all, and you might need time to finish preparing.”

While your friends express their displeasure with a series of protesting sounds, you keep a smile on your face to change Sir Noah’s mind. “Oh, but—these friends can help me get ready for the ceremony,” you let out a nervous laugh as you try to convince him, “They were the ones who helped me make this dress too.”

“And they’ve done a marvellous job,” Sir Noah smoothly says, “But I can assure you that our palace maids will be able to help you, and it will be better for your friends to simply enjoy the ceremony as guests, don’t you agree?”

Right beside you, Poppy stares at Sir Noah with a scowl on her face. Yet she also sees you getting nervous again because of the sudden change of circumstances. That is why—reluctant as she is to leave you—Poppy masks her emotions and turns to help calm you down.

“It’s okay, Blossom. I’m sure Prince Jungkook has ordered the palace maids to assist you. We’ll be seeing you later inside, okay?”

Still feeling unsure, you eventually agree. “Okay,” you murmur to Poppy before turning to Sir Noah, “But Poppy will be the one walking me down the aisle in my grandmother’s place.”

Sir Noah barely hides his displeasure this time. With his jaw clenched, he releases a sigh and says, ”Fine. That can be arranged. But you really should go now, or else, you’ll be late for your own wedding.”

“Oh, right! Absolutely.”

Finally, with a deep sigh of relief, Sir Noah steps aside to let the royal guards open the main gate for you to enter. “Follow this path right here to enter the royal garden, and someone will see you to show you where to go,” Sir Noah instructs you while gesturing towards the long-winded stone-covered pathway leading you towards the maze-like garden. With lines of green hedges on either side of the pathway and a wooden arch-shaped pergola covered in vines waiting for you halfway into the garden.

“Okay, here we go,” you whisper to yourself, saying it with a clear mind as a self-pep talk before you start walking again.

With your hands holding your skirt up, your head held high, and a long, deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, you begin to walk down the pathway towards the center of the garden where the wedding ceremony is about to be held.

While you keep getting further away from your friends, Poppy cannot find it in her to look away. Call it a gut feeling, but the poor squirrel feels uneasy about letting you go off on your own. But she doesn’t really have a choice now, does she?

She is no longer in the forest where she gets to call the shots, and this shady old man next to them is the one controlling the situation.

Poppy throws a side glance at the man who you called as Sir Noah. “So where are we supposed to go?”

The smile that Sir Noah gives her then brings chill through her tiny body. “Come with me.”

The group of little animals look at each other before they follow Sir Noah through a separate pathway. Here, the path is covered with a rougher kind of gravel, and the vines and hedges look more unkempt. The further they walk, the closer they huddle together in fear, while Sir Noah barely cares to soothe their worries.

Even his warm welcome earlier has shifted. He acts more cold with the animals and is even rough when he sends the royal guards away.

They continue to walk until an iron gate appears down the pathway. It looks a bit rusty, and Poppy has an odd feeling about all of this when she sees Sir Noah pulling out a key from his pocket.

The iron gate creeks heavily when he opens it, causing all the animals to grimace. “You can enter through this gate,” Sir Noah gestures toward the other side of the gate, and every inch of her muscles fight back to stop Poppy from walking forward.

“Where are you leading us to?” she snaps, and Sir Noah’s expression darkens.

“Are you insinuating that I’m separating you from the maiden?”

Brew, now shaking in fear, innocently whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, “But this isn’t the way to the royal garden.”

Your forest friends may not have had any experience visiting the castle, but they are wild animals from the forest, capable of telling the difference between the well-kept garden and the wild. Beyond the iron gate, the air flows differently. The grasses are thicker, and they can all smell the scent of the muddy lake from all the way here.

“You are sending us away from the castle,” Poppy growls, absolutely pissed off that the one that you have trusted to take care of your friends is doing this behind your back.

Sending them away from you, from the wedding, and back out there into the wild.

“What is going on? Is _____ even safe?”

“What are you planning to do?”

Poppy’s little friends begin to protest once they also sense that something is wrong, while the scowl on Sir Noah’s face deepens. “Oh, bollocks. You are too loud,” he snaps. All so suddenly, he lifts a massive shovel that seems to come out of nowhere and starts swinging it towards Poppy and her friends, forcing them to run towards the opened gate before they can get hurt.

“Now, shoo! Get out of here!” he shouts between each swing.

Once every single one of your little friends is out the gate, Sir Noah throws the shovel away and closes the iron gate. The sound of the lock being latched back in place pierces through the animals’ chests.

“Nooooo!”

“Blossom!”

Some of them begin snarling and growling, even if they are completely powerless against the tall, elegant, yet evil human before them.

“What about Blossom?” Brew asks while shaking, both in fear and rage, “What’s going to happen to our friend?”

Sir Noah leans down, showing his evil smirk as he peeks through from between the iron bars. “Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll make sure that she’s in good hands.”

With his evil laugh, Sir Noah turns away, leaving your frightened animal friends behind.

“Where is the Prince? I know that Prince Jungkook will never stand for this!” Poppy shouts in her last effort to threaten Sir Noah, only for the latter to ignore her words, and the sound of his laughter continues to echo further away before he disappears into the royal garden.

At the depth of the royal garden, you find yourself getting lost.

It turns out that this place is a maze, confirming your first suspicion when you first laid eyes on the winding pathway disappearing between the tall green hedges. The deeper you walk into the garden, the higher the hedges grow, and the thicker the trees and bushes around you become. The variety of flowers can’t help much to show you where you are, since everything looks the same no matter where you go.

While worrying about not being able to find your way, you also worry about your friends. You wish you had insisted on having Poppy come with you. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel so alone and she could help you find the way by using her sharp senses.

Will they be alright, you wonder as you think about your furry friends. But knowing that they are in the hands of Sir Noah gives you some peace of mind. Surely, the kind gentleman will be able to help and keep them safe. Right?

But speaking of Sir Noah—

I thought he said that someone would come to see me and show me the way. But where are they?

You have been walking for a while, yet there is nobody in sight. Not even a shadow of a person. It seems odd to think that the royal garden will be this empty, especially with a wedding happening this afternoon.

Turning at a corner, you find yourself at an opening between the maze. A small gazebo is placed at the center with wooden benches inside. Your exhaustion draws you towards it, and with your eyes focused on the benches that seem comfortable for you to sit on, you don’t notice it when a movement suddenly happens from nearby.

The rustling sound of the bushes is the only warning that you get before someone suddenly emerges from the shadows.

“Aaahh!” you scream in fear, while the figure before you quickly apologises.

“Oh, dear me. I’m so sorry, dearest,” an old woman’s voice speaks to you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eyes still widened in fear, you look at the person before you. Instead of a royal guard or a palace maid, you are met with an old woman wearing a long dress in an earthly colour under a worn-out cloak that hangs to the ground.

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “It’s a harmless mistake. Are you—are you from around here? I think I’ve gotten lost. I’m supposed to be at the wedding spot by now, but I haven’t seen anyone.”

The old woman smiles. “Oh, you poor thing. His Highness the Prince should’ve done better to prepare a guard for his bride,” she complains, tsk-ing her tongue and shaking her head with disappointment. “Maybe I can help guide you there? This old hag may not look it, but I do know my way around the castle like the back of my hand.”

Perhaps, it would have been best if you were wary of an unknown stranger suddenly offering help during dire times. Yet you are quickly reminded of your grandmother waiting back home and think nothing of the old woman who is offering her assistance so kindly.

“Please, if you may. I don’t want to be late for my own wedding,” you answer her with a relieved sigh.

“Excellent. Come along, then,” the cloaked woman turns and starts moving towards a different pathway with confident strides. You begin to believe that you are making a good decision then.

“You look nervous, dear. Is everything okay? I’m sure you're excited about the wedding, aren’t you?” she asks after you walk with her for a moment longer, surprising you that she notices.

Because you are nervous. Only that it has been suppressed under your worries while you were getting lost in the maze earlier.

“I actually am, if I must admit. Both nervous and excited,” you answer as the flutter in your chest grows wild all of a sudden. “To think that in a matter of minutes, the Prince Charming and I are going to—” your voice falters with nerves, “That we’re going to have our—” Thinking about what is going to happen causes your heartbeat to race, making it hard for you to breathe, to speak, that when you speak next, it almost feels like you are listening to yourself from a far distance away, “We are going to have our true love’s kiss.”

It feels too surreal to think that it is finally happening. Your dreams are coming true. Even saying it out loud doesn’t seem to make it real. Stunned at how your life is changing so rapidly, you come to a halt.

“I am most happy for you, my dear. But surely you can’t go into your wedding without going through the old tradition of the castle,” the old woman speaks again with joy—as if she is truly happy for you.

“The old tradition?” you ask, confused. Because you are quite sure that you know everything that you need to know about any kind of wedding tradition within the kingdom, and you are not sure if you are missing anything.

“Why—to visit the magic fountain, of course,” the woman explains nonchalantly. “All brides would go to the magic fountain and make their final wish, hoping for their happily ever after before they are to wed. The fountain has magic spells, you see, to make sure that your wish is to be granted and for everything to go well until the end.”

“My—wish?”

“Yes. Your wish,” she says. The smile that the old woman shows you as she turns to face you brings a shudder to your skin. It is an indescribable feeling. Yet you brush it off, telling yourself that maybe your nerves are acting up again. “Do you have a wish, sweetheart?”

“I wish,” you find yourself answering, “that we’ll live happily ever after.”

Because that is the only wish that would make sense, after all. Who wouldn’t want to find their happy ever after? While you are so close to having it, deep down, this is what you have been wishing for since you were a little girl and you want nothing to come your way from getting it.

“Then you should pray for your wish to make sure you’ll have it fulfilled, don’t you agree?” the old woman asks you in the most tempting way that you cannot find it in you to say no to. When she sees that you don’t seem convinced enough to follow her, she immediately adds, “It’s not too far from here, and it’ll take only a few seconds, so you won’t be late for your wedding. I promise.”

“You’re right,” you say to her, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “Besides, it would be wrong for me to skip a tradition on my special day.”

“Good girl,” she says. For a brief moment, you believe that her voice oddly changes. Yet you pay no attention to it as she already begins moving—suspiciously quickly, for an old woman wearing a long, heavy cloak—through the maze again, giving you no other choice but to follow her close behind.

It doesn’t take long before you emerge into another opening. This time, it seems like you have reached the far end of the garden, and right before your eyes stands the fountain that the kind old woman mentioned earlier.

“Here it is, the magic wishing fountain,” she says as she steps aside, allowing you to have a good look at the fountain.

And what you see right in front of your eyes leaves you completely lost for words.

“It’s—beautiful,” you muse softly, admiring the beautiful fountain that you have never once seen before.

The magic fountain is placed deliberately at what seems to be the heart of the royal garden, right where the sunlight is filtered through a canopy of emerald leaves, giving it a mellow, yet romantic atmosphere.

Surrounded by cobblestone pathways and vibrant flower beds, the water fountain stands elegantly between the wall of green around you. It is not made in a grand, ostentatious structure, but a modest creation which seems like it was naturally formed between the green hedges and lush trees, almost blending into the solid castle wall that spreads wide through the royal garden.

The base, crafted from gleaming white marble, frames a pool of crystal-clear water which ripples gently from the center. The intricate design of the marble stone makes it seem like a bed of white flowers emerging from the ground, delicate and sturdy at the same time, instead of a stiff rock which made up the small fountain your grandmother built back home.

The marble stone frame at the base goes all the way to the back, blending into the contrasting dark wall made of natural stones. You can vines of wild ivy growing from the top of the wall, extending down to the back of the circular pool filled with fresh water.

The dark wall rises to the very top, where crystal-clear water cascades down from a seemingly mysterious source. To your eyes, it looks like a small replica of the natural waterfall from the heart of the Amaranth Forest, your secret sanctuary that not even your grandmother has ever been to before.

The fountain's waterfall sparkles in a silver glow that looks ethereal to your eyes, casting a soft, shimmering light as it spills down to the pool of water underneath. The pool water also exudes a silvery luminescence that is almost blinding, yet you find yourself unable to look away.

There is something about the fountain that keeps drawing you in. A tightness forms in your chest while you are drawn to the mesmerising sight of the water fountain that looks more like it was crafted by nature instead of manmade. It seems to be reminding you of the forest, helping you forget where you are for a brief moment and taking away all of your worries at the same time.

The soothing sound of the trickling water feels entrancing, calming every nerve-ending, every tension in your body which has grown since you left home.

Standing this close to it, you can almost feel it, the magic that comes from the spilling water, beckoning you to reach out for it.

Too immersed in the water fountain and its spellbinding magic, everything around you seems to fade away. Every other sound becomes nothing but white noise, and the presence of the stranger beside you becomes nothing more but a shadow looming close by. You barely notice when she slowly begins to move away. Her voice starts fading in and out through your senses, alluring you in an oddly enchanting way.

Just like a spell would.

At times like this, Poppy wishes that she has wings instead of these flimsy paws.

She also regrets not having her winged friends—the twin sparrows, the doves, and the little hummingbirds—with them this afternoon so she could ask them for help. But they hadn’t been pleased to make the long trip to the castle, and someone had to stay behind to watch over your sick grandmother and help her around the cabin.

Yet she pushes aside those thoughts for now, focusing on climbing up the wild vines to reach the top of the outer walls of the castle instead. She is hoping that being high enough from the ground will help her find out where you are, to see if you are safe or if Sir Noah is putting you in harm’s way. Maybe she can also find Prince Jungkook and let him know what had happened.

Poppy has no idea what is going on and why things are turning this way. She can only hope that Prince Jungkook has nothing to do with this. However, she does have a suspicion about a certain someone who might have planned this whole thing up to ruin your and Prince Jungkook’s wedding.

The only thing that she can’t understand is — Why? Why would anyone do this?

Poppy is out of breath when she is finally at the top of the wall. Now that she is high enough, she can see the outer area where she and her friends had been discarded to — the small lake that is surrounded by trees in various odd shapes, unkempt bushes and grass, with growing wildflowers that are scattered in all visible corners that she can see from up high.

On the other side of the walls, the garden looks like a massive maze, but way more well-maintained and luxurious — except for the small area beyond the locked iron gate that seems to be neglected compared to other parts of the garden.

Yet Poppy doesn’t waste any more time idling by. She isn’t here to watch the scenery and marvel at it, after all. Once she manages to catch her breath and calm down, she takes one last glance and her other friends who are waiting for her on the ground and launches into a sprint, tracing the top of the wall with a steady run to find a better spot that will allow her to have a better sight of the inner garden.

It takes a while, but eventually, Poppy can see a glimpse of your wedding dress flashing between the tall hedges. Relieved, she starts cheering to herself. She has been separated from you for long enough that anything could have happened. She keeps going, finding the right spot with the perfect angle where she can draw your attention.

“_________! Look over here!” she keeps shouting while waving her paws in the air. “Please, Blossom!”

When she fails to get your attention, Poppy jumps onto the nearest tree, hoping to get higher. The new angle allows her to see what she failed to see earlier.

“Who is that?” she wonders out loud once she notices that you are not alone. But it isn’t a maid or a guard who is with you, as promised by Sir Noah when he sent you away.

Instead, all Poppy can see from here is an old woman wearing a cloak that may have seen better days. From this spot, she can also see the hag smiling wickedly while you have your attention on a fountain that looks to be a part of the garden, and you definitely cannot see what the hag is up to when she secretly moves to stand behind you.

“No! ________!”

The wall of falling water on the fountain looks so mesmerising that you cannot look away. It seems alluring, enticing you to come closer.

But you are frozen on the spot. And for a moment, you almost forget why you are here. The thought of your wedding no longer takes the front seat in your mind when you keep feeling like you are being pulled to the fountain.

“Now, go on then. Make your wish,” you hear the woman coaxing you. Once again, her voice seems to change, no longer sounding like the weak and soft voice that you first heard from her. But then again, it could have been your imagination, because her voice softens again when she speaks,

“Didn’t you say that you have a wish, my fair maiden? This is your chance to make your wish come true.”

“Yes,” you hear yourself speak as if you are no longer inside your body. “Yes, I do have a wish.”

Closing your eyes, you look deeper into your heart and mind, knowing what exactly you want to wish for before taking the next step. Clasping your hands together, you begin to make your wish.

“I wish—that we, Prince Jungkook and I, will live happily ever a—oh!”

All of a sudden, you feel a strong push. You barely open your eyes in shock when you see your entire world being tilted over, and you are suddenly plunged deep into the water. The faux waterfall continues to flow, covering your entire body as you continue to submerge into the bottomless body of water and the world around you fades.

Up on the surface, the cloaked hag bends over the fountain and releases a wicked laugh. She waves her arms around her and starts chanting a spell on the fountain, and a thick, dark green mist emerges from the ground, surrounding her like a cloud. The moment the mist fades away, the cloaked hag has disappeared, and in her place stands the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyne.

Her laughter dies down, just as Sir Noah comes out of his hiding. Wringing his hands together, he looks between the fountain that is calming down—the ripples fading as if it hadn’t been disturbed by your entire being—and the smiling Queen who is silently celebrating.

“If I may ask,” Sir Noah speaks gently, afraid of how the Queen will react to his curiosity, “Where have you sent her, Your Majesty?”

A soft chuckle slips out of the Queen’s lips as her smile widens once more. “She is now off to the alter-world. To a place far, far away from here. A place where there are no happily ever afters.”

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #k-vanity #bangtanwhq #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader

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tamamoarts · 3 months ago

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Ever since watching Randomalistic's 2 hour analysis on Wreck It Ralph and Turbo, I've since fallen in love with the movie, and the horrid grey goblin all over again. So I present to you, a Wreck It Ralph OC I spat out in like a day. Circuit! He's a brand new Turbo from a remastered version of his game and everyone side-eyes him for obvious reasons (he's literally just hanging out)

More detailed story idea under the cut!!!

About a year after Turbo's final defeat and the liberation of Sugar Rush, the arcade gets a brand new addition to the family: and a chillingly familiar one at that! The rights to TurboTime was bought by a more modern company, which results in a reboot of the franchise: SUPER TURBO CIRCUIT! Featuring a reworked version of Turbo and a few other characters to play as! This Turbo is a brand new person, and has absolutely no clue about the horrible tale behind his own name in the arcade. So obviously, you can imagine his surprise when everyone gasps in horror upon seeing him in the metro station. Despite his namesake, he's actually a pretty decent guy- I mean, at least better than the OLD Turbo was. Like, besides his base personality of being cocky and competitive of course. [Like, he'd never think of torturing a kid for 15 years.] He manages to at least get most others to TOLERATE his presence, but the stigma around him haunts his mind like a GHOST. It actually chips away at him really bad, so he starts going by Circuit instead of Turbo to help differentiate himself. Things play out pretty well... until ONE dark night in the arcade, there's a large spark in the wires near the metro... and something enters Super Turbo Circuit. Ever since then, STC's machine has been acting... strangely. And Circuit hasn't been feeling like himself. But surely, those yellow eyes he has now MUST be a mere graphical glitch.

TLDR: the Turbo is haunted

#wreck it ralph #wreck it ralph oc #wreck it ralph turbo #wreck it ralph fanart #doodle #fanart #digital art

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gffa · 1 year ago

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You know why the Jedi are right in this scene? Because it's literally how the Force works, this moment is undivorceable from the very basic worldbuilding fact that: The Force works based on their emotions. That is part of everything to do with the Force in the movies, that is the very first layer of the foundation of how it works! If they use the Force while they're afraid, that is straight up a path to the dark side, that's not just what the Jedi say, it's how Star Wars' worldbuilding functions. “Once you become afraid that somebody’s going to take it away from you or you’re gonna lose it, then you start to become angry, especially if you’re losing it, and that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Mostly on the part of the person who’s selfish, because you spend all your time being afraid of losing everything you’ve got instead of actually living. [....] So that is ultimately the core of the whole dark side/light side of the Force.” –George Lucas Fear is the path to the dark side. It doesn't matter if the fear is justified or not, it's not necessarily a moral or value judgement, but it just is how the Force works. So, the scene in The Phantom Menace goes like this: Yoda: "Afraid are you?" Anakin: "No, sir." Yoda: "See through you we can." Mace: "Be mindful of your feelings." Ki-Adi: "Your thoughts dwell on your mother." Anakin: "I miss her." Yoda: "Afraid to lose her, I think, mmm?" Anakin: "What has that got to do with anything?" Yoda: "Everything. Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you." The Jedi are repeating Lucas' explanation almost word for word in this scene, fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, this isn't what the Jedi decided was how things work, it's how the Force works as decided by the guy who created the Force, they're absolutely, 100% correct about it. And that's why it's important that Anakin isn't acknowledging his fear here, that it's not that he's afraid that's the problem or what the Jedi are saying is the problem--the Jedi express emotion all across the movies! that whole "there is no emotion" thing is NOWHERE in the movies or TCW! that is something Lucas himself never put in ANY of his canon!--but that he won't even be mindful of his feelings. Being mindful isn't immediately purging them, it's acknowledging that they're there, working through them, eventually letting them go. "But it's normal for a nine year old to miss his mother! How can they say he's bad just for--" They're not saying Anakin is bad. Nobody is saying Anakin is a horrible person for missing his mother! Nobody is even saying that Anakin is a horrible person for not being mindful of his feelings! Nobody is saying that it's Anakin's fault that he doesn't have the tools for better emotional regulation! But they are saying that he's not a good fit for the Jedi. And they're right! He's not a good fit for the Jedi! Not one single Council member even so much as implies that this is any kind of judgement of Anakin as a person or that he's bad for it! They're saying he doesn't have the rock solid foundation that a Jedi needs because that's how the Force works--and they're right. Every commentary Lucas ever makes about Anakin's fall is that he didn't want to regulate his feelings, he didn't want to let go of things.

The Jedi never once say or imply that that would make Anakin a bad person or that he's a failure because he didn't magically have things he wasn't taught, but they're saying that it would make him a bad fit for being a Jedi and they can already feel--given that they're psychic space wizards who can sense others' feelings--that he doesn't really want to change. ("He's nine! You can't judge a character at that--" Girl, it's a fairy tale meant to illustrate Lucas' personal philosophies about emotional regulation via fairy tale logic, not hyperrealistic examinations of characters, come on now.)

Which doesn't make Anakin a bad person or that he's in the wrong for being scared and not having the tools to deal with it. The Jedi can say "He's not a good fit for what we need to be because of the way the Force works." and not have it be any kind of condemnation of him as a person. His later actions, once he has the training and support to know better, sure. But nobody's saying the nine year old is at fault. They're saying the nine year old doesn't have the foundation he would need, which it doesn't matter that it's not his fault, it's still quite literally how the Force works, that you need that foundation.

#lumi.txt #star wars #anakin skywalker #jedi order #meta

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thatnonameuser · 1 month ago

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The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 1.

You feel like you're floating. Gliding.

Your mirror glows, beckoning you forth.

"What is this?" You climb out of bed and take step after step, it's like walking on something soft yet hard, instead of the splintery hardwood. The mirror glows brighter with each step, and it ripples when you stop directly in front of it. A part of you feels compelled to touch it.

So you do, like an enormous idiot.

As soon as your fingers press against the cool glass, you're rocketed forward through a bright light.

Your body hits grass. Soft grass. You stand up, looking down to see grey grass.

The world you landed in was completely black, white and grey. And at the same time, it looks like a fantasy land straight from a storybook. Around you are rose bushes, comically large all a pale colour if the pale white is to be believed.

Behind you is the mirror, showing your bedroom still coloured the way it normally is and just as you left it.

"H-Hello?" A handful of- Card Soldiers? rush pass you. All holding paint buckets full of red paint and paint brushes. The paint is the only colour you can see. They didn't see you.

They sing as they quickly paint all the white roses red.

"They're...painting the roses?"

Someone nudges your arm.<Miss, why are they painting the roses?>

You whip your head to your side. A girl, black and white, like the world around you. Her light coloured hair is tied up with a black ribbon. And she's wearing a light coloured dress with black and white stockings.

You point to yourself, "You can see me?"

<Of course. In fact, you're the most normal thing I've seen here.> Her voice is far away, like an old movie. You open your mouth to answer, but the girl wanders off, walking up to the card soldiers. <Why are you painting these white roses red?>

<Huh?>

<Why, you ask? Well it's simple...>

The cards sing.

This is Alice in Wonderland. You know this tale. A lost little girl falls into a world of absurdity, only to find out it was all a dream.

You wish your wonderland was just a dream.

<Goodness!>

But why was the mirror showing you this? Why was-

The sound of thunderous knocks echo through the dream world, it ripples and you're back in Ramshackle.

"I swear I was asleep in my dorm a second ago. How did-"

The world ripples harder, faster as the knocks increase in volume.

The world distorts and goes black.

Your eyes open. "Is someone at the door?" You whisper. Grim squirms in your arms, irritated by the noise.

"Mmm-....human? What's that noise..?"

The knocks are loud. So very loud.

"I think....someone's at the door." Your heart pluses with adrenaline. It's only been a week, how could someone try to stake their claim on you so quickly?!

"Is it one of those pesky ghosts again?! Why can't they just give up?!" Grim whines, burrowing himself into your sheets.

You snatch the knife on your bedside. You're not dumb enough to go back to sleep, you're risking something happening while you sleep, so you'll do the other dumb thing, go to the door, armed with a blade to a magic fight. Someone is trying to stake their 'claim'. But you're not going down without a fight.

Careful, you slip out of bed, avoiding some of the more creaky floorboards. You tip-toe over to the wall, separating you and the hallway. You lift on of the sheets to reveal one of the holes to the hallway, and it's thankfully empty.

So they're at the door, leading outside, in the dark, when the only other people here are ghosts and a sleepy magic cat.

"Henchman, go back to sleep," Grim whines. "The blankets are all cold now..."

"Grim, can you come with me to check it out." When you get no response, you change your angle, "It might be a foe for the Great Grim to vanquish?", still no response.

You sigh, as the knocks start up again. "Grim, do you want to sleep in my room tomorrow night?"

Grim pokes his head out of his blanket cocoon, "Three nights."

"Two."

"Henchman, you are demanding the Great Grim's help. You can't bribe me." You give him a look, he huffs," Two nights, it is." Grim sits himself on your shoulders. "Let's get rid of the intruder so we can go back to bed!"

You drag the dining chair away from the door handle, and the hallway is still as dark as you left it. The knocks get more erratic. You gulp down a deep breath, as you enter the entry hall.

"W-Who is it?" You call out, knife at the ready in both hands, just in case.

"It's me, Ace! Just let me in, all right!" Of course it's Ace. Still with what you learned yesterday, your guards not down yet.

"Ace, it's the middle of the night! Why are you here?" You speak through the door.

"Hey! Calm down, I'm not here to kidnap you or anything..." You freeze at the kidnapping mention. You swallow. Well, now he's gotten you into a bind. If you hesitate any longer, he might get suspicious.

You slide the knife into your pants waist band and cover it with your shirt. You hope it doesn't nick.

You unlock the door and, "What the hell are you wearing?!"

"Bwah! That collar!" Grim doubles over on the floor laughing, at the sight of the heart shaped collar around Ace's neck. And the fear you felt earlier is being replaced with giggles bubbling in your throat.

"I can't go back to Heartslabyul House." Ace grumbles, as you finally let out your laughs.

You smother your laughter long enough to talk, "W-Why? Did they laugh you out for wearing that?"

Ace's frown deepens, "I'm joining your dorm. For good." Wait, what?

"Myah! Come again!?"

Ace repeats himself, "I'm joining your dorm. And I'm never going back to Heartslabyul again!"

Cold sweat erupts on your skin. "Wait. You're not serious, right?" He pushes past you into the entry hall. Turning to give you a cheeky smile.

"Completely serious." he slings an arm over your shoulders, "What do you think _____, wanna make me your Vice Dorm Head?"

No. Really, NO. Having a yandere in your house where you sleep sounds like you're asking for trouble.

"A-Ace, you can't stay here!" You immediately regret how upset you sounded. Especially with how Ace's mischievous grin vanished as soon as you said those words.

"Huh? Why?"

Because he's a yandere, and you're a 'darling', or more specifically, 'his darling'. It's common sense.

Instead, you change tact. "Look, why don't we just talk about what happened," You scoop up Grim, and lock the front door. "Come on. Let's go to the living room."

"You're an idiot, Ace." You say, facepalming.

"Hey!"

"If you ate my tuna, I would be pretty mad too."

"Still, locking off my magic is insane for eating a ONE slice of tart!"

"Yeah, it is." But it puts him on your level, magicless, powerless. "But-" "He might as well have cut off my arms and legs. What kind of jerk cuts mage off of his magic?!"

"Ac-"

"I mean, it's not like he could eat all THREE of those tarts to himself."

"ACE!" You yell as you cup his face in your hands and he calms down immediately. His eyes light up as he looks at you, with that same sparkle you saw in the halls earlier. Shit...

You let him go as you take a few steps back, to distance yourself from the man obsessed with you. Who's probably obsessed with controlling you too. He's still staring, and you drop you hand to where the handle of the knife rests on your stomach.

Grim speaks up, "Y'know if there were three of 'em, they probably were for a birthday party."

"A birthday party, huh?" Ace thinks aloud, his eyes still locked on you. You can feel his stare going into the walls behind you.

"Did you even apologise?" And he snaps out of his staring daze.

"Hey _____, I thought you would be a lil more sympathetic. I'm a victim here!" That look in his eyes darkens slightly. It's scary as if he's mad that you're.....not........defending him. Double shit.

You backpedal, "He....may have been a tad extreme." "But he stole food, that's not ok!" Grim objects. Damn it, Grim. Try to keep your henchman free, ok?

"Stealing food is a serious offense." you say, reluctantly.

"Aw, man you got to be kidding me." Ace complains.

"But if you apologise, he might forgive you." That look feels darker now. Maybe, you can just......"Ace, I'm your friend. I want to help you." You reach to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. The light brightens, "Just let me help."

"All right, all right...I'll apologise." Cool, all well that ends well, now all you have to do is get him out of your dorm and then all is well and good.

"But you're coming with me, _____" Damn it. Now you have to go with Ace to the controlling dorm, full of psycho control freaks, one of which is a dorm leader that cuts off magic for eating a tart. Great.

"Fair enough." You lie.

"By the way, do you have anywhere where I can crash tonight?"

"You were serious about that? Outside of the room, me and _____ use, this entire dump is buried under a foot of dust. So if you wanna crash you better start cleanin." Oh no.....Please don't ask to stay in my room, please don't ask to stay in my room, please do not ask to stay in my room.

"Dude, no way. I hate cleaning!" Don't say it. Don't say it.

"C'mon _____ Lemme stay with you, I'm real slim. I won't take up much space~" God dammit. That look in his eyes come back, as he pulls you closer. Too close.

Now what are you going to do? That look is back and you don't like seeing it darken. If you say no, he might get mad. If you say yes, you'll be sleeping with a yandere who might do seven-only-knows to you!

Grim runs in between you, separating you from Ace's piercing gaze. "No! Henchman promised to let me stay in her bed tonight!" Ace deflates, backing down. Thank you Grim I owe you some extra tuna-y tuna.

Wait a second. He's giving Grim a dark look. Is it jealousy or something?

You let go of Ace's hand and tightly embrace Grim, "You can sleep on the couch tonight. I'll get you a pillow and blanket."

You get the hell out as fast and inconspicuously as possibly. You yank open the topmost comforter and pillow from the linen closet, run back and toss it to Ace as fast as you can. Before you can disappear into the hallway back to the maybe safety of your room, "Hey ______?" You freeze.

"Yes? You turn and try to smile, but you can feel the muscles in your lips beg you to frown.

You swallow a whimper as he advances toward you. Too close, too close. "Good night."

"Good night, Ace." You turn back and.

....Soft lips on your forehead. He's kissing you good night.

It's been a week. One week was all it took. He fell for you in one week.

"S-see you tomorrow..." You say, dumbstruck.

You. are. doomed.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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angryschnauzer · 4 months ago

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Click - A Twisters Oneshot

Summary; As a storm photographer you know all the chasers, so when you run into two old familiar faces - where you have history with both - it proves to be a stormy night.

Fandoms: Twisters Movie, Glen Powell, Anthony Ramos.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Female Reader x Javier (Javi) - MFM threesome.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Alcohol, Drug Use (Weed/Pot), Fingering, Oral Sex (Female recieving), Oral Sex (Blowjob), unprotected Vaginal Sex, Spitroast, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Spanking, Hair pulling, choking/air play, spitting in mouth, creampie, no discussion of consent, implied consent, impared judgment. Please don't do this in real life unless able to give consent.

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, and you'll get an alert when i post new stories. Masterlist is available through my pinned post.

Authors notes; This is my first time writing for almost 18 months after severe writers block, and a whole load of truly horrible shit that has gone on in real life for me. Seeing Twisters has reinvigorated my passion for writing and it feels good to be able to be creative again.

Glen Powell Masterlist

Click

The bar was loud and smokey, country music in the background that could be heard between gaps in conversation or the crack of pool balls being split as another new game started. The air was filled with a heady mix of liquor and petrichor, rain imminent from what had been a frustratingly humid day.

Storm chasing was fun. The rush of adrenaline when the radar picked up those telltale colours on the satellite, but for the past 72 hours there’d been a whole lot of nothing on screen. Blue skies were pretty and all, but much like the atmosphere outside, there was a tension in the air that was only growing thicker by the minute. As a photographer you weren’t affiliated with any particular team of chasers, but with your skill renowned in the industry you could pretty much tag along with anyone you liked.

The sound of a scuffle across the bar drew your attention, the shrill ring of beer bottles knocking to the floor, the tell tale sign that tempers were fraying in the turgid atmosphere. Rolling your eyes and sighing you grabbed your beer and decided to stroll outside, not wanting to get caught up in an impending bar fight.

The air outside was a little cooler, a breeze having picked up, the scent of rain hanging thick in the atmosphere. Wandering the wide wrap-around porch of the bar you saw a familiar sight, smiling at the silhouette of an old friend, dark curls atop his head moving as he spoke with passion to another familiar face.

It was Tyler that spotted you first, nudging Javi who turned before a grin spread across his face;

“Well look who it is, our very own Click”

Laughing at your old nickname; one given where you’d had the habit of favouring traditional film cameras rather than digital, the sound of manual lens shutters is one that earned you the affectionate title.

You approached the pair, grinning as Javi swept you into a firm hug, one hand cradling the back of your head with the other arm tightly wrapped around your back as he lifted and span you, before setting you down on your feet again;

“It's been too long” he said with a grin before pressing a brief kiss to your cheek.

You’d spent almost a month with Javi a year or so back when he’d still been in the corporate side of Chasing, getting paid well where you’d been able to get some amazing images Storm Par could use on their marketing material and website.

The sound of a brief cough as someone cleared their throat behind you had you turning and meeting a wide smile;

“Tyler”

“Was wondering if you remembered me”

He pulled you into a hug, before pressing a gentle kiss to your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It's hard to forget someone who still hasn’t paid their invoice”

A flush of embarrassment tinted his cheeks as he pulled back, bashfully raking his hand through his hair;

“Shit”

“Hey hey” Javi cut in; “This dude owes you money?” he asked you.

“You know that awesome header image he’s got on the youtube channel? One of mine” you looked at Tyler who very much seemed like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole at that very moment; “All Chasers get the same terms; credit or payment. Its not credited, so he got sent an invoice and it’s still not paid”

Tyler reached out for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles;

“I absolutely promise I’ll get it paid. And we’ll credit you too, we get so many comments from that image alone”

At that moment there was a ruckus as a small crowd of people came up the stairs from the street, calling out and greeting Tyler and Javi. It soon became clear it was the rest of their team. Most made a beeline for Tyler, to which you and Javi stepped aside and started to talk;

“So remind me again how you ended up going from Corporate Insurance Chaser to Hillbilly Youtube Chaser?”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling;

“You remember Kate? She kinda managed to convince everyone to be in it for the science, rather than the money or the glory”

“Well i never would of had you and Tyler Owens teaming up on my betting card for sure”

Javi laughed;

“Tyler’s awesome. He knows his stuff. And he’s loud enough to be in front of the camera to keep the audience entertained enough to let the rest of us actually do the science part. We work great as a team.”

Looking around you realised the team were a few people short;

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Up in Kansas City doing a presentation for the Mayor and Senators, hoping to get cooperation with some early warning systems we want to help provide the data for”

Nodding you sipped your beer as the pair of you settled into familiar conversation, the rest of Tyler’s crew welcoming you and soon the minutes passed into hours. Beers were replenished and Whiskey shots started to appear, before the tell tale scent of pot floated on the air. Sweet and cloying, you could tell it was leaf rather than resin, realising the joint was being passed around Tyler and Javi’s crew before someone slipped it into Javi’s hand. He grinned as he took a deep toke of the joint, holding it in before slowly exhaling, holding it out to you before you shook your head;

“I’ve got a better idea” you smirked; “Take another toke”.

A smile tugged at the corner of Javi’s mouth as he inhaled deeply from the joint again, the embers on the end glowing a deep amber red. He nodded and you quickly stood close, cupping your hands around his mouth as you pressed your own mouth to your hands and inhaled as he exhaled.

The buzz immediately hit you as the weed hit your oxygen starved brain, swaying on your feet before Javi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close;

“Steady… let it flow through you, it’ll be strong”

Grinning and giggling softly you swayed on your feet, safe in Javi’s arms before finally regaining your balance.

“Ok, my turn now” Javi handed you the joint and you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with smoke before nodding. He quickly stepped forwards, cupping his hands around your mouth and repeating what you had done, only this time he was close enough that you could feel his open lips against yours. Staring into those intense hazel eyes you could sense a hint of mischief, before he stepped back as he held in his breath. Finally exhaling he too swayed on his feet and you reached out to steady him, both now giggling.

“What are you two up to?” An amused voice asked.

Turning just as Tyler slipped the joint from your fingers, he inhaled deeply as he looked between you and Javi.

“Hotboxing” you replied with a grin.

Tyler wrinkled his brow before exhaling the smoke, moving his lips to form three perfect smoke rings before blowing the rest straight up through the middle of them;

“Hotboxing? I thought that was when you dropped a silent fart in a packed elevator?”

“Not where we’re from. Its when you inhale someones toke as they exhale, the lack of oxygen means the weed hit is more intense”

Tyler grinned;

“Okay, don’t believe that but i’m game”

He handed you the joint back and you inhaled again, before doing what he’d seen you and Javi do with your hands as he cupped your mouth and you exhaled. His eyes went wide as he held it, before stumbling a step backwards. He let the smoke out in a shaky exhale, his hands moving to your hips to steady himself. Overcompensating he then swayed forwards, pushing against you and into Javi, the railing of the porch catching him as you were sandwiched between the two men.

The three of you were in fits of giggles, the pot going to your brains before you finally managed to steady yourselves.

“Jesus christ on a bike” Tyler exclaimed; “That was intense”

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before Dude” Javi laughed, turning to take a fresh round of beers from Boone, his goggles sat atop his head.

Boone signed like an old mother hen, before taking the joint from your hand that you had all but forgotten was still there;

“Ok i’ll have that back, thank you”

Giggling into your beers, you sipped on the drink, comfortable and content between two old friends.

It wasn’t long before the simmering tempers inside the bar bubbled over and spilled out onto the porch, the bar owner yelling that he’s shutting for the night and all the ‘damn Chasers’ could ‘fuck off home’.

Knowing when your welcome had run out the three of you drained your beers before stepping off the porch and down to the sidewalk.

“C’mon, we got a bottle of whiskey back at the motel” Javi wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked side by side.

“I’ll think you’ll find that's my whiskey, '' Tyler commented.

“Sharing is caring Tyler” you retorted back, met by his megawatt grin;

“Oh i don’t mind sharing”

At that moment you felt the first few droplets of warm summer rain to hit your skin, looking up as the clouds above finally relinquished their heavy load;

“What motel you guys at?”

“The Rodeo Econo Lodge, it's a couple’a blocks down”

“Sounds glamorous” you commented.

“Been staying there since my rodeo days” Tyler explained; “It’s clean, cheap, and the beds are comfortable”

“And they had enough vacancies so we didn’t have to squeeze four to a room” Javi added.

“Hang on, are you two roomies?”

Tyler nodded;

“Apparently we both ‘snore’”, which he waved his fingers in the air to emphasise quotation marks; “So the rest of the crew unanimously decided we had to bunk together from now on”

“Thus the whiskey” Javi added; “It helps me sleep through Tyler’s talking in his sleep”

“Says the guy that whines like a Golden Retriever in his”

You were by now laughing your ass off whilst getting soaked to the skin in the rain, chilled and relaxed before your mind caught up with half a thought you’d had a few moments ago;

“So you used to ride in the Rodeo?”

“Uh-huh, before college”

“Were you any good?”

Tyler smirked;

“Taught me some good life skills and how to ride hard when you got someone bucking beneath you”

By now you had reached the motel, Javi leading the way up the external staircase as you followed with Tyler bringing up the rear;

“Is that so?”

You felt the playful spank to your rump just as you reached the top of the staircase, quickly followed by Tyler wrapping his arms around you and his mouth against your ear;

“Play your cards right Click and you betcha”

Javi hadn’t been paying much attention, instead having to concentrate on keeping his hand steady enough to get the key in the door of their room, calling out in triumph as it swung open and he stepped into the dark room. As you and Tyler followed into the darkness you could hear Javi muttering about trying to find the lamp, but in that moment you had been spun around and Tyler's lips had found yours.

The kiss was hot and sloppy, his hands on your rib cage pushing your soaked shirt up your torso. His tongue pushed into your mouth and you tasted beer and whiskey in his embrace.

“What the fuck guys?”

You hadn’t noticed Javi had found the lightswitch, but he had obviously not been expecting to see Tyler getting to do what he’d wanted to do for a while. Before the situation could go south you pulled away from Tyler and closed the distance between Javi and yourself, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to entwine your fingers in the soft curls at his nape, and you pulled him into a long awaited embrace.

You felt him tense, before softening into the kiss, his fingers gripping your hips as he pressed your bodies together and you could feel his need growing from the hardness pressing against your abdomen. When you finally broke the kiss to gasp for air, you smirked at him;

“I thought you said you two worked great as a team?”

You heard two quiet ‘oh’s , before a warmth pressed against your back as Tyler joined the pair of you.

“Fucking hell Click, you’ve no idea how hot that sounds”

Javi pulled you back in for another fierce kiss, this time his hands roaming the front of your body, pulling your shirt up and grunting his appreciation when he found your breasts to be free of a bra. Palming them in his warm hands his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, sending a wave of arousal straight to your core. At the same time Tyler’s hands found your hips, his long fingers pressing into your flesh as his soft lips found that sweet spot on the side of your neck just below your ear. He pressed his hips to your ass, rutting against you and you could feel his arousal insistently pressing against you.

As Javi’s lips left yours to press a trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, he pulled away to give himself room to bend down and take one of your breasts into his mouth, that skilled tongue teasing your nipple before moving to the other. Tyler took the chance to cup your jaw and turn your head, kissing you with a clash of tongue and teeth.

Whilst Tyler had you occupied you hadn’t realised Javi had gotten to his knees in front of you until you felt his nimble fingers opening your jeans and tugging them down your thighs. Looking down you saw his eyes darken beneath his lashes before he pressed a kiss to your mound through your panties. As you held his gaze you felt Tyler rest his chin on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your body. One hand cupped your breast as the other he held up and swirled two fingers in the air - the Chaser sign for tornado - to which you watched as Javi’s grin widened and he nodded as he did the same. But this time you knew those finger swirls meant something else.

You held your breath as Javi wrapped his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, pulling the soaked scrap of fabric down your thighs before he pressed his mouth to your slit. His tongue pressed through your folds before he found your clit, his fingers stroking your juices around the tight entrance between your thighs. He finally slid two fingers into your tight channel, the pleasure coursing through you as you rested your head back against Tylers wide shoulder.

Reaching your arms behind you, your palms welcoming the warmth of Tyler’s denim clad thighs beneath your hands, stretching a little further until you were able to cup him through the soft well worn denim. You wanted to feel more, more of their hands, their lips, their dicks, but felt restricted by your bunched clothing;

“I need to be naked” you gasped out, causing both men to pause their ministrations. They worked quickly together, Javi pulling your boots off before tugging your jeans and panties off in one, as Tyler yanked your shirt over your head.

Standing naked before these two men you started to paw at their clothing, pushing shirts off of shoulders and tugging white t-shirts from their pants. If ever there was a time where you wanted four arms it was that moment, desperate to feel their skin against your own. Whilst Tyler got caught up unbuttoning his shirt you made quick work of the button and zipper of Javi's pants, sliding your hand beneath the fabric of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his thick shaft. He gasped at your firm touch, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you into a fierce kiss.

When you pulled away you glanced at Tyler who had pulled his boots off and was naked to the waist, his sculpted torso that of a marble statue. The metal clink of his belt buckle prompted you to move to him, unzipping him and sliding your hand inside the denim and beneath the dark jersey of his boxer shorts. Long and patterned with ridged veins, he was as hard as a rock in your palm, a soft whimper escaping his lips as you pumped his uncut dick.

He let his jeans and underwear fall to his ankles, cupping the back of your neck as you bent at the waist to take him into your mouth. Wrapping one fist around his girth you steadied yourself placing your other hand on his firm thigh, lowering your mouth to his tip to taste the bead of precum that pooled there. Pressing a chaste kiss to the smooth crown you opened your jaw to take him into your mouth, unaware your pussy was about to be stuffed. The firm push as Javi speared your hot channel pushed you forwards, forcing Tyler’s dick into your throat.

“Mmmmfffmfmmff!”

“A little warning next time huh Javi?” Tyler commented as he pulled back to allow air to actually reach your lungs; “but good god woman, your throat is a thing of wonder… no gag reflex”

You heard the sound of a high five but were too lust drunk to worry about it, too busy flying on a wave of pleasure as you were spit roasted between two hard cocks.

Tyler reached beneath you to cup your tits, grasping them as he moved his hips to fuck your mouth, a mixture of spit and precum running down your chin. At the same time Javi reached around your hip and searched out your clit, rubbing firm circles with two fingers against the sensitive nub whilst he fucked his thick cock into your dripping pussy.

Your orgasm caught you by surprise, your body shaking as you moaned around a mouthful of flesh. Your knees were close to giving out when Javi pulled out and brought you upright, his arms wrapped around your torso;

“Steady Click, don’t need you racing ahead off the radar for this” he kissed your neck whilst you reached out for Tyler. Stepping out of his jeans he closed the gap between you before sliding his hand between your legs, pushing two fingers into your soaked pussy;

“Such a lovely pussy, can’t wait to see it dripping with our cum. Gonna fill you to the brim. Do you want that?” his mouth brushed against yours as he spoke, but you could do little but pant like a bitch in heat.

You nodded, your mouth hanging open.

“Bed, now” Javi instructed, nodding for Tyler to lay down. You whined at the loss of Tyler’s fingers filling you but instead were treated to his tight ass as he crossed the room before laying on the bed.

“Come’ere Darlin. Climb on, i’ll teach you how to ride a bucking bronco”

Javi gave you a little push, almost the encouragement you needed to leave his arms. Climbing onto the bed you straddled Tyler’s thighs before crawling up his body. As you bent down to kiss him you heard the crack of the seal on a bottle of liquor, turning your head and seeing Javi drink straight from the bottle as he approached the bed.

As Javi climbed onto the bed, Tyler lifted your hips with one hand, steadying his cock with the other as he lined himself up before letting you sink down a couple of inches onto him. Javi straddled Tyler’s legs behind you, wrapping his arms around you before lifting the bottle to your lips. As you dipped your head back to drink from the bottle you felt his hand firmly on your shoulder, pushing you down to take Tyler to the hilt.

The whiskey hit the back of your throat and the rush was intense, the feeling of being filled by Tyler almost overloading your senses as he bucked like a steer beneath you. Javi breathed hot in your ear, his body pressed to your back. He took a large slug of whiskey before you pulled the bottle from his hand, taking another mouthful before leaning forwards. Tyler anticipated what you were doing;

“Yeah baby, spit it in my mouth” before opening wide to allow you to let the warm whiskey drip from your tongue to his. As soon as he swallowed you leant forwards and kissed him, sloppy with tongues and teeth, and you felt his cock slip out of you, landing wet and sticky on his abdomen. You weren’t empty for more than five seconds before you felt Javi push into you from behind, his palm coming down on your ass with a loud smack.

Riding you hard you were pressed between the two men, Javi filling you from behind as Tyler lay beneath you, his dripping shaft rubbing against your pussy as you were pushed back and forth. After what seemed to be an endless few minutes your arms were pulled behind your back as Javi held your wrists at the base of your spine. His lips on your earlobe;

“Get ready for the real rodeo”

With your attention on Javi you had lost sight of Tyler before you felt him angle his cock towards your already stuffed hole, as Javi seemingly lowered the pair of you until Tyler managed to slide in alongside him in your now overstuffed cunt.

“Such a good girl”

“Taking us so well”

Their praises merged into one as your eyelids fluttered shut, rocking your hips gently as your body grew accustomed to being double stuffed. As your arousal flowed from you your movements increased to the point both men were able to alternate thrusts, making sure there was never a moment when you weren’t full of cock. They filled and defiled your body until you were flying on an arousal high. Javi’s grip on your wrists faltered, your hands slipping free. As Javi pushed you down and Tyler fucked up into you, you curled one hand over your shoulder as Javi bit at your neck, curling your fingers through his dark curls. Glancing down at Tyler his normally pale green irises dark with arousal. He stretched his neck and you watched as the muscles shifted, his adams apple bobbed up and down. You rested your palm on his chest and he immediately wrapped his fingers around your wrist, nodding as he pulled your hand to his throat.

Realising that both your boys liked a little pain, you tugged on Javi’s hair as your fingers closed softly against Tyler’s throat, dual groans filling the room as they both thrust harder into you, pushing you ever closer to your release. Tyler grabbed your hips and started to pull you down harder onto him, Javi cupping your tits firmly as he fucked you harder from behind.

You were the first to cum, screaming out your release as if you were howling to the moon, Javi and Tyler following just seconds behind filling you with two thick loads of their creamy seed.

Releasing both men from your grasp you softly rested on Tyler’s chest as Javi pressed gentle kisses to your shoulders, before the latter pulled out. You felt a flood of cum seep from your stretched hole, soaking down to Tyler’s balls and onto the bed.

Some time later you were clean and showered, the three of you having squeezed into the tub and washed the sweat, whiskey, and cum from your bodies, before Tyler had discovered the bottle of whiskey discarded on his bed now half empty where the cap hadn’t been replaced. He had started to protest until you had slipped your hand into his and led him to the other bed - where Javi was already beneath the covers - and had silently confirmed you wanted to be close to both of them for the night.

Facing Javi whilst being the little spoon to Tylers big spoon, you sleepily said goodnight and muttered about finding your ride for the next storm.

“You should ride with us” Javi stated softly.

Letting out a quiet laugh you shook your head;

“You two combined? You drive like madmen, i’m scared of riding with you!”

Tyler pressed his lips to your ear;

“Well you know what I say…”

“If you fear it, ride it” they said in unison.

“And you’ve already ridden us both, so you’ve got nothing to fear” Tyler finished.

Letting a sigh you grinned and nodded, letting sleep take you as you were flanked by two crazy tornado wranglers.

#click #angryschnauzer #tyler owens fanfic #twisters fanfic #tyler owens x reader #glen powell #anthony ramos #tyler owen x you

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stormgrl19 · 6 months ago

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𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 | 𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑃𝑎𝑛

Peter Pan x Fem!reader

Credits: All credits go to the authors / the producers / etc. of the show / the book / the movie. I own my OCs and their plot and any differences from the original plot.

Request: Idk if your requests are closed but if theyre not could you write for peter? Somthing like the reader came to the island to help find henry but shes fascinated with the island and peters fascinated with her? Ty if you can !! < 3 ( @akumazwrld )

Summary: You go to neverland with Emma and the others to help bring Henry back and on one of your secret midnight strolls you meet a really… fascinating boy.

A/n: I am so sorry it took so long! I hope you like it!

Warnings: use of y/n, not proofread /edited/ …

Wc: 799

Part two

You don’t know how many days you had been on this island, just that it couldn’t be a week since you arrived with Emma, Hook and the others to help Henry. Back in Storybrooke you lived alone in an apartment over a flower shop, where you worked. You weren’t a main character of any fairy tale, just a side character with no known family, but before you all got your memories back, you sometimes babysat Henry, which is why you were now here, in neverland.

Walking under the stars, in a jungle with beautiful plants everywhere, you let your mind wander and carefully craft on your silly dream of living here. Nature brought you the feeling of peace, it always had and even so, neverland was dangerous, you somehow knew deep down, that as long you were surrounded by nature, nothing bad would happen to you. It was foolish to rely on your feeling, the others would definitely call you delusional, but neverland was to wonderful to just walk through it, without taking time to really take everything in.

That’s why you had been secretly going on little adventures to explore the mystical island, while everyone else was sleeping. So far you had seen a lot of trees, flowers and last night you saw for the second time in your life real mermaids! If you hadn’t had to be silent you would’ve squealed like a child on Christmas. The more you saw of the island the less you wanted to go back to your boring and lonely life in Storybrooke. Why would you, when you could life here? Explore the island until you knew it like the back of your hand, nature always by your side and (and know you were really far gone from any reality) befriend the mermaids, swimming together and play around.

Walking slowly, you stopped right before you walked into a bush with dark green leaves. It was dark, but the moon shone through the trees and you could see the little thorns. The stems looked like they were black and without any logical reason you reached your hand out.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Hastily you withdraw you hand and turned around. Before you, a few meters away was a boy, looking at you with an arrogant smirk and his hands crossed before his chest, while leaning on a tree.

“Why?” You asked, cursing silently for not bringing something to defend yourself.

“Because that is dreamshade. It is poisonous,“ he answered, still looking, no scanning you with his eyes.

“Oh.” You looked around, searching for a way to escape.

“Well, I think I have to go, so… It was nice meeting you?” The last sentence sounded like a question, but you really had to get away from him. He probably was one, of the people that held Henry captive.

He laughed and pushed himself off the tree, walking to you. Now you could get a better look on his face, and God was he handsome, but you really shouldn’t talk to him, should you?

“That was certainly a short meeting. I don’t even know your name.”

“Yeah, well-“ You stocked. Talking to him couldn’t be that bad and maybe he could help you with Henry? “Only if you tell me yours!”

His brow raised and he answered: “Ah, a little trade? My name for yours?”

“Seems fair, don’t you think?”

He hummed, “You can begin.”

“I can- fine. Hi, I am Y/n!”

“Y/n? That is a pretty name.”

“Yes, now tell me yours!”

“So impatient, are you? Don’t worry, I always stick to my word.” “So?”

He chuckled and walked closer to you, only three steps away from you.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, it couldn’t be…

“Peter as in Peter Pan?” you asked hesitantly.

His eyes darkened and his smile changed from arrogant to something more… dangerous.

“Why, yes!”

“I really have to go now.” Panic was a feeling you knew all too well in this moment.

“Not so fast!” He grabbed your wrist and spun you around.

“I know why you and your friends are here - without my permission by the way - but-“ he leaned in, now only centimetres apart from your face “You won’t succeed. You hear me? I always win.”

He stepped back: “You should go now before your friends wake up!”

He sent you one of his smirks and seconds later he was gone.

You stared at the spot, were he stood only seconds ago. Scrunching up your face, you think about how you thought of him as handsome, he really is, with his hair, and his green eyes and-

You had to focus! You crushing on the enemy was not helping or useful.

At least you now knew: neverland was really fascinating.

#peter pan x reader #peter pan #x reader #ouat #once upon a time imagine #once upon a time #oneshot

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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2003: a dbf odyssey

a @chloeangelic x @macfrog fic

greetings greetings one and all. welcome to the fucking circus. chloe cupcake and i have a gift for you. we put our heads together, took turns writing a classic dbf fic, and here is the hellscape we created. please enjoy. [this is entirely satirical and just for funsies. no harm intended. no tw discourse required. love u]

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. and that's all we have to say on that

warnings: unspecified age gap, tale set in 2003, female masturbation, creepy joel, praise kink, size kink, fingering, unprotected piv, degradation, angst!

word count: 4.6k

chloe's masterlist | max's masterlist

The sun shines through the window of your childhood bedroom. You’re still reeling from an argument you just had with your mom, over the degree you just spent four years and fifteen grand on. She doesn't understand your passion for fossils, she never has, and during every family function, only one person asks you how school is going.

Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.

He’s tall. Broad. He’s built like a Dorito. Flamin’ Hot Cool Ranch. He drives a truck and he listens to dad rock. One time you saw him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You asked what that was, and he said it was a band from “before your time, darlin’”. You swooned at the pet name.

He’s quiet and unassuming. Lingers on the outskirts of every gathering your parents throw. He likes to talk about construction, and wood carving, and little else. At least, that’s what you thought, before you came back home after graduating.

Suddenly, he started glancing in your direction every time you came into the room wearing a tight little top with significant cleavage. He would clear his throat at dinner and wipe a bead of his sweat from his forehead at BBQs.

You always called him Mr Miller, and ever since graduation, that name made him blush. Last Thanksgiving, when his family was over for dinner at your parents’ house, you started asking him about old movies, and he grumbled, then told you about 2001: A Space Odyssey.

He said he couldn’t believe that a girl with a paleontology degree had never seen A Space Odyssey before. Promised he’d show you it sometime. ”Smart girl like you will love it,” he said.

You had opened your mouth to respond, to lend him the quirkiest retort you could think of, when your dad had bumbled into the room, shoving you out of the way. He brought up the latest Austin Ice Bats game, took Joel up in a conversation you couldn’t be a part of - you knew nothing about minor league ice hockey.

Your mom called you through to the kitchen and asked you to help her with dinner. When you came into the kitchen, she started asking you if you’d gone on any dates recently, if there were any cute guys in your college classes.

You rolled your eyes, “No, mom, none of them are my type.”

She huffed while handing you a pot of mashed potatoes, “What’s your type then?”

You didn’t want to tell her that your type was older men. Really old, in their fifties. Your type was Joel, but you couldn’t tell her that. Instead, you described what you thought Joel might’ve looked like when he was younger. “Brown hair, beards maybe,” you said, and turned on your heel before walking into the dining room and setting the pot on the table.

You glanced over the place settings. Your mom had already put down everyone’s drinks. Yours and Sarah’s - a glass of water each. She says water helps with clear skin. Her own - a white Russian cocktail. And your dad and Joel’s, side by side - two beers, dripping with condensation. You paced around the table, formulating a plan.

As your mom’s voice drew nearer down the hallway, you quickly switched Joel’s beer for Sarah’s water, sitting him next to you.

When he came into the dining room with your father, you noticed that Joel was looking at you with dark, sultry eyes. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he sat down in his chair, then turned to your mother, “Looks great.” You felt his knee knock into yours under the table, but he didn’t move away. Heat pooled in your stomach. Your chest tightened, threatening to burst from the confines of your tight t-shirt.

The same t-shirt you’re wearing right now - sat at the end of your bed. Remembering the way his denim jeans felt on your bare leg. You lie back on your sheets and stare at the ceiling, thinking of his swollen muscles under his flannel shirt. The tuft of chest hair sprouting from over the collar. The veins in his hands as he passed you the salt.

You were holding a pair of jeans in your hands, about to slide them over your legs when you looked down to see a wet spot in your panties, and now you can’t ignore the throbbing in your core at the thought of seeing him again.

You carefully trace your fingers over your panties, grazing the wet spot, feeling your cheeks burning from the awareness that it’s your dad’s best friend making you wet.

You lift the skirt of your barleycorn sundress and open your legs, knees wide on your springy mattress. You hope that it doesn’t make a sound as you push the fabric aside, dragging your fingers over your most sensitive spot.”Joel,” you whimper when your fingertip brushes your wet opening, but you’re startled when you hear the doorbell ringing.

You pull your hand out quickly and your eyes flare open, chest heaving. You sit up, throw your legs over the side and slip on your jeans, button them up and turn to look at yourself in the mirror before heading downstairs, feeling the low throb deep inside of you as you carefully walk out into the hallway and hear your father greeting Joel as he comes in the door.

“Howdy,” he says when he spots you descending the staircase.

You hold tight onto the handrail, afraid you might topple over from the sight of him and the fluttering between your legs. “Hi.”

Joel’s eyes travel from your face down your body, ending up on your legs. You suddenly feel self-conscious, but all the same, secretly thrilled that he’s staring at you in this way. You stare back, eyeing him up and down from his scruffy beard to his dusty lace-up boots. Your eyes meet again as you reach the bottom step.

Joel sniffs once. “The hell are you wearing a dress and jeans for?” he asks.

“It’s called fashion,” you sass, and he grunts in response. “Ready to watch the movie?”

“I’m readier than a fried egg on the San Antonio Boulevard sidewalk, darlin’.” There’s that pet name again. You bite your lip and walk into the living room, trying to regulate your breathing. Your dad is already on the couch, remote control in hand, saying he has rewinded the DVD and that the two of you are being slowpokes.

“The old man’s got jokes,” Joel grumbles, motioning for you to sit down in between him and your dad.

The three of you put your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. You angle your feet towards Joel’s, your pinkie toe nudging against the sole of his boot. He crosses his ankles and settles back into the couch, folding his arms and prodding your side with his elbow.

“It’s a classic,” he mutters, and you giggle.

Your dad’s head whips around to face you from your peripheral like he is watching a tennis match. “What’s so funny?” he bleats.

“Nothing,” you and Joel chime, focusing hard on the screen. You smile smugly at the fact that you have an inside joke with him, something just between the two of you.

You can’t focus on the movie when your dad turns it on, and you suspect that Joel can’t either by the way he shifts around in his seat. “Got ants in your butt, buddy?”, your dad snorts, and Joel waves dismissively while you stifle your laughter.

“Just feel like I’m sinkin’ into the couch here,” Joel says, “‘S too soft.”

Soft, you replay the way he says it, over and over in your mind. You wonder if he’ll think you’re soft if he touches you with his rough hands.

“This movie sucks,” you announce, halfway through. “I can’t believe I had never heard of it. I thought it only came out two years ago?”

Joel snorts. “It came out in 1968 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick, dingus. 2001 is just the title of the film.”

Your face flushes fifty shades of fuchsia. Your dad guffaws on your left side, clapping his hands together like an annoying seal. His laughter is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear his cell phone ringing until you point it out to him.

“Yellow,” he says as he answers, and chuckles at his own joke, then holds up his finger and turns to the side, mumbling something into his phone. “Be there in twenty,” he says, then hangs up, and turns to you and Joel, “Gotta go pick up your mom but I should only be about forty five minutes as long as she doesn’t drag me into a conversation with her girlfriends. Y’all gonna be okay here?”

You both nod and sit still as your dad groans and gets up from the couch, listening as he disappears into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket, then the door shutting.

You go to grab the remote control to keep playing the movie, and accidentally spill some of the Coke from the can you’re holding. Joel is looking at the screen while you look at the dark stain on the couch cushion, and instead of getting up to get a paper towel to clean it with, you scoot a little closer to Joel.

He clears his throat and puts his hand on the back of the couch, right behind your shoulders, not saying a word. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and you glance down at his crotch to see the bulge in his jeans, then look up at him.

He looks at you for a second, then furrows his brows, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“Thinkin’ about bones.”

“Bones?”

“Specifically the one in your pants, Mr. Miller,” you say and bat your eyelashes, and then, “Just kidding.” You turn your head back to the TV but you can see that he’s still looking at you. “I was actually thinking about the Micropachycephalosaurus.”

“What did you say ‘bout my pants, darlin’? Could swear you said somethin’”

“Nothing, I promise,” you giggle and look away.

Then his hand comes to your thigh, long fingers splayed over your jeans, thumb tracing back and forth, igniting a flame inside of you.

“W-what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”, you ask nervously, feeling the heat pooling in your panties again, and this time, it’s not because of your imagination.

“Lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he says, and his other hand comes to your shoulder. You whimper at his touch. “Can just call me Joel, you know that,” he scolds with a wink.

“Th-thanks, Joel.”

You feel his hand come up under your chin with a featherlight touch, turning your face up to meet his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your face feels hot, your heart beating fast.

He looks at you through big brown eyes. You blink softly back, trying to transmit a code to him to clue him in on the ache making your thighs clench. You wonder if he knows Morse.

Joel grips your jaw and leans in, his smoldering eyes flashing between yours and your lips. He purses his own and before you know it, his warm mouth is flush against yours, his tongue pushing inside. He licks along the rim of your teeth and you open your jaw, letting him explore your wet gums.

In an instant, you pull yourself on top of him and remove his flannel, ripping the buttons apart and scattering the cloth to the couch. Joel’s hands curve around your round tits, he rolls your pebbled nipples between his thumbs like fiddling with a console controller. You roll your hips forward with a moan.

He's so hard. You look at him with wide eyes and a pout, “You're so hard.”

“Are you wet f’me, pretty girl?”, he asks. You know it's wrong, your dad could be home any moment, but you frantically nod.

“Good girl,” he says, and traces his fingers along the edge of your jeans, barely making contact with your skin.

He stands from the couch in one fluid motion, and you squeal at the sudden way in which you’re lifted in the safe grasp of his arms. It’s astounding how strong he is. How able he is to sweep you into the air, carry you out of the living room. How his biceps bulge as his boots thud up the stairs one by one.

He reaches the landing and pauses, eyes scanning the four closed doors. He steps forward and kicks open the one closest to your bodies, before realizing it is the bathroom and reversing out again.

“Pardon me,” he mumbles an apology, and you giggle again.

“It’s the one on the right,” you instruct, and he shuffles down the hall carpet before bumping your door open. He pauses for a moment when he enters the room - your childhood bedroom.

“Haven't been in here in years,” he says, and you know he's referring to when he helped your dad take out the old closets and replace them with new ones. You still have the same closets. Maybe he's admiring his work. You look at the posters on the wall and your floral bedspread.

Then he lays you down on the bed and sighs. “These old knees,” he grumbles, “And my fuckin’ back.”

You giggle.

“Mind if I take this off, darlin’?”, he asks, gently tugging at the bottom of your barleycorn sundress. You nod again, feeling your face getting hot and your panties sticking to your pussy.

Your back arches as he slips the thin fabric from your body, your breasts spilling out of their polyester prison. Joel straightens up, admires the view and hums to himself.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muses, then bends again to press his body against yours. His fingers tussle with the waist of your jeans, the petite buttons only women's clothing seems to have, and you growl at the effort it takes for him to derobe you.

“I know,” he says, lips close to your ear, “‘S these big ol’ hands. They get in the way of everythin’, baby.”

You whimper pathetically, wanting nothing more than those big hands to get in the way of you. You shove your fists beneath the denim when he finally undoes the zipper, and help him drag them from your legs. As soon as the heavy fabric hits your floor, Joel’s removing his own jeans. Now, only your underwear and his separate you.

There's a wet spot on his boxers already and you whimper when you place your fingertip on it, biting your lip when he growls at the sensation. “M-Mr. Miller,” you whine, “Can I see your cock? It looks really big.”

“‘S real big, sweetie, are you sure you can handle it?”

“Y-yes, Joel, I'm a big girl.”

“‘F you say so,” he grumbles, then takes off his boxers, and you admire the sight of his manhood. You've never seen a big cock like that, a real thick and long one. You don't think it'll fit inside and you gasp, eyes flashing open while you start to creep backwards on the sheets.

“Keep the panties on,” Joel orders, following between your legs. His hairy knees push deep into the plush cushion of your mattress, his fist jerks slowly up and down his dick, which seems to only grow larger the closer he gets.

You nod obediently, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes stick on the dribble of precum he swipes with his thumb. You fall back, head sinking into your pillows, and Joel hovers over you, one hand by your head.

You peel your underwear to the side, now positively soaked. Joel’s hand leaves his member to cup you, feeling your dripping mess. “So wet f’me,” he whispers, and you moan, long and ragged.

Then he touches the tip of his finger to your opening and watches you squirm while he starts to push it in, entering you with one thick finger. You take all of it in stride, and you frown when he retracts it.

“So eager,” he says triumphantly, then adds another, and you feel the coil inside you start to tighten. You can't reach as deep as he does, nobody can except for him. Your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. Tears start pricking your eyes as you get closer.

You whine, “I’m gonna come, Mr. Miller.”

He clicks his tongue, “Just Joel,” and then he picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them inside you until you gush all over your sheets and his hand, feeling the tears sliding down your temples and your fists gripping the sheets tightly. He made you come, it's like a wet dream.

You gasp when you see the mess you made and he chuckles. “Sorry Just Joel - I mean,” you shake your head, clearing the hazy fog of sex your orgasm left behind, “Joel.” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“No need to apologize, sweet girl,” he whispers, pinching your cheek with his soaked fingers. Your own cum stains your skin, somehow cooling against the stifling hot air in your room. The air filled with lust and sex.

He draws his hand back, wraps it back around his cock, rubs your gleaming slick up and down his thickness. He groans as you coat him, head tilting back to the ceiling. For a second, you wonder if he will actually fuck you, or if he’s just here to jerk off using your cum, kneeling over you.

Your query is answered when he returns his gaze to yours and leans over you again, running the tip between your folds. Your body jolts at the contact, overstimulated and spent already. But Joel doesn’t care. The man gives no fucks.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he makes space for himself inside you, pushing the head in and impaling you on his fat girth. You feel so full.

He bottoms out and moans. You watch a drop of sweat gliding from his hairline and down his temple, then crane your neck up to kiss it. His tip kisses your cervix on every thrust and you grip his broad shoulders, hanging onto him while he pounds you.

“Good girl, takin’ this big fat cock,” he praises, panting into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, fuck,” you feel the band inside of you tightening, about to snap, but then he pulls out of you and wraps his fingers around his cock again, stroking himself and snarling when he tells you to turn around.

You’re spent, limbs wrung out like a rag, but you force yourself up while you look at his cock dumbly, seeing his precum dripping out and onto your sheets. Suddenly, you hear him, “What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart?”, and you immediately turn around and onto your hands and knees, seeing a photo of your parents on your window sill.

You screw your eyes shut so you don’t think about them, and try to focus on Joel penetrating you from behind in one motion, going full hog, filling you to the brim with cock. “F-feels so good, Joel,” you squirm and moan while he slips his large hands onto your hips, fingers splaying out over the curve of your asscheeks, pulling you back so he can fill you relentlessly.

His skin slaps against yours, the air in the room quickly filling with nothing but the sounds of his moans and yours, his wet and yours, his body and yours. Your eyes squeeze tight until you see stars, raining down over the darkness behind your eyelids. Your whole bed shakes vigorously with the rate Joel pounds into you, mattress knocking against your nightstand and sending the objects on it tumbling to the floor.

Joel notices as one in particular - your Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 2 Air Pulse Stimulator, which you find good but really intense with its sucking power - rolls across the wooden floor. His grip tightens on your hips and he chuckles. “‘S a good girl like you doin’ with a thing like that in her room, huh?”

Your back curls. You moan in response. “Umm,” you mumble nervously, trying to think of a response when you see his lips curve into a smirk, “I- I was trying to come, last night.”

“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout what, young lady?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You were thinking about him. He can tell - he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Were you thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”, he asks, and you don’t respond. You look at him with wide eyes. “‘S alright, I’ve been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy, blowin’ my load in the shower. I ain’t ashamed to admit it, you’re a real pretty girl.”

Your pussy gets wetter when you think about him touching himself and you wonder how it looks. Your dad would kill him if he knew, and you’re surprised Joel would tell you something like that, but it makes you so wet.

The image in your mind forces you to arch your back, your body curving before Joel into the mattress. He grunts each time his hips come into contact with the plushy meat of your ass, telling you good girl and squeezing you just right as his cock hits you so deep you feel him in your chest.

“I’m - gonna - cum - again,” you pant, words muffled by the floral pattern your lips are smushed into. “Joel - I’m -”

“I hear ya, baby,” he says, hips snapping. His voice is rough, hoarse. He sounds like he needs some NyQuil. You make a mental note to offer him a refreshing glass once you’re done. “Cum for me, go on. Know you need it.”

Your walls close around him as you do as he says, tightening around the intrusion in your pussy.

His cock begins to twitch deep inside you and he shoves you by the ass off of him. You tumble to the bed and roll over just in time to be drowned by his cum, thick white ropes spraying all over your tummy and tits. You worry with the ferocity of his release that it might reach the photo of your parents, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure of the moment, your own spend spilling out of your tight little hole.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, “Take that cum.” Then, all of a sudden, his face drops and he freezes in place. He looks at you, covered in his semen, then runs his hand over his face and tucks himself back in his pants. He looks stressed as it dawns on him that he just came all over his best friend’s daughter.

“Joel,” you say carefully.

“Yes, darlin’”. He winces when the word leaves his mouth.

“W-what if my dad finds out?”

He runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know,” he says, “I gotta go.”

“But w-wait, Joel!”

He’s already shuffling out of your room, hopping as he tugs his jeans back over his hips. “M’sorry, baby, I have to-”

“Wait!” you yelp, tearing your underwear from your body. You almost trip over the fabric as you hop down from your bed. “Take these!”

You throw the panties across your room and Joel catches them against his chest, scrunching them into a ball. You sit back on your heels, totally naked in front of him, smirking at the thought of him crossing paths with your dad in the hallway and knowing the secret he holds in his jeans pocket. Knowing that he just fucked his best friend’s daughter, in her childhood bedroom.

His cheeks heat with shock. Your panties are dripping wet. He nods and tucks them into his back pocket and adjusts the crotch of his pants over his still hard cock.

Suddenly, you hear the front door opening.

Your parents are home.

You gasp and fumble with your jeans, trying to put them on with shaky hands while you hear Joel step onto the first floor, just leaving the staircase as the door shuts behind your parents as they come in.

“Hey, buddy,” your dad calls, and you hover at the top of the stairs. “What- whatcha doin’ with your shirt off?”

Joel stammers, scratching the back of his neck. Your mom stares at him, eyes raking up and down his hairy torso. You feel a hot pang of jealousy at her wandering eyes on the man you just fucked.

“She, uh,” he motions up to you, now stepping slowly down the stairs, “She spilled her drink down my shirt.” He reaches for the crumpled flannel, whipping it in his hands and throwing it over his shoulders.

Your mom tsks. “So clumsy,” she says, shaking her head. “Did you get it cleaned alright?”

Joel nods, jumping a little when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs by his side. He’s still buttoning the shirt. “Yeah, all cleaned up. Thank you, ma’am.”

You feel a surge of excitement shoot through your veins, feeling your wet leaking out onto your jeans and knowing what lives in Joel’s pocket. You sway back and forth, hands clasped behind your back, smiling innocently.

“Sweetie,” your mom calls over, “Why don’t you go walk Joel to his truck?”

“Y-yes, mom,” you stutter, and motion for Joel to walk ahead of you.

“Have a good night,” he says and pats your dad on the back on his way out.

You watch every one of his heavy footsteps down the hall and out of the house, slipping on your Crocs before you follow him out, closing the door behind you.

The two of you linger outside of his truck for a moment. He looks over your shoulder, squinting in the Texas sun as he looks towards the house. You look at the gray in his beard, the curve of his nose and his salt and pepper hair.

Part of you hopes he’ll ask to see you again, but he’s your dad’s best friend, it could never work. He kicks a small rock with the toe of his boot, arms folded. He leans against the truck and looks up at the sky.

Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and the feeling of his sticky cum on your stomach, gradually absorbing into your skin.

“Guess I’ll see you ‘round,” he says and straightens up. He purses his lips while he looks away, then at you.

You giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um, yeah.”

“Then I’ll teach you a lesson ‘bout not payin’ attention while watchin’ a movie,” he says, and his voice is sultry and raspy. His fingers are around your chin, tilting your face up to him. “You’ve been a bad girl, lettin’ your dad’s buddy fuck you like a little slut.”

Your lips smush between his finger and thumb. “Yesh, Mr. Miller,” you push between your teeth.

“The hell’d I tell you? It’s Joel.”

You nod fervently. “Yesh, Jool.”

He releases you and opens the truck door, eyeing you constantly as he gets in.

You pick at your nails nervously as you watch him start the truck, and then drive away.

You lean against your parents’ Honda Civic and look up at the sky, closing your eyes and sighing. Your teeth come to bite your lower lip into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue. Your dad’s best friend.

He promised he would teach you a lesson. You wonder what the lesson is.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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milla984 · 1 year ago

Text

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions.

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.”

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back.

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant.

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack.

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome.

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words.

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume.

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble.

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment.

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you.

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper.

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task.

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted.

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it.

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close.

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom.

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin.

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive.

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before.

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication.

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots.

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him.

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off.

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement.

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!”

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…”

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded.

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected.

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor.

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls.

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

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amethystarachnid · 23 days ago

Text

FORBIDDEN

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and maybe a tiny bit of fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k (damn)

ᯓ★ TW(s): so much angst that it needs a tw, arranged marriages, Loki vs Tv remote (remote won), Loki vs Spaghetti (Spaghetti won)

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the movies

ᯓ★ Request: Hi! I love the idea for this challenge, so I'd love to request a Forbidden relationship with Loki if that's okay. If you prefer not to write about him, I'm happy to see it with Tony instead! 🤍 ( @nicoline1998enilocin) [we love Loki in this blog <3 ]

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is thick with tension as you stand in the shadows of the grand hall, your heart racing in your chest. From where you are, you can see him—Loki, the God of Mischief, prince of Asgard, and the one person you’re not supposed to love. He sits at the long, golden table, laughing lightly at something his brother Thor says, though his eyes betray the storm of emotions swirling within him. Your chest tightens at the sight, the distance between you feeling more like a chasm than a few short steps.

You shouldn’t be here. You know that. Servants are not meant to linger, to watch, to hope. You belong in the shadows, the corners, where no one sees you. Especially not him. Especially not a prince.

But he sees you. He always does.

A fleeting glance. That’s all he allows himself. The briefest flicker of emerald eyes in your direction, so quick that no one else could ever notice. But you feel it as if his gaze had touched your skin. The heat, the longing, the unspoken words that scream louder than anything ever could.

Loving him is a curse—a dangerous, beautiful curse.

It’s forbidden. He’s the prince, and you… you are nothing more than a servant in the royal palace, an invisible figure in his world of gods and thrones. And yet, despite the danger, despite the constant threat that hangs over both your heads, you can’t stop. You can’t stay away from him, and he can’t seem to let you go.

You remember the last time you were alone together. The secrecy, the stolen moments, the way he kissed you as if he’d been starving for you his whole life. It was desperate. It always is. Each time, you know it could be the last, and it’s killing you.

Tonight, in this crowded room filled with the finest nobles and warriors of Asgard, you stand on the opposite side of the world from him. But you can still feel his presence, a pull stronger than anything else. He looks so calm, so composed, the picture of a perfect prince. But you know better. You know the battle that rages inside him, just as it does inside you.

The door behind you creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat as a guard walks past, his eyes barely glancing your way. A close call. Too close. You lower your head, reminding yourself of the rules, the risks. If anyone found out…

But then you hear it—your name, spoken in that smooth, dark voice that always manages to send shivers down your spine. You don’t even need to turn to know it’s him.

“Meet me,” Loki murmurs, his words barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the court. “Tonight. You know where.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. But he doesn’t need you to. You know he’ll be waiting, just as you will be. And when the night falls, and the palace sleeps, you will find each other again. You always do.

But with every meeting, every kiss, every whispered promise in the dead of night, you feel the noose tightening around both your necks. One day, someone will find out. And when they do, your world will come crashing down.

The weight of that knowledge crushes you every second, but none so heavily as when you catch his eye again from across the room. There's so much distance between you—physical, social, cosmic. A prince and a servant. The most forbidden of loves.

But gods help you, you love him anyway. And that may be the most dangerous thing of all.

The night is silent, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the palace gardens and the distant murmur of the wind through the tall, stone walls. You move quietly, your heart pounding in your chest with every step you take toward the secret passage. The same passage you’ve slipped through countless times before.

Your hands shake as you push open the heavy door that leads to the darkened corridor. This is madness. Every fiber of your being screams at you to turn back, to run and never look back. But the pull toward him is stronger, more insistent. It’s like a fire in your veins, a need so deep it terrifies you.

When you finally reach the small alcove where he waits, you stop just before stepping into the moonlight. You know he’s there, hidden in the shadows, but you hesitate. For a brief moment, the weight of what you’re doing—what you’ve been doing—crashes down on you.

You’re risking everything. He is too.

Then you hear the faint sound of his breath, a sharp intake as if he senses your presence, and you step forward. The pale light from the moon bathes the stone floor in silver, and you see him, standing there, tall and cloaked in darkness, his sharp features softened by the night.

"Loki," you whisper, your voice trembling, though you wish it weren’t.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, closing the distance between you with a grace that never fails to steal your breath. His hands reach for you, cold and firm, and when they touch your skin, it feels like an anchor pulling you out of the storm. You melt into his embrace, the tension in your body dissolving as you feel the warmth of him against you.

“You came,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with a relief that mirrors your own. His arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“I always do,” you whisper back, resting your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath his clothes.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside is distant, and here, in this stolen moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in existence. But it never lasts, and the reality of what you are doing creeps back in like a cold gust of wind.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you murmur, your words barely audible, though you feel him stiffen at your confession.

“I know,” he replies, his voice strained, his breath brushing the top of your head. His fingers run through your hair, gentle but desperate. “But how can I stop? How can I stay away from you when every moment without you feels like I’m being torn apart?”

Your eyes sting as his words sink in, but you force yourself to pull back, just enough to look up at him. His expression is tormented, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allows anyone to see. But you know. You know him better than anyone else ever could.

“Loki, if they find out—”

“They won’t.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a blade. “I won’t let them. Not Thor, not my father, not anyone.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, a fierce determination, but you shake your head, your heart aching. “You can’t protect me from this. From us. You’re a prince, and I… I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his hand moving to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t say that. You are everything to me.”

Tears burn your eyes as you search his face, desperate to find some solution, some way for this to work, but it feels like the walls are closing in on you both. There’s no way out. You’ve always known that. But you’ve let yourselves fall too far, too deeply.

“I don’t care what I am or what you are,” Loki continues, his voice rough with emotion. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. Do you understand?”

His words wrap around your heart like a vise, both a comfort and a curse. You want to believe him, to pretend that love could be enough to keep you safe. But it’s not. It never has been.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you choke out, your voice breaking, the fear and the love warring inside you.

“You won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing your forehead, soft and reverent. “I’ll tear down the heavens themselves before I let that happen.”

His arms pull you back into him, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. In his embrace, you feel both safe and utterly doomed. You’re trapped between two worlds—the love you feel for him, and the reality of what you are to each other.

For now, in the quiet of the night, you let yourself forget. Forget the palace walls, the crown that weighs heavy on his head, the consequences that lurk around every corner.

In this moment, all that matters is him. The way he holds you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his lips press against yours, slow and full of a need that never seems to fade.

But in the back of your mind, you know this will end. It has to. And when it does, it will shatter you both.

The moment you pull away from Loki’s kiss, reality crashes back with a force that steals your breath. His arms still hold you, but the cold bite of the night air seeps in, reminding you of the walls you’re trapped between. You bury your face in his chest, hoping to hide from the truth, but it’s already too late.

A sudden, echoing sound breaks through the quiet—footsteps, distant but approaching. Too close.

Loki stiffens instantly, his body tense and alert. His hand grips your arm as he pulls you further into the shadows, his expression sharp and calculating. Your heart leaps into your throat as panic grips you. Someone’s coming. Someone knows.

“Stay here,” he whispers urgently, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low but firm. “Don’t move.”

“Loki—”

Before you can protest, he slips into the darkness, silent as a shadow. You press yourself against the cold stone wall, your mind racing, every second dragging on as fear gnaws at you. If you’re found here, like this, with him, it will be the end of everything. There’s no escaping the consequences this time.

The footsteps grow louder, and you can’t breathe, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Then, from the shadows, you hear voices—deep and commanding.

Odin.

You nearly sink to the floor in horror, every muscle in your body seizing as the realization crashes over you. Loki’s father, the Allfather himself, is here. And if he’s here…

“Loki,” Odin’s voice booms, sharp and filled with authority, cutting through the night like ice. “Step forward.”

There’s a pause, a silence so thick it’s suffocating. You can barely make out Loki’s form as he steps forward into the light of the courtyard, facing his father. The tension between them is palpable, thick like smoke.

“I wondered where you had slipped away to,” Odin continues, his voice cold, though laced with something dangerous. “Is there a reason you’re skulking about in the shadows like a common thief, my son?”

Loki stands tall, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. You know he’s holding back, trying to mask the fury and fear beneath the surface. “I needed air, Father,” he replies smoothly, though the edge in his voice betrays him. “I find the court’s company rather… tedious.”

Odin’s gaze sharpens, as if he sees right through the lie. “Air, indeed.” His voice lowers, his next words heavy with unspoken meaning. “You’ve been distracted lately. More than usual.”

Your blood runs cold. He knows. He has to know.

“I expect your full attention on the matter at hand,” Odin continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your betrothal must be finalized soon.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Betrothal.

You feel the world tilt beneath your feet, nausea churning in your stomach. Betrothal? What is he talking about?

Loki doesn’t react at first, but you can see the slight twitch in his brow, the flicker of anger that darkens his features.

“There will be no betrothal,” Loki says through clenched teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Odin’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, you hear the warning in his tone. “You have no choice, Loki. As a prince of Asgard, you are bound to your duty. We have an alliance to secure. You will marry Lady Sigyn, and the arrangements will proceed as planned.”

Lady Sigyn. The name rings in your ears like a death knell.

Loki’s jaw tightens, fury flashing across his face. “I won’t be a pawn in your games, Father.”

“You will do what is required of you,” Odin thunders, his voice leaving no room for defiance. “This is not a debate.”

Your legs threaten to give out beneath you, but you force yourself to stay hidden, clutching at the stone wall to keep yourself upright. He’s going to marry someone else. It feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest, the agony too much to bear.

“I don’t care about your alliances or your politics,” Loki spits, his control slipping as the rage breaks through. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think,” Odin snaps, stepping forward, towering over Loki. “You’re blinded by foolishness, by her.”

Her. The word hangs in the air, sharp and cruel.

You.

The blood drains from your face, your heart seizing in panic. Odin knows. He’s known all along.

“This servant girl has no place in your life,” Odin declares, his voice filled with disdain. “She is beneath you, beneath the throne. I will not allow you to throw away your future for something so meaningless.”

Loki’s entire body tenses, fury radiating off him in waves. “She is not meaningless,” he growls, his voice venomous, his control slipping further. “You don’t know anything about what she means to me.”

“And you will forget her,” Odin commands, his tone final and merciless. “If you refuse to do your duty, then she will be sent away, far from Asgard, where you will never see her again.”

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision blurring with unshed tears. He would banish you. Rip you away from Loki, from everything. The love you’ve kept secret, the love that burns so brightly it hurts—destroyed.

“No,” Loki’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. “You can’t take her from me.”

Odin’s eyes blaze with cold fire. “I can. And I will.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t move, don’t breathe, waiting for the moment to shatter. But Loki—Loki steps closer to his father, his eyes burning with defiance.

“If you take her from me,” Loki says quietly, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage, “you’ll lose me too.”

The words hang in the air like a threat, the tension between them palpable, and for a moment, the night itself seems to hold its breath.

But Odin’s face hardens. “You would forsake your family, your throne, for her?”

Loki doesn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched, his breath shallow. Finally, he speaks, his voice low but firm. “I already have.”

Odin stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face, before his expression turns cold, harder than ever. “Then you are no son of mine.”

The words cut deeper than any sword, and you feel the sharp sting of tears spill over as the weight of them sinks in. Loki stands there, frozen for a moment, his face betraying the pain he feels, even if he tries to hide it. Then, without another word, Odin turns and strides away, his footsteps echoing through the night, leaving you and Loki alone in the suffocating silence.

Loki stands there for a long moment, staring at where his father had been, his chest rising and falling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. Then, slowly, he turns to you, his face pale, his eyes dark with anguish.

“I’ve lost him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of his choice is only now sinking in.

You step toward him, your heart breaking for him, for both of you, but the words won’t come. All you can do is reach for him, pulling him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield him from the world crashing down around you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki’s arms wrap around you, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the universe, clinging to each other amidst the wreckage. But you know—deep down—you can’t escape the truth forever.

You’ve both lost too much.

And the worst is yet to come.

The decision gnaws at you for days, eating away at your soul like a poison you can’t expel. Each moment you spend with Loki after that night feels like borrowed time, a dream on the verge of ending. You know what you have to do, but the thought of it turns your stomach, fills you with a dread so deep it feels as if it’s suffocating you.

But you also know why you have to do it.

Loki would never leave you. He would burn the Nine Realms down before he let anyone take you from him. But that’s precisely why you must be the one to leave.

Loki needs his father’s approval more than he’ll ever admit, more than he even realizes. Beneath the layers of defiance, anger, and rebellion, there is still a part of him—perhaps the most fragile part—that craves Odin’s acceptance, his love. You’ve seen the way Loki’s face tightens every time Odin’s words cut too deep, the way his heart breaks a little more with every dismissal. He hides it well from the world, but not from you. Never from you.

And now, because of you, that fragile part of him has been shattered.

The memory of Odin’s voice still echoes in your mind, cold and merciless: “Then you are no son of mine.” You remember the way Loki’s breath caught, the brief flicker of pain that crossed his face before he masked it with anger. But you saw it. You felt it.

This is not what you wanted for him. Not this rift, not this war between him and his father. He’s lost too much already, and you can’t be the reason he loses more. You can’t be the reason he’s torn apart, trying to balance his love for you and his duty to his family.

You make your decision, the weight of it crashing down on you with a finality that leaves you breathless.

You’ll leave. You’ll exile yourself to Midgard—Earth—where no one will find you. Where no one will look. You’ll disappear from his life, make it seem like you were taken, lost, or gone by choice. If he believes you’ve left, if he thinks you’ve moved on, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll do what he must. He’ll marry Lady Sigyn, secure his place as prince, and perhaps… perhaps he’ll finally earn the approval he’s always longed for.

It will destroy you. You know this. But if it saves him, it will be worth it.

That night, you leave without a word.

You wait until the palace is asleep, the halls quiet, only the distant sound of guards patrolling. You know this place too well by now, know the hidden corridors, the back passageways where no one will notice you slipping away. Your heart hammers in your chest, every step feeling heavier than the last, but you push through the pain.

The small bag you carry feels like a weight tethering you to the ground. Inside are only the essentials—things you will need to survive on Earth. It feels wrong, surreal, to leave behind everything you’ve ever known, but it’s a small price to pay for Loki’s future.

As you pass through the courtyard, the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a pale, silver light over Asgard. It feels like the last time you’ll ever see it—your home, the place where you fell in love with a prince you never should have touched. Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

The Bifrost glows in the distance, a beacon of escape, and your steps quicken, though every part of you screams to turn back. You’ll leave through the Bifrost, beg Heimdall to send you to Midgard. You pray he will understand, that he’ll let you go without question.

But as you near the Rainbow Bridge, something stops you in your tracks.

A figure stands in your path, his golden eyes glowing beneath his helm. Heimdall.

You knew he would be here, guarding the way to the other realms, but the intensity of his gaze as it falls upon you makes you falter. He sees everything, knows what you intend before you even speak.

“Heimdall, I—” Your voice trembles, but you force yourself to stand tall, to speak with conviction. “I need you to send me to Midgard. Please.”

Heimdall says nothing at first, his gaze piercing through you, as if reading every secret, every hidden intention behind your eyes. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“Do you truly believe leaving will solve anything?” he asks, his voice low, but full of knowing. “Do you think disappearing will bring him peace?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, biting down the sob that claws its way up your throat. “He can’t lose everything because of me. He needs to stay here. He needs to—”

“To marry another woman and live in misery?” Heimdall’s gaze softens, just barely. “Loki would never forgive himself. Or you.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, trying to keep your voice steady. “He will. In time. He will forget me, and he’ll be what his father wants him to be.”

Heimdall’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a heaviness to his words when he speaks again. “Loki loves you more than you know. His path may be fraught with darkness, but losing you will plunge him deeper into it than you realize.”

You freeze at his words, the full weight of them sinking into your chest. A part of you knows he’s right. Loki’s love for you is boundless, a consuming fire that would burn anything in its path to keep you safe. But that’s why you have to leave. It’s the only way to keep him from losing more than he already has.

“He’ll survive,” you whisper, the words almost breaking you. “He’ll find a way to live without me.”

Heimdall’s gaze holds yours for a long, agonizing moment. “Perhaps. But will you survive without him?”

The question feels like a blow to your chest, and for a moment, the resolve you’ve built crumbles. You can’t imagine a world without Loki. Can’t imagine a life where you don’t feel his hands pulling you close in the dead of night, his voice whispering your name like a sacred thing.

But that’s why you have to do this.

“I have to try,” you choke out, your tears finally falling freely. “He needs his family. He needs his father. He needs to be what Asgard wants him to be.”

Heimdall watches you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with something that looks almost like sorrow. But then, slowly, he steps aside, clearing your path to the Bifrost.

“If this is your choice,” he says quietly, “I will not stop you.”

You stare at the shimmering path before you, the way to Midgard open, the escape you so desperately sought now within reach. But now that you’re standing on the brink of it, your heart feels like it’s being torn in two.

Without another word, you take a step forward, and then another. Each step feels heavier than the last, like your heart is shattering with every inch you put between yourself and Asgard—between yourself and him.

Just as you reach the edge of the Bifrost, you stop, one final thought seizing you.

Loki will wake, and he’ll look for you. He’ll search every corner of the realm, desperate to find you, to pull you back into his arms. But you won’t be there.

You press a hand to your chest, willing the pain to subside, but it only deepens. And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you step into the beam of light and let it take you.

As you’re pulled toward Midgard, the last image that flashes in your mind is Loki’s face—his eyes, his smile, the way he said your name like a promise.

And then it’s gone, along with everything you ever knew.

The moment Loki wakes, something feels wrong. The cold weight of the bed beside him, where you should be, is empty. His hand moves to the space where you usually lie, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but there’s nothing. The absence hits him like a sudden plunge into icy water, and panic claws at his chest.

“Y/N?”

His voice echoes in the room, but only silence answers.

He sits up quickly, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes scan the dimly lit chamber, searching for any sign of you—your cloak tossed on a chair, your hairpin on the table, anything. But the room is empty. Too empty. His gut twists as dread coils within him.

You’ve vanished.

He throws on his cloak and storms out of the room, a desperate, wild energy propelling him forward. His mind races, a hundred possibilities flashing through his head, each worse than the last. Where could you have gone? You wouldn’t leave him without saying anything. You wouldn’t.

He searches the palace, every hallway, every hidden alcove where you might have retreated. Each passing minute tightens the vice around his heart, and a dark, sickening fear begins to take root.

It’s only when he reaches the gardens that he spots Heimdall, standing still, his gaze fixed far beyond the realm of Asgard.

“Where is she?” Loki demands, his voice sharp, though beneath it, there’s a tremor of fear. “Heimdall, where is she?”

The gatekeeper’s golden eyes shift toward him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of sympathy, a look that confirms Loki’s worst suspicions.

“She’s gone,” Heimdall says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow.

Loki’s heart plummets, the ground seeming to tilt beneath him. “Gone?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Where?”

Heimdall doesn’t answer immediately, but the silence speaks volumes. Loki’s eyes narrow, anger flashing in them like a storm. “Where?”

“Midgard,” Heimdall finally says, the word falling between them like a death sentence. “She left… to spare you.”

The words don’t register at first. Loki stares at Heimdall, his mind struggling to make sense of it. You… left? To spare him? It feels impossible, unreal, like some cruel trick the Norns themselves had spun just to watch him unravel.

“She left because she believed it would save you,” Heimdall continues, his voice gentle but firm. “To make you fulfill your duty. To win back your father’s approval.”

Loki’s body goes rigid, his chest tightening painfully as the full weight of it hits him. You’d left him. You’d sacrificed yourself, your happiness, to give him something he never even wanted—a hollow peace with his father, a loveless marriage that would tie him to a woman he didn’t care for.

“No…” The word tumbles from his lips, broken, as if by saying it, he could undo the truth. “No, she wouldn’t… she couldn’t…” But even as he says it, he knows it’s exactly what you would do. You would throw yourself into the abyss if it meant saving him, even if it destroyed you in the process.

The pain is unbearable. The thought of you, alone on Midgard, thinking that leaving was the only way to save him—it rips through him like a blade. His vision blurs, the edges of his world collapsing in on itself. He turns on his heel, moving before he even knows what he’s doing.

He’ll find you. He’ll bring you back. Nothing will stop him. Not his father, not this cursed marriage, not the Nine Realms themselves.

But just as he storms toward the Bifrost, the familiar voice of his mother stops him in his tracks.

“Loki.”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm, and when he turns to face her, her expression is filled with concern, with sadness. “I know what you’re thinking, but you cannot go after her.”

“Why not?” Loki snaps, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. “Why should I stay here and let her go? I won’t.”

Frigga steps closer, her eyes searching his face. “Because your father has commanded it. And because you must meet Lady Sigyn today. The arrangements have already been made.”

Loki’s blood runs cold. Sigyn. His betrothed. The woman he’s being forced to marry.

His fists clench at his sides, his mind screaming at him to refuse, to defy his father’s every order, but the weight of his mother’s words, of Odin’s power over him, crashes down like a hammer. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—trapped between the burning desire to chase after you and the crushing reality of his duty.

“I can’t,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I can’t marry her, Mother. Not when—”

Frigga’s hand rests gently on his arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I know, my son. But for now, you must.”

The meeting with Lady Sigyn is nothing short of torturous.

The grand hall where the introductions take place feels stifling, every gilded surface mocking him, every face around the table a reminder of the farce he’s being forced to play. Lady Sigyn stands before him, dressed in the finest Asgardian silks, her long blonde hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. She is every inch the perfect noblewoman, her posture elegant, her beauty undeniable.

But Loki can’t see her. Not really.

Every time his eyes fall on her, all he sees is you. Your laugh, your touch, your smile when you tease him in private moments. Every word Sigyn speaks fades into background noise, drowned out by the memories of your voice, the softness of it when you whispered his name in the dark.

“I hope this union will bring peace to our realms,” Sigyn says, her voice calm, rehearsed, a woman born to play this role. She speaks of duty and honor, of the alliance their marriage will secure.

Loki nods, his jaw tight, but his mind is a thousand miles away.

He remembers how you would laugh at the absurdity of formalities, how you would roll your eyes at the very thought of grand speeches like this. You were never afraid to speak your mind to him, never afraid to push him, to make him feel real. Sigyn’s words, though perfectly crafted, feel like ash in his mouth, a hollow echo of something he cannot connect to.

When she reaches for his hand, Loki almost recoils, the touch foreign, unwelcome. He lets her take it, but it’s wrong. Her fingers feel cold, delicate but empty. They’re not your hands, not the hands he’s craved, not the touch he would burn worlds for.

The more Sigyn speaks, the more unbearable it becomes. Her beauty, her grace, her calm demeanor—it’s everything Asgard expects of its princess. But Loki doesn’t want perfection. He doesn’t want her. He wants the fire, the passion, the laughter that only you could bring him.

He wants you.

As the meeting drags on, Loki’s mind spirals, twisting in on itself. How could he be standing here, listening to the woman he’s supposed to marry, when the only woman who truly owns his heart is gone? He doesn’t care about alliances, about politics, about securing his place in Asgard. All of it is meaningless without you.

The pain of your absence is suffocating, a wound that will never heal. You, who sacrificed everything for him, who left so that he might live the life Odin had planned for him. And now he’s here, going through the motions, trapped in a future that feels like a prison.

Sigyn’s voice fades again, and all Loki can think of is finding you, holding you in his arms, telling you that he doesn’t care about his father’s approval. That he would give up his throne, his title, everything — if only you would come back to him.

Because without you, none of it means anything at all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s strange, this new life you’ve carved out for yourself on Midgard.

At first, it was jarring—too quiet, too mundane, and too empty. The absence of Asgard's grand halls, the shimmering skies, the bustling sounds of a realm so unlike this one… and the absence of him. The silence was the worst part. You had grown so used to Loki’s presence—his wry comments, his wit, the way his voice could fill any room, soft yet commanding. The nights felt impossibly long without his warmth beside you.

But eventually, you adapted. You had to.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months, and you forced yourself to settle into this new reality. You found a job—something simple, something that kept your mind busy and your hands occupied, so you wouldn’t think too much about what you left behind. The people here were kind, in a way that felt foreign but comforting. They didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you came from, and for that, you were grateful.

But no matter how much time passed, there was always a hollow space inside you, a part of you that felt incomplete. You could pretend, most days, that you were fine—that you had made peace with your decision. But every now and then, when you walked home alone, when you lay in your bed at night staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest would return, sharp and unforgiving.

You still thought of him. You wondered how he was, whether he’d married Sigyn, whether he had found some semblance of happiness without you. Whether he had moved on.

Whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

It’s been a long day at work, and your legs ache as you make your way up the stairs to your small apartment. The autumn air is crisp, the streets of Midgard quiet and peaceful as you climb the last few steps, your breath coming out in small clouds. You fumble with your keys as you unlock the door, mind drifting to the usual thoughts of dinner and maybe a long bath.

You push the door open, kicking it shut behind you with a sigh of relief, and set your bag down. The apartment is dark, just as you left it this morning. You reach for the light switch, but before your fingers even touch it, you feel it.

The presence.

A chill runs down your spine. You know this feeling—the prickle of awareness, the way the air seems to shift around you. It’s the feeling of someone powerful, someone familiar, watching you. Your heart races as you turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

He’s there.

Loki stands in the corner of your apartment, bathed in shadows, but there’s no mistaking him. His tall, lean frame, his raven hair falling just past his shoulders, and those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight through you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You can’t think.

It’s like he’s stepped out of a dream—one you’ve had so many times it hurts. But this… this is no dream.

“Loki…” His name slips from your lips, a whisper, a question, a prayer all at once.

He doesn’t move at first, just watches you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something darker, more raw than you’ve ever seen before.

“You left,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. There’s no anger in it, no accusation, but the pain beneath the words is unmistakable. “You left without telling me.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. There’s so much you want to say, so much you need to explain, but the words stick in your throat. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. All the reasons, all the justifications you told yourself back then seem to crumble in the face of his presence.

“I…” You force the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

Loki steps forward, and in the dim light, you can see the shadows under his eyes, the way his face is drawn, as though he hasn’t slept in days—weeks, maybe. There’s a desperation in his movements, a restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Had to?” His voice is sharper now, the hurt lacing every syllable. “You had to disappear? You had to leave me without a word, without a trace, as if we meant nothing to each other?”

You flinch at the raw pain in his words, and your heart aches with the weight of it. You take a step toward him, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. Loki, you have to understand—I thought I was doing what was best for you. Your father, the marriage… I couldn’t stand in the way of your future. I couldn’t be the reason you lost everything.”

Loki’s eyes flash with something fierce, something bordering on rage. “My future?” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, hollow sound. “You think any of that matters to me without you? You think I would trade you for a throne I never wanted? For a father’s approval that means nothing to me?”

You stare at him, frozen, your mind reeling. “But… I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he cuts in, his voice hard, but his eyes soften as they lock onto yours. “I didn’t want any of it. Not the marriage, not Asgard’s politics, not my father’s favor. All I ever wanted was you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The words you longed to hear, the ones you feared you never would—they hang in the air between you, heavy with truth and regret.

“Loki…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I… I left so you could be free.”

“Free?” His eyes darken, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that the familiar scent of him—magic, leather, and something inherently Loki—wraps around you like a fog. “I’ve never been more imprisoned than in the moment you were gone.”

You blink back tears, your vision blurring as his words sink in. The months of separation, of silence, of convincing yourself you were doing the right thing—it all unravels in a single moment.

“I thought I was saving you,” you confess, your voice cracking. “I thought I was doing what was right.”

Loki’s hands reach out, and before you can even process it, his fingers are gently cupping your face, his touch so familiar, so warm. “You were always what was right,” he murmurs, his voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t want their approval. I didn’t want their expectations. All I wanted was you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, and before you know it, you’re collapsing into his arms, the months of pain and loneliness crashing down all at once. He pulls you close, his grip tight, as if afraid you’ll vanish again if he lets go. His lips press against your hair, your temple, every touch a reassurance that he’s here—that this is real.

“I searched everywhere for you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I tore through realms to find you. And now that I have, I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.”

You cling to him, your face buried in his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The weight of your decision, the months of agony, seem to melt away in his embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Loki,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that undoes you. “You don’t need to be. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

And as his lips meet yours in a kiss that is both desperate and gentle, filled with all the words that were left unsaid, you know he’s right.

The decision isn’t made lightly, but once Loki has you back in his arms, there’s no going back. Not to Asgard’s grand halls, not to the suffocating weight of duty, and certainly not to the life his father had tried to carve out for him. He’s already wasted too much time, bound by the expectations of others.

So he stays. On Midgard. With you.

It’s a wild, audacious choice—and exactly the kind of thing Loki would do.

The transition, however, is a bit… rocky.

A few days after he’s settled into your apartment, you come home from work to find him sitting on the couch, staring at the TV remote like it’s some kind of strange artifact. He holds it up the moment you walk in.

“What is this infernal device?” he asks, his voice laced with frustration, as if the small piece of plastic has personally wronged him. “I’ve been trying to command this ‘box of illusions’ to show me something worth watching for hours!”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as you take off your coat. “That’s… a TV remote, Loki. You’re supposed to press the buttons, not talk to it.”

His brow furrows, clearly unimpressed. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, tossing the remote aside with a look of disdain. “Why should I be at the mercy of these buttons when I have the power to bend reality?”

“Because,” you say, walking over to him and taking a seat on the couch, “here on Midgard, we use buttons. And reality-bending might raise some eyebrows with the neighbors.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue, though you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Midgardians and their absurd contraptions…” he mutters under his breath, but then he turns to you, his expression softening as he reaches for your hand. “At least you’re worth all of this.”

You can’t help but smile, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I’m glad you think so.”

The adjustment to Midgardian life isn’t just about TV remotes, though. Loki, for all his godlike powers and silver-tongued brilliance, is… well, a little out of his element in this new world.

For instance, grocery shopping.

The first time you take him to a supermarket, he stands in the produce aisle, staring at the variety of fruits and vegetables as if they’ve personally offended him.

“Why are there so many kinds of apples?” he demands, picking up a Granny Smith and inspecting it with suspicion. “What is the difference between this and the others?”

“They’re just different types, Loki,” you explain, grabbing a couple of apples and putting them in your basket. “You’ll get used to it.”

He narrows his eyes, still unconvinced, before tossing the apple back into the pile. “Midgard is an odd place.”

But despite his grumbling, you can tell he’s slowly warming up to it. There’s a lightness to him now that you haven’t seen in so long. A freedom. Without Asgard’s heavy expectations looming over him, Loki is… different. Lighter. Happier.

Of course, he still has his dramatic moments.

One evening, you come home to find Loki pacing the living room with a determined look on his face, wearing your floral apron—the one with little daisies on it—while holding a spatula like it’s a weapon of great importance.

“Darling,” he declares the moment you walk through the door, “I have decided to master the art of Midgardian cuisine.”

You blink at him, trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard, dressed in a flowery apron and looking deadly serious. “Is that so?”

He nods gravely. “Indeed. You deserve the finest of meals, prepared by the finest of hands.” He pauses, glancing toward the kitchen with a frown. “However, these ‘instructions’ you provided me with are… unnecessarily complicated.”

You peer into the kitchen, where you spot an open cookbook lying on the counter, pages spattered with flour and other mysterious substances. Loki has clearly attempted something—whether it’s edible or not is another question.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer to inspect the chaos. “What exactly were you trying to make?”

“Something called… spaghetti?” He says the word like it’s in another language, which, technically, it is. “It seemed simple enough, but this… pasta refused to cooperate.”

You stifle a laugh, eyeing the pot of overcooked noodles sitting in the sink. “I think you might’ve boiled it a little too long.”

“Too long?” Loki frowns, clearly offended by the suggestion. “It was behaving most stubbornly. I merely asserted my dominance.”

“That’s… not how cooking works, Loki.”

He huffs, folding his arms. “Midgardian food is clearly inferior. I’ll never understand why you enjoy it so much.”

You chuckle, reaching up to wipe a streak of flour from his cheek. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

He leans into your touch, his frustration melting away as he pulls you into his arms. “For you, I would do far worse than battle rebellious pasta.”

“I know,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But maybe we should just order pizza.”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “If we must.”

Despite the quirks and the occasional mishap, there’s something incredibly sweet about watching Loki navigate this new life. He’s traded his princely titles and royal duties for quiet evenings with you, for late-night walks through the city, for the simple joy of waking up next to you without the weight of Asgard on his shoulders.

And it’s not just about what he’s given up—it’s about what he’s gained. Here, with you, he’s free to be himself, without the judgment of his father or the expectations of the court. He’s no longer Loki, the Trickster Prince. He’s just… Loki.

And as the two of you sit together on the couch, sharing a pizza (which Loki begrudgingly admits is quite good), he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice warm and low, “I never thought I could be happy like this. But you… you make everything worth it.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “I feel the same way.”

There’s a moment of quiet, the two of you just enjoying each other’s presence. And then Loki, ever the trickster, grins down at you.

“But I am going to master that television contraption,” he says, his tone utterly serious. “It will not defeat me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, Loki.”

And as the night stretches on, with him beside you, you realize that this—this simple, beautiful life—is more than you ever dreamed of. It’s not the palace of Asgard or the grandeur of the realms, but it’s yours. And that’s all that matters.

Because as long as you’re with Loki, wherever you are, it will always feel like home.

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whisperingthorns · 2 months ago

Text

(Yandere Ticci Toby x Reader) Charmed by Shadows

Chapter 1: A Glimpse in the Shadows

__________________

Silence. Toby walked through the woods leaves crunching under his feet. He was looking at the floor, looking at the little bugs scuttle through the leaves. Tobias Roger’s was a quiet man. At least today he was. He paused watching a bug crawl under a leaf. It had been a couple weeks since he arrived in the town of Ravenwood in Maine.

Masky and Hoodie were not to come to this mission. So it was just Tobias by himself today…and everyday for the year he supposed. This mission should take some time. A whole year old solitude? Slender should know better then to leave the unstable Proxy alone. He didn’t wanna seem like pussy though. He took it. The job that is.

Though for the past couple weeks he’s been plagued by this dream. Sometimes it was a nice dream, other times he woke up crying. The dream is stupid. Too stupid to even write in his journal. It’s about a princess who sits and talks with him. Sometimes he pushes her on a swing, sometimes he eats her cooking for a picnic, it’s always in the woods though. He’s heard tales of the fae and such, maybe that’s what she is? It just feels so real. He just sits there and talks, even about problems he has in his waking life and she always manages to make him feel better. He wonders if maybe he’s developing a new disorder and she’s a figment that will manifest herself eventually.

Toby’s face snaps to the side when he hears a noise, much like singing. Singing? In the woods? What is this? A Disney movie? Toby shuffles to the tree line. Toby’s face scrunches up when he sees her, the girl practically skipping through the path in the woods, ignoring how it pretty much ending a couple yards back. She had to know that right. She was wearing and dress, once he recognized but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Having nothing better to do, Toby took a seat and watched her pass, fingers pulling up the grass as he fiddled with it.

Her dress flowed around her perfectly. Her black shoes kicking up dirt. She had to be around the same age as him, but the way she was acting was a bit childish to say the least. Toby thought about running from the brush and burying a hatchet in his skull, hearing her scream, and look up at him in her final moments, the dark red ruining her dress forever. ‘Pretty girl.’ He thought giving a grin. ‘Wonder how long it takes for anyone to notice she’s missing. Will anyone come looking for her? Prince Charming perhaps?’ If this was a fairytale, he wondered what role that would make him. Certainly not the hero.

Tobias wasn’t the hero in anyone’s story. Not even his own. Especially not hers. However Tobias didn’t kill for no reason. He’s seen the stories online. The fanfiction they write, but he also sees what some of the public thinks of him. He wasn’t any hero. Though sometimes he liked to google his own name he found interesting things. From old articles to art, to fanfiction of him rescuing forgotten and abused like him. Bring them with him. Toby wondered if he would have felt that way if he wasn’t involved in the debacle. Would he wish the slenderman take him too? Would he leave his window open and still draw the proxy symbol on his wrists in hopes he would be rescued?

Must be horrible to realize that the faceless man wouldn’t ever show up. He was picky. The girl was looking at something on a tree now, some sort of bird. She was delighted when it came closer. “Bitch has never se-seen a bird b-before” No but seriously what was her deal? She’s in the woods…alone…in a dress…playing with birds. How does she know someone like him won’t come up and…lift that pretty dress? Toby thought about shoving her up against the tree, teasing her a bit. He shook the thought away. Gross. You shouldn’t think that way about random girls in the woods. Wow that’s a sentence. Random girl in the woods…he looked her over again. He really could kill her here.

Toby got up, gripping his hatchet. She was so unsuspecting. He was literally feet from her. Him! A killer! A proxy! She wasn’t even sensing his presence. It was like watching a suspecting deer through a sniper scope.

Suddenly Toby threw the hatchet, and it catch the girl in the throat, her eyes widened, blood pouring from her neck as the bird flew from her finger, and she collapsed to the ground. Jerking as her eyes wildly searched the sky. As if asking why this had happened? Why her? Who would come to look for her rotting corpse?

Toby blinked, coming back to reality, the girl was throwing bird feed on the ground so they would gather around her. It was a boring scene really. Except for her. How can someone be so dumb? In the woods all alone…feeding the birds…it was kinda…it was kinda cute. Toby stopped picking the grass and watched. How sweet. He wanted to go up and say something. Something mean for some reason.

‘Those birds don’t even like you. They just like that you’re giving them food’ He wanted to say. Yeah. What did she think she was special? That she was some sort of princess of the forest? Who the fuck did she think she was? Waltzing in her all happy, feeding he birds. After this she’s probably gonna go home and eat a hot dinner…with family that probably actually likes her and doesn’t kill people for a living. Probably go and do whatever she wants tomorrow too because she doesn’t have a faceless man pulling her along like a puppet.

If only those kids who left their windows open and drew things on their hands knew what it was like: The life of a proxy. Sure he saved Toby but if Toby could just do it again he wouldn’t go with him. Toby would just burn and die. End of story. The girl seemed to finish. She stood. She left.

Only cause Toby let her.

‘Yeah.’ He told himself. ‘Only cause I let her!’ He started picking at his nails, feeling a little frustrated. Ignored even. How could she not know he was right here? Whatever. He started to bite his nails, and knew he went too far when he tasted blood. Oops. He wiped it on his dirty jeans.

…

Toby quickly made his way through the trees silently, wondering if he could catch up with her, and he did! She had stopped to feed a bunny. Who weirdly enough didn’t seem that scared of her. The bunny nuzzled her hand and she laughed. Her laughter, soft and sweet like birdsong, drifted through the air, making his heart pound in a way that felt almost… painful. Toby didn’t deserve to hear it, but he stayed hidden among the trees, selfishly drinking it in.

He knew he recognized the sound from somewhere, and now that he was getting a good look at her (e/c) eyes and sweet smile everything clicked.

The princess! From his dreams! The one he saves all the time and talks to. He actually almost stood to call out to her before he realized that he was being unreasonable. They probably just looked similar! That girl was just a figment of his mind he can’t just talk to every girl that looks like her.

⦻

After the next few weeks Toby watched. When he finished the mission he needed for that day, he would quickly dash to her house. She was a simple girl with a simple routine. Tobias loved simple really. His life was anything but. She walks the same path everyday it turns out, just to sit at that rickety old bench. He also picked up on some of her mannerisms. Like how when she’s happy she tends to skip and lean on the balls of her feet, almost like a bird about to take flight, but hesitant to do so? If that makes sense. When she’s stressed or frustrated she walks flat but not just flat it’s almost like slap to the floor. When she sad she tends to mess with her hair a lot. A nervous habit he supposed. She also hums or sings to herself a lot. It sounds…wonderful.

Toby has heard plenty of nice voices before but her voice…it wasn’t just nice or beautiful it was almost…haunting. Like it was something he wasn’t even supposed to be hearing in the first place. As if she was calling to creatures that didn’t exist in this worldly plane. It made his head buzz. In a weird way.

Anyway, he was happy for her carefree nature because it made it incredibly easy to follow from day to day. She never saw him, not really. Sometimes, she’d pause, her head tilting as if she sensed something—or someone—just out of view. But Toby was good at hiding, blending into the shadows like smoke, his eyes never leaving her.

Sometimes, when he was feeling brave, he’d clean himself up, and slap a bandage over the gaping hole in face, he’d even run an old brush through his hair, and wash it, he’d wash his clothes, and head out into town where she was. He would walk past where she was, his head down, their arms just barely brushing, it made Toby’s skin tingle with excitement. Sometimes when she was with her friends, he’d stand nearby and stare if they were distracted enough.

One time, he slipped up. He was doing his usual routine. She was at the arcade with her friend. A male friend but from observation Tobias knew they were nothing more than that. Toby loved the arcade…used to go all the time before the incident.

…

Toby watched as she encouraged her friend ‘Moon’ to win her a prize at the claw game. (Who names their fucking kid that by the way? ‘Moon’ it’s gotta be a nickname right?) That’s when it happened…right there.

Through the glass, through the moving claw, through the people passing through, she looked up once, then a second..very briefly, she locked eyes with him. For the briefest of moments, her gaze brushed his, a spark of recognition flaring in her eyes before it faded. She didn’t know him, not yet—but he could feel the connection, thrumming beneath his skin like a secret waiting to be told. Toby felt his face burn. ‘Moon’ cheered and held up a stuffed animal. “I GOT ONE! (Y/N), I GOT ONE!” (Y/n)….Tobys eyes glazed over.

That was the first time she had even actually seen him. He was watching her again the next day in the forest, she made her way back to that bench she liked so much…he was thinking about cleaning it for her. It was sunny day today, hot one would say. Tobias couldn’t tell. He can’t feel pain, he also can’t feel temperature. Seeing her in the sundress not only made his heart pound, but reminded him to remove his jacket. Masky wasn’t here to rudely yank it off in reminder so he had to be careful not to overheat. Someone would have called the scene beautiful. Sunlight peeking through the trees, leaves fluttered in the wind, bird sung at the new day.

Tobias, hidden away, felt detached from it all. Like all the dark spots of the forest floor were only meant for him. While she deserved to stay in the sunshine…The forest was alive with warmth and light, but all Toby could focus on was her—how she glided through the golden beams, her hands brushing the leaves like they belonged to her. His world had shrunk to the size of her silhouette.

His fingers curled, digging into the bark of the tree as she tilted her head back to laugh at something he couldn’t hear. He wanted to be closer—to hear it, to see her smile up close—but he stayed rooted in place, afraid of what might happen if he dared to step into the light.

He stood, like a frozen statue, waiting, watching…longing…needing. It felt like a need. Like when he needed to drink or eat. When was the last time he ate again? He remembered (Y/n) had french toast for breakfast and spaghetti for dinner last night while she watched her shows and played…sims? (Honestly the things she was doing in that game would be considered questionable but he wasn’t too worried about that while he watched her giggle….and trap random men in her basement it seems.) Just as he came to the conclusion that his last meal was two days ago he saw her stand to leave, slipping away as the wind picked up, slipping the the ribbon out of her hair without realizing it.

As soon as you were out of sight Toby dashed into the clearing, tripping over a root as he did and taking a tumble and grabbing the ribbon into his fist. He laid in the leaves as he looked at it, clutched in his fist, the sun shining down on him as he grinned widely. The fresh baby blue contrasting against his pale gray skin. It’s a sign. A sign of the secret bond between she doesn’t realize they share. Yeah…maybe she dropped it on purpose. Or maybe whatever fucked up force that ruined Toby’s life was trying to gift him something.

Either way it was his now.

And so were you.

(If you guys could comment or just interact that be great I’d love to hear feedback or just parts you liked 🩷🎀 Helps me keep writing if you want another chapter Thank you darlings)

Edit: New chapter coming out Friday, September 27th for those who are interested.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #yandere creepypasta #yandere ticci toby #tobias erin rogers #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #Spotify #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere ticci tobi

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yoonia · 2 months ago

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Ever A Never After: Act 2 (1)

⟶ Chapter Summary | Some say fate can be a cruel thing. Yet you never knew how true it was until fate played a hand in your bad luck. Merely moments before your happily ever after, you are suddenly sent out to a weird place. A different world. You wonder if this is a test from fate to see if you are truly deserving of your happy ending, or if perhaps fate wants to show you something else. Something that fate wishes you to learn before you can finally move on to take the next step towards your happiness.

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com ⟶ Word count | 15,410 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; slow burn, mentions of curses, black magic, theft, law terms. ⟶ Author’s note | Gosh, this took so long to update, and I’m so sorry for that. Act 2 has expanded way beyond planned, so I had to split this into two (shorter) chapters to make it easier to read and for me to edit. Still, this was roughly edited because I’m currently dealing with a lot of stuff (sick cat, health issues, mental block, etc), but I hope you’ll still enjoy reading this.

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𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1. 𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡

Is this a dream?

Am I dreaming?

You have to be dreaming. You are sure of it. Because there could be no other way to explain what is happening now.

But what exactly happened?

Just moments ago, you were standing in front of the most exquisite fountain you have ever seen, marvelling at its beauty—the artistic carvings around the pool, the crystal-like water flowing in slow ripples, and the waterfall that seemed to have manifested from the palace’s walls. You had gotten completely enchanted by the sight of the fountain that you were already drowning in it even before you fell straight into it.

That’s right. I fell into the fountain. But how did I fall?

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, most likely due to shock. All you can remember is that at one moment, you were standing there, watching the cascading water that appeared like a crystal veil falling into a pool of clear, silvery water, and then the next, you felt like gravity became stilted and you started falling.

You remember the sound of the water splashing and crashing all around you. And then came the cold. The water felt like ice as it engulfed you, adding weight to your dress as it soaked all over the fabric which was dragging you deeper, bringing you down, and down, with not a sign of you reaching the end of this fall anytime soon.

Is there really no end to this pool? Where is the bottom?

It seems odd to think that the pool you have fallen into could be this deep. You are quite sure you could see the bright white marble stone at the bottom of the pool when you were marvelling at the fountain earlier, and it didn’t seem to be this deep.

But even weirder is the fact that your dress. Despite having been soaked with water earlier, the dress is no longer drenched. Neither is your hair. Your body is dry, even when you still feel cold. Real cold. As if you are being embraced entirely with ice.

All while you are continuously falling. Still falling. With nothing embracing your fall no matter how much time seems to have passed since.

Turning to look down below, you can only see nothingness. The sight of endless darkness surrounds you from all sides and corners. All except one. Darkness is not the only thing that you see as you fall, as the part of the waterfall you saw at the fountain is here with you; a veil made up of crystal-like water cascading right beside you, an extension of the falling water you saw right before your fall.

How odd, you wonder, as you try to reach out to it as you continue falling. The waterfall seems to magically continue into the darkness beyond. As if there is no end to it.

Just like how there seems to be no end to your descent.

This is it, isn’t it? This is the end. You cannot help but wonder, finding no other way except to give in to fate. Instead of panicking and feeling terrified, for some reason, you find calmness. Calm enough to choose to touch the endless waterfall, feeling its icy stream with the tips of your fingers, instead of looking into the dark to embrace your final moment.

“So beautiful,” you whisper as rainbow colours magically appear in the water at the touch of your fingers. Sparks seem to spread into your skin as the water sprinkles out of the waterfall, splashing gently around your hand. “How lovely, it—oh!”

All of a sudden, everything comes to a sudden halt. Pain spreads through the side of your body—from your shoulders and down to your hip—as you fall onto a hard surface. Groaning in pain, you make no effort to move. Not until the throbbing ache begins to ebb.

Pressing your palm down, you nearly flinch instead of finding steadiness. The ground beneath you feels as cold as ice. It feels beyond uncomfortable, yet you try to hold the displeasure and push yourself up to sit.

The first thing you notice as you look around is the way your skirt is splayed widely on the ground. A stark white that glows like moonlight against the dark void that forms the solid ground beneath you which seemed to have manifested out of the darkness.

The wall of incandescent water is now gone. Only the darkness remains, blending into the midnight-coloured ground going as far as your eyes can see.

Confusion plagues you. Instead of feeling any hint of fear, you feel somewhat serene. As if the shadow around you has not only swallowed down all the lights, but also your frazzled thoughts.

And yet your senses are clear. Enough to allow you to see it when the light suddenly appears amongst the endless layer of shadow around you.

Just like the wall of water which accompanies your fall, this light is filled with tiny sparks, floating in the air like little stars you see in the night sky. Slowly, you begin crawling towards it, worrying that your legs would fail you should you dare to try and rise on your feet.

From up close, you can see clearly that the sparkle of lights is, in fact, not actual stars. They are simply fractures of light filtering through small apertures formed between and around an iron plate that seems to have manifested on the center of the midnight-coloured ground.

Leaning down, you try to take a peek into where the lights are coming from. Except that the opening is too small for you to see anything clearly. Still, you can hear sounds—steady murmurs with sometimes a few indiscernible shouts echoing through the unseen space beneath you, rapid footsteps and rustles of hard materials crossing the opposite side of the ground, an irregular current of rumbling and wheels that sound larger and heavier than the wheels of horse carriages that you are most accustomed to hearing, and loud horns blaring from every corner.

Feeling hope clawing in your chest that you may find your exit beyond this iron plate, you sit back up and begin tracing the edges, looking for something to hold. A touch of a small gap on the outer rim of the plate tells you where to place a grip. With the tips of your fingers, you gently press and slip them into the gap, hoping that you can pry it open.

It takes some effort, but you finally manage to slide the heavy iron plate aside. A strong breeze immediately filters through the opening. A breeze that feels nothing like what you remember back home.

It feels warm, but with barely a hint of the fresh air filled with the scent of pine and clear water that you are accustomed to. Instead, the air feels dry, mixed in with smoke and dust and a tad smell of must which makes your throat grow tight and you find it hard to breathe. Coughing up, you suddenly feel as if the ground beneath you is tilting over, your body being pulled into the opening by invisible threads. The force is so strong that you cannot fight it, unable to stop your body from submerging into the hole.

Or, in this case, emerge.

Because the moment you open your eyes again, you are pulling yourself out of the opening. The world on the other side of the hole seems to be inverted, everything held upside down with gravity pulling you down in the wrong direction. What you had thought to be the bottom turns out to be a bright sky, the sunlight shining so brightly that it hurts your eyes.

Your legs are trembling when you step out of the hole, your heels almost slipping on the hard ground that is lighter than the ground where you had landed on from your fall, the surface uneven and rugged.

Your body feels stilted as it defies gravity, and it takes some time before you can finally regain your bearings. A struggle made by being instantly overwhelmed with a myriad of sensations coming over you—the air that feels too warm and the sunlight that seems too bright after being stuck in the dark for a long while, the loud noises reverberating in the space around you, and the rush that seems to be happening everywhere you look.

Where—where am I? What is this place?

Shaking your head, you wonder if you are simply imagining things or perhaps you are dreaming. Because this place looks nothing like Andalasia.

The road where you are standing isn’t made of cobblestones and gravel. Instead of trees, you see buildings in various shapes, sizes, and colours. Buildings that seem taller than Castle Andalasia and its towers or even the enigmatic witch tower you had once seen during your trip across the woodlands.

Some of these buildings are even sparkling under the sunlight, as if they are enchanted with spells and light magic in various colours. With crystals that are covering half of their bodies and lights illuminating even under the bright sun. Lights that appear like stars and rainbows glitter onto the streets below, flashing luminous colours onto the people passing by as if they are blessed with magic.

And there are so many people around you—walking up and down the road, across the street. Some are rushing in quick footsteps, while others are walking leisurely as they admire the buildings and the bright, colourful lights glimmering from around them. Many are dressed funnily, with only a few wearing dresses and suits like the townspeople of Andalasia who you often met when you were with your grandmother tending her shop downtown.

But most baffling is the sight of numerous carriages appearing in odd shapes and various flashy colours, all seeming to have been crafted with metal, driving up and down the main road without a single sight of horses pulling them. You watch as some of those metal carriages are stuck before turning to a different road, and the sound of the horns you heard earlier starts blaring all around you.

What are those things? What kind of magic exists here?

“Excuse me, Ma’am? You’re not allowed to be here.”

A deep voice startles you, drawing a squeal out of your lips. Turning around, you see four men coming towards you. Four large men, all of them wearing similar clothing. Chest coverings in the shade of tangerine and sunflowers which look like those vests that knights would wear under their armours, only thinner and frail, barely a protection against threats. And just like some knights you once saw patrolling across the rise around Castle Andalasia, the men are wearing helmets that reflect the sunlight. Except they don’t protect the men’s faces the way they should have, making you wonder if they might be a different type of knights which you had never met before.

“Ma’am?” One of the men calls out when you fail to answer. But it isn’t his voice that snaps you out of your stunned silence. It is how the man is leaning close to you, looking at you with an odd look on his face—as if you are some kind of a wild creature coming from the forest.

“I beg your pardon?” Your voice comes out thin. Nearly indiscernible among the loud noises coming from all around you.

This seems to surprise the strange man as his gaze softens. So does his voice when he points at what appears to be a line of makeshift fence bordering all around you from the busy road. “This spot is closed. See? We’re doing some work in here and you’re in our way.”

You frantically gaze around, scrutinizing the small things you have failed to take notice of before. Everything is still so confusing and you only end up feeling more lost than ever. Seems like you had emerged in the middle of the road. The metal carriages are driving around you, avoiding the area bordered by the fences circling the spot where you and these men are standing. And it seems that you have garnered some attention, as you watch some people passing by turning to look.

Another man steps closer while looking wary. “Is there a problem, Miss? Why are you in the middle of the road?”

“Oh, um—” Taking a deep breath, you muster calmness before looking back at the men again. “Forgive me, Sir. It appears that I have gotten myself lost. Can you please show me the way to return to Andalasia? I must go back before it’s too late. The ceremony should’ve already started by now but here I am, still—”

“Are you lost, Miss? Are you talking about the ceremony that’s happening today?” A different man takes over this time. Unlike the others, he seems to be more even-tempered, calmer as he speaks, and he isn’t treating you as if you a wild thing to be wary of.

A sigh of relief escapes you as you turn to the third man, finding solace in his presence. “Yes, there’s a ceremony that I must attend, and it’s—”

You suddenly find it hard to continue, unable to openly share your concerns.

How ridiculous does it sound? The bride, losing her way to her own wedding?

You clear your throat and force a smile. “You see, I wasn’t sure where to go with no one to guide me and I suppose I took too many turns to get to the venue that I lost my way.” The words come out of you rapidly in a rush before you can stop them, while the men start looking at each other.

“What ceremony are you talking about?” The first man whispers to the friendly one that you are talking to.

“There’s a party thing going on the block over. Saw guests coming in dressed up in designer dresses and suits earlier like one of those award things. Much fancier than what she’s wearing,” the third man answers as he points at your wedding dress.

Joy bursts through your chest at his words. Elegant dresses and suits fancier than your handmade dress can only mean one thing. Surely, he is talking about the nobbles who were invited by the Queen to attend your wedding with the Prince.

The nicer man of the three looks at you again with a rueful smile. “It isn’t far from here. Do you see those black vans over there? The ones heading down that street?” He points out across the street, where the congested road of metal carriages appears. “Just follow them and you’ll find the venue around the corner. You won’t miss it with all the crowd and paparazzi lining up at the front.”

You have no idea what some of the words he is telling you mean, yet you barely waste any time considering it when your gaze lands on a group of dark-coloured metal carriages driving past the blockage, drawing attention from the crowd surrounding them.

Clasping your hands together, you turn to the man and thank him with a bow. “Then I must not waste more time and make haste. Thank you for your help. It’s so kind of you.”

“Uh, yeah—anytime,” the kind man murmurs absently as he watches you gather your flowy skirt and gracefully turn away to start trudging across the street, following his guide. Barely acknowledging his response when you have your mind busy wondering about those dark carriages and the crowd of people who are watching them go.

Are those some sort of magic carriages coming for the guests?

You find this peculiar, yet pleasantly surprising, as the last time you spoke to the Prince, he spoke about not feeling sure about having many guests attending the wedding ceremony.

“Queen Mother might get anxious about the wedding being so rushed. You wouldn’t mind keeping it small, do you? Mother would be able to use magic to announce the wedding to our neighbouring kingdoms and send out invitations, yet who knows how many would be able to travel to Andalasia on such short notice.”

You still remember that moment—the gentle sway of the horse that the Prince led to walk slower towards your home, the strands of his hair that kept flickering with the breeze, and the flutter rising inside your chest.

You sighed into his embrace, still finding it hard to believe that it wasn’t a dream. That you were talking with the Prince about your wedding. “I don’t mind. As long as we’re together.”

Prince Jungkook laughed softly then. “You make me want to rush the wedding further, Princess.”

The warmth that you felt that day returns just as you remember his smile. So does the flutter in your chest as you think about returning to the Prince so you can marry him. Just as planned. You are lost in the depth of your thoughts as you turn away from the burly men, reminiscing the past that had just ended a day ago—more or less.

A day that feels like forever as you tread carefully down the road, avoiding the carriages that are speeding across and around you, horns and shouts blowing in the air as they drive past by.

Everything seems like a white noise, regardless of how foreign the sounds are to you. They all drown even the loud voices of the burly men that you are leaving behind as they are calling out to you from behind.

“Wait, is she walking? In that dress?” One of the construction workers who had first approached you at the site shouts behind you, baffled as he realises that you are going on foot towards the venue for the movie premier mentioned by his colleague. “Hey, you might want to get an Uber, Miss!”

“Let her be. She’ll probably get there faster than riding a car with all this traffic,” the only oldest one from the group who didn’t make an effort to speak to you comments from the side, already busy continuing the work that he left behind to grab a bit for lunch earlier.

The worker who felt sorry enough to help you ponders over his friend’s comment for a moment as he watches you disappearing among the crowd. “Yeah, you're probably right.” he finally says after pushing down the unease boiling inside him. “Did anyone see where she came from?”

“She was already standing there when I got here,” says the first worker who came back to the renovation site to find you first. He is just about to say something when he suddenly stumbles, barely catching himself from falling when one of his feet slips down into an opening that he failed to notice when he first came in.

“What the fuck—” he curses under his breath once he realises what had almost made him fall over. “Hey, who opened the goddamn sewer? I could’ve broken my neck!”

How long has it been?

How far have I been walking?

Speech has long left you. Your thoughts are barely coherent as time continues to pass by without fail, and you are still out here, stranded in the middle of a city that you cannot recognise as a part of your home.

Home feels so far away.

Especially now that you are starting to believe that you are no longer in Andalasia. Nowhere near enough, that is quite for sure, as there is nothing about this place that comes close to anything that you would normally find back home.

Hours must have passed since you’ve fallen through the fountain and then emerged in this strange place. Wherever this place is. Hours of walking and getting lost in a giant maze that was way more complex and bewildering than the maze of hedges back in the castle.

Hours have definitely passed since you looked up to the sky to see the bright sunlight. Warm as it was after having drowned in the cold shadow that brought you here.

Was it really hours ago when you spoke to those burly men on the road? You wonder to yourself as you look up at the sky, the colours are slowly changing, the white and stark blue in the sky turning warmer as the sun continues to glide lower into the horizon, under the tall buildings that look larger than guard towers.

The place that the kind man had informed you about hadn’t been a part of the castle. Not at all a part of a royal wedding. But your wishful thinking made you believe that you may have gotten through a different entrance gate leading back to the castle when you saw the glorious sight of noblewomen and noblemen walking down a red carpet into what seemed to be some sort of a ball.

The dresses you saw were captivating, more stunning than the dresses you saw worn by the ladies of Andalasia. The men wore breathtaking suits, with colours brighter than what you had ever seen before. Some were even adorned with rare jewels that glowed under the lights as the men walked down the same path covered in red carpet.

You were so enthralled by the sight of them that you didn’t realise being lured to follow them. Stepping closer only led you to be pulled in, drawn into the line of nobbles walking into the venue.

There were also the forces around you which kept pushing you to them—the crowd of people outside of the venue that seemed to be admiring the stunning nobles entering the venue, the flashing lights coming from every corner, blinding your eyes that you couldn’t see where you were being pulled into, and the guards in suits who kept yelling at you to “Keep moving!”

It wasn’t until you were at the door that it was finally made clear to you that you were at the wrong place.

“An—invitation?” You stood by one of the guards who eventually stopped you from going further, baffled when you were suddenly asked for an invitation.

An invitation, to your own wedding?

“Yes, you’re here for the premiere, aren’t you? We need to see your invitation.”

“I’m not—” you looked around, panicked. Your voice weakened when you murmured defeatedly, “I’m supposed to be at the wedding.”

There was something in the guard’s eyes that made your chest clench. A look of pity that you had only once seen from your grandmother when you came home late at night after playing out in the forest too long.

“This is an invitation-only event, so I’m afraid you’re at the wrong place, Miss.” The man turned to another guard then and said something about helping you find an exit without having to go back through the crowd. Yet you barely paid attention to any of it, too distraught about getting stuck at the wrong place when you were running out of time.

“Excuse me, Sir. Can you please show me the direction to Castle Andalasia?”

You tried to ask the guard as he was pushing you out of the exit, who no longer had his attention on you as commotion suddenly started rising from where you first came in. “Keep moving, Miss. You shouldn’t be the way,” he only said before rushing away, leaving you lost and clueless at the exit.

Shaking your head, you try to shut down your thoughts, pushing away the uneasiness that is haunting you and start paying more attention to your surroundings.

You cannot remember half of the journey that took you here after leaving that place. Nothing but a blur of faces and movements, being pushed around amongst the crowd of people and getting too close to danger when you had to dodge the metal carriages rushing through the streets.

The only thing reminding you of how far you have travelled through the city to find your way home is the soreness growing on your legs, the blisters you feel forming on your skin from wearing your heels for too long, and there is no doubt your updo is falling apart, held up merely by the pins from the tiara on your head.

Thinking about your tiara makes you think about your forest friends. You lift your hand to brush against the jewels, reminiscing the sweet moment when your friends helped pin the tiara on top of your head before sending you off for the wedding.

“Oh, my precious angels. I hope you’re all safe,” you whisper, choking with a sob. You wonder where they are, and wonder if they ever got to the wedding spot safely and met the Prince. They must be worried, once they realised you weren’t at the venue when they got there.

Picturing their voices saddens you. You miss their cheerful chitters and squeaks, the little teases they often throw at you just to make you smile. You wrap your arms around yourself as you think about them, wishing that they were here with you instead. How different this would have been if you had them around. Their presence would have been wonderful. Even if they would be just as lot as you are now, at least they could have cheered you up so you wouldn’t lose hope.

Any sliver of hope you had to find your way home was fairly lost some time ago. Even so, you refuse to give up. You cannot give up. It would have been silly for you to simply give up and stop looking for your way home. You are merely lost. The only thing you need is to find the right road to take, and perhaps the right person who would be willing to help you.

Sighing, you feel your hope dwindling even more as you think about finding help.

The people here—they aren’t kind.

Apart from the burly men dressed in bright-coloured vests and oddly shaped knight helmets you met when you first arrived in this strange place, you have yet to find anyone else willing to help, much less to look your way.

Well, some did. Though not all were interested enough to help, quite a few seemed to make a mockery of your wedding dress or were curious about why you were wearing such a dress in the middle of the city. At least, there were a rare few that tried to help you. At least, you want to believe that they meant well, even when they seemed confused.

“Excuse me, could you please show me the direction to Castle Andalasia, please?”

“Excuse me—”

You remember asking, questioning the people you passed by until your voice nearly grew hoarse. And you remember how often you were met with suspicious glances, and wary gazes, before some of the worn doubts faded and they all tried to point you in various directions to go.

“A wedding? I heard wedding bells from the chapel across that garden. That must be where you’re heading?” said one lady with streaks of grey in her hair and a hint of caution in her eyes.

You nearly ran across the garden that she pointed towards, not even sparing a glance to admire its beauty until you reached a chapel. A place where an actual wedding was happening, only that it wasn’t yours, and you had only stayed for a minute to watch the bride and groom walking down the staircase after sharing their true love’s kiss.

And then there were those other people who seemed awfully confused with your question when you asked for directions that they spoke with words that had no meaning for you.

“Castle? What castle you said? This isn’t England, lady.”

“Is that a new ride in Universal Studio?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Is she talking about a movie set? Just point her to the studio. Seems to be wearing the wrong period dress, though.”

You have lost count of how many places you’ve been to in the day, none of which turned out to be anything close to the castle. How many times you were turned away from buildings and gated properties after following the directions that you were given? How it had only led you to become even more lost, not knowing which way to go?

And then when you were not being turned away from one direction to the next through those vain instructions, you kept finding yourself being thrust and propelled to a myriad of courses without having any control or sense way to go. It kept going on for a while, until you finally managed to escape, leaving the crowded streets and the busy part of the city behind.

The road you took to leave the bustling place you’ve been to still bears no sign of it leading towards Andalasia. But at least it is quieter here than the roads you travelled across before.

The bright and flashy buildings you saw earlier have grown less and less the more you go. Some still look as menacing as the towers of the evil witches of Andalasia, others are standing strong like fortresses with giant luminous paintings attached to their walls. But they grow more scarce as you continue walking, finding more gates and long, unending walls, and trees which stand like massive pillars pointing up to the sky.

The roads that you have seen so far are wider, longer, all filled with those carriages—most of them in similar sizes, some bigger than most, and there was one which appeared like a giant animal strolling down the road—without horses pulling them forward. The surface is smoother than the gravel-coloured roads winding down between the towns and villages of Andalasia, all painted in a darker shade of colour than the cobblestone roads you saw around the castle.

As you continue walking, you keep hoping that the roads will suddenly change. To grow smaller in size and change shapes so you can follow them to find your way back to Andalasia.

And yet, just like how fate hasn’t been on your side today, there is no such luck.

Your head is pounding. You cannot remember when was the last time you ate or drank anything. You had been so nervous about your wedding that you could barely swallow anything at breakfast.

Now it seems that the day is growing darker. Time seems to flow faster here than how you remember it back home. The temperature has also dropped. It happened so suddenly that it almost felt like you were once again transported to another place in time. Without having to fall into a fountain this time.

Hugging yourself isn’t doing much to eliminate the cold, and you begin to regret not listening to your grandmother about covering your dress with a coat when you left home this morning. And your dress is getting heavier the more exhausted you feel. The skirt is dragging by your feet and the hems have gotten soiled after walking so long.

Rounding the corner, you see a line of benches on the side of the road. Before you realise it, you quicken your pace, desperate to rest even for a moment.

“Oh, this is great,” you whisper with a sigh of relief once you are rested on the bench. Leaning back, you rest your sore back and shoulders, before stretching out your sore legs. You can feel your muscles growing lax. Even if you are still feeling down in the dumps, drowsiness easily sets in.

But right before you can allow sleep to take over, you blink your eyes open to the creaking sound of wheels and look up across the street. And then you see her. Covered from head to toe in a dark-coloured cloak, the familiar figure that you saw just hours ago is walking on the other side of the road. Hunched down, the hood of her cloak covers the top of her head but not enough to hide her from sight, and she is focusing more on pushing the metal cart that she has with her to notice you watching.

The old hag.

“You—! Wait a moment!” You push yourself up. Getting your legs to start working again is a struggle that you nearly slip on the pavement before you manage to run across the street, catching up to the cloaked figure right before she disappears around the corner. “Please, I have no idea what happened, but you need to bring me back to the castle before—”

Desperate, you reach out to grab her, to get her to listen, and the cloaked old had abruptly turns to snap at you. “Hey, don’t touch me! What’s your fucking problem?”

You step back, flinching at the hostility and the stench. “I—” Your words die down when her hood falls back, revealing her true features. Immediately, you can see that you have made a mistake.

The person before you has a tangled mass of darker hair in the colour of chestnut, with only a few strands of grey and silver appearing from the top of her head, unlike the elder woman you met at the royal garden with silver-moon hair framing her face. From up close, it clears that her cloak is tattered and stained in various places, unlike the old hag’s velvety cloak which appeared slightly fancier despite looking worn out and old. And while this person’s face seems to have been roughened with time, with lines and scars appearing around her eyes and lips, she still looks much younger than the person you have been seeking since you met her last.

Disappointed, you can feel the strains of hope you felt leaving your body. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

The person scowls, giving you a look that reminds you too much of the troll who attacked you the previous day that you wince back. “I should sue you,” she says, her voice lowering to a snarl.

“What—?”

The hooded woman sneers, showing you her stained, crooked teeth when she chuckles. “Yeah, I’m suing for harassment. I was just walking and minding my own business when you’re trying to mug me.”

You watch in horror as she points at the pile of things filling up her metal cart, accusing you of thievery. “No, I wasn’t! I told you that I’m sorry—”

The peculiar woman scoffs, yet her eyes still narrow with suspicions. “All right, fine. Then pay up and I ain’t calling the cops.”

“I’m—sorry?”

Once again, the woman snarls at you. She pushes her hand at you, palms facing up. “Pay up, hon. Give me some cash. I know you have some with you.”

The woman, looking awfully wicked as she smiles at you, scares you so much that you cannot stop yourself from stepping back to avoid her calloused and cracked hand. “But I don’t have any money. No coins. Anything,” you nearly beg her as you grab a hold of your flowy skirt, clenching it tightly to stop your hands from trembling.

The wicked smile on the woman’s face immediately turns to a frown. “What? You’re telling me you’re dressed all fancy and you got no cash with you?”

The sharpness in her voice terrifies you. So much so that your hands are no longer the only ones trembling in fear. Your whole body freezes, and your legs start to grow weak as you take another step away from her. Another move and the woman’s gaze moves upward, stopping at your tiara.

Her sneer returns. “Guess this will do.”

Her eyes, which appeared pale and dim blue when you first saw her, now begin to glint with a new light. Piercing blue eyes glow under the streetlights as if she is using some kind of magic, distracting you for a brief moment as she suddenly raises her hands to grab your tiara.

“Wait! No!” You flinch backwards, trying to escape. You let go of your grip on your dress to stop her, but it’s too late. Her grip strengthens on your tiara and she begins to pull. “Don’t do that! Stop!”

For someone who seems so weathered, the woman is strong. Much stronger compared to your weary self who can barely fight back. With a strong tug, she manages to pull your tiara off of your head, pulling a few strands of your hair with it, while the force she uses pushes you backwards until you fall into a heap of mess—your bottom hitting hard onto the pavement that you can feel your skin bruising underneath, your skirt spreading all around you, catching dirt and soil, while your frail legs are bent beneath your weight.

“Now this looks nice. I bet I can trade this for some cash,” the woman muses with a wicked chuckle as she turns the tiara back and forth in her hand, giving it a closer look. The glint in her eyes seems to glow brighter, drawing an eerie shudder through your body. She looks at you with the same sneer that she’s been wearing when she says, “Thanks, doll.”

You feel powerless. Too shocked and afraid to move, yet you make another effort to beg her as she turns to leave.

“No, please don’t take it away! That’s from my—”

Yet your plea falls on unhearing ears. Before you can muster any strength to push yourself up, she quickly disappears around the corner where it seems to be darker than the streets around you, moving too quickly for your muddled brain to process.

Your final resolve crumples, sending you back to the ground as you fall on your knees once again. Speechless, you can only look on towards the shadows where the wicked woman had disappeared to with your thoughts running wild.

A witch.

There is no doubt about it. That woman was an evil witch. Cold shivers run down your body as fear engulfs you. Wherever this place is, you need to get away as soon as possible. Get away from danger. A place where witches reside cannot be safe. Not for you.

With trembling hands, you reach up to touch your hair, now left as nothing more but a tangled mess after the witch pulled your tiara off of your head. Your eyes feel hot, and you wonder if it has something to do with a spell that the witch has left you with in her escape.

But you cannot even dwell on it or think too deeply about it. The heartbreak that you feel in your chest has become too much. Your heart breaks thinking about your forest friends, how disappointed they would be once they find out that you have lost the wedding gift that they had prepared for you.

But what breaks your heart the most is realising that you can no longer go to your dream wedding looking as pristine as you had initially intended. To be the perfect bride deserving to be standing on the Prince’s side as you finally share your true love’s kiss.

As your dream shatters to dust, everything you have inside you begins to wane into nothing. Not even your dwindling hope can spark your heart and spirit back alight without any sign of things going back to the way it was supposed to.

“Oh, dear me. What am I going to do now?”

The pitter-patter sound of raindrops falling on the moving car has never felt so soothing.

But perhaps this is something that Seokjin needs at the moment, even if it is only to help calm his mind.

Normally, he wouldn’t have any problem finding calmness once the day has ended. But the day hasn’t been going well for Seokjin.

The mediation meet-up which had kept him in a bind all afternoon is still stuck in his mind, still weighing him down even as hours have passed. He feels like he can still hear his clients’ voices echoing in his head whenever there is silence or when he closes his eyes, always arguing about the same old thing—over and over again.

Always going in circles without fail, with no solution made, and with no party involved ever willing to back down. And every time the memory comes, he can hear his boss’ voice—one of the partners leading the law firm where he works at—advising him to quickly solve the issue and move on to the next case.

He feels drained and spent just thinking about it again, and he is already dreading the thought of having to deal with them again tomorrow, their last meeting was left with some unfinished business that still needs to be resolved. But it wasn’t like he had any other choice about how he left things behind. He did have to cut the meeting short, lest he wanted to stay all night at the office, being confined in the same room with those same clients.

And he did have something more urgent to get to.

His daughter’s dance recital.

Looking up from his phone, Seokjin turns to his baby girl. A smile voluntarily makes its way to his face as he watches her humming to herself, replacing the scowl that he has been wearing almost all evening.

“You look scary, Daddy,” Ah-ri had said to him the first time he came to pick her up this late afternoon to help her get ready for her recital, wearing that same scowl on his face. Those simple words had worked like a charm, reminding him to leave all the stress and troubles behind whenever he was spending his time with his little girl.

“Sorry, Princess. Just a little tired from work, but I’m excited to see you dance,” Seokjin had said in return, showing a smile instead of a frown, drawing Ah-ri’s own smile and her excitement back on.

Seokjin is quite relieved that he made it to the event on time, and had even made it to stick with her before so he could calm her nerves before she got on stage. Being there for Ah-ri for her performance had become the perfect reprieve that Seokjin had needed the most. It was the perfect escape from the troubles that had been haunting him, and watching her shine on the stage had helped him forget about the noises and the dreadful thoughts over the case that he was dealing with all day.

And his daughter was magnificent. He might be biased, but Seokjin believes his little girl was the best dancer to perform tonight. He was so proud of her that he was beaming with pride by the time he walked out of the venue with Ah-ri by his side.

The only thing stopping him from carrying his little princess and parading him among the other parents there had come to the show was her fancy tutu dress. The girl had been so proud of her dancing costume that he knew she wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything to ruin the delicate ruffles that she spent hours making sure would flare prettily when she was dancing.

If only the night’s event hadn’t highlighted another problem that was lying in wait for Seokjin to take notice of.

Once again, his eyes return to the phone in his hand.

At the screen that has gone unchanging over the past few hours. The texts that were left unanswered, ignored, and most undeniably, unread.

‘Where are you?’

‘Why are you not picking up the phone?’

‘I thought you said you wanted to come to Ari’s recital? The show’s about to start in 10 minutes.’

‘I’m not going to wait for you. I’m going in. It’s starting and I have the ticket with me.’

Reading through the messages makes him cringe. He never thought that he would turn out to be that kind of person. The kind of partner that would bombard their other half with texts when there had been no news from them.

But this was Ah-ri’s big day. And when it comes to his daughter’s happiness and joy, Seokjin will always be willing to put aside his ego. Even at the risk of fracturing the fragile relationship that he has built with Kira for the past few years.

Seokjin exhales a deep, resigned sigh as he recalls seeing Ah-ri’s hollow gaze the moment she first realised that he had come alone. A part of him was convinced that she was just as disappointed as he was for his girlfriend’s absence, but there was a small voice in his head telling him that the little girl had never harboured any hope that Kira was ever going to come.

And that only makes him feel even worse.

“Are you still busy with work, Daddy?” Ah-ri asks him with a small voice. When Seokjin turns to look a this little girl and sees the pout forming on her lips, he knows he’s messing up the mood.

Forcing his frown away, he smiles at his baby girl and ruffles her hair teasingly. “No, honey. Daddy’s just reading some texts that came in while you were dancing. I was so happy to see you up on the stage and was so busy taking videos of you that there were some messages I missed.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, nodding, and Seokjin has to bite back a smile. Sometimes, she can look like she’s trying to act like a big girl when she does this. At least she’s no longer pouting. “But you’re not working again tonight, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course, not. No more work tonight. Didn’t we promise to read some storybook tonight?”

Reminded of his promise, and perhaps already thinking about her Daddy sticking around to read her favourite stories before bedtime, her smile grows so wide that Seokjin’s chest expands with warmth. “That’s right. We did,” she says, a bit more cheerfully this time.

“Let Daddy read some of the missed texts while there’s a chance to, okay? You should rest until we’re home,” he says, to which the little girl nods her head again.

“Okay,” she muses, and her attention is quickly drawn towards the car window. “The rain is stopping.”

Seokjin looks up and nods. “Oh, you’re right. Good thing that we’re almost home so we don’t have to be wet,” he murmurs with a grim smile.

Funny weather today, he wonders, as he thinks about the rain.

The sudden drizzle that came right when they were leaving the venue only added today’s peculiarity. It was a relief that Seokjin—who was too exhausted after work to drive his own car—had the mind of ordering an Uber for them before they got all wet. And now there is nothing that he wants more than to get home, get warm and comfy, and rest for the night.

As Ah-ri begins singing the song that she was dancing to in her performance, Seokjin finds himself drawn back to his damn phone. For a brief moment, he starts debating whether he should send another message, before realising that he might sound desperate, or perhaps seen like an obsessed stalker.

I’m too tired to deal with this, he wonders with a sigh as he locks his phone and then puts the thing away as he leans back in the seat. He takes this moment to close his eyes and stop himself from overthinking so he can relax.

A moment passes, when the Uber turns into the usual route heading towards his home—one that he has gone through so many times he can recognise it even without looking—and Ah-ri’s soft humming suddenly fades. The car pulls to a halt at a stop sign, allowing another vehicle through, as Ah-ri starts nudging at her Dad.

“Daddy, there’s a princess on the billboard.”

Seokjin hums. “A what?”

“A princess!” Ah-ri excitedly cheers.

“There’s no princess, sweetheart. They make realistic advertisements nowadays that make pictures look more real. You know, like those 3D billboards I showed you once with the characters jumping out into the crowd, remember?”

“No, Daddy. It’s a real princess!” Ah-ri stubbornly starts shouting as the car shifts to move again, “No, mister! Stop! Don’t go!”

Seokjin opens his eyes when the car jerks, the driver hitting the brakes out of shock. He still has his eyes on the front of the car that he isn’t ready when Ah-ri suddenly unlocks her side of the door and jumps out.

“What the—”

“Sir, your daughter—”

“Yes, I know. I’m so sorry about this. Can you please wait for a minute?”

Seokjin already has one foot out the door when the driver swiftly responds, “Sure, I’ll park the car and get out of the road first.”

“Thank you!” Shutting the door behind him, Seokjin looks across the road, his heart nearly dropping when he sees Ah-ri already halfway there. Breathless and mind-filled with fear, he chases his daughter, calling her out and quickly grabbing her shoulders once he catches up with her. “Ari, what are you doing? Get back in the car!”

“No, Daddy. Look, there’s a princess up there!” she stubbornly fights against him while pointing up above.

“That’s not real, honey. Look, see? It’s nothing but—holy shit!”

Seokjin didn’t know what to expect when he looked up, following where Ah-ri was pointing at. Maybe a part of him did expect to see those modern types of billboards with the 3D effects where the characters were made to reach out of the screen—which was what he had in mind when he mentioned it to his daughter earlier—even though he has no clue why anyone would put such a modernised advertisement on a quiet road like this one, where there are only old, low-level apartments in the neighbourhood.

But the moment he looks up, all he sees is a billboard in the form of a 3D castle promoting a new live-action movie based on a children's fairytale story releasing on an online streaming channel this month. He has seen it a few times whenever he was driving down this road on his way to work, and he knows for sure that it never had any additional feature put up with it.

And somehow, he sees a woman wearing a white dress standing in front of the replica of the castle from the movie. Doing God knows what. With heels that cannot possibly steady enough to help her balance on the small ledge she is standing on.

Is she actually knocking at the castle’s door right now?

“See, Daddy? It’s a real princess!” Ah-ri starts shouting excitedly, pointing at the woman on the billboard before she realises, “Daddy, you said a bad word.”

Clearing his throat, Seokjin gently presses his hand on his daughter’s back to guide her back to the car. “Sweetheart, go back in the car. Let me deal with this and get back to you, okay?”

He can feel that Ah-ri is holding back, refusing to leave. The girl has always loved her princess stories and this situation isn’t helping. Seokjin takes one look over his shoulder, noticing that the Uber driver has moved the car to this side of the road, so his daughter wouldn’t have to run across.

The driver steps out of the car, gently calling out, “You want me to call the cops, sir?”

Ah-ri’s eyes immediately grow wide in panic, so Seokjin quickly waves his hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary for now. Please help my kid back to the car, will you?”

Seeing the driver stepping up to help watch his daughter, keeping her at a safe distance, Seokjin cautiously approaches the billboard to try and talk the odd woman—whom his daughter keeps calling ‘a princess’—down from that slippery ledge.

“Excuse me!” he calls out, though he is doing his best to keep calm, not wanting to startle or frighten her with his voice, when all he wants is to make sure that he can help before things get awry. “Hello? Miss? What are you doing? Is everything okay?”

Despite his effort, the woman—you—is still startled at the sound of his voice. Seokjin only realises that the white dress is a wedding dress when you turn—too sharply, which causes Seokjin to flinch—and start glancing around before finding him below. Your eyes widen with relief when you see him.

“Oh, oh! Thank goodness. I was wondering if you could—oh!”

Seokjin’s heart drops when he sees you inching forward on the ledge, your eyes looking straight at him instead of paying attention to where you are stepping on, not realising that you have reached the edge.

“Hey, watch it—”

Seokjin tries to warn you, only that he is too late. He doesn’t even think or realise what he is doing. As if on instinct, his body simply moves on its own, drawn towards you just as one of your feet slips over the edge and your body tilts forward before you fall from the staggering height.

Straight into the Seokjin’s waiting arms.

A deep, resounding grunt vibrates from around you. Yet your mind is spinning, still reeling over the series of events that have happened in the course of—a minute? Hour? No, not an hour. Oh, why does it matter?

You close your eyes when your head starts spinning even faster. Thinking hard does not seem to be advisable to do at the moment. Oddly enough, closing your eyes makes you feel slightly better. And it helps that you are surrounded by warmth. The kind of warmth that feels comforting, like a warm hug, accompanied by a delicate yet fresh scent of wood and musk and a hint of something sweet.

Wait. A hug?

Your eyes snap open when you realise that you are, in fact, engulfed by a strong pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around you to keep you from falling to the ground. Confused, you are lost to what is happening. And when you try to look up, your saviour’s face is shrouded by shadows. The light coming from above is too bright, and all you can see is the lines of his face. The short strands of hair falling from his face look like a curtain as he looks down, keeping his eyes on your face, yet it frames his face perfectly.

For a hazy moment, your mind makes you believe that you were once again saved by Prince Jungkook. That he had somehow found you and caught up to get you.

But then you blink, clearing your mind with it, just as your eyes start to adjust to the play of lights. The lines on his face becomes clearer, and then his eyes—the pair of beautiful eyes that are looking at you with fear, concern, and wonder—become visible to yours. And then you quickly realise that the person, your saviour, no matter how good-looking he is, is not the Prince.

The moment everything truly registers through your muddled mind, your eyes grow wide and your body grows rigid, before you start apologising.

“Oh, heavens! I am so sorry,” you gasp aloud, your cheeks burning with shame as you try to push away from the man and stand on your own two legs.

Yet the man’s hold around you is sturdy, and instead of releasing you and letting you fall, he gently lowers you back on your feet. His hands remain on your upper arms for a brief moment to keep you steady before he finally lets go and takes a step back.

“Are you all right? Is everything good?” the stranger begins questioning you, his eyes going down the skirt of your dress as he speaks and then lingers. A crease forms between his eyebrows when he notices the tattered hem of your skirt, and how badly soiled the fabric has gotten. His gaze rises back to your face again as he asks, “Are you hurt somewhere?”

Clutching at your skirt, feeling like you want to hide inside it, you try to recall what had happened. You had gotten quite lost in your confusion and exhaustion and were trying to find any sign that might show you the way home when suddenly, this small castle appeared before your eyes, perched atop some kind of a tower. Thinking that it might have been some piece of a totem, a magical item that might be able to take you home, you climbed on top of the tower to open the gate, only to find that it was locked. Desperate, you began banging on the door, hoping that someone on the other side would hear your call for help and open the door for you so you could come home.

Then you heard a voice. Your prayers were heard. Until you quickly realised that the voice had been coming from under the tower instead of from within the castle.

You were so surprised and so excited to finally see someone again after a long, quiet walk through this darker part of the city that you tried to get closer to him without realising it. When the man began to speak with you, you didn’t realise that you were beginning to inch forward as you responded to him, not noticing that you were stepping towards the end of the ledge until you began tilting and falling over.

You really need to stop falling.

“Are you lost, Miss?” the kind stranger asks you, full of concern, while helping to keep you steady on your feet with his gentle hold on your elbow before you start to fall back. Again.

And the help is completely welcome, as your legs keep failing you. Your exhaustion is giving you a hard time to hold the weight of your wedding dress that has grown soiled and torn in some places. But you cannot find it in you to focus on your tattered dress right now, as the stranger in front of you seems like the light shining bright in the darkness.

A beacon of hope, whose presence alone is enough to eliminate every angst and distress that you have been feeling all day long. And it is enough to bring back your faith in all goodness.

The kind of goodness which reminds you of home.

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you answer him kindly with a smile on your face. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, there is someone willing to listen and care enough to help you. “I need to find my way back to the castle.”

He stills. Glancing back and forth between you and the small-sized castle standing behind you, he carefully asks, “What castle? And what were you doing up there, endangering yourself? You could’ve hurt someone. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“What do you mean ‘what castle’? Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” A bubbling laughter leaves your lips. “I tried to knock on the front gate, but nobody answered. Maybe because it’s late? But I also have no clue if the totem only answers to a certain spell.” You stop with a deep exhale of breath when you realise that you wouldn’t know of any spell cast on the castle since you are not a royal born.

Shaking your head, you turn to the man again. “Would you please kindly show me the way to get back to the castle, I’ll be more than grateful—”

“Huh, right,” he gently cuts you off with an odd expression on his face. "Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” His eyes flicker briefly to the top of your head, where your tiara used to be. “Do you have your phone? Is there someone you can call, maybe?"

"A phone? What is that?" you ask, and his eyes grow wide, as if you had just said something so staggering it leaves him nearly speechless. "And I don't think anyone will hear me from all the way here if I call them, don't you think?"

"Ookay—" The stranger reaches into his suit jacket as if trying to pull something out of it. “Where is the address? Why don’t I just call you an Uber?”

“Uber?” You tilt your head, confused. You have never heard of the name before. “Is that the name of your horse?” you ask with a soft gasp, recalling that the gentlemen that you have met back in Andalasia tend to name their horses with peculiar names and titles to differentiate them from one another.

Just like how Prince Jungkook named his white steed Onyx—which reminds you of the gemstone similar to the one your grandmother kept in her drawers back home.

A slight pinch of sadness arises inside your chest at the thought of home—of your grandmother, the Prince, and the quaint wooden cabin taking lone residence at the heart of Amaranth Forest. Oh, how wonderful it would have been to be on your comfortable bed, tucked beneath the fuzzy blanket that your grandmother had made for you, and wearing a simpler slip of a dress that would not be pulling down your weight each time you move around.

“But, Daddy—we have an Uber!” A small voice suddenly speaks. You turn to look over behind the stranger to see a little girl popping out of the shadow. Wearing a tutu dress in pink that matches her tiny shoes and feather headpiece, she looks like a little pixie with her cheeks blushing in the cold, almost to the same colours as her fluffy skirt.

“Ari, I told you not to leave the car,” the man gently scolds the little girl while pushing her back.

“Oh, hello sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you greet her with a smile, which seems to make her happy. Because both her eyes and her smile light up almost as bright as the lights flashing from the castle behind you.

“Hello,” the girl shyly greets you back. Her voice is soft when she suddenly asks you, “Are—are you a princess?”

Laughing softly, you bend down a little to get to her height. “Oh, no. I’m not a princess. My name is _______,” you offer your hand as you introduce yourself. “What’s yours?”

The girl glances at the man briefly before taking your hand and gingerly shaking it. “I’m Ah-ri, but I also go by Ari so that my friends won’t have trouble saying my name.”

Smiling, your friends come to mind. You miss listening to them singing your name as they play around with you back home. “My friends also have a special name for me. It’s Blossom.” Your throat feels tight just thinking about them, but you try to push it down. “Which name do you feel comfortable the most with?”

The little girl’s smile widens. “I love it when my close friends, Daddy, and Grandma call me Ari,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shy smile. “You look like a princess.”

Eyes growing wide, it takes you a moment to understand what she means. “Oh, it must be the dress. I mean, it would’ve been even better if I still had my tiara.”

Ah-ri gasps. “You have a tiara?”

Immediately, your heart is filled with sadness as you recall the unfortunate incident with the wicked witch. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Someone took it from me while I was looking for my way home,” you answer with a sad sigh, your eyes tearing up for the loss of your precious tiara.

Hearing this, your kind saviour’s eyes grow wide. He seems startled and wary, and begins glancing around, pulling the little girl back so he can hold her safely by his side. “You were robbed? Here?” he asks, sounding alarmed.

“Well—” Frowning, you look around as you begin to explain that it had happened a while ago. And not exactly here, wherever here is.

“Fucking hell—” you hear him say with a low tone of voice before you can say anything. You have no idea what he means, but it sounds really bad, as Ah-ri immediately turns to chide him.

“Daddy, you said a bad word.”

At the sound of her voice, the man closes his eyes and murmurs a quick apology. “I’m so sorry. Listen, Honey, you need to get back to the car. I’m going to try and call an Uber for, uh—the nice lady,” he says, pointing at you, while the girl furrows her brows, looking confused.

“With your phone? But we ordered our Uber with that earlier,” she says to her father.

“Damn it, you’re right,” he says in return, quickly stopping to mutter, “Oh, fuck.” The little girl crosses her arms as she glares at her father, who later bends down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. Fine, let me just find a way to call for help.”

You watch as the man reaches into the inside of his suit—an odd looking suit which seems so simple but quite elegant, without any jewels or golden embroideries or intricately made lining, yet still nice to look at—and pulls out a small black box in his hand which lights up at the touch of his fingers.

“What is that?” You gasp, “Oh, is that a magic talisman?”

The man looks at you with a million questions in his eyes. “A magic—what?”

Seeing that the man carries with him a magic item, no matter how small and simple it seems, you begin to feel hopeful. Finally, you will be able to go home. His magic talisman will be able to lead you back to Andalasia, as long as he says the right spell.

But why does it seem like he doesn’t understand what you are saying, even when he is holding the magic talisman in his hand?

Do they call their magic items with a different names?

“A talisman,” you try to explain the best you can, “It’s a type of magic items that sorcerers and mages would use to conjure their spells. I must admit, I’ve rarely seen them my whole life. Almost never. But I’ve heard stories of witches who use mirrors to communicate with others or see visions from other places to help them predict the future.” You look up at him with hope blooming inside you. “Are you perhaps a mage, or a warlock?”

The man, who has been looking confused the entire time he was listening to you ramble, only seems even more confused. But then he looks down, following your gaze, before asking, “Are you talking about”—the man lifts his hand to show you the square item that he is holding—”this?”

You clap your hands together. “Yes, it’s just like that one. So is it a magic mirror? Did you create a small one to carry with you everywhere you go?”

Ah-ri suddenly gasps. “Oh, I know! Magic mirrors! Just like the evil Queen in Snow White!”

Pressing your palm over your heart, you are overcome with joy as you finally hear a familiar name being mentioned here in the strange land. “You know Snow White too?”

“Yes, I do!” Ah-ri says with a voice filled with joy. She turns to her father, looking as if she wants to share that joy when she says, “Daddy, she knows Snow White!”

The man grimly nods. “Everyone knows Snow White, honey. There are a ton of movies made for the story.”

You tilt your head. “What’s a movie?”

The man seems surprised when he hears you. As if he wasn’t prepared to hear such an odd question. “I’m sorry. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? Are you staying anywhere nearby?”

Being reminded that you are still lost, the pain inside your chest grows back to its full size. “I, uh—”

Before you can even think of what to say, Ah-ri slips between the two of you and begins tugging and her father’s hand.

“Daddy, the princess needs our help, and the Uber is waiting,” she says, to which her father looks between you, his daughter, and a figure that you only now notice standing on the side of the road, where lights cannot fully reach him, with a black metal carriage parked right beside him.

“Please, Daddy?” Ah-ri asks again, while her father looks conflicted and stunned into a complete silence.

Seokjin closes his eyes and groans, wondering to himself how on earth he managed to get into this situation.

But there really is no escape from it now. The look that his daughter is giving him says so.

“Daddy?” Ah-ri calls out again, pouting, and Seokjin feels powerless against it.

“Okay, baby,” he sighs. “We’ll get the Princess some help. Let me see if we can find a way to get her home. Maybe if we—”

Seokjin looks down on his phone to find a way to get help, maybe call someone from his office, and curses under his breath when the blasted thing beeps, twice, before the screen shuts down. Having to rush from the office gave him no chance to charge his phone before going to Ah-ri’s event, and all the texting he did and checking where the hell his girlfriend was had probably drained its battery.

“Fuck—” he snaps, quickly reeling back when he realises and glancing at Ah-ri. “Sorry, baby.”

Pouting, the little girl crosses her arms over her chest and scolds him gently. “No more bad words, Daddy. It’s not polite to do it in front of the Princess.”

“I know, honey—”

While he is trying his best to keep himself together against the inner battle he is having, everything starts to fall apart at once. Right the moment his cell phone blips its last life, the rain suddenly starts again. No longer the simple drizzle wetting the road around him but a light shower that will no doubt start to pick up within seconds. Drenching them all if they stay here even a minute longer.

“Daddy…it’s raining again!”

Ah-ri’s panicked voice snaps his mind back into gear. Regaining his focus back allows Seokjin to see his daughter trying to cover her head from the rain, but the stubborn girl refuses to run back to the car. He has no doubt that it’s because she is worrying about this odd woman standing in front of them.

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the Uber driver rushing into his car. Within seconds, the driver begins reversing the car to get closer, as if making sure that they won’t have to run through the rain—again—to get back in the car.

Seokjin looks at you again, still wary about your presence. In his eyes, you are a stranger lost in the big city, with a dress that has been completely ruined and tattered that he cannot imagine you going around on the streets like this when the sun is out. Especially not here in this part of the city.

He had first thought that you might have been drunk, which would explain why you seemed confused and were doing something so dumb. Like knocking at a miniature of a castle that is a part of a billboard ad promoting a movie. But then you kept looking confused and lost to everything that he said.

With no sign of being drunk or delusional, and a reaction that looked almost genuine each time you questioned him about the things you didn’t seem to understand, his heart feels heavy about leaving you be.

The rain picks up, and you seem to be wrapping your arms around yourself tighter. Your body shivers under your soaking dress, and yet your smile doesn’t seem to waver—something that Seokjin isn’t used to seeing from the people that he has ever met before. And he can clearly see how pale you have gotten. The way you are slightly swaying on your feet also worries him. As if you are about to collapse on the street any second now if he doesn’t do something to help.

“Why don’t you come with us,” he says under the rain, surprising both himself and Ah-ri with the offer.

He isn’t the kind of person who would easily offer this kind of help to a random stranger he meets on the street. And yet the moment the words slip out of his lips, he has a feeling that he is doing the right thing.

“It’ll take around ten to fifteen minutes to get to our house, but it will be a lot better than staying out in the rain like this,” he says, mustering a smile even when he still feels hesitant. The thought of taking you—a complete stranger with a situation that is lost on him—back to his home seems unnerving.

But what other choice does he have at the moment?

“Once we’re there, I can lend you some fresh clothes and get you warmed up, and then I’ll try to order another Uber for you. Maybe I can pay the Uber driver taking us home some extra cash to take you to where you want to go. What do you say?”

As it turns out, the driver refuses to accept any money from Seokjin to send you away once he is done with his previous order.

However, that doesn’t mean that the driver simply chooses to immediately leave and not get involved.

“This place isn’t safe for that poor girl when it’s nighttime. If you have enough sense and goodness in you, you best open up your door for the night, at least. I know bad people, and she doesn’t have the looks for it,” the driver says, right after he blatantly said no to Seokjin’s request even when he was offered double the payment he was charged with for his trip home.

“Though I can be wrong, so you keep your baby girl away from her until you’re sure she’s safe to be around,” the driver adds, as he glances over Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin turns to do the same, watching as your back disappears into the side patio, following his little girl who is still chattering about princesses and pretty dresses while guiding you towards the entrance door of your home.

When Seokjin turns back to the driver, he sees the man—who he only realises now to be somewhat older, with greying hair and a wise look in his eyes that helps calm Seokjin—rummaging through the dashboard compartment before handing him a card. “A friend of mine runs a shelter that houses people like her. You can call them up in the morning and get her to stay there if you still can’t find where she lives. They might be able to contact her family.”

Circumstances being as they are, Seokjin decides not to argue with the man and let him drive away, though not before he expresses his gratitude for the advice he was given and the business card in his hand. Seokjin stands at the driveway of his home for a moment longer instead of rushing in, watching the Uber drive away until the taillights fade at the end of the road. He embraces the silence, finding solitude in the lack of sound against the voices inside his head.

Nothing but the sound of the rushing waves hitting the beachside coming from a distance away.

He breathes in the cool night air, wishing that he is somewhere far from this place instead. A different place where the air isn’t so polluted and where he wouldn’t have to worry about stressful client meetings, missing girlfriends, and saving damsels.

Thinking about this makes him want to laugh. It was the same thought that he had years ago which made him decide to buy a property here in the first place; in a neighbourhood closer to the Venice beach instead of at the heart of downtown Los Angeles like many others working in his field would to get closer to work.

He wanted something different, away from the bustling city lifestyle and the traffic, and other things that would have made him feel miserable while still experiencing the best of things from the city. He expected that it would allow him to have some peaceful moments like this whenever he needed it. It was everything that he wished to have when he was cramped up in the studio loft back when he was still living in downtown LA while finishing law school.

And now, he is suddenly looking for something different. Something more. Something that might help silence the chaos happening inside his head.

“Daddy…! You need to open the door!” Ah-ri’s voice echoes from the side patio, and Seokjin quickly brushes his thoughts away.

With a deep inhale of breath, he regains calmness and turns. The business card for the shelter—said to be safe and open for the homeless and women in need of assistance—is now safely secured in his pocket as he walks into his home, joining his chatty girl and the unexpected guest he is welcoming home.

After connecting his phone to its charger in his home office and leaving his daughter in his bedroom, Seokjin makes his way back downstairs to the living room to find you.

He sees you sitting on the settee by the window, looking far out into the night. With your dress spread across the side of the seat and your hair falling loose from the twisted bun, you do look like someone who had just come out of one of his daughter’s storybooks.

Instead of letting you know that he is there, Seokjin stops on the final steps of the staircase, watching you. Mesmerised, he is lost for words.

Because right here, sitting with your eyes looking out the night sky and the lights sparkling across the canal, you seem—peaceful. Unlike before, when you were in complete distress and exhaustion was written all over your face. And for some reason, Seokjin wants to savour this moment. Not knowing the reason why.

But then a soft sound of a sigh, followed by the rise and fall of your chest, breaks the moment, snapping him out of his daze.

Clearing his throat, he makes the rest of his way down and slowly walks up to you. “Hey, there,” he gently says, trying his best not to startle you. A smile comes to his face when you look over with a small, tired smile. “I’m sorry for making you wait. Ari kept trying to talk to me before I could leave her.”

You nod. “It’s fine.” Once again, you glance out the window. From up close, your face seems to light up. The bright lights coming from outside are reflecting on your face. “The view here is lovely.”

“It is,” Seokjin muses, following your gaze, realising only now how rare it has been lately for him to enjoy a serene moment such as this one—the way you are able to find solitude in your darkest hours. “So, um,” he says, shaking his head. “______, was it? Or should I call you Blossom?”

You turn to smile at him again. “Just ______ will be just fine.”

“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier with all the frenzies,” he says while mustering a smile. To his relief, he can see your shoulders slumping, growing slightly more relaxed in his presence now compared to earlier, and it’s surprisingly making him feel calmer at the same time.

”My name is Seokjin, but feel free to call me Jin. And as my daughter has cleverly introduced herself earlier, her name is Ah-ri,” he adds, with a deeper smile on his face as he talks about his baby girl. “Or Ari. That’s the nickname that she uses since her mother always calls her that way. Perhaps you can ask her again next time which name she’ll be comfortable for you to call her with.”

“I’ll be sure to ask,” you answer with a warm smile, and it thaws his frozen heart a little bit more when your voice softens at the thought of his daughter.

“Listen. My phone is charging right now,” Seokjin begins to explain as he sits on the ottoman right across from you. Keeping both of his arms resting on his knees, he bends forward, putting on the same mask that he usually wears when he has to sit at the center of a mediation during the toughest cases that he ever had to deal with. “I tried to search on the internet about this place you mentioned earlier, Andalasia, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere. Are you sure you can’t remember where you came from, or how you got here?”

Your brows are furrowed deeply as you slowly shake your head. “Everything seems so fuzzy.”

Seokjin nods his head. “And you have no one to call.”

A wry smile appears on your face as you shrug a little at him. “I told you, it’ll be too far for anyone to hear me.”

Once again, he grimaces, knowing that this is going nowhere. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seokjin counts to three before speaking again, hoping that he can swallow down his frustration so he can find a way to solve your problem.

Hopefully, before it becomes his.

“Look, my daughter is worried and you looked lost, so I’m not sure if I can let you go out like”—Seokjin releases a sigh—”this.”

He tries hard to hold back his grimace and fails. Yet the smile on your face remains, which only makes him feel more guilty as he watches you, looking like a lost little dove, engulfed in a fancy wedding dress that looks like the ones painted in his daughter’s storybooks.

“We need to work to find a way back to your home. Isn’t that what you want?” he asks, and you eagerly nod your head. “About tonight, do you really have nowhere to stay?”

“No, I—” you begin to answer, “I don’t even know where I am.” Swallowing hard, you look out the window again to look far in the distance. Across the walkway that lines up starting from Seokjin’s house towards the spread of white that is barely visible from this part of the neighbourhood. “That is a beach, right? And beyond is the ocean?”

Seokjin furrows his brows. “Yes, that’s right.”

Nodding, you give him a somber smile. “Our small house is far from the coastline. It would have taken days, maybe weeks to get to the ocean. Perhaps it would have been different if we owned a carriage,” you stop with a soft chuckle before adding, “Or a horse.”

Seokjin raises his brows, realising that you are sharing a little bit of details about your home and where you came from, answering his questions. Only hearing it doesn’t seem to solve anything. Even knowing that you are not from anywhere near the beach shows what a slim chance it would be for you to come from somewhere close to the neighbourhood.

He doubts that you are even from the same city.

“There’s a hotel nearby. It’s good and clean, and not too expensive,” he starts, hoping that he can avoid letting you stay here, regardless of how badly Ah-ri had wanted to let you stay just to make sure you would be safe for the night. But it only takes a moment for him to get a closer look at you and quickly notice that you have no other belongings with you aside from the clothes on your skin. “I don’t suppose you have any money with you?”

“Money?” You ask as your hands reach down, nervously clutching at the skirt of your dress, “Well, uh—” A grim smile comes to your face as you continue, “You see, I was supposed to get married today, and this dress doesn’t really have pockets in it. I also didn’t think about taking a purse with me since I was, you know—my hand would’ve had to hold a bouquet of flowers when I walked down the aisle.”

You suck a deep breath at the implication that your situation had involved a wedding, and Seokjin has no idea why the sound you make pierces straight deeply into his chest. Then you make it worse when you speak with an innocent, helpless voice of yours, “Anyway, you are right, Sir. I don’t have anything with me. I left all my gold coins back home, since I thought I wouldn’t be needing it today with the wedding ceremony and all.”

Again, dread fills his chest. “Gold coins,” he groans under his breath with a grimace. He closes his eyes, trying to find that sense of calmness deep inside him once again before it slips away. “All right. Breathe.”

Seokjin takes a deep breath as he begins thinking, trying to decide what would be the right thing for him to do. Right at that moment, the words given to him by the Uber driver return to him, removing any doubt that he still has about letting you stay. Looking at you, he realises that the man had been right about one thing.

Seokjin may not know or understand what kind of situation you are in, and all the things that you have been saying sound too ludicrous to be true. But each time, you seem genuine. Nothing that you said and done feels like an act to make a fool out of him or filled with nefarious intent.

And he genuinely doesn’t think he has it in his heart to let you go anywhere when you seem so helpless.

“I guess since it’s late anyway and, well—” He grins. “My daughter might get upset if I let you be on your own when you’re, um—confused.” Rising to his feet, he offers you a hand to help you up and says, “We don’t have a lot of guests, so we only have one guest bedroom. It’s small, but I hope it’ll be adequate for you to have some good rest for the night. What do you say?”

Smiling with relief, you nod and take his hand. “That would be lovely.”

Seokjin feels awkward holding your hand as he guides you upstairs to the guest bedroom. Yet he is glad that he even thought about offering because you keep swaying on your feet as you walk by his side, as if your body is ready to give up anytime soon. By the time he reaches the bedroom, he almost finds it hard to let go of your hand just to be able to open the door for you.

“Here it is. Ah-ri, my daughter, loves to hang out here when I’m not home since it has a good view, so we change the sheets regularly. It’s also clean, and you have easy access to the guest bathroom. It’s also small, but—” He gently explains as he is showing you the room, yet you are too distracted to listen.

Your eyes are no longer on him, but you are looking out the window across the room instead, distracted by the view of the ocean that is more visible from up here. In the night, there is nothing much to see. But the lights coming from the beachside and from the resorts and venues overlooking the ocean are helping you see the rushing waves, even if it is still too far away.

With your attention on the sight before you, you gingerly takes a seat on the small daybed placed by the window, once again getting lost in the view and forgetting Seokjin’s presence.

Shaking his head, Seokjin can only sigh. “Well then, I should, um—” He clears his throat, feeling even more awkward now when you barely pay attention to him, yet pleased that you are able to somehow find some peace here. “I’ll let you rest. Let me check if Ari has found something for you to change into.”

You still have your eyes looking out the window when Seokjin makes a move to leave the room, ready to close the door gently behind him. But before he can escape, you suddenly turn to look at him with a smile. “Thank you, kind Sir. For you and the little princess. This day has been—”

A resigned sigh escapes you. The sound once again pulls at Seokjin’s heartstring that he finds himself completely speechless. But whatever anguish that you have wanes as you lift your gaze at him and smile. “You were the first people to be kind to me. Everyone I met had been—rude, dismissive, and that was before I got my tiara taken away.”

Swallowing his guilt, Seokjin can only nod, feeling solemn. “Welcome to LA,” he says with a bitter chuckle, while you merely tilt your head, looking even more confused that Seokjin can only exhale a deep breath. “I’ll go check on your change of clothes. We can talk more in the morning, once you get some sleep.”

Seokjin’s heart and legs are heavy when he closes the door and walks away. He walks past Ah-ri’s bedroom and walks up another flight of stairs to get to his bedroom, where his daughter is waiting for him to return. Entering the main bedroom, he finds Ah-ri setting up his clean white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the bed.

“Will this be okay for the Princess, Daddy?” she asks once she notices him entering the room.

Nodding, Seokjin reaches out to ruffle the girl’s hair. “Those will be fine. Thank you for getting them for me while I set our guest to her room.”

Beaming at the praise that she has earned from her dad, Ah-ri begins picking up the clothes. “Then let me take them to her—”

Seokjin quickly stops her. “No, sweetheart. You can see her in the morning. I’m sure the lady—I mean, the Princess is tired, and you’ll only ask her too many questions.”

“But, Dad—”

“Let me take it to her while you get ready for bed.”

Ah-ri pouts. “Fine. But be nice to the Princess. Okay, Daddy?”

“Okay, I promise. You sit tight. You’re sleeping here tonight. You said you wanted me to read you before bed, didn’t you?” Seokjin asks, and he feels guilty when Ah-ri beams at him, looking pleased with his promise without knowing that he only wants to keep her away from you. At least for the night.

You may not be suspicious in his eyes after having that last conversation, but that doesn’t mean he is willing to risk his daughter’s safety around a complete stranger that he is hosting in his own home.

It takes a while for Seokjin to help his daughter to get ready for bed. The girl will not stop talking, jumping from one topic to another so quickly that he can barely keep up—from complimenting your dress, regardless of how tattered it looked, and comparing it with her tutu dress, to how adorable her new pyjamas look.

She is in the middle of choosing which storybook she wants him to read by the time Seokjin finally gets the chance to slip away, carrying with him the change of clothes that he had promised you and a fresh towel for you to clean up. He makes a quick stop to the snack bar downstairs to grab a bottle of mineral water and some snacks for you.

But once he finally returns to the guest bedroom, you have already fallen asleep. Taken over by your exhaustion, no doubt, as he finds you lying asleep on the daybed where you were sitting on when he left you, watching the night view of the ocean and the beachside from afar.

Smiling to himself, he takes a moment to admire the way your dress glitter under the dim lighting before deciding that he would just let you be. With careful footsteps, he enters the room, leaving the clothes on the bed that you had taken no notice of and setting the drink and snacks on the bedside table for you to find when you wake up.

Picking up the blanket from the bed, he covers you with it and gently draws the curtains close, fearing that the sunlight will burn you in the morning. He steps away once he is done, closing the door behind him gently as he walks away, letting you drift off to wherever your dream may take you.

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!

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