#jk i will have other flowers n plants in there

[hungerpunch]

u guys i grew this swamp milkweed from seed starting in february inside and pretty much thought i killed them when i transplanted them into the yard but they really started taking off suddenly and then yesterday i was rewarded with the sight of them starting to bloom :')

i didnt expect them to be so dainty and delicate 🥺 they're critical hosts for monarch butterflies but also generally good for all types of butterflies and bees. and they can grow in clay, which is what most of our yard is! \o/

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #37 - Pierced]

“When Jungkook’s lip ring finally healed and you can’t resist each other anymore.”

Genre: Smut, married life!AU

Warnings: switch!Jungkook, switch!Reader, it goes from Dom!Kook to sub!Kook to Dom!Kook, tattooed & pierced!JK, he’s got his lip & nipples pierced, he ties his long hair together nfdnf, muscle & strength kink, lil bit of thigh riding, sex outside on a sun bed, messy oral (f.receiving), some biting, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampies, she rides him to an orgasm, body hair kink aye, she smothers him with her tits, nipple sucking, lotsa drool, subby boy tears, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation, he has such a lose tongue, they are very horny & needy & just wanna fuck, cuddly aftercare, they are in love!!

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: there is no thought behind this drabble. it’s a crime that i never wrote about his lip ring until now. enjoy besties, this was created from the depths of my pussy 🧡

You are in the little greenhouse in your garden when Jungkook comes home. Your tomato plants, which you and Jungkook have carefully raised from infant seedlings to healthy six foot plants, are finally starting to flower and you are currently making sure that no bugs or other insects nibble on them. Yes, you are very protective over your tomato plants. 

After reading an article about self-sustaining living, you developed an obsession with growing as much of your food as possible. You asked Hoseok for help – given how he is already a complete expert at it – and Seokjin gave you some tips as well. Jungkook called it way too time consuming at first, but soon gave in with a fond smile. He even helped you build the greenhouse and soon after, the plant growing fever took a hold of him as well. 

It was when the first of your tomato seed experiments grew a little sprout. You can still remember how Jungkook called you in the middle of your shift with the great news of “babe, you won’t believe what just happened but tomato number ten just grew a sprout.” It was a truly exciting day in your marriage. 

Now come early summer and all your vegetable and fruit plants are thriving, ready to be pollinated and later carry fruit. 

The glass door opens and Jungkook steps inside. 

“Hey there.”

You turn, placing the sheers down on your working table. 

“And?” you ask him, eyeing it. 

There was something else new in your relationship. It was on Jungkook’s body, his lower lip to be more exact. A small metal ring close to the right corner of his mouth. A lip piercing. 

It was a well-thought-through decision of his’, one you completely support. Not only because it is his body and he can decorate it with whatever he wants, but also because you always had a gist that he would look amazing with a lip piercing. And you were correct. He looks so handsome with it. Truly, each day you fall more and more in love with this man. 

The only downside came with the healing. No touching except for when he has to clean it. That is what the piercer told Jungkook. Which meant no kissing and truly, it left you feeling unbearably needy for him. Eight long and grueling weeks of not being able to kiss your husband. It sounds like torture and it truly was. Especially because you and he were so used to kissing all the time. Soft little morning pecks, sweet goodbye kisses, the relieved smooch of comfort after a long work day, sleepy kisses, desperate making out or the loving surprise kiss throughout the day. You and your husband love kissing. So to be unable to feel each other’s lips for eight long weeks felt like torture. You tried to kiss him one time, but that ended in Jungkook yelping up in pain and bleeding a little. You apologised a million times with tears in your eyes whilst he assured you that it wasn’t your fault and after that, you never tried to kiss again.

Today however, you hope that he comes bearing good news. 

“And? What did he say? Has it healed?”

Jungkook steps closer, but stays silent. 

“Talk to me, I can’t take the silence” you whine, shrugging off your gloves. 

He takes another step. 

“Come on, tell me. I wanna know”, you stress, stomping your foot. Truth was, you have been sitting on needles the entire day, wishing for his quick return. All you did today was take care of your garden and think of Jungkook’s kiss. If he doesn’t answer you soon – or take your face to kiss you stupid – you will burst. You can’t bear the longing anymore.

“Kookie, please tell me”, you plead, staring at his lips. 

Jungkook breaks the last of the distance between the two of you, cups your face in his hands and kisses you deeply. 

Your knees buckle, a moan slips past your lips. Everything that was wrong is right again. The world finally starts turning and colour returns to your universe. You are kissing your husband! You tilt your body back as Jungkook presses himself into you, your arms hook behind his head. Holy fuck. Yes.

You grab a bundle of his long hair, twisting it to the point where Jungkook moans into your mouth. Or perhaps he is moaning because all he has been craving was your kiss. Driving home from the piercer with news of finally having healed sitting heavily on his heart was torture. All he wanted to be was to be home with you and have you in his arms. Eight weeks without your kiss and Jungkook had reached his breaking point. If he had to live without your kiss for even one second longer, he would have actually combusted.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, breathing just as heavily as you. He didn’t want to break it, but air was sparse in his lungs. Fuck, if he could live on only your kiss, he would. But alas, he has to breathe, running his hands over your face as if it was the first time he ever touches you.

“I missed you”, he whispers, “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Me too, Kook. More, kiss me please.”

Jungkook obeys gladly, kissing you so deeply that nothing could separate the two of you. His strong arm slings around your waist, pressing you into his body. His long fingers close around you, reminding you why it is so nice to be touched by him. He does it with so much tenderness, but also with just enough strength to let you know that he was there. That you were his' and that he intends on never letting you go. 

You run your hand down his torso until you can touch his waist. He shivers and pushes you until the back of your legs hit the edge of the work table. Like this, he can cage you in and keep you right there with him. Not that he needs to do anything for that. You want to be with him. This is all you crave. 

You gasp for air again. Your faces are barely apart. His cock is hard. Well, not completely but still swollen enough that you can feel it poke your tummy. You grind yourself against it, feasting on the desperate whimper he lets out. You are so turned on yourself. Your desperation is soaking your panties. His kiss and loving touch does that to you.

“Fuck”, he chuckles breathily, “you’re messing with me.”

“I can feel it”, you sigh, “I’m so wet too.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Kook, just fucking take me.”

“Jump.”

You follow instantly. Jungkook catches you safely, tensing his muscles just for you. You fucking love to be in his arms and feel him tense. It gets you so fucking wet. Moaning his name, you cup his face and pull him into a kiss.

The walk back to the house gets difficult, but Jungkook wouldn’t want it any other way. These few seconds without your kiss where you talked felt like torture. He needs your faces to literally melt with each other. He missed you so goddamn much.

Jungkook manages as far as the terrace and then he has to drop you. Not because you grew too heavy for him, but because he needed you so bad that it got impossible to walk. So he sets you down gently, massaging your hips. He breaks the kiss, holding your hips to grind you against him. He makes sure to lift his leg so your pussy was grinding on his thigh. You whimper because of it, looking up at him with glassy, droopy eyes.

“Koo…”

“I need you to lie down, baby”, he rasps, “I fucking can’t wait any longer.”

“The sun bed?”

“Yeah, please. If you want.”

“I want to. You?”

“Baby, I’ve been thinking about you the whole drive home ‘course I fucking want you”, he says and pushes his thigh against your pussy, making you moan, “please. Please lie down for me.”

“You’re so hot, fuck”, you say and step back. You waste no time getting naked. You would have to fumble with your clothes later either way. It’s better to get it over with now and safe yourself the trouble.

“Fuck, sweetheart”, Jungkook moans, watching you with heavy eyes. He tongues his lip ring, driving you mad with it.

You step out of your sundress and panties and finally lie down on the sun bed. You give him a sensual writhe, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

“And now?” you ask him.

Jungkook takes off his shirt and shorts. He knows that he won’t be needing them anymore. His cock is completely hard, slapping against his toned stomach and leaking the prettiest droplets of excitement.

“So pretty”, you whine, “Koo, I want you.”

Jungkook takes his heavy cock and jerks it twice, “you can”, he lulls, falling to his knees in front of you. He grabs you by your ankles and tugs you to the edge even if that makes you squeak and later giggle.

“This was so much fun”, you squeal.

He chuckles, eyes glued to your glistening pussy and hands running along your inner thighs, “you’re so cute”, he says and pushes gently, nudging your legs open so he can lower himself to your pussy.

“Oh?” you squeak, tensing up, “o-oh”, you relax in a shudder, arching your back seconds later, “holy fuck.”

Jungkook growls against you, gripping your waist to give it a needy squeeze.

“I missed you”, he moans, “holy fuck, you’re heaven”, he adds and buries his face back in your leaking cunt. He doesn’t think about cleanliness right now. He is messy and sloppy and fucking dirty in the way he eats your pussy and he wouldn’t want it any other way. He can finally have you again, taste you, feel you, experience you and make you moan so fucking sweetly. Eight long weeks without your taste. Jungkook never wants to experience such agonies again. He felt like an addict denied of his favourite drug. And now he needs to be covered in you. It is all he needs.

“Slow please”, you beg with trembling thighs, “Koo, you’re too fast oh god.”

Eight long weeks without feeling his tongue. Bear in mind, you weren’t abstinent from each other. You still touched each other, made the other cum and found yourselves lost in deep rolls of your hips. It never felt truly fulfilling of course because you weren’t able to kiss, but you weren’t completely abstinent from each other. So you shouldn’t be that sensitive right now. But you are. His tongue feels like paradise. A paradise which is currently making your legs shake like there is no tomorrow.

He is so sloppy in the way he eats you out. His tongue can’t seem to stay at one place for too long as greed for more of you always keeps it busy. His lips are sucking and kissing every inch of your pussy until she feels all puffy and sensitive. You can feel his lip ring whenever he closes his lips around you. Hard, thin metal, hot from his body and your pussy and incredibly maddening to experience. There is this little grinding sensation whenever he uses his lips on you. You can’t get enough of it, reaching down to twist his hair.

You mess it up the point where it hangs into his face and gets stuck between his lips and your pussy.

“Baby”, he breaks away, “stop tugging so much, you’re messing up my hair.”

“I can’t help it, you’re so good. Don’t stop, please”, you whine, tugging him closer. More of his hair falls into his face. Jungkook chuckles and with a gentle shake of his head, shakes off your hands.

“No, please”, you beg, trying and failing to reach for him.

He leans back. You look at him with a big pout. It gets washed away instantly as you watch him use his teeth to take off the black hair tie from his wrist. He keeps it tangling between them, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. His lips glisten in your juices, his lip ring is wet from your sex. He reaches behind his own head and combs his hair back. His tattooed, sculpted arms flex and tense as he works, making you whimper because all you need is him. All of him. You need him so bad.

Once he is happy with the style, he holds up the ponytail with one hand and uses the other to get the hair tie. His arms pulsate and flex as he secures it, his chest stretches in the position, his nipple piercings practically beg for your attention.

Jungkook finally finishes the ponytail, giving you a taunting smirk. He is aware how into the little show you were.

“Kook please”, you beg, opening your legs for him.

“I’m obsessed with you”, he growls and grabs your hips. He spits on your pussy only to smother himself with you a second later and slurp up the mess he just made. He uses his entire head for the movements, changing between sucking your pussy and grinding the flat of his tongue against it.

“Kook”, you mewl, reaching for his hands. You know that you can’t hold his hair anymore. He made sure of that when he tied it back. But you still need to hold something of him. He makes you shake so much that you need to hold him for encouragement. He allows you to intertwine your fingers with him, running his thumbs over your skin in a soothing manner. It almost feels like mockery, how gently he soothes you while his mouth makes you shake so uncontrollably. A mockery you enjoy to the fullest because you get to hold Jungkook’s hands and that’s the best thing ever!

“You have no idea how much I needed this”, he rasps, letting his voice vibrate against your clit, “I want you to cum like this, baby. It’s all I need.”

“Soon”, you keen, squeezing his hands.

“Mhhm, baby”, his deep voice makes your thighs shake, “you make me the happiest man.”

And with that he disappears in your warmth again, giving your hands a squeeze and growling into your pussy. 

You fall apart on his tongue mere moments later. Everything felt way too good. It is all you needed to be fulfilled. 

You sob his name as you climax while Jungkook licks your clit through the fire and squeezes your hands. 

Seven times you convulse and tense. Seven times you lose control over your limbs. Seven times and then his tongue feels like too much.

“Break”, you beg him and Jungkook listens. 

“Good girl”, he praises, kissing your clit as a reward. You are still pulsating. Jungkook wants more, but knows not to overstep. 

Instead, he kisses his way up your recovering body, sucking on your nipples when he reaches them. His big hands cup your softness, massaging you gently. It feels so good to be touched this way.

“Kook”, you mewl softly, tangling your fingers in the hair he left outside. He has so much of it that it still easily hides your hand. The softness of it soothes you like nothing else. Jungkook contrasts it by giving your left nipple a soft bite. It stings, making you keen in pleasure.

He purrs, letting your sensitive bud slip from his teeth just so he can drag his lips up to your face. His lip ring tickles wherever it touches you, leaving you to writhe and whine.

“Look at me”, he says once he is eye to eye with you.

You follow instantly, cupping his cheeks because all you needed was to hold him.

“You did so well for me”, he praises, smiling softly, “but I’m not done with you.”

You whimper, arching your back.

“You made me hard and you gotta be my good girl and take care of it. Yeah?”

You nod your head vigorously.

“That’s my good girl, I knew you wouldn’t deny me”, he says and brushes his thumb over your cheek, “can I get comfy and then you ride my cock? Mhm baby? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Koo”, you say, trembling in anticipation.

“Thank you, baby. You have no idea how happy this makes me”, he says and rewards you with a kiss.

You moan deeply, hooking your arms behind his head just to make sure he can’t escape. He tastes like your orgasm. Sweet and intense. You want to lick it off of him. He tastes so good. Holy fuck, you need this kiss to never stop.

Jungkook is halfway on the sun bed this way. With one foot he is standing on the ground, while he has the other pulled up on the sun bed, resting his knee between your legs and grinding you against his skin. You’ve got him all sticky and wet like this. Jungkook gets off on the feeling like an addict.

“Koo”, you whimper and wiggle away, “Koo, it hurts. Too sensitive.”

“Hurts?” he lessens the pressure, “I’m sorry, baby. How’s that?”

“Good. Doesn’t….Kook, please fuck me.”

“So needy”, he teases and smiles cockily, “fine, let’s switch places.”

Your places are swapped within seconds. The sun bed is big enough that it can house Jungkook and you comfortably. Your knees have enough space to rest beside his hips and you could even spread them wider if you wanted to. Soft cushioning gives you enough knee support as well. The black fabric has been warmed up by the sun, but it feels comfortable on your skin. 

Jungkook falls back and yelps up.

“What’s wrong?” you gasp.

“Ponytail. Uncomfy. It’s poking my literal brain”, he says and sits up. You have to be honest, all you did was stare at his toned abs as he did. They were bulging and shifting like crazy. They still do, because Jungkook opens his ponytail with both hands, using his abs to keep himself lifted.

He is the sexiest man alive.

You reach out and run your fingers over the ridges of his abs. The scorching sun and your body made his skin burn up. The faintest layer of sweat has collected in the valleys of his abs, now sticking to your fingertips and getting spread all over his silken skin.

Jungkook watches you with hungry eyes, lifting himself just a little bit more to make his abs bulge even harder. You gulp, grinding your pussy down on his thick thigh. You are so wet, Jungkook can feel it. Adorable, he thinks, you aren’t even aware of how much you stare.

You dance your fingers down his abs until you reach his happy trail. Jungkook has never been a hairy man. He has his healthy amount of leg and arm hair, can grow out his pits and always keeps his bush well taken care of. But other than that, he has never been one particularly hairy fellow. So his happy trail is faint and you like to call it pretty, but it’s there. Even if just a little bit, it’s there and you are currently dragging your nails through it and Jungkook feels himself shiver at the sensation. You add more fingers once you reach his pubes, burying them deep in them just so you can scratch along his skin. His cock throbs because of you, leaking desperately.

Your eyes finally flit up. They are burning in fiery hunger for him. Your fingers still play with his hair, scratching him just above his cock. He smirks cockily.

“I wanna bounce on your cock till you’re begging me to stop”, you rasp and grab the base of his cock.

His smirk drops as his lips part in a gasp. Jungkook writhes because of how harshly you hold him. The pressure goes straight to his balls, keeping them from leaking any more precum for you.

“Fuck. Sweetheart”, he moans and throws the hair tie to the side. He finally drops down, gripping your thighs to the point where his fingertips dimple your flesh. His hair spreads on the cushion messily. Strands of it fall into his face.

You lift yourself and position your pussy over his cock. You give your clit a soft spank with it, sending a jolt through Jungkook’s legs.

“Ready?”

“Uh...yeah? What a ques-”

You sink down on him in one go.

Jungkook throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut.

“-fuck!”

“Mhhm Kookie baby….you’re filling me up so well”, you moan and begin bouncing on him. You don’t need to get used to him. He fits you like no other. All you need is to fuck yourself senseless on him and steal his sanity while you’re at it.

Jungkook moans loudly, his hands slip to your waist to hold it. He doesn’t guide you. He doesn’t need to because you know what you are fucking doing, but also because he has no strength in him to tell you what you should do. Once he’s on his back and got you on his cock, he is your fucking slave. If you want it fast and rough? Jungkook is happy to get wet and sensitive in your perfect cunt. If you want it slow and deep? Jungkook is more than happy to grow as big as he can and whimper your name. You want his orgasm quick? Jungkook just hopes that he can breathe between all the moaning he has to do. You want to drag it out? Fuck, he’s going to suffer but he’s not going to complain for even a second. He’s your little sexdoll and you can get yourself off as you desire.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck”, he chants, feeling his brain pound behind his skull.

“You’re so big Kookie baby, I can’t get enough of you”, you moan, leaning your weight on his tummy. You know that he can take it. His abs are rock hard under your palms, convulsing each time your cunt meets the base of his cock and your ass slams down on his thighs. “it’s like you’re made for me. My pussy can’t get enough of being drilled by you, baby.”

“Don’t please”, he begs, “either fuck me or talk, don’t do both”, he whines.

“Why?” you chuckle.

“Cause together is too hot”, he mewls, rolling his head to the side and squeezing your waist, “I’m getting fucked so good”, he keens with his voice pitched in utter pleasure.

“You’re adorable”, you say, sliding your hands up his torso until you can rest them next to his head. Like this your tits bounce all into his face, “open your eyes, Kook.”

Jungkook obeys and sobs your name, reaching for your tits instantly just to press them together and bury his face in them. He sucks and licks and kisses, using way too much spit for it which makes it all the more addicting. You know that once he is done, your skin will be covered in sensitive spots where he sucked for too long and your nipples will be throbbing. Just how you like it. You arch your back to smother him even further and stick out your ass. His cock curves in this position, grinding over your favourite spots inside with each movement.

“That’s it, suck my tits. You’re such a hungry little baby”, you taunt him as you wiggle your hips on him in a skilled rhythm. The kind which makes his toes curl and forces him to make the neediest little sounds into your tits, “so good baby, you’ve got the best fucking cock.”

He is stuck on your right nipple. You know that he has no control over it. You are scrambling his brain. He can’t think. Nor move. Sucking on your nipple is an instinctive, dumb reaction to getting his cock bounced on. This isn’t something he does willingly, it’s the only way he can take what you give him. And it’s starting to hurt. Jungkook sucks with such vigour that it’s getting uncomfortable.

You tug him away with a harsh grip on his hair. His spit drips all over his lower face, his eyes open. There are tears sitting on his pretty, dark lashes. His cheeks are flushed pink, his gaze just that little bit droopy.

“I have another nipple too, you know?” you say, “use your brain to think.”

His cock throbs inside you and leaks angrily. He squeezes your waist, curling his toes.

“You’re so mean”, he presses out and arches his back.

“I am? Oh baby, I’m sorry”, you coo, “you know that I don’t mean it.”

Jungkook whimpers and opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue. You know that he is asking for your nipple. But you are in a teasing mood.

You lean down and lick his tongue before you wrap your lips around it to suck on it to the point where he moans into your mouth and scratches up your back. The sensation leaves a slight burn behind and forces you to growl into him like a needy animal. 

Jungkook swears that he is going to pass out. You are messing with him way too much. He expected anything but this. Maybe he should have expected it. He is married to the nastiest, most amazing sex goddess after all.

You release his tongue with a purr, claiming his lips next. The kiss is deep and messy. Tongues dance with each other in an unidentifiable rhythm, teeth manage to clash together every so often which results in you giggling and moaning into the other and your lips can’t seem to get enough of feeling the other’s. His cock feels a million times better now that you are kissing him. You don’t feel the need to give him ruthless bounces anymore. Just deep grinding. The kind which shifts his cock inside you and always keeps it pressed to your favourite spot. Your clit grinds against his tummy this way as well. The pressure and his warmth are enough to send a constant stream of electricity through your veins.

Air is sparse in your lungs. You gotta breathe. You break the kiss. Both of you pant for air. Just ten seconds of distance. He uses the time to hold onto your shoulders, you use the time to twist his hair. His lips call you back. You kiss him, concentrating your attention on his lip ring area. Your tongue traces the metal ring, your lips kiss and suck it and you even dare to tug on it with your teeth as carefully as possible.

“Holy fuck”, his talking forces the piercing to slip from your lips.

“What’s wrong? Hurts?” you ask.

“That feels incredible”, he says.

“Mhm. Yeah?” you flick your tongue over it, “not gonna lie, kinda obsessed with it.”

“Just kiss me, mommy”, he whines and hooks his fingers behind your head.

“Did you just call me-”

“Shut up”, he interrupts you and pulls you down into the kiss. He keeps you close with his nails scratching over your scalp and his puffy lips chasing your kiss. He props his feet up on the sun bed and thrusts up into you.

You squeak, falling to your elbows this way. Your tits squish against his chest, rubbing against his nipple piercings and making him whimper. Your sweaty skins melt together. He took over, now slamming his cock into you in a deep and hasty rhythm. You convulse on top of him and break the kiss just to hide away in the crook of his neck and wail his name.

He hugs you against his chest, burying his nose in your hair.

“I love you”, he growls, “holy fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too”, you squeak, “Kook, Kookie, Jungkookie oh god baby.”

“I fucking love this pussy”, he grips your ass and uses the leverage to move your hips on his cock, “shit, you feel so good.”

“Oh god”, you sob, “Kook, this making me cum.”

“Yeah? Good”, he spits and moans squeakily. Despite his rough fucking and harsh grip, he moans cutely. His voice is all pitched and breathy, barely wanting to come out from how messed up you got him. The contrast is making your head pound.

“Holy fuck, I’m close”, you get out, “fuck, your cock’s so good. Fuck baby, fuck.”

“Same, fucking same”, he growls, “don’t hold back, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Deeper.”

Jungkook tenses his thighs and fucks his cock as deep as he can go.

“Yes!” you wail, starting to convulse on top of him as your body prepares for the messiest high, “yes! Yes! Yes!”

“That’s it baby, take my cock. Take my fucking cock, you’re doing so good. Oh fuck, I’m gonna nut so hard”, he is rambling. He always does that when he gets too lost in you and his mind is running on nothing but you, “gonna fucking cream your sweet little pussy, god I want you so bad. Fuck baby, you drive me insane.”

“Koo, I’m cumming”, you mewl and break apart, clutching him for dear life as your veins fill with fiery ecstasy.

“Yes baby, fuck holy fuck”, Jungkook’s voice changes in pitch, he barely gets the words out, “oh fuck, you’re squeezing my cock like crazy. God, I love you. My princess, keep cumming, that’s it.”

You have to be honest, you barely take in what he says. You know that he is talking and it’s making you so wet that he barely manages to stay inside, but his words don’t really stay in your brain. You are so far gone in the blissful embrace of your orgasm. He makes you feel just way too good.

“Oh god, baby I can’t hold back anymore”, he mewls and squeezes you tightly, “___!”

His hips drop and still, his cock throbs inside you and the loudest squeaks leave him. You can feel how his hot cum shoots up your pussy and how it’s leaking out of you because you’re milking him like crazy.

Still delirious from your own orgasm, you grind on him messily and without any sort of rhythm. You just want to make him feel good and be with him for as long as possible.

Your bodies naturally slow down. You know each other so well that it is your bodies’ instinct to stop once it turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable. Messy grinds turn into barely there rocks of your hips, these turn into the occasional clench of your walls until even that stops and you are resting atop his chest while both of you are panting for air.

You don’t need to talk – hell, neither of you could – as recovering with each other is already enough to comfort you.

Once those seconds turned into minutes and Jungkook’s softened cock naturally slipped out of you, you are the one to finally break the comfortable silence.

“So that just happened.”

“Yeah”, Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing his palm up and down your back, “fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck”, you agree, “that was amazing.”

“It was fucking incredible”, he says and laughs again.

You join him because it feels good to laugh with him. Especially after sex.

“So uhm”, you say, nudging his neck with your nose, “wanna talk about the M-bomb you just dropped?”

“Shut up”, he whines, “I had your tits in my face and you were so sexy, it slipped outta me.”

“No don’t apologise, it was hot as fuck. You just never said that before”, you say and giggle, “you’re cute, baby.”

“Mhhm, it’s ‘cause you messin’ wit’ me”, he lulls and hugs you tightly, “always makin’ me feel so good.”

“Yeah same. You make me feel so good too”, you say and lift your head just so you can finally look at his face. He looks as ruined as you feel. It’s the sexiest look on him, “I’m already obsessed with the lip ring.”

“Yeah same”, Jungkook says, licking over it, “now I gotta think of techniques to use it on you when I eat you out.”

“Mhhm that sounds like fun”, you say, tracing it with your finger, “I can’t wait to explore it with you.”

He smiles, scrunching his nose up. He is so happy when he’s with you. You feel the same. He’s the best thing in your life.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 3

Title: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests   

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You need to think out this whole situation, and where better than your favourite place on campus? The one place where no one ever goes and where you can truly do your best problem solvi—wait who the hell is sitting in your supposed place of undisturbed tranquility? 

Warnings: PG18, heavy swearing, photography jargon (hopefully nothing tooooo confusing, I intentionally over explained a bit for those unfamiliar but a quick google search should clear up anything), euc=short form for eucalyptus “Youke”, art jargon but less, 1 (one) mention of metaphorical murder, and a bit of angst and fluff. I think that’s all?? Hella internal dialogue 

Word Count: 10,804

Release Date: March 2, 2023, 4:00PM

A/N 1: she somehow went from 8k to 10.8k???? Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 1.5: I’m literally so tired of looking at this, I’ve read it at least 10 times in three days. 

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Jungkook’s sitting at a table outside what he considers to be his new safe haven, making a mental note to thank Yuri for showing him the greenhouse cafe—is that its name? He should’ve asked.

He can see himself coming here all the time for quiet morning work sessions. The coffee is great, the snacks are delicious, and there aren’t a lot of people around either—zero—to be precise. So he really considers this a win in his book.

The cafe is just southwest of a medium sized greenhouse, not even a minute's walking distance between the two. He could clearly see all the flowers and plants within from his seat outside. And behind the greenhouse was nothing but a small grass field followed by thick, dense forest.

It doesn’t even feel like he’s on campus. Just free about the world, grabbing a coffee and sitting down to work on a project like anyone else would. Like anyone else could. Another face in the crowd instead of the one on magazines in every corner store, book shop and grocer.

He can dream about it. Take in these small moments, but it will never be his reality. Not really. Even in this little corner of blissful nowhere the barista who served him his coffee knew who he was, addressed him properly, albeit a bit stuttered.

And he can’t blame her. It’s what she’s supposed to do. How she’s ‘supposed’ to react to him. 

He’s someone big and important. Someone people look to and see their future in his hands. Someone who merits reactions when in the presence of others. 

Someone who...

Someone...

So he dreams. And is thankful for what little normalcy he can get.

Taking a deep breath in, he holds it and he shakes his head, dismissing the thoughts before releasing a steady, controlled exhale.

Reset.

The cafe has an awning over its small patio, four tables on either side of the doorway, two that seat four and two that seat two on their respective sides, eight in total. He’s chosen to sit at the table of two furthest from the greenhouse, closest to the cafe. It has more shade, allowing him to see the screen of his laptop better.

Jungkook needed some time alone without anyone finding him, he gave that stupid speech on Monday for many reasons, but one of the most important ones was that he wants to be able to exist in a public space and to do his school work without a crowd gathering.

He’s taking this university thing seriously, and that means doing good work, excelling in his chosen subjects. It requires no distractions and lots of effort.

He doesn’t want to have to be cramped up in his dorm the whole time, too scared to leave for fear of never being left alone. He left that behind when he stepped foot onto the campus.

No more worrying about cameras or security or kingdoms. No more watching and tracking his every step.

This is his time to be a young man, not the prince. Just Jungkook.

And so far? He’s doing okay.

But just in case, he’s also wearing a hat, hoodie and mask for extra protection while editing some pictures.

Old habits die hard.

His Design and Visual Culture professor had given out an intro assignment to the class so he could get a read on everyone’s skill levels and to see where his starting point would be. Professor Hirmer asked everyone in the class to each submit three images: one portrait; black and white or colour, one still life of the photographers choosing, and one image of whatever your preferred style was. Then edit them to the best of their abilities, and submit by noon the following Monday.

Jungkook’s already finished his portrait. He hasn’t really made any friends here yet, so he just took one of himself, which made it easier in the long run because he was so used to his picture being taken.

Slicked back hair, a black tight fit shirt, silver chain and white background made up the shot aside from him. He’d decided on butterfly lighting because he’s always found it to be the most flattering aside from Rembrandt. Don’t get him wrong, Rembrandt’s a nice technique, Jungkook just didn’t want his portrait to be too dramatic.

He got the one he wanted to use in no time, and it required very little editing. Black and white is forgiving like that.

Currently, he’s working on his still life.

A latte with a basic heart design in a dark navy mug sat on the keys of a mahogany wood grand piano. The mug sat on the right side of thirds, and a couple stems of eucalyptus half cover the keys to the left, the tips of it just barely covering the bottom of the mug. He kept his depth of field wide so that most of what was in the frame was in focus, but the primary focus of the entire image is intended to be the drink and tips of the eucalyptus.

Jungkook managed to get one of the six guards his father insisted on him having here to go to a local market to grab the euc stems. Their remains were currently hanging in his shower, smelling wonderful and fresh.

The latte he did himself, a small talent after needing coffee constantly in his teen years to keep up with everything.

And as for the piano? He booked a music room for an hour with one in it. Work smarter not harder.

He’d kept his lighting dark, but gentle, really highlighting the whites of the piano keys while keeping the rich hues of the mahogany and navy present. The eucalyptus is comfortably set in the middle, having some brighter and darker tones to balance it out.

He’s quite proud of it, having created a visually pleasing image that had equal amounts of high, medium and low tones. But he wants the edges of the picture to blur slightly, so he’s adding a very subtly feathered vignette to the image.

He knows most of his peers will likely be doing a traditional still life of fruit or flowers, so he took a risk and made the prompt his own. He just hopes it pays off.

While editing, Jungkook’s simultaneously trying to brainstorm what he wants to do for his third picture. His style of choice is candids, takes them constantly, yet he doesn’t have a single one he wants to use for the assignment.

He likes them best because candids are those perfectly imperfect moments that show who a person truly is, when they’re at their happiest and saddest moments and everything in between. Candids are for when someone’s so caught up in what they’re doing that they look entirely serene in their task, and you want to capture that, forever. A small sliver of them, existing purely as they are.

Nothing fake, nothing practiced, no do overs. Just capturing genuine moments as they happen. A true reflection of humanity without filters or editing.

Jungkook’s thinking of maybe going undercover in the courtyard to snap some pictures of random people to see if that could work when a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Someone, with their back facing him, is very unceremoniously dumping their tote bag at the table most opposite him; the table for two that’s half covered in sunlight, half shaded.

Clad in loose fitting paint and charcoal covered overalls, a white shirt and bandana, they’re taking out what appear to be art supplies.

Brushes, small metal tins filled with paint, a very chaotically colourful water holder, and painting pad all gather onto the little table. He’s surprised at how they make it all fit.

It seems like he’s not the only one who’s seen this place for its potential.

But when they turn around, it’s…You?

It’s you.

Of all people.

What are the odds?

He wants to say hi, but hesitates, still aware of your conversation from earlier and hopes there’s no harm in a friendly hello between people who are acquainted, regardless of pending decisions.

But Jungkook watches your eyes pass right over him, unaware or uncaring he’s there. His half-raised hand falls along with the smile that’s found its way onto his covered face as you continue into the cafe.

A byproduct of his upbringing is being able to read even the subtlest of body language and facial shifts in people. And in your case, it’s like you’re screaming at him without actually speaking.

He knows from your closed off posture alone that you don’t want to be disturbed. But your expression…it's like a mixture of anger, worry and thoughtfulness.

Jungkook knows better than to interrupt someone when they look like that, and he decides against saying anything, returning to his assignment.

A minute later the bell on the door chimes, signaling your exit. 

Looking up, he notes the cup of warm whatever it is in one hand, a very full looking pastry bag in the other, and a water bottle tucked into your side via your elbow.

He wonders what’s inside the cup. Coffee? Would you drink caffeinated or decaf? Or maybe you’re more of a tea person. But would it be black or green tea? Do you use milk? What about sweetener? He can’t decide but that doesn’t stop the thoughts from racing across his mind.

Why does he care so much?

You settle down into your seat, the shaded one of the pair, and—somehow—place your newly acquired goods on the already jam packed table. Truly a talent within itself.

But a sip from your cup, and a bite of something that resembles a tart later, you wipe your hands on your overalls and pick up a brush, wetting it from the colourful container. Bringing the empty, water only filled brush to the paint pad in front of you, you start.

Your back blocks most of it so he can’t see much, but your eye line is honed in on the greenhouse. And if he had to guess just by looking, you’re focused on the orchid that sits front and center. 

He couldn’t name it specifically, but he can see why you’d want to commit it to paper. It’s pretty—yellow and red, very exotic looking, and he doesn't mean to—doesn’t even realize he is—when he finds himself watching you work instead of doing his own, mesmerized.

Your hand moves gracefully from paint to paper to water and back again.  Occasionally, switching out brushes or wiping the one you had on your pants, drying it or maybe getting the last bits of colour off. He’s fascinated with how you know exactly what to use and where to put what in order for the image to spring to life. Most likely years of practice and muscle memory guiding you.

Sort of how he does photography. Years of experience and knowing which poses and angles to use to really make an image pop. For a moment he wonders if anyones looked at his art the way he’s looking at yours.

When you take a small break, stretching out your back and limbs, Jungkook snaps out of his daze and looks at the clock on the bottom right hand side of his screen.

He’s been watching you for nearly 30 minutes.

That’s creepy as hell Jeon, he thinks to himself, lucky you didn’t notice, and returns his sights to his laptop.

Fuck. What was he doing again?

Staring at the still life in front of him, it takes a minute before he recalls.

Oh right.

Professor Hirmer’s assignment. The third image. A picture of his preferred style—his preferred style of candids. What could he do for his candid shot?

He thinks. A candid shot. Candids. Caaaannnndidddssssss. Caaaaaa—

A lightbulb goes off and he feels like both an idiot and a genius.

Retrieving his camera from his bag, Jungkook glances your way and sees you painting again.

Perfect.

Quietly, he gets up from his seat, moving just enough to be able to see a sliver of your painting and a small portion of your face. You're so focused that you don't even notice him, like nothing outside the page matters. And only for a second does he wonder what you’re thinking about.

Your body is easy to read, it’s your mind that remains a mystery.

The sun’s moved ever so slightly so that your page is now fully doused in sunlight, while you remain under the gentle caress of shadow from the awning.

Smart girl.

But your face is bathed in the subtle glow of your papers reflecting illumination. And it's like you’re the one creating light with every brush stroke.

You look transcendent.

With that sight in his viewfinder, Jungkook takes a few shots in portrait framing, his thumb covering the speaker that lets out the ‘click’ noise of a picture being taken, before adjusting his shutter speed.

These pictures all have you in focus, with the background consisting of half somewhat blurry cafe wall, half very blurry forest green. And they’re okay, they work. But he wants to have your movements and surrounding materials in the image as well, to really show the process of an artist at work. So he switches to a landscape framing and settles on a slower shutter speed to create a longer exposure.

Waiting for you to clean your brush in the water cup before snapping the capture button, Jungkook holds steady as it’s a couple seconds before the image takes. It makes him wish he had his tripod with him because it would make this so much easier, but he can make due if he has too. 

And he has too. Because he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass.

After a few more shots and near leg cramp later, he brings the results of his efforts up on the viewfinder for review. Jungkook’s thrilled to see that the movement in the piece was taken exactly how he wanted. Your arm steady on the canvas, but all your movements prior shown like angelically lit rays due to the angle of the sun, creating an ocean of movement around a steadily focused you.

They’re hauntingly beautiful. 

He takes a couple more like that for good measure, getting in different movements and shutter speeds before slowly making his way back to his laptop and table.

Popping his SD card into his computer for closer inspection, Jungkook sees there’s definitely more than one useful candidate and gets to work on narrowing down his favourite.

He is going to pass this assignment with flying colours. And it’s all thanks to you.

As you arrive at the cafe you notice a guy in a black hoodie, hat and mask with his head stuck in a laptop at the furthest table on the patio. Internally, you sigh that there’s someone else here; it’s almost always vacant and that’s why you love it. No people, no distractions, just you and your work, and your thoughts.

You try not to worry too much about it, doing your best to just ignore him and have hope that he leaves soon. At least he’s as far away from your spot as he can get.

Dropping your tote on the chair in the sun, you start placing all your things on the table. It’s an exact science you’ve perfected over many, many paint sessions and far too much spilled liquid. Countless art projects have fallen victim on this table, some you were able to salvage, but most were added to its body count.

Setting down your paint tins, you still can’t get the conversation with Yuri out of your head. Not leaving the building, not crossing the campus, not all the time it took you to get way over here either, no matter how hard you tried.

You huff.

Was your reaction really that unjustified? Could she not see how insane she was acting? Why did she jump to you being jealous? Why would she even think you’d be jealous?

You have Nel.

A prince isn’t going to change that.

And speaking of, you didn’t even get to tell her about your conversation with Jungkook.

After this fight though…you don’t think you will.

He seems to be becoming a sore spot between the two of you, ridiculous as that is, so you think it best to just not bring it up and deal with it on your own. That’s how you usually do things anyway, and you were only going to ask Yuri as a thinking out loud type of thing, hoping she had some input. But it’s clear now that none of it would have been useful anyway.

Finishing placing your things down—all fitting perfectly, by the way—you dig into your tote for your wallet and head into the cafe, still doing your best to ignore the other patron. Hopefully you can give off enough of a vibe that he takes the hint and leaves.

The bells hanging on the door sound as it opens and shuts.

“Hey YN,” Vivian, the barista, calls at your entrance.

You two know each other well, enough to be on a first name basis. You, being one of—if not the only—regular, and the cafe—being a little out of the way of anything else—not having many students make it a part of their routine.

A comfortable, welcomed sort of exile. One you gladly share with her.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, looking at the window closest to where you sit, “Are we painting again? I saw they switched up the flowers in the greenhouse on Monday. The ones they have out now are so beautiful.”

“It’s great to see you too, Viv” you respond, eyeballing the pastry display. You notice they have your favourite egg tarts in today.

At least one thing is going right for you.

“And yeah, they are,” you say warmly, regarding her comment. “I’m thinking I’m about to get real sick and tired of looking at that orchid they placed front and center.”

Viv laughs, patiently waiting on your order, though she’s got a good idea of what it’ll be.

“Could I get a hot chocolate with whip please?” You ask, and drum your fingers on your legs deciding how many tarts to get—two or three? Two or three?—before remembering, “Oh! and if you still have the not so super secret stash of mini marshmallows that you don’t have here,” throwing up air quotes and a smirk for good measure, “Could you toss a few of those in too? I’ll tip you extraaaaa.”

Viv only gives you a look that says yes they do but that she’ll never admit it out loud, and you’re grateful to her.

You’d spotted them one day by chance in first year and asked if you could have some with your drink. Viv merely stated that they don’t have marshmallows at the cafe while slipping a few in under your lid with a wink. You’ve been eternally appreciative for that kindness ever since, and tip her handsomely for it, but you’ve never known why it was such a secret. 

Maybe one day you’ll ask.  

Coffee isn’t really your thing, only turning to it during exams season, and you weren’t in the mood for tea, so hot chocolate’s always your favourite alternative.

But hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows?

Instant mood booster. And you definitely need that after the afternoon you’ve had.

“Anything else?” Viv asks, adding the large amount of whip cream she knows you like to the top of your drink.

“Yeah actually,” you smile, “could I get a water bottle and three of the egg tarts? They’re my favourite.”

Three seemed to be the most unreasonable option, therefore it’s the one you had to go with. And soon, a much too small, very full paper pastry bag finds its way onto the counter, accompanying your drinks.

“I’ll let bossman know about your dragon-like hoarding tendencies with the tarts and see if we can get them in more regularly,” Viv says, unsuccessfully keeping in a giggle at the end of her subtle jab and it makes you laugh too. “I mean, I don’t see why not seeing as you pretty much single handedly keep this place afloat anyway.”

You adore Viv. She’s real and kind, and very much someone you consider to be a bosom friend of sorts. You can tell her if you’ve had a bad day or a good one, and she’ll do the same, no shroud of inane pleasantries. You two having escaped the somewhat awkward ‘you work here and I go here so lets be nice to one another’ worker-customer relationship to a genuine friendship, and it makes the whole experience that much better. 

But it also allows for pulling on one another’s legs, like you do now.

“You’re so mean to me… and lucky I like you for it,” you say, opening your wallet, happy to pay whatever number you’re given plus 30%. The marshmallows and Viv are worth it. “How much will it be?”

She lets you know the total and you hand her a couple of mandatory bills plus a few extra, telling her to keep the change. You’ll lose any coins you have anyway, might as well give them to someone who’ll use them.

Viv says thanks and you make your way back to your spot, hands full and mind feeling a little lighter.

Thanks Viv.

Sitting down, you take a swig of your drink, a bite of your newly acquired tarts and get to work.

Starting with a wet on wet approach: you brush the canvas with water where you’ll eventually put some colour so it bleeds intentionally, and glance up every couple seconds to make sure to get a proper likeness.

It’s a yellow tiger orchid, truly beautiful—you’re a bit of a flower nerd because of your mom, but especially with orchids because they’re your favourite. They just come in so many different forms, it’s hard not to love their diversity.

Dipping into your paints now, you add some yellows in slowly, deciding to think of it as less of a flower study and more of an artistic interpretation so you don't have to use your brain too much. You’ll be using it enough to think through this whole Jungkook thing, no need to get caught up in the details and strain yourself even more.

Carefully put and one by one, more and more colours make their way onto the page and you settle into the calmness of creating. It leaves the open space you need for your mind to finally start working through the whole Jungkook–Yuri, Yuri–You, You–Jungkook situation before immediately correcting that there is no You–Jungkook situation.

He just wants to be friends, and that doesn’t constitute a situation. More of a predicament.

Yeah, that sounds better.

You switch out your brush in favour of a tart after getting base colours down, takinge a hefty bite and chasing it down with more hot chocolate. Damn it’s good, you need to ask Viv what magic she puts in it to make it this amazing.

Another swig and you think it’ll be better to just jump right into your mental debate. Get it over with, hash it all out. 

So that’s exactly what you do.

It isn’t that you do or don’t want to be friends with Jungkook, he seems nice enough.

It’s a matter of if you can be.

Jungkook is probably a very self-disciplined individual—if you knew anything about his upbringing—so it’s not like he wouldn’t understand your drive. He’d probably understand you in that respect more than Yuri does. Why you work so hard, why you don’t slow down. You can’t.

You won't. Not for anyone or anything.

And he can clearly understand social cues so you don’t have to worry about things getting awkward. He would act appropriately, never pushing boundaries—

Using a thin angled brush, you add more yellow to create sharper lines.

—And had he been just Jungkook, you wouldn’t even be sitting here having this ridiculous mental conversation with yourself. Because who stresses this much over a new potential friendship? You certainly never have before.

But that’s the problem, he isn’t just regular old Jungkook.

He is His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

And as much as his title doesn’t mean shit to you, it sure as hell means a whole lot of something to everyone else.

He’s heir to the biggest kingdom on this half of the planet. On the cover of every teen magazine and online news article. Only child to the King and Queen. 

Powerful. Attractive. Single.

In short, Jungkook has been incredibly well known and incredibly important since the day he was born 24 years ago.

So you have to sit and think out what would happen if you became the prince's first female college friend. Well… aside from Yuri, but you don’t know how long that’s going to last, given where she thought things were going.

Being seen with him publicly would immediately put you in a spotlight you don’t want. You hate being the center of attention, but that’s the least of your worries.

You worry greatly that you wouldn’t firstly be known for becoming ‘YN, globally renowned painter, artist and business woman,’ selling pieces for more than they’re worth and then some. Galleries from all over the world knocking down your door, begging for your work. Having billionaires auction off paintings you’ve done for charity, being flown around the world for and by people to have you create something for them. Be it portraits or murals or even a performance—

Some burnished red now, with a small thin tip brush to begin the rorschach like patterns on the petals.  

—You wanted to be successful by your own hand, and then and only then would you occasionally speak of your very, incredibly platonic, not at all romantic, years old friendship with the prince, who you’d met in your college years by chance.

But you know that if you say yes, if you agree, all of those worries would prove true. That none of it would happen. None of the future you’ve worked for the better part of a decade on would come to fruition.

Oh no, no, no. That wouldn’t be the case at all.

Why would it? If you said yes, you’d become this week's most hot and trending piece of gossip. You’d be ‘the first girl Prince Jungkook was seeing in college,’ and everyone would ask ‘are you his new girlfriend?’ or ‘just a fling?’

If you said yes, it would be a constant barrage of:

‘Where did you meet?’ ‘Is he a good kisser?’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Have you met the king?’ ‘Does he like you?’ ‘What about the Queen, does she approve?’ ‘Has The Prince mentioned marriage at all?’ ‘Can we see the ring?’ ‘How many children will you have?’

At the grocery store, the mall, the hallways of your school, your hometown, the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be everywhere all of the time, constantly, and your head is already spinning at all the potential bombardment to your currently nice and relatively quiet life, so you take another snack break and stretch. 

Finishing your first tart and making a good dent in your second, the hot chocolate is half gone at this point. Whip cream and marshmallows having long melted, making the drink extra smooth.

Returning to your painting and back on topic; you’re not dense. You know how the media does what it wants with the people they see as mere puppets. As if they aren’t living breathing individuals with lives outside the very narrow-minded, click bait titled, news articles.

Their ‘reporters’ have absolutely no regard for what they say and how they act. They have not a care in the world for what their claims do to all the innocent individuals whose lives they write about after they’re done with them.

Selfish is the nicest word you can think to describe them. They’re vicious, heartless, vile people, and you have no desire to ever be the object of their attention.

The flowers are springing to life beautifully as you put layer after layer of detail. You add some darker hues, deciding to go with a more vivid red rather than the burnished one from before. Your wet on wet approach is working magic on blending the colours seamlessly for you. It really accentua—

—And another thing! If you did say yes, you could just see it now;

After your successful career launch, you’d always—no matter what you did—always be questioned about your relationship and what could have been with the prince. Or you’d be asked if knowing him is what got you to where you were, if he gave you a leg up, so to speak.

As if you would let him have any hand in making you what you were always going to become.

You didn’t and don’t need his or anyone’s help.

But it would always be, ‘YN? Oh you mean that artist got that much recognition just because she knew Prince Jungkook?’ or ‘YN, the Prince’s ex from college?’ no matter how hard he or you pushed that you were just friends. Because who would listen to either of you after the speculation was already there? After the seed was planted in their minds.

People love secrets and thinking they know all the dirty, gossipy scandals more than anything. Thinking they know more about other people's secrets than they do their own. As if they have nothing better to do with their lives.

Sighing, you drink the last bit of hot chocolate, wanting another one once it’s gone, but not the sugar headache that comes with that. Water then.

Adding some dimension to the petals by using a clean, damp brush to remove some pigment, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the most obvious conclusion that would be made and sink into it.  

You’re almost scared of the social pariah you’d become with every other woman and handful of men on campus. One dating rumor and you're done. Gone. Dismissed.

Or worse. One dating rumor and your popularity will suddenly skyrocket. You won’t have another moment to breathe alone so long as you’re still in school.

Jungkook is the most eligible bachelor on this side of the planet, potentially the whole world. His potential matches are princesses and the daughters of the filthy rich.

Who are you?

No one.

At least right now you are.

You aren’t royal, aren’t of ‘noble birth,’ aren’t a wealthy socialite. You aren’t even an independent, wildly successful career woman yet.

You’re just a scholarship kid who’s only at this school because she worked her ass off for it. Who has to continuously work her ass off for it if she wants to continue to be here.  

And you do want to. You want to work hard and become who you’ve always known you’d be. One invisible, important step at a time. 

From the first sketch to the last brush stroke.

So to summarize.

You don’t want to be the media’s plaything. Something for them to have their fun with and be bored of in a week, the future you’re working so hard to create destroyed before ever seeing the light of day. Fizzled out like a candle in a pouring downfall, only smoke remaining from the once bright and proud flame.

Secondly, you don’t want to be the social outcast or new campus favourite simply because you made a new friend. Having either icicles thrown at you from every set of eyes on campus or clout grabbers following your every footstep, begging for attention. Snubbed from any group projects, crowds parting like the red sea at your arrival, or never getting a moment to yourself again, late to every class due to your own personal assembly.

You’re exhausted at the mere thought of the possibility of either.

And lastly, you don’t want all the possible implications that come with knowing and befriending a man like him. Plain and simple.

What you want is to establish yourself because you worked for and earned it. What you want is to be successful, putting your near decade of practice and studying to good use. What you want is to have media attention, but for your talents, your efforts, and accomplishments.

Not his.

Not because you happened to treat the second most important person in your country like a normal, regular person.

Like he’d asked literally everyone else on your campus to do.

It isn’t your fault you're the only one who has ears that work.

But…on that note…

This is the prince.

And you are his citizen under his family’s monarchy. 

You don’t know if you’re even allowed to say no.

Can you?

He said you could…or was that him just giving you the illusion of choice? Don’t you have to listen to him? By royal decree or whatever it was that forced people to live under the royal family’s rule?

You have no idea, and choose to sit on it some more. There has to be a better solution to this.

You wish you could just talk to Yuri. She’s been your sounding board for the better part of two years now. But that’s definitely a no-go after today. You worry what bringing up anything prince related would do to your friendship right now. You’ve had enough arguments and mental taxation for the time being, thanks.

And if not Yuri…You would talk to Nel…

But Nel’s in a completely different country—a completely different time zone—right now. Already halfway through his night and you don’t want to wake him.

Wait, Nel.

Fuck.

Nel is another thing you have to consider in all this. You aren’t sure how he’d react to any form of relationship you’d have with Jungkook. 

How would he react to the media’s coverage of you with the prince?

Would he believe you when you denied everything?

Five years is a long time.

To know someone. To love them. To trust them. And you both know where you stand. You know where your future lies; with him. And he knows his lies with you.

But Nel is only human, and every human has flaws. No one is perfect. Everyone can have moments of weakness. Every person can feel jealous no matter how secure the relationship.

And jealousy can kill a relationship just as quickly, if not faster than anything else.

Jealousy can make you think things so irrational that it breaks down the wall of trust you built on a foundation of cement and bricks like it was nothing more than two twigs being held up by sheer luck and willpower alone.

A horrible rumor. 

A gust of wind. 

What’s the difference?

Five years of love, trust and communication could crumble to dust because of some asshole with a camera, an angle, and a computer with an internet connection.

You don’t want that to happen. You cannot express fervently enough how badly you never want something like that to happen to you or Nel.

You love your relationship. You love Nel, and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.

But surely he’d understand if the heir to your nation's throne asked you to be his friend.

Surely he’d believe you when you told him that absolutely nothing was going on between you and Jungkook and that the media is just having a field day because he was the prince, and you were a girl around his age.

Surely he would…

Surely…

Five years is a long time.

But it’s also short. If you consider that for just over two of them you were long distance 9 months out of the year. And that two and a half more of them were when you were in highschool doing 60 hour weeks while he had football practice before and after school every day.  

When you spent most of your weekends at galleries, or portrait study or cramming for a test.

When he spent his studying and practicing and catching up on all his lost sleep from practice.

Maybe…

Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him.

A fire can’t start where there isn’t any kindling…right?

An argument can’t start, mistrust can’t begin, jealousy can’t exist if he just…never knows about it.

If nobody knows about it.

Actually.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. Just not tell anyone.

It’s not lying, not really. It’s just omitting a very, very small part of your life. 

And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything bad. It would most likely just be Jungkook asking about where to bring girls on dates or if you’ve seen the newest tv show that’s been on.

You’d tell him Azorè’s is the restaurant closest to campus that’s actually nice, and that no, you haven’t, because you don’t watch a lot of TV if you can help it.

That’s not devious, it’s normal friend stuff—just without the immense social pressure and potential repercussions of knowing him and being female at the same time.

Holy Shit.

This might be crazy enough to work.

And this way… this way you don’t have to say no to Jungkook, and Yuri won’t be mad, and Nel won’t get jealous, and you’ll stay out of the spotlight.

This way works out for everyone.

This way solves everything.

You huff, relieved. 

Now you just have to convince the prince that it’s a good idea.

He’s used to omitting things, isn't he? He must because of his future job. Don’t they train future monarchs in the wise and ancient art of social deception and secret keeping—to keep the peace or whatever?

You don’t think it’ll be that big a leap for him.

The longer you ruminate, the more you like the idea, deciding that when you get back to your dorm later, that’s what you’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well then problem solved all around anyway.

You reach for your hot chocolate, remember it’s empty, and switch to your water instead. Celebrating by mentally patting yourself on the back.

Always trust the greenhouse cafe. The greenhouse cafe is good. The greenhouse cafe is wise. The greenhouse cafe is all kno—

“That’s beautiful.”

You almost jump out of your seat at the voice, knee hitting the table in the process. It makes everything on it bounce and clang loudly and the hand holding your brush that was also nearing your water flies to your chest, leaving a splotch of red paint on your cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, reaching to rub your now throbbing knee. That’s going to bruise. You’re just lucky nothing spilled, you certainly hit the table hard enough.

Looking up to see who your unintentional heart attack provoker was, you blink a couple times before a worried looking Jungkook with big eyes comes into focus.

Though, his worry is brief it seems, as his attention shifts to the painting in front of you, the small smile from the day you met making an reappearance.

Didn’t he just see you jump ten feet in the air? Because of him???

“What the fuck Jungkook?! You scared the shit out of me,” you say scowling, giving him a piece of your mind while your heartbeat returns to a healthier pace. “Didn’t they ever tell you not to sneak up on people in that big, fancy house of yours?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone call the palace a ‘big, fancy house’ before. Another first with you. And he’s about to say as much when his gaze finally meets your own and see’s how upset you are. Right, he spooked you.

The hand not holding a laptop into his side slides behind his neck and he looks away. You swear you can see the prince blushing.

Did you cause that?

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

You look him up and down quickly.

Hoodie. Hat. Laptop. Mask around his wrist.

Jungkook was the guy sitting on the patio from earlier? How did you not recognize him? Like at all?

He has the most famous face in the world and you couldn’t recognize it when it was 20 feet away?

Wow.

Actually.

Hat to hide the hair, hoodie to hide the body, mask to hide the face. 

Impressive. He really knew how to blend in when he wanted too.

But he hasn’t even said hi or sorry. And he undoubtedly saw you earlier as you weren’t exactly subtle in placing your things on the table.

So much for wanting to be friends. He can’t even say hello to you?

...or maybe you got lucky and he saw that you really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Thoughts aside, you won’t admit to him you find his camouflage techniques exceptional. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

Jungkook's hand recedes from his nape and he looks at you again, blush almost gone.

“Ah.. sorry.” He cringes a little. “I’ve always been told I’m light on my feet and I constantly forget when I’m around new people. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry, YN.”

So his manners haven’t completely escaped him. 

You give him a hard time as you point a finger his way. “You’re paying the hospital bill if my kneecap’s broken.”

It only takes a second for the joke to land this time, and a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Yeah, that’s fair. You break it, you buy it?”

It’s the first joke you’ve heard him make, and honestly, it isn’t bad. You chuckle.

“Something like that, sure. Here,” you say, holding the canvas up a little higher for him to see. “It’s a Yellow Tiger Orchid. The greenhouse likes to switch around the plants every other week, but these guys are always my favourite. Make for a fun challenge.”

Jungkook's loose hand touches the edge of the canvas lightly, careful not to disturb the still drying paint.

His words are almost thoughtless, entirely too focused on your work as he says, “You’re incredibly talented, your parents must be so proud.”

“Parent,” you correct, not harshly, just so that he knows you’ve only got the one. “And thanks, it stems from my many years of practice and a shady deal with an even shadier witch. All I know is I owe her my first born.”

That smile of his makes a comeback, only bigger and followed by a snicker.

You match it.

“But yes, my mother’s incredibly proud and a large part of the reason I’m here, never once having stopped supporting my goals.”

That’s true. Very true. Your mum never once thought your dreams were out of your reach, only ever pushing you towards them where she could. Placing steps down for you where she was able to.

She signed you up for lessons, drove you to galleries, bought you book after book on all your favourite artists and painting techniques. She got you paints and palettes and canvases, and did everything she possibly could have to get you where you now are.

She’s your number one fan.

And, in true proud mom fashion, she told everyone she could about how her daughter got into RABFA on scholarship all by herself—except you didn’t. You’re here because of all the support she gave during those years as well as your efforts, but she refuses to take any of the credit.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says genuinely, before hesitating. Looking like he wants to say something but is debating it. “Can I–Do you–,” he inhales deeply,  clearly not used to fumbling over his words.

It’s...cute.

“Would you mind if I sat down?” he finally gets out. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

You think about it only for a second, taking a quick scan of your surroundings. There’s no one around besides Viv, and she’s probably working in the back. Plus, you're pretty sure he’s seen or even spoken to some of the greatest artists of your time. Not to mention, you’d love to hear his input.

“Yeah, sure.”

Instead of sitting on the chair your bag is currently using, he puts his things on the table to your right and spins one around from there, settling down with arms folded over the back of it.

“Thanks.”

You hand over your sketchpad. A perk to using a heavily water based medium is that your painting’s already dried in the time since you first spoke.

Jungkook flips his way through the pages slowly, taking his time in studying each painting as an individual piece. It’s not long before he reaches the one you were working on today. Having just started this pad a month ago, there isn’t much in it yet.

He searches back through to one right near the beginning.

“This ones my favourite,” he says, spinning the canvas around for you to see. It’s a tiger lily painting you’d done late in the summer at home.

Your mother is a notorious gardener, and has several flower beds that could rival a plant nursery with the sheer size, magnitude and variety of flowers in them. 

Rose bushes, dahlias, sunflowers, snap dragons, carnations, tulips, daisies, chrysanthemums, you name it, they were there.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend an afternoon out in the garden sketching different blooms or picking one out in particular to paint.

She’d gotten the bright orange tiger lilies this past spring. They were the first ones you’d chosen when you got home after second year to paint. And then you just didn’t stop. They take up about a quarter of your summer sketchbook.

You couldn’t help it. They were hypnotizing.

“Why that one?”

“It’s my birth flower,” he says, lifting the sleeve on his right, revealing a forearm full of wonderfully inked designs. At the center of it is a tiger lily in matching bright orange hue. “It’s always had significant meaning for me because it’s something that represents me that didn’t come from my lineage, position, or name.”

“Oh.”

You sit there for a moment, stunned, yet to release your gaze from the sight of his arm.

The designs that cover it go all the way up to his elbow and don’t stop.

From an artist's point of view, you’re incredibly impressed with the quality of the work. Intricately placed mixes of black, white and colour. Never one or the other for too long. Strong clean lines. Clear, unmuddied colours. Striking.

Beautiful.

You shouldn’t be so surprised, knowing only the best would be allowed to grace his skin, but still. It was rare you were this taken aback by art. 

The colours chosen on the more visual pieces are gorgeous together. Bright, brilliant, bold. And the few quotes mixed in? Their linework is just… spectacular.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your staring, twisting his arm to show you some of the designs previously hidden from your sight. 

The quality doesn’t lessen.

It’s after you're done intaking the art on his body that you see the strong muscle underneath it. And you let yourself appreciate the discipline that goes into achieving said strong muscle instead of how it makes your mouth water.

Long distance does not help your libido, and you’re only human.

Not that you would ever cheat. You do have a functioning moral compass, and a person you love that you could never do that too in a hundred years.

It's just that you have working eyes... and it doesn't hurt to look every now and then.

To make sure everything’s still working.

It is.

You bring your line of vision back into his.

“I never thought of my birth flower like that before. My mom keeps an entire garden full of them—only child and all.” Like him, you realize. “They’re one of her favourites too. I guess they hold a similar importance to her as yours does to you.”

Jungkook nods as he asks for your birth flower and you tell him. He says he can understand why your mum would be so fond of them, they’re a beautiful and elegant flower, suiting for you.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing off the subtle compliment.

He holds a hand out for the pad and you give it to him, watching as he turns the pages to another drawing before returning it again.

This one’s of your mother, in the small breakfast nook by a window in your home. It’s drawn with dark pencil lead and painted loosely, a slight blending of the two mediums.

She’s drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. It’s one of your favourite pieces that you’ve done recently because it’s your mom, existing naturally.

Not posed for a portrait, or a painting, or a reference, just her enjoying her morning. You couldn’t help but sketch it quickly when you saw her, adding the bit of colour later.

“Is this her?” he asks, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s our breakfast nook. But she reads there more than eats, always saying the window lets in the perfect amount of light.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“Get what?” but he just smiles at you before switching the topic.

“Who do you draw inspiration from, or look up to? I’d guess but I only know the bigger names.”

You inhale, knowing that this answer is always long for you. You get it semi-regularly—it’s a part of being a visual artist the same way asking a musician who they look up to is.

“Well, there’s a couple bigger names in the mix,” you start, “Van Gogh comes to mind first because his work feels like freedom. Lines placed seemingly wherever, yet so meticulously put at the same time. Some aren’t like that, but even then, they still flow like water. I adore his work,” another breath. “Da Vinci. Always. I stand by that fact that he was a genius and I strive to have an ounce of whatever he did. Michelangelo is another. Enough said. The sheer magnitude he was capable of creating was incredible.

“I have a lot of smaller artists I love too. People I’ve seen at local galleries, people I’ve found online, teachers from past classes. Some not nearly as well known artists from a hundred years ago who broke the barriers of art in their time,” you’re smiling like an idiot as you recall all your favourites and how they inspire you.

“I like the people who create and created just because they could, because they loved to. Because it meant something to them to make something with their hands. I mean, look what their passion got them. They all created for themselves, perfected their craft for themselves and that was enough. A satisfying, fulfilling life. I can only hope to have that. But a part of me wants to be one of the lucky few. The ones who shared their art so that others might not feel so alone. They became some of the greatest artists of all time.”

“Also some of the saddest,” Jungkook adds. But he’s looking at you differently now. You can’t put your finger on it but it’s not bad. Something close to curiosity. Or wonder.

“That just goes hand and hand with being a creative person. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t express their pain through their art.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, but those are just for me.”

“Shame.”

That catches your attention. “Why?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate for a second before saying, “Because some of the most beautiful things in life are created out of pain.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that.

You know he’s right. People are most likely to bare their soul into their art when they’re hurt, just to get it out. It’s cathartic for them in the same way crying or breaking things is for others.

The most magnificent things can come from that vulnerability, and it isn’t something you ever take lightly when you’re shown.

You’ve heard enough music in your life to know that the most beautiful songs are the most gut wrenching. You’ve seen so many dance performances you know the ones created from anguish and heartbreak are the ones that make for the most delicate movements; the most fragile moments on stage. You've painted enough pieces in grief over your lifetime to know that when someone doesn’t hold back what they’re feeling when creating, it’s the most emotionally provoking when looked at, listened to and experienced by others.

The audience can feel it in a piece. They can feel it in the movement and in the melodies. In the soul of what was created. Of the creator.

“Yes, they are,” you agree, near solemn, and that’s all that needs to be said.

And a moment of comfortable silence later, he hands you back the pad and you pick up your brush to continue with your orchid.

He watches your every stroke. You pretend he’s not there as you add green to the leaves.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” he asks. “I know it was only a couple hours ago, so I understand if not.”

Jungkook looks nervous when you wash your brush in the colorful water jar. His face reads like he thinks you’re going to say no, like he’s preparing himself for the rejection but his body language gives him away. He’s wringing his fingers under the table, and his leg won't stop bouncing. 

It makes the corner of your mouth quirk. You thought he’d be better at hiding his tics, being prince and all.

But maybe he feels like he doesn’t have to around you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chair, Jungkook feels like he’s sweating buckets. Unknowingly showing every nervous habit he has, but can’t help it. 

He doesn’t tell you that he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t have a lot of people he trusts enough to even consider them friends.

Yeah, he’s always surrounded by people. But they were just that. People. He barely knew any of them, and they only ever wanted to be near him for what it said about them, for what being near him could give them.

He doesn’t say how can’t pinpoint it, but that there’s just something different about you. 

So he’s really hoping you say yes.

Because it’s been…a long while…since he’s made a new one.

And it would be really nice too. 

But he’ll respect your decision either way.

Just please say yes.

Mercifully, you end his suffering.

“I have,” a brush stroke—more yellow. You don’t look at him while you speak, focusing instead on what’s in front of you. “That’s actually why I came here. To think. I come here for that a lot, or to get work done. It’s my favourite spot on campus. Secluded, pretty, quiet.”

He silently agrees with every word, but is also impatient. “And?”

You try your best to ignore the stars in his eyes when you look up from your painting.

“And I’ve thought hard about this, Jungkook. I didn’t just once over the idea and choose on a whim, I fleshed out what it would mean for me—what a friendship with you would mean for me, that is,” putting the brush down, you allow your most recent details to dry. “And I have a condition—just one. It's one you may not like, but it’s the only one you’d have to agree to in order for me to agree.”

Jungkook deflates a little, wondering what you could want. Because everyone always wants something. He was just really hoping you’d be different.

His mind runs through all the possible answers he’s used to hearing; money, clout, pictures, gifts, vacations, an audience with his father, donations, sex, power, the list goes on. 

He doesn’t want to think these things about you, but he can’t help it.

After so long… you get used to it.

“What’s the condition?” he asks, bracing himself.

“That nobody knows we’re friends.”

What? He thinks.

“What?” He asks.

You inhale again, wiping your hands on your pants and straightening your back.

Here we go.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realised that being seen with you publicly all the time would not go over well for me and my future. Anyone can be seen with the prince, but one girl over and over? People will talk about me. And it will be about me, because I’ll be the new shiny toy for them to play with. What I’m wearing, if we’re dating, who am I, what do I do, how did we meet, are you interested, blah blah blah,” you flick your hand, cringing at all of it. “I also don’t want my current relationships to change because of it. I don’t want my mother being cornered in a grocery store by a stranger asking about how her daughter knows Prince Jungkook and if she’s willing to give a quote,” you may actually come close to murder if that ever happened. 

“Not to mention the social repercussions. I can deny everything all I want from here into next week, but the second anyone knows we’re friends? I’ll become  either the most popular girl on campus—which is a waking nightmare for me—or the campus leper, which is a close second. And before you say anything to the contrary,” you fix him with a hard stare, unwavering. “You know I’m right.”

He tries to speak but you hold up a finger to show you’re not finished, and take a deep breath. 

Collect yourself YN, sum it up, drive the point home.

“I don’t need nor want that in my life. So if you want me to be in yours, nobody will know except us and whatever royal people need to so I don’t get tackled for being near you.” He cracks a smile at that.

“If that isn’t okay with you, then that’s fine, I understand. It’s probably an ask you’re not used to hearing, but I hope you understand that I have to put myself first and that this is a hard boundary for me. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even a prince,” you say. “Not even you.”

Jungkook waits a second this time, making sure you’re finished. Then leans back, deep in thought, eyes still trained on you. 

He’s never been so impressed with anyone in his life. 

It’s been a very long time since he’s met someone with such blatant, hard earned self respect. Such candor and veracity, who spoke to him with confidence, completely unwavered. Let alone a woman. 

He’s so used to the fawning that he’s forgotten he likes it when a girl has backbone. Forgotten he likes a girl who doesn’t bend because he asks her to, who doesn’t need him or anyone to get what she wants. 

She can do it herself.

If he’s completely real with himself, his pants are fitting a little tighter as he remembers. As he continues to stare into your unflinching eyes.

But he dismisses that feeling immediately.

He should have known better. You’ve always been honest with him up until this point, sparing as those moments were. So he shouldn’t be as astonished as he is; you’re the one that has yet to break pattern.

Yuri’d fed him piece after piece of information about you. How you almost never leave your dorm when not in class, how you’re always studying or practicing all hours of the day, how school is your number one priority above all else—she really liked to talk.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t let anyone get in your way—not even him—given how the first time you met, you told him point blank that you would’ve rather been in the library than be forced to see him talk. 

Confident and direct from the very start. Unwavering in your goals. 

Jungkook should have known when you said you had a condition, that you didn’t want anything from him, but privacy for you.

You are young, driven, smart, and beautiful.

He’s never wanted someone to be in his life more.

Fuck.

He shifts in his seat, primarily for comfort, but also to buy a bit more time. You’ve yet to break his gaze.

Yes, it is a strange request, and yes it isn’t one he’s ever gotten before, but he can work with it. He understands your need to not be in the public eye. To not have your image decided by the public for you.

Most importantly, he knows what being seen with him can do to a person via the media. It’s terrifying. They’re like vultures, ready to pick the flesh off of any victim they deem fit.

More than one woman has been slandered off the palace grounds because of it. He also should have considered that before asking, but like he knew—like he knows—you’re smart. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t have thought this through thoroughly enough to weigh upon all of the possible outcomes.  

It was a day full of realizations. On both your parts is what he didn’t know.

So he really, seriously should not be as stunned, surprised and…still partially hard as he is. 

Here you are, staring at him, expecting a reply while his mouth is slightly parted and apparently speechless. It’s rare for him to be given such a harsh truth instead of the immediate yes he is so used to hearing. For someone to have this kind of power over him.

When he’d asked you, Jungkook had just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to, maybe hang out with, share jokes with. Someone to spend time with so his college experience isn’t as lonely as it’s turning out to be.

But where he saw a potential friendship, you saw potential disaster.

Because as much as the title grants him, being Prince isn’t a great thing for everyone around him.

Sometimes it destroys them.

He’s still learning though, that you aren’t just smart. You’re calculated. 

You are a scythe in a field of grass, a gust of wind in a foggy gulf, a sunbeam shining through the clouds on a rainy day.

You think things through to their every possibility, finding the best outcomes and worst fallouts. You did it with his request, and managed to find a solution that works at only a small hindrance to him.

So who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it?

The outside world already knows all of his friends. Granted about 95% of them are men, but that’s what you get when you grow up having the sons of the guards, groundskeepers and chefs around. The other 5% are the girls he met during childhood, the daughters of other royals and titled individuals.

And even then with them, the speculation never stopped. Not after years of platonic friendship. There was always a ‘what if?’ thrown onto them. So he understands that if he starts hanging out with a new girl, the media will go wild. Understands that existing in the same place as you and his social etiquette towards you have the power to make or break you, mentally, socially, even physically.

He understands.

So, everything considered?

Your one condition isn’t so bad after all.

And he has no problems with it.

“Agreed.”

You blink, clearly not expecting him to give in so quickly, or to at least debate it. Your eyebrows scrunch as you sputter, “Just like that?”

He grips the back of the chair, and leans forward again.

“I would never expect you to give anything up or be forced into an unwanted narrative because I asked you to be my friend. Of course I agree. It’ll be nice to have someone I don’t have to worry about the press bashing. To have someone normal, who I can be normal around, and who will, clearly, call me out on my shit or set me straight when I need it. So yeah,” he sucks a tooth, “Just like that.”

You flinch a little at his words. “Wait I lied, I have one more condition.”

He’s intrigued, especially considering the look on your face. “Go for it.”

“You can’t throw me in a dungeon for calling you out. My safety needs to be assured for any and all potential verbal ass whoopings you may receive in the future.”  

A full, loud cackle sounds from Jungkook, eyes crinkling as he says, “Deal.” And holds out his hand.

“Deal,” you say, shaking it and laughing with him. Because you know there aren’t any dungeons in the palace.

And somehow, you know that even if there were, he still wouldn’t.

Chapter Four: Sunday Nights and Lost Memories

A/N 2: we do be getting into though.

A/N 3: I know I’m jumping ahead here but I’m excited for you guys to read chapter 4, it’s one of my favourites so far!

<- Back

[bts-0t-7]

Slithered | JJK | Chapter 1

Pair: Mafia Jungkook x F Reader 

Summary: Jungkook was wandering the streets in the middle of the night and coincidentally passed the little flower shop you work at. Due to your odd working hours, you don’t have much socialising on a daily basis much less customers. So just imagine your shock when a handsome man, clad in all black, entered your shop in the ungodly hours of the night. Never would you have thought that the polar opposite of the worlds would collide and cause such a trouble. 

Genre: Fluff, mafia au, soft reader 

Chapter Warnings: mild violence, mildly creepy JK watching reader close up shop (if anybody does this irl, please smack the living shit out of them. Stay safe!), rape (I won’t go much into detail of this during the scene but it is implied. Do not be insensitive on this topic. For those who are sensitive on this, please do not continue reading)

A/N: Bold is for flashback.

WC: 2579

< Prev. Series Masterlist. Next >

Jungkook didn’t know how he ended up in an alley that sells flowers in the dead of the night and neither did he know why he was here. He was taking a stroll in, spending some time to himself when he smelt the citrus scents of the flowers, following them to where it currently led him. Most of the flower shops in this area are closed for the night or temporarily not receiving walk-in customers. 

However, there are some shops where they are open and busy. There may be no customers in the shop but orders seem to be piling on the desks where the arrangements are made. Jungkook spotted a swift-moving medium, constantly running from place to place in the shop. He stopped right outside it. The interior was made in a way where the arrangements of flowers made the whole shop seem like a home. 

A home full of plants.

But even from outside, Jungkook could clearly see the neat arrangements and lining of the labels. You, on the other hand, were running around the shop, trying to get the necessary flowers and stocks to make the last arrangement before the driver arrived and collected them. This project was big on money and your boss would be furious if you were to ‘fuck it up for him’.

Jungkook entered the shop, doorbell chiming as he pushed open the door. Your head whipped up from your working station, instantly greeting him at the front door. 

“Hello! Welcome to Fior Arrangements!” You chirped. It may be two in the morning but you worked the night shift while your other colleagues work the morning and evening shifts. Most of them did not want to work night shifts so you took on the initiative. 

Not that you minded. 

You never had much of a social life due to your personality and you had always been quite a night owl. Most of the time, there were fewer people at night, which means that packaging orders would be easier than in the daytime. 

“Hello.” The young man bowed. 

“What brings you here?” You asked, honestly curious as to why a man wearing a full suit with a coat over, would come in the middle of the night. Anybody could see that he was stocked.  His boots were, his hair slicked back, and the material of his clothes looked soft to the touch. “Any flowers in mind? 

He shook his head. 

“Well, every flower has a meaning.” You pointed to the labels on the walls. These are the names and meanings of the flowers. Feel free to look around and call me if you need help!” 

Jungkook nodded at you. 

As he walked around, reading the labels, he spied a few blurry-looking men walking into the shop. Instinctively, his hand shot to the gun hidden under the lapels of his jacket only for you to cheerily greet them. It shot a pang of jealousy through him.

Why was he jealous? He just met you!

Jungkook silently shook his head to clear his thoughts. With half his attention to his surroundings, he overheard the conversation between you and the men. You seemed to know them very well, conversations easily flowing between you. 

“Yep! There are more at the back. You know where that is.” You laughed and Jungkook’s heart felt like it stopped. And started. And stopped and started again. It was so pure and melodious that he would do anything to keep you laughing like that. 

“How are your kids, Peng?” 

“Not too bad. Just refusing to study as usual.” The guy in the black shirt and oversized jeans told you. 

“I mean… It’s kids these days. Plus, I’m sure when we were at their age we didn’t want to study either.” You snickered. 

Peng laughed. “True, true. Very true.”

The four men spotted Jungkook walking towards the cashier as you signed the papers and stamped them. Handing them the customer copy, you waved them goodbye and finally headed over to Jungkook. 

“Hiya, need help?”

Jungkook nodded. 

“Well, what is the occasion?” You asked. 

Jungkook didn’t come here for a specific reason. In fact, he didn’t even come up with a reason. So he just shrugged and answered, “Just wanted something calming in the house. It’s far too empty.”

That could by far be the worst lie he ever came up with. 

But all you did was nod and head over to the pails of flowers, picking up stock after stock. You then carefully cut off some of the stems and plucked some leaves, arranging them in a glass bottle. Your body covered most of the work at times and Jungkook stayed at where he stood. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise for himself. 

You didn’t take long, expert hands moving nimbly to arrange the flowers prettily. You turned over to him with the glass bottle in front of you, walking over to give it to him. 

“How’s it?” Jungkook could see that you were nervous. The little ticks of indication like the furrows of your brows and wringing of your fingers behind your back. 

“Do you always do this for customers?” Jungkook gently smelt the flowers. Lavender was the most prominent scent. 

His favourite and you didn’t even need to ask. The scents weren’t strong and it did was already doing wonders to calm him. 

You looked back at him, humming and shaking your head. “Just you and a few other more privileged customers. Seems like you’re one of them on the list now.”

Your eyes sparkled as you turned to him. Perhaps you knew the brands he wore or perhaps you guessed that he was more than rich. But as he brought out his card to pay, you declined him. 

“No need. You looked like you needed this. So it’s on the house.” Your smile was blinding and at that moment, Jungkook knew that he would have you even if it took years and years. He would protect you. 

You were closing up that day. Usually, the shop is 24 hours and the next colleague of yours who would be doing the morning shift would be the one to clean up the place. However, it was a public holiday and the flower shop was closed. Your boss had given all employees two days’ break so after your shift, you had to tidy up and ensure that all the flowers are placed in their exact locations a the back of the store so that they do not wilt by the time the shop re-opens. 

Honestly, you couldn’t be happier. While your job was fairly simple and relaxed, going without a day’s break even on the weekends can truly drain your energy. You don’t have much time to yourself and it can affect you when you are overloaded with your senses. 

Turning off the lights, you shut the door and lock it, the door code being with an indication that it has been locked. Scanning your surroundings and patting yourself down, you hummed, glad that you did not forget anything. 

As you started to walk back home, you felt an eerie feeling in your gut. One that warns you that something is most certainly not right. The hair on your neck started to stand as you got goosebumps, making a sharp 180-degree turn to walk back to the store. You were instinctively aware that there were more than three pairs of footsteps following you. And every time you sped up or slowed down, they would keep the same pace.

So you did the next best thing your overdriven brain thought. 

You ran. 

Jungkook was driving his car up the little hill to visit the flower store. He wasn’t sure if you were still on shift then. He knew from silently watching you the past few days that your shift ends at five in the morning. And currently, the time was 5.30 am. 

The road got too narrow for Jungkook to continue driving up so he threw his car into parking mode and left. 

He was only going to take a while. 

But as he got out of the car, he sensed that something was wrong. The air did not feel right and as much as he wished that his sensitivity would not follow him when he was off work, life has its way of throwing stones at him. 

A shrill scream broke him out of his trance. If it was anybody else’s scream he probably would have just continued with his plans and walked up the the store. But he recognised the voice - the sound. 

Yours. 

Your scream - filled with terror and pain. 

Without thinking, Jungkook ran towards the approximated direction where he had heard you. Your second scream for help was abruptly cut off making him pump his legs and arms faster. He didn’t want to think of all the horrid things that you might be going through right now. He needed to get to you. 

Jungkook came to a stop the moment he saw you, held by your throat, against the wall. Your hair and clothes were in a mess, eyes bloodshot, and valuables strewn everywhere. But the most avergrating thing was the six males standing there, choking you as tears streamed down your cheeks, laughing. 

Blood rushed to his head. 

How dare they. 

How dare they touch you. 

Jungkook didn’t care for consequences as he pounced on the men. 

You tried to run but they were too fast and too silent for you. You were pinned against the wall and stripped down against your own will. 

“Now pretty lady, how about I do the talking and you do the answering?” 

You didn’t want to but all you could do was struggle and struggle as they manhandled your body, stripping you bare of your own dignity. You cried and struggled as they took their turns, your body betraying you.

“Hey now, why are you crying, pretty?” They laughed, gagging you. “You’re enjoying it, see?”

Tears streamed down your face. You weren’t. You weren’t. 

And yet, you knew that nobody was going to come help you. To come stop these men from doing more than they already did. You were so close - so close - to resigning to your fate when you were suddenly dropped to the ground. 

Too tired to keep your eyes fully open, you watched through hooded lids as a mass of black pounded onto the males. You should’ve been scared - you should’ve cowered back, pleading with him to not come for you as well - but you didn’t. 

Especially as that mass of black picked you up into his arms, snarling and hissing words that seemed incoherent to you, you felt safe. Perhaps it was the adrenaline doing the job but you curled yourself deeper into him. His hands were gentle, unlike the ones that handled you earlier. These hands were calloused - probably seeing worse days as they skimmed over your naked body - but they were respectful. They did not venture where the rest did and you found yourself wrapped up in a jacket before being lifted up once again. 

Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, your head rolled to the side as you blacked out. 

Jungkook has seen many things in his short life. Twenty-six years and he has seen death one too many times.  But nothing has scared him more than seeing you black out and going limp in his arms. Pressing two fingers on your neck, Jungkook confirmed that you were still breathing. In shock you most certainly were but now Jungkook needed to bring you home and he did not know your address. So the next best thing was to bring you to his home. 

As Jungkook’s black Mercedes Benz GT63S pulled up to the front lawn, he hurried out, passing the car keys to the butler and carrying you into the house. 

In the midst of the whole case, it completely slipped his mind to inform his family that he was bringing somebody home. All he had done was hurriedly call the group’s private doctor, not caring what the guy was up to. 

“Kook, what the hell! You can’t just bring a random person home like this!”

“Oh shit -”

“Fuck that girl is naked!”

“Jeon Jungkook, what the shit is wrong with you?”

“Did you fuck a girl out?”

“JUNGKOOK!”

Jungkook couldn’t be bothered. He’ll explain later. Right now, he needed the doctor to check you over and ensure that other than the physical and psychological trauma you’re going to have once you wake up, you were fine otherwise. 

“A little bit of a bump on the back of her head, scratch marks and bruises. That’s about all.” The doctor placed some pills on Jungkook’s bedside table. “I suggest you give these to her, twice a day after meals. Antibiotics. You can give her paracetamol if needed. Ensure that she is kept hydrated.”

Jungkook thanked the doctor and leaned over to cover you with the sheets when the doctor stopped him. “It would be best to clean her up first.”

With that, the doctor left, leaving the six men standing at the threshold of his bedroom door. They watched as he got a few clothes, cleaning you up, making sure to use soft cloths so that you would not wake from the oversensitivity. Only after Jungkook deemed you clean enough did he take out his silk pyjamas and tug them over you. 

The boys had silently excused themselves, only leaving Jimin as he helped Jungkook dress and tuck you into bed. Closing the curtains, he turned off the lights, leaving the moonlight on so that the room would not be encased in total darkness with the possibility of scaring you if you woke up without him there. 

Jungkook knew that the topic at hand would not be easy to talk about and he most certainly knows that he was in the wrong as well. Well, a little bit in the wrong. 

He would never apologise for bringing a person in need home, much less you. So as Jimin and he entered the living room, the boys were all seated, faces holding stoic glares. 

“Jungkook -” Hobi hyung started. 

“She works at the flower shop. She was the one I told you about - the reason why my room has a glass of flowers.”

“Still, you cannot just bang her up and -”

“She was raped.”

The silence in the room was pregnant and suddenly everybody’s breathing sounded too loud. 

“I parked the car in the middle of the hill as it was getting too narrow for me to pass through. I couldn’t get there fast enough. By the time I reached, she was already taken.” Jungkook harshly rubbed his face with his hands. He wished that he could’ve been there earlier - faster. If only work hadn’t kept him up, the whole situation wouldn’t even have happened. 

A soft hand landed on his shoulder, patting him gently. “Don’t beat yourself over it, Kook. It was good that you made it there.”

“But I couldn’t stop her from -” His throat choked up. He just couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. 

“Some things are inevitable.” He looked up from his crouched position to look at Namjoon Hyung. “What matters is that you got there.”

Jungkook nodded. 

“I think today was more than enough of a fulfilling night. Let’s go to bed.” Seokjin Hyung called out and grunts of agreement were heard as everybody got to their feet. 

[mqfx]

inhales your powdery castoffs and smiles pleasantly. my leige on second thought i think they probably already know what they each smell like! whether they are willing to admit to liking each others company or not they are getting up in each others faces constantly--it might even be something they seek out subconsciously at times for the sake of familiarity if caught on the wrong foot by a situation (orange tea...👀...pepper...tea... 🤔) but do you think they smelled different as mortals pre-ascension? like less incense is likely but otherwise?

MY POWDERY WHAT 😭😭 UNSNEEF MY SNORF RN

ahaha jk now (cracks knuckles absently) hmmm first of all. (takes notes) thankyeww....... secondable !!! oooh this is a challenge.... it's hard to say if they had any signature scents at all because according to this* (which is supplemental reading for this fic, i'm not kidding.) signature scents are the mark of the rich and although it's true that fx was above mq in social rank that doesn't mean he was That High Up that he could have. an eau de feng xin. (xie lian for sure would have smelled really nice though bc he would've had to perform worship rites a lot. coincidentally he might have smelled like frankincense even as a human--ironic bc in my mind he's one of the few gods that doesn't smell like smoke as much. unless it's burnt food LOL)

THAT being said i'm sure mq and fx picked up scents naturally as they go about their day?

for fx i'm getting a lot of outdoorsy smells like grass from the field and leather from weapons/armor. he'd be stinky from training but surely he gets bathed enough to be allowed to accompany the crown prince. he may not smell like orange but he'll still smell like. have u ever spent days running outside n shit? your ma ever tell you "you smell like the sun!!" like that. and a bit of horse (from stable work)

for mq this even more difficult bc i don't think he was doing "shit digging" labor if that makes sense. dgmw laundry was probably hard labor in xianle but if he did a lot of that he'd smell quite a bit like ash. plant ash** was used for a long time to clean clothes. he Would get stinky from labor but he strikes me as the type to meticulously clean himself and be self-conscious about his smell from a young age so he'd probably either do his best to smell like nothing at all OR crush flowers and try (inexpertly i might add) to put their scent on him. he probably got made fun of by richer kids and called pretentious by other servants....

in both cases, nothing's stopping xie lian from like, giving them free aromatics, but that's layering scents and i get lost in the sauce on that so i shan't speak (jeremy fragrance) NAUGHTY BOY

--

*"my liege, why not use this resource which has more information on post-buddhist olfactory culture in late-medieval china?" well my clever imp it's bc i'm considering xianle as super old, maybe shang-levels of old if wuyong can be considered pre-xia (aka so old it's basically legend), so their scent culture is not as complex as it can get

**apparently as early as zhou. "but shang is earlier than zhou!!" baby it's fantasy we're stretching the timelines a bit don't even worry about it ahahah

[jungk0oksthighs]

Stay With Me | Communication

exhusband!jungkook, singleparent!jungkook, E2L, fluff, angst, smut

Word Count - 3.2k

It's time to tell Seol that his parents are back together. Warnings: swearing, heavy(ish) angst, serious dad jk, also unserious dad jk

SERIES COLLECTION

At ten weeks pregnant with twins it’s getting harder and harder to find clothes that fit. Your dresses are tight, jeans are you worst enemy and you’ve been living in sweatpants for weeks. Working from home as much as you can to battle the endless nausea and vomiting.

Today is a work day like no other, as an art dealer you’ve been corresponding to emails from clients and artists between trips to the bathroom. To say you feel like shit would be an understatement – you have zero energy, multiple pregnancies are no joke.

The Jeon twins are the size of strawberries this week.

Seol is at school thankfully, though he’s recently grown suspicious of your behaviour and sickness and sudden desire to wear only comfy clothes. Jungkook has been coming over for dinner a lot too which has sparked occasional curious questions from your son. But all of that ends tonight.

Because tonight is the night you and Jungkook are going to tell Seol everything.

It took your ex-husband a lot of convincing on his part, but you’ve come to the agreement that things would be better for you both if he moved back into your home. Having HG is only one factor in the situation but even you can’t deny the diagnosis is taking a toll on you. Some days your head hurts so much that even just opening your eyes is a challenge, you could do with the extra help around the house.

Fear and dread only amplifies your nausea, you have no idea how Seol is going to react to the news since it’s a lot for a twelve year old to take in. Which may be the reason it was decided to tell him today. Your birthday. Another birthday you can’t drink alcohol for, another birthday pregnant. Thirteen years ago today you were in this exact situation when Seol refused to make an appearance before his due date. To be frank, being pregnant on your birthday sucks.

“Mom? Mom wake up…” Seol’s voice disturbs your slumber on the sofa, you must’ve dozed off here a couple of hours ago. You’re still wearing grey sweatpants and a lilac hoodie, despite the fact you wanted to change before he came home from school and Jungkook came over.

“Y/N are you okay?” Jungkook stands in the doorway suited up in his work attire, wearing concerned features that mirror your sons. Sometimes you forget how alike they look, until they’re both standing before you doe-eyed and borderline identical.

“Hey…” You sit up with a coy smile, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry I must’ve fallen asleep…”

Seol is still dressed in his school uniform so you know he’s only just made it through the door, Jungkook probably picked him up and came straight here from work. It’s when you’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you remember it’s your birthday, Seol’s holding a huge bouquet of roses and a frown. “You’re always tired recently…”

You sigh, grinning when you stand and take the flowers from your son, “I know… Are these for me?”

“Yeah! Dad said you like roses but I wasn’t sure.”

“I do like roses, thank you.” Your sleepy gaze lands on Jungkook, who’s taking his suit jacket off by the door with a knowing smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“Any time. Happy birthday Y/N.”

All three of you make your way into the dining room, you’re planning to put the roses in a vase but the only one big enough is at the very top of the shelf and you can’t possibly reach all the way up there. Thankfully Kook notices you struggling and easily grabs the vase, taking the flowers from you before planting them into the decorative glassware. You’re smiling, he’s smiling, and Seol catches you in the act.

Your son awkwardly clears his throat, ruffling the back of his dark hair, “Umm… Mom… Can I ask you something?”

Both you and his father snap your attention to him, wide-eyed and panicked.

“What’s wrong sweetie?” Your voice comes out smooth and honeyed all while you prepare yourself for emotional destruction. He knows. You know he knows because he can’t look you or Jungkook in the eye, instead his own stare is trained to the flowers now sitting proudly in the centre of the wooden dining table.

“Why did you invite dad over for dinner on your birthday? I thought your birthday dinner was just for us... It’s been like that since you broke up.” His words hit you like an knife to the heart, as does the way Jungkook’s big body deflates with something akin to disappointment when he nervously bites at the cuticle around his thumb.

“Seol…” You attempt to gather your thoughts, heart racing when you gesture for everybody to sit down. While Kook takes his usual spot at the top of the dining table Seol doesn’t move, he stays standing in the doorway anxiously gnawing his lower lip which only breaks your heart more.

“Your father and I��� Well…” On queue Jungkook holds his hand out for you to take, and you do, but you feel less than comforted by the gesture when Seol inhales sharply as soon as he catches sight of it. Did he just gasp?

“We’ve been dating for a few months now, I’m sorry we didn’t tell—”

Your son cuts you off with a bright grin, “You’re what?!”

“We're back together son... And if you’re okay with it…” Jungkook tugs you onto his lap until you’re sitting on his thigh, but surprisingly Seol doesn’t grimace or look uncomfortable in any way shape or form. In fact his smile widens when he buries his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m going to move back in with you guys. Only if you’re okay with it though.”

“Yes! Yes that’s okay! Oh my god mom I was so nervous I had my suspicions but I didn’t want to get my hopes up, is this for real?! Are you gonna get married again?! Can I come to the wedding this time?!?!” Your chest swells and tightens all at once with something only to be described as love and delight. It’s not long before Seol is standing in front of you both with an arm round each of you, head nestled between his parents with a sentimental beaming grin.

You’re overly emotional, hormonal, happy, one year older, and everything hits you at once. You’re trying to blink through the tears but it’s no use, your cheeks are stained with worn mascara yet ache from smiling.

“If we get married again of course you can come.” Kook chuckles, planting a happy kiss to his son’s head. “It’s not like we didn’t invite you last time kid you just didn’t exist yet.” He laughs.

You sniffle, mirroring Jungkook’s kiss to the other side of Seol’s head, “Seol... Sweetie I need you to sit down for a sec, okay?”

“Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy?” He asks innocently.

You nod, messily wiping away your tears with the hoodie sleeve, “Of course I’m happy, but your father and I have something to tell you.”

He sits on the chair next to you with a big dumb grin and sparkly eyes, “You’re not pregnant are you?”

Your heart sinks and Jungkook squeezes your middle extra tight. There’s a tense and noticeable shift in atmosphere that Seol picks up on immediately. His doe-eyes are animatedly round and wide, smile fading, head shaking from left to right slowly.

“No… Mom.” He says quietly, nervously flicking his gaze between you and his father. “You’re not… Are you pregnant?”

From behind you Jungkook clears his throat somewhat uncomfortably, his voice is low and cautious when the words slip from his mouth. “Yeah. We’re pregnant Seol, almost three months pregnant. So you’re going to be a big brother soon.”

You can’t peel your stare away from your son, your heart shattering into tens of millions of tiny pieces when you see him swallow as he digests the information. He looks disappointed, he looks hurt, maybe even a little offended or jealous. It’s silent, save for the sound of your heartbeat prominent in your ears. You can’t take it any longer, especially when a shaky sigh escapes him.

“Seol—”

“Sorry mom.” He coughs, a feeble attempt to mask his discomfort, “I’m… I-, I need to get changed before dinner."

"Sweetie wait!" You try to stop him by gently gripping his wrist but it’s too late, he’s already gone.

You try to stand up but Jungkook stops you, burying his face in your hair with a gentle kiss. You sigh, feeling useless and uncertain of what to do moving forward. The way Seol’s face dropped… It will always be burned into the corners of your mind. You’re emotional again, and Jungkook reassuringly rubs your tummy as if on instinct.

“He’ll come around Y/N… He just needs time to process it. He’s been an only child for so long.” His voice is soft and caring, but does little to cheer you up. “I’ll go and speak to him, here…” He peels his wallet from his trousers, carefully transferring you to another chair as though you’re as fragile as Bone China. “Use my card, order whatever you fancy for dinner. Order extra because Dr Kim said you need to start gaining weight soon. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Kook—”

“I’ve got this, okay?” He smiles, a genuine soft and small smile that warms your heart before he grips your hand and kisses it. “You don’t have to be the tough parent all the time anymore.”

He leaves you at the table scrolling through a food delivery app, even though eating is the last thing on your mind right now you know he’s right. You have to eat something for the growing babies inside you at the very least. When Jungkook looks back over his shoulder he sees you visibly upset trying to mask your sobs, he fights back a pained sigh, heading upstairs to Seol’s bedroom.

“Seol? Can I come in?” Jungkook asks after knocking twice, lips pursed into an uncomfortable flat line.

“No.” His son’s voice is muffled by the door.

Rather than barging in like he wants to, he manages to find the restraint and stop himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please…?”

When Seol doesn’t respond straight away he grows impatient, he’s about to open the door when it opens from the other side. Revealing his son now wearing a sage green loungewear set and slightly puffy cheeks from crying. His heart breaks all over again. “Can I sit with you for a little bit?”

“Why?” Seol sniffles.

“Because I need to talk to you, is that okay?”

“…I guess.” The younger male hesitantly steps to one side to allow his father into the bedroom. It’s been a while since Jungkook set foot in here, it’s much cleaner that he remembers it to be and he can’t help but wonder if you’ve overworked yourself keeping it tidy or if Seol is actually an organised young man these days.

“So…” Kook sits on the bed, glancing round at the numerous game posters that adorn the mint green painted walls, “That could’ve gone better, your mom’s a little upset that you didn’t stay downstairs with us.”

Seol visibly deflates and sits next to his father, welcoming the heavy tattooed arm that pulls him in for a hug. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles into Kook’s shoulder, “I’ll apologise to mom too.”

Jungkook’s voice is deep and throaty, yet sweet when he speaks. “I know this is a big change for us, but it’s an exciting one right? I thought you always wanted a little brother or sister? You used to ask for one all the time when you were younger.”

“Then you moved out and I stopped thinking about it.” Seol admits with another sniffle, his words winning his father’s hold to tighten around him. “But I guess a little brother or sister wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world… Is that why mom’s been so ill lately?”

“Mmm.” Kook nods knowingly, “She has something called HG, it’s more common in multiple pregnancies.” His eyes widen for a split second when he realises nobody stated that you’re having twins yet. He clears his throat, tonguing his cheek before he speaks again, “We’re having twins… So you might have two baby brothers or two baby sisters on the way.”

Seol pulls back with a tiny smile and shiny doe-eyes, peering up at his father with a hopeful expression. “Really? Do you have any photos of them I can see?”

“Not yet. You can come to the appointment with us if you want to see them though, I’m sure Dr Kim will be fine with that. You can help us think of some names too, I bet you’ll think of really good ones.” He grins at the thought, rubbing the younger’s arm.

“Dad?” Seol’s nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, a bad habit he inherited from his father.

“Yeah?”

“…You’re not going to move out again if you move back in are you? I-, I know mom doesn’t like talking about it but she was really sad when you left… I could hear her crying through the wall at night and I don’t want to see her like that again. I hated it.”

Jungkook stiffens, racing heart dropping into the deepest part of his stomach when he hears that, “I’m not going anywhere son. I love mom, okay? I always have and I always will—”

“Then why did you leave us in the first place?” While his question is innocent enough, and genuine, it still finds a way to chip at Jungkook’s heart.

“It’s complicated Seol, but you’re becoming a man now so I’ll try to explain it as best as I can.” His large palm pats his son’s shoulder reassuringly when he exhales, “I wasn’t a good husband, I was selfish and I put other things before your mom when I shouldn’t have. But that’s not going to happen anymore, I missed her too much to fuck this up again.”

“You just swore in front of me.” Seol giggles, pulling away from his father.

Jungkook nods slowly, grinning, “Well you are almost thirteen, as you keep reminding me. Just don’t tell mom.”

“Does that mean I can swear now too?”

Kook snorts, playfully pushing Seol over on the bed until he falls back onto the cushions. “Don’t push your luck kid. Is that why you’re upset? Because you think I’ll move out again?”

Seol shrugs when he sits back up, smile quickly fading. “Maybe. I don’t know…”

“Come on, you can tell me anything. How are you really feeling about this?” Jungkook’s never usually one to get serious with his son, selfishly he used to leave these kinds of conversations for you to deal with. But he’s staying true to his word, he has changed, he's matured and he’s going to spend the rest of his life making up for his previous behaviour.

Shrugging again Seol’s voice is barely audible, coming out as more of a mumble. “Excited that you're coming home but... Scared—”

“Why are you scared?” His father frowns. He can tell Seol doesn’t want to look at him so he busies himself unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, come on tell me.” Kook’s palm finds Seol’s leg, he pats it twice as if to emphasise his question.

“I… I don’t want to share you and mom with babies. I like spending time with you both separately. I like going to the movies with you on a weekend and I like staying up late talking to mom watching TV. Even when she makes me do a face mask sometimes. But now I’m gonna have siblings and that’s all gonna change…”

“Hey you listen to me right now.” Jungkook’s voice lowers an octave when he looks straight into his mini me’s doe-eyes, profile serious, “Yeah, we’re going to spend a lot more time together as a family but we can still have our father and son days out. I don’t want to give those up. And mom loves spending time with you too, I’m not gonna come between whatever routines you have together when I move back in. If you need some time with just me or just mom that’s okay son. Even after the babies arrive it’ll still be okay. We’re a team.”

“…Thanks dad.” Seol’s smile is genuine and Kook can tell he feels relieved, these conversations aren’t as hard as he thought after all. Communication. That’s all it takes.

“Come on, let’s have a nice meal together for your mother’s birthday. Do not tell her I dropped the f bomb in front of you or she’ll kill me.”

Seol rolls his eyes, grimacing when he stands, voice oozing disgust, “Nobody calls it the f bomb anymore… You’re so old.”

When Jungkook reaches the bedroom door he opens it, glancing back at his mini-me with fond eyes but raised brows. "Apologise to your mother for running off, and to me because I am not old."

"Aren't you 40 soon?" His son chuckles, wearing the same mischievous smirk Jungkook was famous for as a child. He really is the double of his father in every sense of the word. "I didn't think old people could even have babies."

"Oh trust me... We can." Jungkook winks animatedly, and Seol gags on thin air, shoving his fingers deep into his ears when he runs past him.

"La la la la la la! Ahh that's disgusting, that's so disgusting!" He jogs down the stairs, jumping the last four steps as opposed to walking down them like a normal person.

Kook snorts, chasing after him with heavy footsteps in fits of laughter. It's like he never left at all.

x

[ahundredtimesover]

i can’t get enough of the TLA couple. After I saw your post about jungkook’s pov when y/n was unconscious i couldn’t help but wonder what was jk’s reaction when he found out y/n is pregnant and how did he found out🙈🙈

i hope if your time will let you we will see some snippets from the life of the tla couple because they became one of my favs.

Hi, Viki! This was lovely to write, thank you for the request! 🥰 I hope you enjoy it because these two are just so soft. - This takes place at the end of part 03

Title: The Love After Drabble (03): You're gonna be a mom || Jungkook comes home to a surprise

WC: 3,050

Warning: pregnancy talk, light smut (kissing, breast play)

From: The Love After (werewolf!JK x human!reader)

##

“Hi, are you busy?”

You lay on your back with your phone on speaker, listening to your sister order what seems to be lunch at 3PM.

“I’m on my first break after 12 hours,” Baram replies, her slurping sound of her drink irritating you, causing you to wince. “And I’ve got 12 more after this.”

“Oh, that’s tough,” you sigh, hoping she gets more time for rest than she’s afforded, but knowing your sister, she thrives off this kind of pressure-packed environment at the town hospital; she excels in it, too. “How’s Hoseok taking it? And the kids?”

“Taking it like a champ, as always.”

You feel her smile over the phone as she talks about her mate, how Hoseok is like a one-man show at the moment, doing everything at home on his own while still showing up for his warrior duties.

“And the kids have been surprisingly behaved. I swear, that treehouse was your best idea yet. We owe Jungkook for building it for us. Thank you,” she continues.

“Well, it showed up in one of the landscaping books he got when he was building our porch. I just thought it might help the kids since you’ve been so busy,” you explain, recalling how you’d brought it up and Jungkook had been excited to build it for his nephews.

“It has,” Baram exclaims. “It’s helping mother, too, in a way. She sits on the porch and just watches them play. I think it keeps her mind off things.”

You hum, knowing that’s how she’s been dealing with your grandfather’s passing - just surrounding herself with people who remind her of him. She visited you just the other day and spent an entire night baking you a variety of pies, something she’s never done before.

“That’s good. At least she knows she’s still got a growing family to turn to now that she’s lost grandfather, too.”

“She knows, she always says so,” Baram says. “Anyway, I’ve got just a bit of time left. Did you need anything?”

“Yes, your help,” you mumble, recalling why you needed your sister in the first place. “I need your expert advice and uh, your support. Or something.”

Her interest is piqued, and you hear her tired voice turn curious. “Okay. Well, the last time you said those same words, you asked me to remove your IUD because you and Jungkook had finally decided you wanted to have children.”

“Yes, that is correct,” you confirm.

“That was a few weeks ago.”

“Also correct,” you hum, thinking back to that time then, when you had Baram’s kids over to babysit and they ran around your garden, their laughter echoing through the woods and you’d caught Jungkook’s tender smile at their sound - at the way they squealed and wandered into your herb and flower patches, at how they plucked out plants and asked him what they were, at how they had so much energy for hours but were the softest pups when they were finally asleep.

You smile at the memory, and how that night, Jungkook asked what you thought about finally having kids, wondered if you both thought you had enough love in you again to create love, and if you were ready after your grandfather’s passing, given the emotional and physical pain that losing him caused you.

But you knew that with the way Jungkook loved you, that you had enough love in you to want to create it with him, that you’re strong enough to handle anything now with him next to you. You knew that with the overwhelming love you had for him, you were ready to give even more of yourself by creating a family together.

You’d called Baram the next day and had her assist you to get off birth control, and Jungkook made love to you that night in a way he never had before, and that’s probably what got you here.

“Okay. So tell me how you’ve been feeling,” Baram bursts through your thoughts, knowing you only ever run to her for medical advice.

“Well, I’ve been feeling quite dizzy and nauseous. My supervisor demanded that I go home right after lunch,” you narrate, and you laugh at Baram’s remark that he probably didn’t want to be the subject of Jungkook’s ire if something bad happened to you under his watch. “And I keep urinating. And I suddenly can’t stand the scent of basil.”

She merely hums in response, and you bite your lip as you wait for her to say something, unsure if you’re nervous because you might be pregnant, or that you may not be. That seems to be the only plausible reason why you’re feeling like this because, like you’re always reminded, werewolves don’t get sick.

“Does your body feel different?”

“Yes, I just told you how I’ve been feeling!” You grunt, getting impatient.

“I know, but I don’t mean that,” she huffs, unable to express what she really means. “Do you feel like something’s going on in your body but you don’t know what it is? Like there’s just something new or different? You’re not a normal human anymore, ___. You can sense the inner workings of your body. I mean, that’s how I knew.”

You're the one who now goes silent, suddenly thinking back to a week ago when you’d woken up feeling disoriented, like your body didn’t feel like yours, as if you were numb but incredibly sensitive at the same time. You recall the moments you’d felt weightless but heavy, and that something was off but you couldn’t determine what it was, and you’d space out as you try hard to feel, to sense if there’s really life that’s growing inside you. Like now.

“Okay, I take that as a yes,” Baram giggles. “Look, I’m thinking you might be pregnant but we won’t be absolutely sure until you take a test. I could come over tomorrow, if you want. Or you could come to me, if you don’t want Jungkook to know yet.”

“You can come over. He’s with Namjoon in the city to meet some other pack leaders and won’t be back until Monday,” you say, suddenly missing your mate after he left early this morning. “I’ll take the test then and uh, see what happens.”

Baram bids you goodbye and leaves you with your thoughts as you mindlessly stroke your belly, the thought of having created a new life with Jungkook making your heart swell with pride.

**

It’s the first time this ever happened, and you’re glad that Jungkook isn’t even in town, as he would probably hear your gurgling sounds as you vomit your guts out even from a mile away.

You quickly wash up and walk back to the room, yelling to your sister to come in after you’d heard her open the front door.

“Do I look pregnant?” You ask, standing by your bed as you try to read her face, see if she could tell just by looking at you.

“You sound pregnant. Quite the morning sickness, eh?” She smiles, and it’s comforting to think that she knows exactly what you’re feeling, and how to calm you down.

You both get to work, with her handing over the test kit to you and you quickly doing your thing, calling her to the bathroom right after as you both stand by the sink, waiting for the line to appear.

And it does. Two of them.

You feel dazed for a moment, until you feel Baram’s arms wrap around you from behind, but unlike all the times she’s done it before, this feels different.

“You’re gonna be a mom, ___,” she whispers, meeting your glassy eyes in the mirror, with the softest smile you’ve ever seen on her face. “I’m so, so happy for you.”

Your tears fall as you nod, the reality dawning on you that you’ve created something with Jungkook, the manifestation of the love you both nurtured, that you worked hard for, that you let grow and live in you, that you both live out, after thinking you’d never feel that again.

But they’re here, forming inside of you, growing as each day goes by, and you can’t wait for Jungkook to come home so you can share this joy with him.

“How are you going to tell him?” Baram asks.

There are so many ways, you think. You could tell him outright when he gets home, or during a special dinner that you’ll prepare, or before bed as you read a book that he’ll probably ask you to read out loud, or when his hands and lips are all over your body, or after you’ve come down from your highs and he’s looking tenderly at you like he always does.

“I’ve got an idea,” you smile. “I think he’ll really like it.”

**

Jungkook comes home exhausted.

It takes a lot to tire him. Working and hunting don’t do that, so you could only assume the worst when you’d spotted the fatigue in his eyes and heard the way he dragged his body to the dining chair.

What was meant to be a negotiation escalated into a confrontation, one that turned physical because your allied pack just had to pick a fight with one of the groups they’ve been having issues with, Jungkook narrates, and Namjoon had to pick a side to, ironically, keep the peace.

“And then we encountered a pack of territorial wolves on the way home, and I’d expended much of my energy by then and I’m just so tired,” he exhales. “I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep… couldn’t see you, be with you,” he trails, taking your hand and gently kissing it.

“I just want a warm bath and a good sleep after we clean up,” he continues.

“No, I’ll clean up,” you correct him. “It’s been a tough few days, you need to get some rest. I’ll be fine here, don’t worry.”

He has an apologetic look on his face, and you feel bad that he feels bad for not helping around the house this once. But you convince him that you don’t need his help, and he kisses you deeply before he trudges to the bathroom and gets ready for bed.

He’s asleep by the time you enter the bedroom, and he’s snoring when you return after washing up yourself. You gaze at him as you slide into bed, quelling the bit of disappointment you feel at not being able to tell him tonight. He needs his rest, and that’s more important than giving him the news, even if you know that’s important as well.

His arm immediately pulls you closer once he feels you lie down, and you smile at the thought that it’s something he’d do even if he’s in the middle of a dream.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in your ear, his hand sliding up your bare thigh, sneaking underneath your nightgown, and directing your leg to lay on top of his.

“I missed you, too,” you look at him, marveling at his relaxed state with the sliver of the moonlight dancing on his face.

You peck his lips as a goodnight, and with his eyes closed, he leans in to chase your own, deepening the kiss as he feels your softness, something he hated being without.

He goes for another one, and another one, the kiss getting more heated than the last, and it’s not long until you’re both lost in the taste of each other, his hand burying itself in your hair while yours digs through his bare chest, your heartbeats racing once the yearning and desire creep in, overtaking you.

Jungkook lays you on your back and lightly sits himself on your hips, slowly removing your clothes while his eyes don’t move away from you.

“I thought you’re so tired,” you tease, the playful smile on your face telling him you know what he wants, and it’s something that you want, too.

“Yeah, but not for this,” he grunts, lowering himself to you for another kiss. “Never for this.”

You moan at the feel of his hot breath and his tongue on your neck and your chest, your body shivering once he reaches your pert nipples, the sensitivity quickly becoming too much. His one hand kneads your breast while the other travels down your torso, burning you with his touch, and your mouth parts at how good he feels, until you stop feeling him altogether.

You open your eyes, frustrated with him for abruptly stopping like that, but you’re met with furrowed brows and parted lips, and you can’t help but mirror his look.

“Is… is everything okay?” You stammer.

“Is there… is there something you want to tell me?”

His question catches you off guard and you try to recall if there’s anything you need to tell him, aside from the little secret you’re putting off letting him know because you want him to be more awake when you do.

“I do?”

You see Jungkook steady his breath as he sits back up, prompting you to do the same and lean your back against the bed frame. He touches you again - first your cheek, then your breast, causing you to shiver again, then your belly.

And his hand stays there.

“___… You’re… we’re… we’re pregnant,” he whispers.

Your eyes widen in surprise, thinking of how he could’ve known just by touching you.

“You can sense that?” You exclaim.

“Yeah, I can,” he says, taking your hand.

“How?”

“Well, your breasts have gotten bigger, and you’re way more sensitive tonight than I recall,” he observes, and your pout causes him to teasingly smile, but it softens right after. “And I could sense a heartbeat,” he palms your belly, gently, lovingly, then he looks up to meet your curious eyes. “Actually, I sense two.”

“We’re having two babies?” You shriek.

You’re a mess of emotions as you realize exactly how all this is playing out, even more at the thought that you’re actually carrying two pups right now.

“We are. Wait, why do you look sad?” Jungkook panics, disappointment creeping in at the thought that you might not actually want this.

“Because this isn’t how I planned on telling you. And I only made one,” you pout.

“How did you plan on telling me? And only made one, what?”

You sigh, knowing that he’s not gonna let this go. You went from being excited to tell him, to accepting that it will have to wait tomorrow, to now being a tiny bit disheartened because you really wanted to surprise him. But it’s out in the open now, and there’s really no other better time than this moment.

You reach for a little package from the drawer of your bedside table and place it in front of him, opening the box to reveal a set of yellow baby mittens that you knitted yourself over the weeked.

“I was gonna show these to you tonight, but you were too tired so I planned on doing it tomorrow,” you explain, “but you had to go and spoil my surprise,” you pout again.

Jungkook doesn’t tear his eyes away from the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and he takes the mittens, so tiny against his large hands, the adorable ribbons adding a touch of elegance to it.

You made this, with so much love, he could tell. It’s beautiful and perfect, just like the little ones you’re carrying in your womb.

“Hey, say something,” you nudge him, suddenly becoming nervous.

“I… I can’t. I’m speechless, ___,” he looks at you, his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry I spoiled it but I just, I felt it and I just wanted to make sure it’s real,” he sighs, a tear finally sliding down his face. “I was wondering when it was gonna happen, and I just… I mean, I’ve been waiting and I’m just so happy.”

His lips quiver and you smile at the sight of Jungkook, bare in heart and body and soul just like you are, as you share the joy of knowing you created love in its best form.

“Well, I did get my IUD removed not long ago and then you pretty much sexed me up like you wanted to put a baby inside me that same night and uh, you did; two, actually,” you laugh, and he revels in your sound, knowing there’ll be two more joining you in just a few months.

“Not a normal human,” he playfully shrugs.

You gaze at Jungkook as he continues to stare at the mittens, as if he’s already imagining the tiny hands that will be warmed by them, and this look of his is priceless.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you say, and it’s what makes him turn to look at you. “I love you so much and I just know we’re going to have an unbelievably happy life with our two angels. I just know it.”

He delicately places the mittens back in the box then sets it aside. He takes you in his arms and cradles you, wanting to express in more ways just how much he loves you, and that he knows you’re going to make his place a home for your children, the way you lovingly did for him.

Because you’re home - you’re the heart of it, the foundation of it, the light of it. You let all the scared and lonely parts of him heal, and even if it took a while, once you were both here, you never failed to show him what love is like, what home is like, what giving what’s left of yourself to another is like, and that’s how he knows you love him.

“I love you so much, ___,” he kisses you deeply. “And I believe we were in the middle of something before I spoiled the surprise.”

His smile is sweet but his eyes are full of desire, and you give in like you do every single time.

Because he’s home - he’s the heart of it, the foundation of it, the light of it. He let all the cold and broken parts of you heal, and you’ll spend every moment of your long life together making sure he knows that, that he feels that - that he’s love, and the most beautiful form of it is what he deserves.

##

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @mwitsmejk @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @jeonsfreak @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @siadreams @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327@petalsofink @shatzkrinslinzki @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @jvngkooker @aman211

Series Taglist: @shrimpmsg @paraquesufrir @emsuzz @kaithezaftig @lilyflowerguk @lianaeiloria @kokoandkookie @jamlessstars

[wishing-well-writing]

hiiii, is it ok if i ask for clover, herb, madelaine and espresso headcanons? Were they have a lover who has like star magic (probably be moonlight cookie’s child) but they cant go in broad daylight or they will turn to glittering stars?

!MOONLIGHT-ISH!S/O X VARIOUS!

Written by: 🍡

Fandom: Cookie Run Series

Character(s): Clover Cookie, Herb Cookie, Madeleine Cookie, Espresso Cookie

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I’m so sorry if any of this sounds incoherent I’m writing this at like 1am

CLOVER COOKIE

Look Clover is very much not nocturnal so he can’t really stay up at the dead of night too many times with you

Mans gotta photosynthesize or something idk

But you know what you CAN do

Walk around a shadowy forest hand in loveable hand

And honestly it’s peak date spot idea, imagine: you and your bard bf are walking through the forest, chatting or something, moonlight (or sunlight if you’re daring) filtering through the small gaps in the leaves, top notch shit

Also Clover is absolutely a sap who can and will write a whole soliloquy or whatever about you

V sweet and v sappy if you’re into that

Absolutely adores your magic and probably has a few poems about you and it too

HERB COOKIE

Herb is also very similar to Clover in that he’s not nocturnal and needs to photosynthesize

But he tends to stay up more often than not since he’s also used to staying up at godawful times because his plants are fussy

Plant hoo hoo man does his best to accommodate the whole “sunlight bad” thing

Also an absolute sap and will get you flowers and flower crowns that match your aesthetic and THRIVE in moonlight

Date night aesthetic of just hanging out in the greenhouse or garden and just, leaning or laying on each other, Herb tells you plant facts and you teach him constellations and stars (in general)

The man 100% asked you out with a flower shaped like a Star I can feel it in my HEART

MADELEINE COOKIE

Look he is literally this image in a relationship with you

That’s it that’s the whole post next-

Jk jk but fr that man would 100% do that when you’re out and about and if you don’t have a parasol or something to keep the sun off of you

Absolute sweetheart, fairy tale knight/prince type beat Y’know? Yeah he has his days where he’s a bit jerk-ish in a sense but he’s trying to do better and that’s what matters

Also the kind of bitch to shout “EVERYONE LOOK AT MY S/O ARENT THEY SO BEAUTIFUL/HANDSOME AND STRONG AND-“

Brags about you to everyone because he 100% believes you two are a power couple

And Yknow what you are

ESPRESSO COOKIE

This man doesn’t sleep either so he’ll stay up till ass o’clock with you

Solidarity

Probably the only one with the ACTUAL resources to figure out some kinda solution to the whole “sun bad” probably

But this man will work himself half to death for it tho so pls stop him or at least get him to slow down-

Espresso probably isn’t like, too outwardly loveydovey and all? Outwardly cool and collected and his usual “hm yes okay” self or whatever

But he’s like a cat in that he’ll give you your space but he’ll show he cares by bringing you food or sharing his coat

Also he’s deeply embarrassed by pda and general affection lol

He WILL shut down completely from a kisse

[conagherwilbur]

I present to you...

Stop-Motion Photos!!

[from the Fireman Sam Annual 1988 !]

I LOVE THESE SO MUCH these are ... mostly the reason why i bought the annual before waiting for a better price (fucking $70 for the bastard)

i Cannot under any circumstances wait to receive my daily dose of puppet people /j

Here we go! Teeny Jupiter on an unspecified road! I’ve never noticed that ladder before in the show, i wonder if Pontypandy was sort of built by water originally?? or maybe that road is built across a mini dam; I remember in one of the buzz books there was a story about everyone going to the beach and idk if it specified how close or far it was from the village but 👀 there were houses in the background.

Have i ever said how much i love Normans stupid little haircut.. ITS LIKE HE NEVER COMBS IT its a fuckimg mop turn him upside down and drag him across the floor. no but please give him a lil ponytail or a bun and watch him suffer /hj ALSO THE FLOWERING PLANT GROWING FROM THE TOP OF THAT VIADUCT,, I LOVE HOW MUCH DETAIL THERE IS IN ALL THE SETS!

We can get a good look at Dilys’s hair in this, kind of forgot she has hair OOPS.. but like for real i wonder what it would look like when her curlers were taken out?? hate or love the girl she’s got to have some bitchin’ hair /pos

AS WELL AS SAM, IDK WHAT IT IS ABOUT THESE PICTURES BUT ITS JUST..... SO INVIGORATING TO SEE THEIR FACES UP CLOSE IN HIGH QUALITY LO0K AT THE MAN!! LOOK AT HIS STUPID PAPER MOUTH i want to eat it . and the way his quiff fucking dips down at the end I LOVE HOW UNKEMPT IT LOOKED IN THE FIRST THREE SEASONS LIKE YEAH HONEY GO JUST GET UP AND BRUSH YOUR HAIR WITH A TOOTHBRUSH

Here's Bella, the awesome woaman who didn’t deserve to be stereotyped as an idiot in most of the booksssss 😬 but like... ngl damn she looks fine *wrist flick* not that im a lesbian but......................... /hj

anyways i would love to see her hair upclose its so fucking pretty I LOVE her sense of fashion too bih pleasge let me see the rest of your wardrobe

the puppies :) i have no idea what kind of hairstyle James is supposed to have AT ALL but.. i kind of like to think he styles it a bit after his uncle, but his hair is longer so he makes do with a hefty fuckin cowlick and omf PLEASE with the little hairs sticking out on the crown of their heads i want that utilized more in general please

also also im kinda jealous of Sarah’s overalls girl please who tf made those for you or WHERE DID YOU BUY THEM bc i want pink overalls with a scenic tree in the center

Poopiter once again pulling into the fire station driveway.. love how awkward and unbalanced the house on the left is LOL i also rly like the implications that Pontypandy has a very condensed neighborhood area and the high street (inlcudes Dilys’s shop, Bella’s cafe, the park) is rly the only market place in town n then the outskirts are almost NOTHING

EELIVS MY BELOVED HELLO!! I LOVE this picture for... two reasons mostly, one is because of Elvis thats literally it. jk but GOD im .imfm,,, i love how he’s so tall his shirt sleeves (and sometimes the collar) stick out of his uniform and ig his hair looks so malleable i want to compress it with a hydraulic press. i wonder how much pomade he goes through in a week?? the other reason is that... Jupiter’s tire looks VERY out of place, in the sense that it looks like she’s almost tilted to the side somehow?? Like gurl you dont look like you’re planted on the ground 🙄

AND THEN FINALLY THIS ONE!! This is the exact picture Sam keeps on his nightstand minus Sarah and James, which is super cool to me honestly;;; bc like i can just imagine they were both plucked from the set after their picture was taken and just shoved somewhere else (delicately, they are flowers) Theres two versions of Fireman Sam i love; one is the show and the other is the puppets themselves. i have such a burning desire to go and rob them from whoever owns them and just. holld them 🥺 do i overshare my thoughts? yes i do but this may be the only chance i get and im going at it 100%

..................

im... so sorry for literally only posting random pictures from all the annuals i own and that are also NOT ONLINE FOR PEOPLE TO VIEW... I SWEAR ill upload them all to internet archive at some point

i also need to .yknow WRITE, OR DRAW AND NOT JUST SHARE TEHSE although yall seem to like them :) unfortunately tho there aren’t any other pictures like these in the annuals :(

anyway YES HERE YOU GO another weeks-worth of me rambling about pictures of puppets i love with all my heart

[jeo9n]

Majesty Pt 9 || JJK

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre : slow burn,angst,fluff,virgin reader,King JK, future smut

Warnings : Y/n finds Jungkook with his ex mistress :/

Wordcount : 3.3k

previous / next

Ever since you and Jungkook had your first kiss, he’s been way more touchy with you, always touching and kissing you when he has the chance to. You like it though, it makes you feel loved.

Right now, you’re back in the village - with Jungkook this time - you two went to visit your mother for a while, since you missed and her and wanted to see her again. Your mother was so excited, once she heard that Jungkook was coming along with you, - probably more excited to see him than you - now finally having the chance to meet him. She asked him all sorts of questions, clearly curious about him. She didn’t even pay you much attention, only greeting you at the door and asking if you were hungry when you arrived. But you didn’t mind it, you knew she was happy to finally meet Jungkook and you were happy as well, that they finally met.

"Y/n, you did not tell me that the King was this handsome." Your mom said, slapping you against your shoulder as you poured yourself something to drink. You laughed at her. "Yea, he’s pretty handsome," you agree with her, turning your head to look at him trough the kitchen window. He just sitting there, in your garden, looking beautiful without even trying.

"But how someone looks isn’t important, mom. It’s what’s it’s in the inside that counts. If someone is ugly from the inside, then they’re ugly from the outside too." You tell her, as you take a sip of your orange juice. She nods her head at you. "I know that, Y/n. But the King looks like such a nice person, he looks like he wouldn’t even hurt a fly. She says, looking at him with a big smile and her face and you almost snort at that. If only she knew.

"You don’t know him personally, mom. He isn’t that nice, remember when I told you he left me outside because I didn’t obey him? A nice person doesn’t do that." You say with a irritated look on your face, walking back outside into your garden, where Jungkook was waiting for you two.

Your garden didn’t even compare to the garden back at the castle, but you loved it way more. It was still beautiful, You’re mom cared for it with so much love, always making sure that every flower got a equal amount of water, making sure they were planted in the right spot to get enough sunlight, or else they would get sad, as she always told your and your siblings when you were younger. There was a big cherry tree on the right corner of your garden, that your mom planted herself when you were younger. Your garden had beautiful memories to it, which made it way more beautiful.

"That is true! But maybe he just had a bad day and you just happened to make it worse. But I’m sure he won’t do it again." Your mom whispers in your ear, when you both sat down at the table. Your mother giving Jungkook a huge smile as she sat down. "It’s so nice to finally have you here, your highness." You mother started, not once looking away from him.

Jungkook chuckled at that. "It’s really nice to be finally meeting you." He says, making her smile grow bigger. "I actually wanted to talk to you at our Wedding, but I was really busy, so I sadly didn’t had the chance to. So being here is nice." He tells her. And she nods. "Ah don’t worry! I know that your a busy man, your highness. I understand." She assures him. "Can I ask you something? I hope you don’t mind me asking questions."

"Of course not! I don’t have a problem with questions. Go ahead." He answers her as he put down his coffee, giving her his full attention. Your mother nods understandingly, also putting down her coffee. "What made you choose, Y/n?" She asks him and he looks at her confused. "I mean, not that I think that Y/n isn’t worthy of being a wife. I’m just wondering, since there were a lot of other pretty girls there that day, but you chose her. And I just wanted to know why." She quickly explains.

He smiles at her, ready to explain why he chose you. "Well there were a lot of pretty girls there, that’s true. But Y/n had something different about her. All the other girls seemed almost to eager to become my wife, but not Y/n. She stayed at the back while all the other girls practically threw themselves at me. Those girls only wanted to be my wife because I’m the King. Y/n seemed to not care about that, she did not act like I was the King, she acted like I was just another boy in front of her. That’s what I liked about her, that’s why I chose her." He says, looking at you.

Your mom smiles at his words. "Ah that’s sweet. Y/n is really shy, I actually worried that you wouldn’t notice her cause she always stays at the back. But I was so happy once I heard that you chose her." She says while she looks at you and you smile at her. "I was worried that Y/n wouldn’t find a husband, if I’m being honest. Sending her to your competition was my last hope, I guess you could say." She laughs. "I hope you treat her nicely."

"Of course. I wouldn’t dare to treat her badly! I promised to always care for her and that’s why I will do." He says while he looks at you with a serious look on his face, obviously lying. "Right, Y/n?"

"Right."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You left your moms house and now your small walk trough the village, since Jungkook asked you to show him around, saying he wanted to know where you grew up.

You didn’t know what to show him, since there weren’t that many pretty places around anymore. Most of them were ruined years ago when another kingdom wanted to build a few more buildings around your area, - which they never did - all they did was ruin family houses, taking away poor peoples home for nothing.

You decided to show him the bakery you worked at, the places you always went when you wanted to be alone and your old house you used to live in. As you walked around, you felt that feeling again, feeling like someone was watching you. You ignored it at first, you were probably imagining it since that’s what happened the last time you were in the village. But the feeling stayed. "Jungkook, wait." You said, grabbing his hand so he stops walking. He turns around with a confused look on his face. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" He asks you, taking your hand is his when he sees the look on your face.

"I-I feel like we’re being watched." You tell him, looking around to see if someone is actually watching you, but all you see are the people from your village, and all of them are looking at, of course. But their eyes don’t make you feel that weird feeling. It must be someone else. Jungkook chuckles slightly at you. "Of course people are looking at us, Y/n. It must be weird for them to see me walking around in the village since I haven’t done that before." He says while he looks around.

"No, Jungkook you don’t get it. I have the same feeling I had last time when someone was watching me. These people are looking at us, they’re not watching our every move. Someone is watching us, I can feel it." You explain to him, hoping he understands. The look on his face changes, once he understands the situation.

"Fuck, are you sure?" He asks and you nod quickly. He lifts his hand moving it to beckon someone over. There where like 7 bodyguards coming out of nowhere not even a second later, once he lifted his hand. "Y/n told we’re being watched. Find who’s watching us and bring him over to the castle! I’ve had enough of this." He tells them in a strict tone.

He turns his face to you. "We’re going home!" Dragging you along with him, with two bodyguards on either side of you two.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jungkook did not leave your side once you arrived back at the castle. He stayed with you until the bodyguards came back with the person he told them to find. When they arrived, Jungkook immediately got up and went to meet them at the door. You quickly went after him, curious to know who the person was, that was watching you. But once you both arrived at the door, your realized that there was no one there except for the bodyguards. You looked at Jungkook confused and he had the same look on his face. "What is going on?" He asks them confused. "Where is he?“

"I am sorry, your highness. But we couldn’t find anyone that could have been watching you two. There were hundreds of people, your highness. It was impossible to find the one that was watching you." One of bodyguards said, as bowed to the King apologetically. You were kinda sad that they came home empty handed, you hoped that they found the person that had been watching you, but you knew it wasn’t their fault that they couldn’t find them. You just hoped that it wouldn’t happen again.

Jungkook scoffed and shook his head at what he had heard. "Are you stupid?" He said, raising his voice a bit. "Why do u even work for me, if you can’t even finish a simple task for me huh? I told you, to go and find them! No matter how long it takes! And now you dare to come home empty handed? - You are so useless! all of you!" He laughed ironically, clearly pissed at them.

They kept on apologizing, saying that they would find them next time for sure! "Stop apologizing and go back to find them!" He said, throwing his hand in the air. "I don’t wanna see you back here not if you bring me who I want! Understood?" He asked and their all quickly nodded their head and answered him with "yes" bowing to him before leaving again, in hopes to find the person this time.

You turned to Jungkook and saw that he was pissed, which you understood. You both wanted to know who the person was and now you had to wait longer to find out, but that was okay. You wouldn’t go back to the village again - not without Jungkook anyway - so it was fine. The person couldn’t watch you in the castle, You were safe here.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A few weeks passed since then and the bodyguards still haven’t returned to the castle. Each day that they did not return, you became more and more worried, worried because you wondered, what kind of person they were looking for. A normal person couldn’t hide themselves for that long, right? You thought they would’ve caught them by now. You hope they return back soon, but hopefully this time with the person they had been looking for.

You took a shower and got dressed. Not wanting to worry about that anymore, they knew what they were doing, there was no need for you to worry.

You ate breakfast with Jungkook and went to check and Leo afterwards. Bringing him some fresh food and cleaning his cage. He had grown so much since the day you had found him. He has now grown into his ear and gained a good few pounds, which was good. He had been underweight when you found him, so you always made sure he ate and always had enough food. You didn’t want him to feel hungry for not even a minute.

You cleaned his cage and went to check on the flowers that had been planted a few weeks ago, eager to know what they looked like.

A big smile immediately appeared on your lips when you saw the flowers. They were yellow roses. A lot of them.

You crouched down to look at them. They were beautiful, like always. You knew that Jungkook must’ve ordered for them to planted. I mean, he knew that those were your favorite, you told him. And now they’re here in your garden. "They’re beautiful, right?"

"Yes! More than beautiful." You told him excitingly, as you got up from your spot, straightening out your dress. Jungkook smiled at you, seeing the happy look on your face. "You’re even more beautiful then them, Y/n." He told you as he got closer. His words making you blush.

"You’re still blushing around me?" He asked you jokingly, which made you laugh. "Here - a beautiful rose for a beautiful girl." Handing you one of the roses. You took it from him, smelling the rose to try and hide your blushing face. "Thank you."

"I love them. - the Roses. Seeing them just made my day a thousand times better." You tell him, turning around to look at them again. He comes and stands next to you, looking at you instead of the roses. "I’m happy you like them! I wanted them to plant as many as possible. You told me those were your favorite and I thought it would be nice to have them in our garden. So you could look at them everyday." He says, putting his hand on your waist, pushing you closer to him. You smile at that.

"That’s really nice of you, Jungkook. Thank you." You say, looking up at him with a smile on you lips.

"You’re welcome!" He says, looking at you in the eyes before his eyes move down to your lips. He leans in closer, close enough that his forehead is leaning against yours. He moves so he is standing in front of you, cupping your cheeks in his hands, looking you deep in the eyes, before he leans in and kisses you.

The butterfly’s in your tummy start flying as soon your lips met. It felt like kissing him for the first time all over again. He kisses you so good, soft lips moving against yours slowly. You feel so good in this moment, having Jungkook close against you, smelling his cologne, having him kiss and hold you.

The butterfly’s in your tummy didn’t stop.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You spend a bit more time with Leo and went to hang out with Maria later that day. Jungkook told you he a few things to do so you left him alone, not wanting to bother him while he’s working.

You ate dinner alone today since Jungkook was still busy. You hope he’s not overworking himself. You actually wanted to bring him some food, but Maria told you, you didn’t had to. He’s like that sometimes, barely eats any food when he’s busy. - that’s what she told you. -

You were about to head to bed but Maria stopped you. "Miss, would you like some dessert?" She asked you quickly. But you shook your head. "No, thank you. I’m really full."

"Would you like to help me clean up then?" She asked. Which confused you a bit, she never asked you to help her. Always declining when you offered to help her. So now her asking you to help her is weird.

"I would love to help you, Maria, but I’m actually pretty tired. All I want to do now is a take a bath and go to bed. I’m sorry, I’ll help you next time, okay?" You told her as you got up from your seat. She looked at you with a weird look on her face but she nodded anyways. "Okay."

You left her and walked towards your bedroom, really wanting a relaxing bath now. When you opened the door to your bedroom, you were shocked at what you saw. There in your bed was Jungkook fucking another woman. You couldn’t believe it. They did not even notice you, they did not even look when you opened the door.

"What the fuck!" You heard the girl say, once she finally noticed you. "What Are you doing here?"

"Excuse me? This is my bedroom what are you two doing here?" This bitch had the audacity to ask. Jungkook stopped and turned around when he heard your voice, his eyes meeting yours. He got off of her putting on his shorts and sitting down next to her. You recognized her, it’s his old mistress or so you thought.

"What is this, Jungkook? Are you seriously fucking someone else in our bed?" You asked him, throwing your hand up to point at her. "I thought you were busy with work. Not busy with fucking someone else!"

He got up and tried walking towards you, but you took a step back so he stopped. "I am busy as you can see - well I was, until you interrupted us." You cannot believe him. He can’t be serious, right? "Why are you even here anyway? Shouldn’t you be down in the kitchen helping Maria?" He asked.

Then it all clicked. Maria was asking you to help her so you wouldn’t go to your room, so you wouldn’t see your husband fucking another woman. She was supposed to distract you. What is wrong with these people?

"Why are you in bed with another woman, Jungkook? Why are you in bed with the woman you used to fuck before we got married?" You yelled at him, ignoring his questions. "What do you think, Y/n? Im a man I have needs too! Needs you clearly don’t know anything about." He says, waking towards you again.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" You ask him when he’s standing in front of you. "I get horny, Y/n! Do you even know what that word means? It’s means I want to have sex, but you virgin self is too dumb to notice that."

You chuckle dryly at that. "Are you serious? So instead of talking with me about it, you just go fuck your mistress again? I actually cannot believe you."

He tries to touch, but slap his hand away from you. "Don’t touch me with your filthy hands! You’re disgusting, Jungkook! - you know what? Go back and finish your business, your bitch is waiting for you." Was all you said before you left and shut the door behind you. Jungkook did not even come after you, but you didn’t care, you didn’t want him to come after you anyways.

You could see Maria looking at you worryingly when you walked down the stairs, but you didn’t pay her no mind. That bitch can go fuck herself too. She had the chance to tell you, but instead offered you to help her. These people are seriously sick.

You tried to open the door, but Maria stopped you quickly. "What are you doing, miss? Where are you going?"

"Well what does it look like? I’m leaving! And you better don’t tell anyone or stop me." You tell her, opening the door and leaving the castle. If Jungkook really thinks your staying after you just caught him with another woman, then he‘s wrong!

The walk back to the village was long, really long. But you didn’t care. You’d rather walk home then to stay at the castle. You finally arrived at your old house after what seemed like hours, you banged the door quickly, hoping your mom is still awake.

She opened the door a few minutes later and a worried look immediately crossed her face. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" She asked as you got inside. "No, nothing is okay, mom!"

"Did something happen?" She asked you, checking if your were alright.

"Yeah, but can we please talk about it tomorrow? I just walked all the way from the castle to the village. My feet hurt and I’m really tired, all I want is to go to sleep."

"Of course, darling. I can wait. Go to sleep!" She told you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist : @fangirl125reader @min-nicoleee @yzkyzkuniverse @safi4x @zoeshinelove @wearenot7withu @queenmasterxx @dreamer95 @kleritata @hardcarrykookie @bts-junseagull @fareeshaaaa @two-unbeatable-beaters

[merakiclosed]

Princess of the tower

》Pairing: Thief!Jungkook x Princess!reader 》Summary: The thief of the town who goes by the name of JK finds the lost princess but didn’t expect to fall in love with her along the way. 》Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst, Disney!au/Fantasy!au , Strangers to lovers!au, Tangled!au (2010)   》Word count: 7k 》Notes/Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, manipulation, long-haired Kook because that’s a danger in its self. 

Masterlist | All messages and requests are open All rights reserved © Merakiiverse. Do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. I do not own the characters nor the concept, (Tangled 2010). 

The sky looked like a fresh blend of colours brushed onto a canvas. Pomegranate pink and papaya orange teased each other, daring to touch but not completely mixing. You’re tempted to close the shutters and go to bed, tiredness pulling at your being. But you were defiant, what good would tomorrow bring? It would be like any other day; clean up, read, paint, sing, cook.

Pascal sleeps on your shoulder when you look down, unconsciously he matches with the sun, his normal green scales changing golden. Sighing, you move your gaze to watch the silhouette of birds fly past, wishing to be as free as them. Reaching out, you touch the plants that wind around the tower, almost crying out to be touched and held as you caress the soft ridges with your fingers.

Finally, you stand up straight and brush the imaginary dust off your purple dress, the silk smooth on your skin. You can remember vividly the day that you made this with your own hands, sewing and cutting material for hours because you grew out of your previous one. Unfortunately, this was the cheapest material your mother could get you, meaning that all of your dresses looked similar. You were dying to get out of the tower and get some more material, experimenting and trying on different styles and colours. But that would never happen. You weren’t allowed out of the tower. It was mother’s number one rule, not under any circumstances were you to step foot outside of this tower.

Your bare feet echo in the empty room as you descend to your bedroom. Along the staircase you run your hands along the carvings that were like a tale of a story that was long forgotten, remembering the day you spent on the hard work. Were you 15 at the time? Maybe, the days are all forged together.

Carefully, you set Pascal down on one of the pillows as you flop down beside him, trying to not wake him up. Gazing up at the roof, you find the multiple paintings you did, filled with flowers, birds and butterflies, thinking when your life will truly begin.

Your hand moves along the wall, almost like your mind is directing it without you. You never think too much whilst painting, it’s where you see the reflection of your own imagination and mind. Every colour is bold and painted with precise lines, curved yet defined. Small dots of gold contrast with the deep blue of the background, representing the floating lights. The same ones that you know will appear tomorrow night, on your birthday. You could only hope and wish that this year, your mother allows you to go see them.

Faintly, you could hear the familiar echo of shoes on the stairwell causing you to shove the paint palette down and draw the curtains to hide the painting. Quickly, you get down from the fireplace, getting ready to greet her as the chain and lock sound heavy against the door.

“My precious daughter.” she cooes, pinching your cheeks making you wince slightly.

“Mother -”

“Would you let your mother brush your hair whilst you sing dear?” she interrupts you. Instantly you’re moving around, grabbing a chair and the brush, rushing to sit her down.

As soon as she is sat down you put a pillow on the floor to sit on, singing the song as fast as you can. Your hair reached the bottom of your bum, thick and tangled from having a busy day, though you don’t wince or groan when she pulls at a knot, too excited and nervous to ask a question. Behind your closed eyes, you briefly see the glow of your hair along with a Zapp at how fast the magic worked.

“Y/N -” mother begins to scold, but you couldn’t care less.

“Mother, I was thinking about what I want for my birthday. Wou- would I b-be able to go outside. To see the floating lights?” Your once confident voice trails off with uncertainty, “They only appear on my birthday and I need to know what they are” you plead, moving to show her the painting you did today, behind the closed curtains. But your grip quickly loosens when you hear her next words.

“Y/n. You want to go outside? You know why we stay in the tower, trust me mother knows best.” She says firmly, standing up towering over you. Her eyes are as dark as her hair as she looks unimpressed, “there are many bad guys out there, diseases that can wipe you out. You know what they do to bright things in the world. They eat them up.”

“You don’t ever ask to go out of this tower ever again.” she finalises, pulling at your dress harshly, “do you understand?” Her gaze is firm and hard making you nod your head meekly. Though, she wanted more than that as she grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head to look her in the eye, “Yes mother I understand.” She beams at you and kisses your cheek. Grabbing the keys, she heads for the door and with another kiss to your head along with a quick I love you, she’s gone again.

Not soon after you could hear laboured breathing coming from the door, the person bangs against the door, followed by a groan. Frantically, you look at Pascal who also has wide eyes, who then points to the frying pan, “Pascal you’re a genius” you whisper. You run behind the door, continuously hearing the stranger try and break the door, making it rattle and echo throughout the room. Any moment now and he’ll end up-

The door breaks off its hinges, the chain now scraping across the ground. It’s silent for a moment as you watch the man look around, failing to look behind him. “OW.SHIT” He shouts when you hit him in the leg with the frying pan, he whips around to look at you. Your mother’s voice sounds in your head of the hideous men with sharp teeth and ill intentions. But this man in front of you was nothing like that. His white shirt was dirty and rolled up to his elbows as underneath was a blue vest, wheat-like string buttoning it together. Brown pants are tucked into brown, leather boots that have clearly been worn for a long time as they are scuffed with mud splattered on them. When your eyes finally land on the satchel in his hand, he moves it closer to himself protectively, interesting.

Like deja vu, you hear another step of footsteps and instantly you know who it is. You and the strange man look at each other wide-eyed and shove him under the stairs, where the kitchen is and hide him behind the curtain. The man stumbles from your push as you take the opportunity to take the satchel out of his hands. Luckily, your mother only gets halfway before she decides to shout, “Y/n, did you want me to get the paint from the beach?” you know that she is doing this so that you don’t talk about going out of the tower, “Yes, mother.” And she’s gone, once again, thankful that you didn’t have to explain why the door was broken.

Cautiously, you creep towards the kitchen, coming face to face with the man, frying pan at the ready in one hand, the satchel in the other. You both looked at each other, he was young, possibly around your age judging by his face. His eyes were deer-like, sparkling with a hint of mischievousness in them, slightly round cheeks but sharp jaw and eyebrows as his black hair slightly hung in front of his eyes, obvious that he hasn’t had it cut in a while. His eyes scan your figure, wanting to roll his eyes, you look innocent and scared. It was obvious that if he shouted at you right now, you would cower. However, he notices the satchel in your hand, “that’s mine, give it back.”

Shaking your head, you hold it closer to you, “No. why are you here?” you foreign confidence when in reality you could feel your erratic heartbeat in your chest. He wasn’t threatened as his face showed confusion, making his nose scrunch up, “Is that all of your hair?”

Your mind starts to connect the dots, “Do you want my hair, is that why you are here? How did you find me?” you accuse, trying to sound threatening.

“I don’t want your hair, I want to get out of here. Now, give me my satchel.” You were shocked by his firm and deep voice as he hardened his gaze on you. Neither of you said anything, his ice-cold stare not wavering as you came up with an idea.

“No. I won’t give you the satchel until you take me to see the floating lights tomorrow night. You will take me there and in return, you’ll get your satchel.”

“That’s it? You want to see the lanterns?” he sounds bored. Well, he shouldn’t have broken your door! You unconsciously pout and nod, “Yes.”

“So, is this a deal then?” he says, cocking his eyebrow. This will be easy.

“Yes.”  

“Well let’s get going then”

The words make you pause, you’ll be leaving the tower. Without your mother’s permission. It was against the rules. What if she comes back early. No, you can’t think of that. You either leave the tower now or stay and never be able to see the outside world, “well what are you doing just standing there princess, let’s get moving.”

Feet firmly planted, you look up to the sky that is bright but soft all at once, it looks bigger from down here, reminding you how small you are in a big world. Looking back, you see the plants that have grown thick on the tower, stone of grey peeking out as rigid pieces crumble to the floor. The grass is soft on your feet as you timidly take a step forward, the bottom of your dress soaking up the morning dew as you bend down to pick out a flower. The petals are vibrant and proud as you softly brush your finger along the soft texture. Your hair flows behind you in the grass, but you don’t care. Pascal takes in a big, deep breath of the fresh air, peering over at the young man. He doesn’t trust him.

The man looks at you unimpressed, but in reality, he finds it quite endearing as you look around. The scenery was normal to him, but watching you appreciate all of the little details makes him think more about taking things for granted. But he can’t think like that. He needs to leave you - somewhere safe of course- and run. All he has to do is steal the satchel from you when you sleep and then he will be on his way. He strolls up to you and plucks the flower out of your hand, causing you to pout, but soon turns into a shy smile once he places it in your hair, next to your ear. Firstly, he has to gain your trust.  

Walking away, he hears your feet pad on the ground before you walk next to him, “So, princess what’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You say softly, looking up at him, he mulls over what to say before talking, “Mine’s Jk.”

Now fully in the forest, you take it all in. Trees that you once looked over, towered over you causing you to smile like a kid in the candy store, they were bigger than you imagined. You gasped at the sight of a bunny, running over to it, the motion causing it to squeak and hop away. Subconsciously you frown with a pout prominent on your face, you only wanted to pet it, the fur looked so soft! JK looks over at you, cocking his head to the side. How strange and innocent you were, shrugging it off he walks off, wanting to get this over and done with.

“Hey - wait up.”

The woman trudges up the stairs, huffing with every step, her shoes clacking against the stone. She can sense that something is wrong, the echoing doesn’t sound as harsh to her eardrums as before. Thoughts of something getting to her precious prize, causing her to fasten her steps before she abruptly stops, two steps before the top. The wooden door lays on the floor, pieces of wood aloof. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, adrenaline rushing through her as she shouts out, trying to find her. Pots and pans on the floor, material is thrown all over. Nothing.

As she lays on the cold, hardwood floor, she thinks about all of the possibilities of what could have happened. She can’t lay around all day, she has to do something. Standing up, she pulls her black cloak over her head as her blood-red dress dances against the door, her boots crushing the debris. She will do whatever it takes to get her back.

You walked until it was dark, the atmosphere between you both was awkward for the full day, asking him questions but only getting either one-word responses or gestures of yes or no. Goosebumps appear on your arms from the evening chill as crickets start to sing in the swaying grass.

“I’ll get some firewood, stay here.” He commands, not waiting for an answer as he walks off into the woods. The green canopy almost looks black, drained of colour almost like it was muted under the artist’s hand. Every noise and russell from the bushes makes you jump, you’ve practically been alone for most of your life, but you were surrounded by the tower walls. You’re vulnerable under the moon that shines in the night. It was a weird experience, you’ve seen the nightfall and the sunrise, yet witnessing it outside was so much more magical. You only wish that your companion would be better, but at least Pascal is with you, though he isn’t much help as you look over to find him knocked out on the edge of the branch that you’re sat on. The familiar crunch of boots makes you gaze up at the man, his biceps bulging in the shirt that he wears.

The fire crackles as soon as he has light it, you watch him silently as he tears a bit of his shirt off to stop the bleeding of a scrape on his arm. Maybe, you can get him to talk if you become closer. Wordlessly, you scoot over to him and reach out softly to stop him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows wondering what you were doing. Winding some hair around the cut, he hisses as your small hands press harder onto his forearm, with a cautious gaze you look up at him, “Please don’t be scared.” The vulnerability in your voice is evident as he looks at you skeptically.

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

Jungkook watches you as if you were crazy, but confusion knocks into him once he feels a tingle in his arm, looking as your hair starts to glow. Staring at your face, the light illuminating your face. Your eyes are closed firmly, he observes the silent features on your face that draws him closer to you, you look so young, yet so worn out. Watching as delicate lips sing the song.

“Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine.”

What and why were you in that tower?

Opening your eyes, he’s taken out of his thoughts, clearing his throat. Meekly, you look up at him as you unwrap your hair from his arm, the cut no longer there. You wait anxiously at what he will do next. You haven’t shown anyone other than your mother that.

“H-how long has your -uh. Magical Uhm. Hair been doing that?” He coughs when his voice cracks, not wanting to show how scared he actually feels.

“Forever. Something like this” You gesture to your hair, “has to be protected, that’s why my mother - why I never left the tower.” Your voice trails off at the end, still uncertain about what he is thinking.

His thoughts are running wild. He’s sitting there, in the middle of the night, with a girl who has magical hair. Is this a dream? Something like this doesn’t happen, maybe he’s going crazy. Maybe the guards have already taken him and this is all some sort of hallucination. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you twiddle your thumbs, waiting anxiously. He had a perfect plan for tonight, wait until you fall asleep, take the satchel and run. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long, yet he doesn’t think he can do it. If someone gets to you, you’re a goner. And for some reason, it makes his gut twist at the thought of you in danger, especially after you showed him your little trick. People like him, eat people like you for dinner. He yearns to know everything about you already, but he doesn’t think he can bring himself to do it. He’s not a good person and you don’t deserve that.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?” You look up at him quizzically.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.”

You gaze up into his deep, marble eyes where you could see tales - most likely fascinating, secrets and stories that he’s held up in his head for years. He was far more interesting than you, that’s for sure.

“How did you find the tower?” You questioned, averting your eyes to pascal as he sleeps peacefully.

“I ran, I didn’t plan the journey to the tower, I just ended up there.” He says with a humourless laugh, thinking about how he had run away from the guards at the palace, then proceeding to ditch the two others. His eyes unconsciously flicking to the satchel around your shoulder. Was all of this worth it?

You nod at him, not knowing what to say, you want to know what he was running from, why he never gave you his real name from the start, why he was so desperate to get the satchel. You had so many questions for people outside of the tower, but now sitting in front of him, Jungkook, your mind runs blank. Yawning, you rub your eyes, but you’re fearful of sleeping outside. Will someone attack you? Will it rain? What if a giant creature comes and gets you?

“Easy there, princess. I can see your head about to blow smoke from how hard you’re thinking.” Jungkook said in a small voice, presumably not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night. Laying down, pieces of wood stabbed your side, but it would have to do if you want to get to the lanterns tomorrow. Your head lays gently on the bark, the constellations that have witnessed centuries watch over you both in this small moment before you finally close your eyes drifting off to sleep.

Jungkook looks over when he hears your breathing slowing down, to see you knocked out like a light. Chuckling to himself, he can imagine how hard today was compared to being in that tiny room in the tower. He sits on the grass, leaning against the log you’re asleep on, looking at your figure. He was so curious to know you, he never heard anything about a girl being locked up in a tower, and surprisingly, he felt bad for you. So youthful and full of wonder, and he was youthful but full of danger.

Luckily, the town wasn’t far from where you slept, only a couple of hours in the morning and you finally saw the opening to the village. Even from afar, you could feel the energy that the people emit, vibrant clothing shining in the sunlight as people dance to the music. They move around each other like pebbles in the water, flowing around one another, as they fill each other with adrenaline-pumping happiness. You only see joyful faces as they bring the village to life. Chatter between sellers and buyers as if they were old friends. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Mother was wrong, there are good people in the world. Pascal looks in wonder, as he hides in the pocket of your dress, he’s never seen something like this in his life. If he thought your paintings were colourful, this was on a whole other level as they whizzed past him. 

Purple seemed to be the main colour as it is splashed onto every bit of material you see, as you get closer you see a group of young girls that paint a mural on the floor, a star in the middle of purple paint. A picture of, who you presume are the king and queen with a young daughter in their arms, was in front of the painting.

Jungkook watches you silently as you smile widely, your eyes darting in every which way to take everything in. He gently grabs at your sleeve and tugs you towards one of the stands who does hair, sitting you in the chair. You look up at him questioningly, as the woman starts to braid your hair, making sure not to hurt you. She doesn’t question the twigs and leaves she finds, simply plucking them out. You sit in wonder, trying not to dart your head around to see more.

Your hair feels lighter and is easier to manage as you walk past the stalls. Briefly, you smell something sweet as you get closer to a particular one, your face lighting up at the sweetness. You pause your steps, taking a closer look at what it was.

Jungkook turns around to find that you’re not following him anymore, sending him into a panic as all he can see is a crowd of people. He’s familiar with his heart racing, normally from running away, but as he looks around he feels a different type of adrenaline, but all he has to do is breathe before calming down. His eyes are quick to find you, your purple dress matching perfectly with the theme as your hair flows down your back, flowers intertwined in certain strands. Walking towards you, he laughs when he sees your nose practically smudged against the glass that holds the doughnuts. You stare at him in shock, forgetting that you were supposed to follow him, causing heat to rise in your body.

“Do you want one?” He asks softly, nodding towards the sweet treat. You nod enthusiastically, causing another chuckle to rise from his throat as he hands the man behind the glass some money. You whisper a thank you as you take it from him, “what is this called?”

“It’s a doughnut.” He’s careful in calling you princess in the village, knowing it’s a sensitive topic and he doesn’t need to be at the center of attention right now, especially with all of the guards that he has seen. Tentatively, he watches you take your first bite, a giggle passes your lips once you’ve eaten it, taking another bite, clearly enjoying it as your cheeks fill like chipmunks. He watched fondly, before catching himself. No, he can’t fall for you. In a flash, he turns serious, cocking an eyebrow at you. Humiliation falls over you, at your obvious display of enjoyment. You’re not sure what you’ve done, but you still feel it as he looks at you with his sharp gaze. Lowering the doughnut, you avoid eye contact before nodding at him to continue with where you were walking to, giving the last of it to pascal. 

However, you get distracted once again at a group of people dancing, their bodies speaking for how they feel. You have danced before, in the comfort of the walls you call home, but here where you see young girls skipping and weaving past the seas of people, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened, you realise that you’ve never truly danced. Forgetting about the moment earlier, you grab Jungkook’s hand and dance with him. His larger hands encased in yours as you follow the rhythm, being carefree of everything, feeling freedom run in your bones. You know that after tonight, life goes on as normal, so today you will be free of all of your worries.

Smiling and giggling you look up to find him mirroring your expression. His laugh is beautiful as you finally get to see him enjoy himself, maybe he has realised that he can also be carefree. Your feet pad against the stone floor, you know you’ll have to make up an excuse as to why your feet are battered and bruised when you get home, but right now you don’t care.

But you’re soon thrown out of this dream when his eyes widen, looking at something behind you. You go to look back when he softly puts your head in his chest, holding you close, your breath hitches at the contact of your bodies pressed together. The feeling of having someone so close was bizarre, even your mother didn’t hold you like this especially as long as this. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding your hand in his as he runs, shouting of guards impales your ears, clattering of boots and metal follow behind you as each step is calculated. Not used to the exertion of energy your breathing starts to get laboured as you both rush past people, it’s all a blur as your steps start to falter, Jungkook’s grip on your hand getting tighter. Your bare feet sting as they slap against the moss-laden rock, each stride of his were worth at least two of yours, his long legs and previous endeavours made this easy, barely breaking a sweat. With a good distance between you and the guards, Jungkook drags you around another corner and into a darker and smaller passageway. Abruptly he shoves you against the wall, causing you to wince, his body once again up against yours. In your pocket, you barely realise that Pascal is shaking, clinging onto your dress for dear life. But all you can do is look at his face, tight-lipped and his gaze is sharp as he listens for the guards, your breath hot against his hand that is against your lips, keeping you quiet. His own breathing is steady but slightly offbeat as for the first in a while, he is scared of being caught. He’s been running away from guards the whole of his life, but he couldn’t get you in trouble because of his actions. You can hear the guards getting closer, footsteps matching in beat with each other, trained to perfection as they rush past you both.

A sigh of relief from him as you smile up towards him, “that was an adventure” you laugh. The adrenaline that pumped through you was certainly a new experience, though your feet are paying the price as you look down at them. Jungkook copies you and looks at how red and bruised your feet are making him grimace. He opens his pouch in his pocket and hands you some coins and points to one of the stalls, “I’ll stay here, are you alright buying your own shoes?”

Looking around you don’t see any of the guards and nod at him, slightly uncertain. You’ve only socialised with two people, but you can do this! You can totally do this! Hesitantly, you walk up to the stall before looking back to Jungkook to find him standing with a smile and two thumbs up. Briefly, you look down to Pascal who nods at you, a small smile on his face. You nod your head again and continue forward, with timid steps before looking around at the shoes on show before finding a pair of loafers, white with a golden pattern on the front, matching perfectly with your dress. The woman that owns the stall laughs at you before guiding you to try them on. You smile widely at her before giving her the coins, to which she accepts with a small smile, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. Putting them on your feet, you wiggle your toes before skipping back to Jungkook. He smiles at you watching your eyes brighten up, talking animatedly about how you think they’re pretty and soft. Again, he can feel his heart skip a beat. But once more he ignores it. He’s not meant for you.

Unknown to both of you Pascal notices the looks he gives you and tilts his head, maybe he isn’t as bad as he thought. 

As the sun descends and an ashen moon rises into the darkness he walks you along the beach, where a river lies in front of the castle. A small rowing boat sits upon the pale yellow of the sand, still against the calm waves. Jungkook unwinds the rope from the wooden pole and throws it into the boat. Holding out a hand he helps you get in as he pushes it off into the ocean, jumping in after, making the boat rock. You yelp and hold on to the side, crouching into a ball as you can feel it rock beneath you. You hear him laugh as he sits down, not bothered by the sway of the waves. He grabs the paddles and starts to row, you watch as his face contorts into concentration, his tongue bulges against his cheek, his once injured hand gripping the paddle with a tough grip, veins run along his forearm. A foreign feeling surges through you as you watch him, butterflies invading your stomach.

Soon enough you’re in the middle of the river, as he stops rowing, wiping off the sweat that formulated on his forehead with the back of his hand. Swiftly, Pascal crawls to the side of the boat and seats himself on the wood, waiting for the lights to warm up the sky. One particular question has been nagging in the back of your head ever since you saw the lanterns, “why do they send them off every year on my birthday?”

“The lanterns?” You nod.

“The daughter of the King and Queen was taken on this day and was never seen again. They hope by sending these lanterns off that she will find her way back.” He sighs, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. You know that he is hiding something as he avoids your eyes, looking out in the water. Before you can say anything a singular light floats up into the sky followed by thousands more. Gasping, you jump to the edge of the boat, trying to get a closer look, ignoring the tilt of the boat in your excitement. Lanterns illuminated like stars against the inky black night, the water merged the reflection of those in the sky, an autumn orange. Inside each lantern holds a small candle, lit with a prayer, calling out for the lost daughter. The pale silk hand-painted with the same star you saw earlier.

A cough from behind you causes you to look back, to find Jungkook sat with two lanterns in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. Gasping, you reach forward to grasp one, and softly it floats between your fingers and into the sky, circling around Jungkook’s. The world feels like it’s shifted, warm and bright even in the crisp night. Turning around, you thrust the satchel in his hands, “You took me to the lanterns. This is my end of the deal.”

Shaking his head, he pushes it away, “I don’t want it.”

Tilting your head in confusion, he continues to look in your eyes, his eyes uncharacteristically soft, leaning closer to you, “I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve changed me. You made me question everything that I’ve done if only I had met you sooner.” you can feel his breath on your face, his gaze wavering to look down at your lips as you unconsciously lick your lips. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you scoot closer to him, resting your hands on his knees. Your lips centimetres apart before the boat rocked, but it wasn’t due to the waves. A dark shadow cast over the both of you, laughter of three people getting closer to the boat, “well, look what we have here.” A rough voice calls out.

Looking up, you find your mother standing next to two men who are easily 6 foot in height, scars all over their bodies. Slamming their boat into yours, you go to topple over the edge beforehand reaches out and pulls you into them, “My sweet, precious daughter.” Her familiar scent engulfs your senses, her bony frame hugging you in a death grip. Jungkook heaves in a breath as his wet form is slung into the boat, coughing up water. The two men hold him in a vice grip, hauling him up by his arms as his body shivers from the cold.

Struggling to get out of your mother’s grip, Jungkook looks up at you and shakes his head, telling you to stop. Ignoring him, you continue, “Let him go.”

“Oh no, sweetheart. He took you from me, we can’t have that can we?” her patronising voice sings in your ear. One of the men punches him in the gut, as the other kicks his back legs causing him to fall to his knees, the wood digging into his skin from the impact. “And these lovely boys helped me, aren’t they sweet,” she says, grabbing your chin and harshly tugging it to make you look at them. An uppercut to head and he spits out blood, “Mother. Stop.” your voice is filled with panic, watching helplessly as they repeatedly punch him and kick him. Your mind goes wild, why isn’t he fighting back? Pascal watches on with wide eyes, knowing that he can’t do anything, feeling useless. 

The pain that he feels is excruciating but he doesn’t do anything other than let it happen. He hears your blood-curdling screams but it comes in and out like waves, his sight becoming blurry as they continue. He deserves this. The stealing, the robbing, the slowly falling in love with you. He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. He screams as he’s cut in the shoulder, the knife shortly ripped out of him to be plunged into his left side. His blood is hot as it pours out, burning his cold figure. Looking up, he finds your face covered in tears, eyes bloodshot as you kick and scream for your mother to stop. You were one of a kind. He didn’t know how you did it, but you made him want to change for the better. He didn’t want the crown. He didn’t want wealth. He wanted you. But fate had a cruel way of showing him that he couldn’t have you. Another stab, another scream. Not from him, but you. He smiles weakly at you as he can feel himself about to pass out, his skin turning paler by the second.

“Mother, please,” you beg, tears cascading down your face like lava.

“Boys.” She says simply, both of them stopping and holding a bruising grip on his arms. His head sags, not having the energy to look up at you anymore.

“P-please. Please… Let me heal him and then you can take me. I’ll l-live with you forever. You and me. I’ll never go outside, I’ll do everything you ask of me. Just let me heal him and let him go.” You sniffle and choke on your words, breathless from screaming. Your mother cocks her head to the side before looking back to the two men, “Shoo. Take the crown and go.” A sick, twisted smile coats their faces as they both look at each other before jumping into the boat you came on, picking up the satchel and rowing away. Jungkook slumps to the floor, weakly holding onto his side.

Her grip on you disappears and you throw yourself to the floor, “Jungkook.” You frantically try and stop the blood, but too much has already been lost, “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” you whisper, pushing down on one his wounds causing him to wince.

“Y/n.” you ignore him, grabbing your hair in your hands to wrap around him, before pale hands grip yours, “I can’t let you do this.” A single tear makes its way down his face, his hands are cold against yours signifying that you don’t have much time left.

“Please, please let me do this or you’ll die.” you softly caress his cheek, moving some hair out of his face, “If I let you do this, you’ll die.” he whispers, eyes blinking rapidly to try and stay awake. His breathing is heavy as he wheezes. Gently, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into him as your body shakes, “I love you.” With all of the energy that he can muster he snatches the knife from the floor before grabbing your hair and cutting it in one swipe. Jagged lines of hair fall to the ground, as you gaze at him with wide eyes.

A piercing screech comes from your mother, “what have you done?” she shouts, pulling her cloak over her, as she stammers around the boat before reaching the edge. It was like it was in slow motion as she topples over the edge and into the water, her arms flaring, struggling to keep afloat before her body slowly sank, as her body ages before you. 

Jungkook’s grip around you becomes weaker, his breathing getting slower. Your heart sinks to your stomach, as you watch him take his last breath. “No, no, no, no, no” you whisper, choking as a sob threatens to tear at your throat. Pascal climbs on top of him, eyes sad as he watches the both of you, beneath him he can feel Jungkook’s breathing slowing down. Your hands shake as you watch blood ooze from his wounds, and you burst like a dam. Salty tears run down your face, racking with sobs. This was your fault, he didn’t deserve this. If only you would have stayed in the tower. If only you didn’t fall in love with him. 

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

Heal what has been hurt Change the fate’s design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was m-mine.”

Your voice cracking continuously as you breathed the song. It was a bittersweet moment as the lanterns around you continued to float around you, full of life, burning into the ever glowing night sky, almost like they were mocking you. Light beamed around you, a golden hue spiraled around the both of you like it was dancing to a song before bursting, like a firework, into the star that has been engraved into your memory since this morning. 

A wave of dizziness crashes over you, making you lose balance, your hands scraping against the wood. Flashes of memories burst through your mind. A small hand touching bigger ones. Chubby legs that look like they’re learning to walk for the first time. A mobile hanging from above the crib. And a star. The same star that you painted on your ceiling. The same star that’s been in front of your very eyes this entire day. Another flash and you see a man and a woman. The parents of the lost daughter.

Gasping, you see Jungkook getting up and holding his head in his hands, his body feeling sore. Throwing yourself at him once again, you swallow thickly holding back another sob. Gradually, he lifts himself up whilst keeping his arms around you, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“J-Jungkook. I-”

“It’s fine, I know,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as he manoeuvres your body to sit in his lap. “Y-you know what I am?” you sniffle, looking up at him, watching as he nods. “There was no way that you weren’t the missing princess. A girl that was kept in a tower, magical powers and the fact you looked identical to the picture painted on the wall in the middle of the village? I put it together fairly fast”

Leaning up, you kiss him softly on the lips but soon gets broken as you both start smiling uncontrollably, “Let’s get you home, princess.”

The balcony stood over the village, the open porch in front of you was held with detailed pillars, painted in a brilliant white. The architecture fitting perfectly with the village buildings, get standing out in the most ostentatiously way as the castle stood the tallest. Guards surrounded the both of you, causing Jungkook to be on his toes. If this all goes wrong you’ll both be jailed for life. The white stone of the castle glistened in the summer sun as you both wait anxiously. 

Heels clack on the polished floor, steps full of purpose as you clutch Jungkook’s hand tighter. Two people; a man and women step out. A gasp escapes them both as your eyesight gets blurry. Your parents. Your mother runs towards you and embraces you, knocking the wind out of you as she storks your cheek as if you were made of glass, her bloodshot eyes smiling at you with love, “y/n.”

“Mother, father.” you smile at them taking a hand each in your own.

“This is Jungkook. He helped me get here.” You say as you turn around to face him. Your dad walks towards him, boot heavy on the ground as he embraces him, “thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

Smiling at the sight, you pull Jungkook towards you and squeeze him tight, “thank you.” you whisper into his chest, feeling the rumble of his chest as he laughs, “anything for you princess.”

Pascal squeaks from Jungkook’s shoulder before turning blue, when all of the attention is on him from his celebration of joy, making you all laugh and coo at him. The princess of the tower was finally free. 

Please comment and reblog, tell me what you think!! It took me around 2 weeks to write this and I’m sorry if the ending isn’t as good :(( But I still hope you enjoyed 

[1kook]

THE CHRISTMAS GIFT 

— AN EXPLORER UNIVERSE DRABBLE :)

SUMMARY So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas? WARNINGS alien!jk, tentacle mention hehe, and uhhh nothing else its just dorky n sweet :( RATING e for everyone <3 WC 1.2k 

NOTES hello the other day i said something abt explorer jk not rlly understanding the concept of gift giving so here it is more in depth <3 just 1k of dorky alien boy trying to impress his human gf !! 

Jungkook thinks this Santa Claus fellow is quite possibly the oddest figure on your planet. A man who single handedly visits the home of every single child across the globe on a flying sleigh pulled by flying deer? Ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous when you honor this man with a plate of cookies in the living room. 

“It’s just for fun,” you tell him, wobbling dangerously on a step stool in front of this massive tree you killed and then hauled inside to decorate its rotting carcass. The ornaments aren’t even placed in the most aesthetically pleasing pattern, a fact that greatly displeases Jungkook and his perfectionist mind. (You don’t see his extra arms slip out and rearrange them.) “It’s cute, isn’t it?” 

In all his time traveling the galaxy, Jungkook has had the honor of studying many foreign races. He’s learned the intricacies of their societies, the mechanisms of their anatomy, and the beauty of their cultures. Yet he does not recall ever seeing a society where one bearded man— who apparently gorged himself on cookies year round —held such superiority. The concept of gods isn’t exclusive to your planet, but from what Jungkook understands, this Santa Claus fellow is not a god at all. 

Oddly uniformed beings aside, there’s another thing Jungkook doesn't quite understand about this celebration, and that’s the bright red box beneath the dead tree with jungkook♡ written on the corner. It’s a gift, that much he gets, but he’s not sure what. Or why. You don’t tell him much either, simply warning him not to touch it until Christmas. 

Jokes on you, because Jungkook is no ordinary being. He knows how to gather resources from his surroundings and put them to use, an ability that is very valuable when visiting foreign planets such as your Earth. The projection box plays a variety of movies surrounding this Christmas event in the days leading up to it. It’s a festive day, primarily for large corporations to profit off of holiday cheer and convince people they, for some reason, must participate in the act of gift giving. And the thing about gift giving, Jungkook learns, is that it is reciprocal. 

So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas?

The projection box says Humans similar to you enjoy being presented with jewels and clothing, occasionally electronic devices that are apparently ‘new’ for you Humans. 

But the jewels displayed are practically worthless in Jungkook’s eyes— a diamond ring? As far as Jungkook and the rest of the Sixamians were concerned, the sole purpose of a diamond was for recreational sports. Anyone could get a diamond in Sixam, they were as common as the avian beings on your planet were. But you and the rest of the Humans obsess over them, retail them for ridiculously high prices. 

Diamonds are out of the running, which leaves Jungkook with clothing or electronic devices. Similar to the diamond dilemma, the electronics don’t convince him much either. Smilodon had gotten into your room one day, completely knocked everything off your desk. While Jungkook had been able to revive your PC box, the cracked screen of your monitor was irreparable. Jungkook’s first trip to the city was that day, your visit to a Best Buy his first real outing. (You had sat him down in the kitchen and dabbed warrior paint, called concealer, over his facial markings.) The complete wonder he felt at seeing the city for the first time was shattered upon entering this Best Buy and seeing the horrendous quality of your electronic advancements. 

Needless to say, electronics are also out. 

By then, Jungkook can’t even fathom searching for clothing as a present. What did you like? He’s not sure, your preference in clothing varied everyday. Some days you enjoyed being bundled up in thick, cozy sweaters, but at night you would strip down to the thinnest materials. Did you like thick clothing or light? What was the most appropriate clothing for this season? Was there a specific size chart he had to refer to, or did Human clothing abide by the same form configuring rules that Sixamian clothing did? 

Christmas is tomorrow and Jungkook has not found a suitable present for you! His head hurts, but more importantly, his heart hurts. The projection box says Humans are greatly dissatisfied when they are forgotten in the gift-giving tradition, and Jungkook does not want that. He wants you to smile at him like the figures on the projection box do— maybe kiss him under the viscum album, or ‘mistletoe,’ plant —and just genuinely enjoy yourself. 

Time is running out and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. Smilodon is giving him a rather disappointed look from the windowsill that Jungkook does not appreciate. It’s as he’s huffily shooing the creature away that he sees it. And by it, Jungkook means the flowerbed on your windowsill. The dirt is cold, the plants practically near death. But Jungkook knows you like flowers, these flowers in particular, because you spent all summer watering them and tending to them. You’re one of the finest botanists Jungkook has ever seen— and that’s saying a lot, considering Jungkook also considers himself an amazing botanist. Surely you like flowers?

He hurriedly gathers the last of the plants, hands shivering from the cold. He isn’t sure how to present them, how to wrap them like the Humans on the projection box do, so he’s left awkwardly hovering by the window with the dead flowers in his hand. He can’t set them down either because then they will unravel from the careful bouquet Jungkook had organized in his haste. 

You have extra limbs for a reason, his brain just about screams, and Jungkook snaps into action. Just as the tip of his limb touches your laptop, ready to watch as many instructional videos as possible, you come strolling into the living room. 

Jungkook can’t even play it off, he’s got one tentacle stretched over the entire length of the living room. 

“What are those for?” you ask curiously, casually stepping over his extended arm on your way over to him. 

Jungkook sighs, slowly retracting his limb until he can feel it slide naturally beneath the skin of his back. He wonders if his markings are that shade of pink again, the one that makes you kiss him and coo at him. “Felicitations on your Christmas,” he murmurs, handing you the bouquet of half dead, half frozen flowers. Your mouth forms a little circle, surprise and confusion painting your features. Jungkook hopes you are not as disappointed as he is in his atrocious attempt at gift giving. 

But Jungkook should know better; your Human heart is nothing like his. You’re not raised on perfection like he is, don’t even think there is such a thing as ‘the perfect gift.’ The flowers are taken from his trembling hands, clutched to your chest dreamily. “Did you pick these?” you sigh dreamily, gazing down at the dead bouquet like it’s the most beautiful thing in the universe. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s better this way. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” you beam, on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “I love them.”

And he loves you.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet | masterpost

Angel’s Trumpet Scientific Name: Brugmansia Order and Family: Polimonailes and Solanaceae Plant Overview: A higher order of nightshade, the Angel’s Trumpet is a show-stopping pendulous flower that hangs like bells. In myth, they were prized as chimes holding magical properties. In modern use, Angel's Trumpets have occasionally been used to create recreational drugs, but the risk of overdose is so high that these uses often have deadly consequences.

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life.

pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader

genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex

w.c; ~45k

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | final | bonus |

a/n; coming soooooon! i’ve been dedicating the better half of the month to this so i really hope u enjoy my first kpop mini series!! inspired a lil bit by the k-drama W and the avengers! 

click under the cut for a preview!

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, Camille. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

[periminkle]

blazes of deceit

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

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

+ pairing. jungkook x reader

+ genre. fluff, angst. tangled!au.

+ word count. 26.052

+ rating. 18+

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

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

You are positively ravenous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our blood will remain on the throne.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—down your hair!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What once was mine.”

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

This is it, it’s now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Petal—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But your mother is nothing if not resolute.

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Mother.”

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

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

And then you’re alone once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother knows best, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

And then that moment ends.

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

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

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

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

He is nothing like that. Not at all.

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

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

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

No reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Petal!”

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

“Let down your hair!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip on the handle of the pot tightens.

“Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scoff escapes your lips, unconvinced at his act.

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

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

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

“Got something in your eye?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what’re we waiting for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Looking for me, Princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

Is Geum expecting someone?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tell me to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just a water for her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not hard to top a baby carrot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geum is a wanted criminal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You two are standing at the edge of a cliff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother always knows best. Right?

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

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

“Geum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes, and then you sing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What once was mine.”

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

“Wha—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Born with magical hair?”

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

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

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

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

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

“My name isn’t actually Geum.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why the name Geum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You spare him a weak smile and shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guards?”

He only grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nation’s flower?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook?”

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

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

This man will truly corrupt all your morals.

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that I think about it, it’s the Prince’s eighteenth birthday too,” he states. “He must be pretty excited, taking over the throne and everything.”

You perk up at the news. “He’s succeeding the King?”

“Mm,” he affirms, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “King announced an early retirement or something because they’d already found the Prince’s betrothed. His coronation is today.”

You nod your understanding, thinking about the responsibilities bearing down on the poor boy. “It’s kind of weird to think about, y’know, being the same age and even sharing the same birthday but leading completely different lives. He’s about to get married, lead a country and me...” you falter, pausing to string your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “Well, this is my entire dream. Seeing these lights is everything to me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re living your own life, on your own journey. Comparing yourself to others does nothing but rob yourself of your own happiness.”

You hum with a teasing lilt to your tone. “Suddenly the boy who named himself ‘gold’ in the hopes of attracting some friends is giving me advice?”

He breaks out into a chuckle, doubling over and laying his forehead on your shoulder. His hands reach out for the locks of hair resting on your lap, plucking one of the flowers swimming in your strands. Like Hansel and his bread crumbs, many of the blossoms that fell off throughout your time in the marketplace left tracks of your whereabouts. Only a few flowers remain with you.

With the delicate daisy between his thumb and index finger, he rolls the pads of his fingers against each other, spinning the white petals so fast that they blur together into a splotchy circle surrounding the yellow centre. Once he becomes bored with the flower, he lifts his head and stretches his arm out with a classic smirk that heightens his flirtatious nature. “For you, my lady.”

You huff at the offering. “You act as if it wasn’t already mine in the first place.” Despite your sharp words, you gingerly pluck the stem out of his grasp, fingers brushing against his own. When you raise the daisy up to your nose, the invigorating floral scent startles your senses once more.

With not much else to occupy your time, you decide that now is a better time than ever to dislodge the wilting buds from your tresses. You face the side of the gondola overlooking the water, grabbing onto the ledge and leaning forward.

You muster all the grace you have within your bones to place the ivory daisy onto the water’s surface. The flower drifts along the calm current, painting the atmosphere with a tranquil serenity.

Despite your best efforts to suppress them, your clumsy tendencies shine through when you tip your torso over a smidge too far, losing your balance and diving headfirst for the water. Jungkook is quick to latch on to your wrist, steadying you before you accidentally throw yourself overboard.

You’re sheepish in both your apology and thanks. To avoid any further mishaps, one of his hands remain on your lower back and the other collects the remaining blossoms in your tresses, handing them off to you.

A slow rhythm develops between you two and your raging thoughts come to a standstill, a red light halting the traffic within your mind. In front of you, a garden of assorted blossoms assembles, floating gently towards the ornate castle. One sprout catches your eye.

A tiger lily.

Directly below its long petals, a flash of bright red catches your eye in the reflection of the water. Jungkook’s deep voice cleaves through the soft sloshing of the water. “The lanterns.”

“It’s…” You struggle to piece together proper words to describe the sight before you. One lantern lightens the dark sky, drifting alone in the expansive space before a bunch of others race to join the first. Their warm, yellow glow overpowers that of the moon, painting the landscape in an orange tint that seems to welcome you into its embrace.

“Beautiful.”

You’re too distracted by the enchanting sight before you to notice his eyes trained on your profile, and so you soundlessly agree with a nod of your head. It’s as if time has ceased in its endless ticking, halting in its tracks for another world to open where only you and Jungkook exist.

You don’t mind the idea as much as you think you would.

“I have a surprise.”

You turn over to face him, head tilting in curiosity. He carries a paper lantern in his open palms and your brows furrow at his attentive, considerate behaviour. “Jungkook?”

“We should join in on all the fun, right?” A genuine smile illuminates his soft features instead of the usual smirks he casually throws your way. Oddly enough, despite your inability to operate in front of his flirty personality, you adore both sides equally.

“Kook, wait.”

He perks up at the nickname, reminding you of a dog with its tail violently wagging back and forth—you can’t help but be enamoured by him. You raise the hem of your dress up to the middle of your left thigh and he sputters, looking away. “Hey, hey! I know I’m pretty irresistible but this boat is not the place to—”

“No, you idiot.” You snicker at his unexpected timidity, shimmying the coiled strap down your leg and covering your decency once again with the fabric. “I have something for you too.”

He peeks at you, ensuring that you’re sufficiently clothed before turning to face you. A cold sweat settles over the outer layer of your skin as you watch his brows raise at his satchel in your hands. Keeping the lantern in one hand, and his steady gaze focused on your eyes, he gently pushes the bag down to the floor of the boat, the metal of the crown banging against the wood.

“All I need is you,” he whispers the words into the empty space of the night, the syllables getting lost somewhere within the mellow breeze blowing by. Your heart constricts at the reassurance that this time, Mother is wrong. You fight back the tears gathering at your waterline and grab the other edge of the lantern after he lights the candle inside.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod and the two of you slowly lift your arms to release the lantern with the masses drifting above you. After a bit, you lose sight of your paper lantern and you glance back at Jungkook to ask whether he was able to keep track of its location, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when you become captivated with the childlike wonder buried within his orbs, roaming over the sky and examining every single lantern at once.

His scouring eventually leads him back to you. He catches you staring, but neither of you care enough to break the moment. His eyes soften and you two shuffle forward on your seats, being pulled toward one another like magnets. Your legs entangle with his in the cramped area and you lean forward until your lips are millimetres from one another.

From this close, you have a perfect view of your reflection within his brilliant irises, the shallow scar that runs along his cheek, the cute birthmark right under his mouth. His eyes are locked on your mouth and you take that as the go-ahead signal to close the gap and slot your lips against his soft ones.

With your evident lack of experience, Jungkook takes control immediately, a hand flying to the back of your head, threading through your hair to keep you in place as he sucks at your lower lip. His tongue swipes at the closed seam that blocks him from your mouth, and you instantly open up to clash tongues, although you shrink back soon after, letting him explore your hot cavern.

You sneak a peek at him every time you two separate for air, confirming that this is indeed reality and not some product of your wild imagination. He invades all your senses and keeps you locked to him like an addict desperate for their fix, his other palm searing through your clothing with its heat and burning a hole through the thin fabric of your dress.

When you finally pull away, you feel feverish and dizzy as a raging blush colours your cheeks. You can’t find it in yourself to look directly into his eyes, but he reaches for your chin and forces you to study the haze of passion in his gaze.

Every part of your body is lit aflame from his touch. Hooked on the feeling of his plush lips pressing against yours with your tongues swirling in tandem with one another, you’re about to lean in for more when his eyes dart off to the side and he abruptly jerks away as if you burned him with your embrace.

His startling jolt snaps you out of your dazed state. With your head out of the clouds, you notice that the lanterns have already moved onto the next town over, taking their warmth with them. The fire within you, kindled by Jungkook, dwindles with the uncertainty of your future together.

Without so much as another word, Jungkook snatches the oar from the bottom of the boat and jumps back to his position at the front of the gondola. He urgently paddles the two of you back to land and you fumble for words. “Jungkook, I—”

“It’s not you.” His statement is reassuring in writing, although his tone is detached, distant in a way that crushes the passages to your lungs. Lost in your dejection, you’re powerless to prod him for any more information than that.

Before the boat can hit the edge of the dock, Jungkook springs out with his leather satchel tucked under his arm, pausing to mutter, “I just—I have to take care of something. Please believe me when I say I’ll be back.” His anguish leaks into his voice and you will yourself to nod, a forced smile on your lips. “Wait for me.”

He dashes off with your heart in his hands. You steady your shaky breath and place your faith in him, the man you have come to trust with your life.

You spend the next half hour struggling to get out of the gondola, craving the flat land to ground yourself. By the time you manage to clamber out, there are a couple of discoloured blotches on the length of your dress that put your many failed attempts on full display. You fan one of the bigger spots to help it dry faster, but the fabric becomes chilly with the extra wind and a shiver slips down your spine from its icy temperature.

Languid footsteps approach your frigid frame and you brighten up, forgetting about the cold. “Took you long enough. Y’know, for a second there I was worried you’d actually lef—”

You pick up more than one pair of feet advancing on you and your eyes widen at the lanky, redheaded twins that stop in front of your path. Cursing your quivering limbs, you cringe at the tremor in your voice when you ask, “What did you do to him?”

They simultaneously snort at your question and the one on the left replies, “Sorry about this, lass, but you’re gonna have to come with us.”

The blood drains from your face and you repeat, louder, “What did you do to him?”

“Aw, don’t get all riled up now. But don’t worry your pretty little head, we’re going to take you right to him.” They corner you back to the dock and you scramble to locate a weapon to defend yourself with. At your wit’s end, you prepare to jump into the murky waters.

However, before you get the chance to move another muscle, an intense pain blooms at the back of your skull, wrapping around to your temples accompanied by a flash of light exploding behind your eyes. Then everything goes black.

Your head pounds as a dull ache nestles itself deep within your bones. Your vision is nothing but a blurry, indecipherable mess of colours, so you opt to keep your eyes closed instead. You’re kneeling on cold tiles that rub your knees raw when you subtly shift into a more comfortable position, discovering the existence of the shackles around your wrists and ankles.

“—nd the girl. We expect you to keep your end of the deal.” The rugged tone that speaks is one that you recognize from before your blackout—one of the redheads.

“Yes, yes, all the charges laid against you have been cleared,” a high-pitched voice meets your ears and you subconsciously grimace, physically recoiling from the sound. Thankfully, your sharp motions go unnoticed. “You’re free to go.”

“What?” You hear shuffling nearby, the rustling of clothes getting farther away from you. The distinct, metallic sheen of a couple of swords being unsheathed follow and the footsteps come to a sudden stop. “You promised us gold.”

The woman scoffs, “Now why would I give you crooked-nosed knaves anything more than a death sentence?”

Many polished boots clamber against the ground with such force that the vibrations can be felt through the flesh of your folded calves. The grunts and garbled screams that ensue are silenced within seconds and two hefty weights hit the floor with a limp, lifeless thud.

“A pleasure working with you boys.”

There’s more shuffling, then something is dragged past your crumpled form. The throbbing across your cranium worsens and you’re incapable of fending off the blissful oblivion of desolation any longer, thus you surrender to the darkness once more.

The next time you open your eyes a harsh light coats your surroundings and the blocks of colour are clearer, sharp enough to decipher the intricate detailing painted on the tiles beneath your knees. Someone chokes on a wet cough, and your eyelids snap shut once more. Your nose crinkles in disgust as well.

“Her tiny skull should have been rolling through these halls eighteen years ago.” The woman’s wretched tone fills your ears, words full of deadly poison.

You remain chained, kneeling against the ground with your head lowered. A numbing sensation lingers no matter how much you fidget in place, bearing down your limbs with the weight of your useless nerves that refuse to fire off.

Another, deeper, voice responds, “Tone it down. Her magic is powerful, the advantage we hold over the other kingdoms is colossal with this kind of sorcery on our side. If she falls, the whole empire will fall with her.”

Sorcery? Although you can count the number of people you met on one hand, you’ve studied heaps of books and drilled your mother with enough questions to know that your magic is unique and rare—a product of alchemy that occurs merely once every millennium.

“I see no point in keeping her around when we cannot access her magic at our will, she is as good as worthless to us. That halfwit of a sister was incapable of locking this churl in a tower for long enough, and look at her now, running around, wreaking havoc with a criminal.”

Your mind swirls with the sudden barrage of information, unsure as to why these two strangers hold deep insights into your life, as well as the knowledge about your unusual hair.

“There is nothing to worry about, Jimin is on the throne. We will simply send her away once again,” the gruff voice states, exasperation clear in his tone.

A deafening thud reverberates throughout the spacious room. Helpless to the dreadful fear swimming in your veins, your body shudders in response to the noise.

The woman shrieks, clearly at her wits’ end, “I want her dead! Guillotine, hang, drown, burn, I could care less. She poses a threat to Jimin’s throne with her existence, and we have gone through too much to have our plans foiled by this knave. We were merciful enough in having my imbecilic sister continue to meet with Jimin throughout the years.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh before the man answers, “Have some heart, darling, that is her son you speak of.”

“In the eyes of the people, he is my son and the King,” she seethes. Her enmity is strangely familiar, yet you fail to identify the woman through her voice. “Quit acting as if I am the only sinner here and remember how much we both sacrificed for our blood to inherit the King’s throne.”

“It is not your blood though, is it, dear wife?”

The tension within the room is thick, palpable in the dense air in the way that makes breathing difficult. “You must have enjoyed sleeping with my sister more than I believed. Do you want to call her back here? Play a good husband and wife for the counterfeit King?”

You couldn’t keep the tremours from breaking out over your body as your breaths quicken and an abundance of liquid races to your eyes. It was all beginning to come together, but you wait for the two to confirm your suspicions.

The man chuckles with hollow intent. “Do you fail to recall your own words, pleading with me to follow this foolish scheme of yours? I would have much rather preferred a foreigner rule the kingdom alongside our daughter.”

“Funny, that’s not what you said eighteen years ago.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to repress the sounds of anguish that tears at your skin to brutal shreds. Enraged rivulets stream down your cheeks, and you lift your torso to stare at your legitimate parents. They turn to you, the man distraught and the woman with pure disgust.

“How—” you stammer through your heavy wails, “how could you?”

“So the Princess found out.” Your biological mother raises from her royal seat, storming over the short distance to your trembling form. “Fine, we can strike an agreement.”

She reaches behind your head to grab a handful of your hair, yanking your head up to peer up at the exquisitely decorated ceiling. When you yelp in pain, she crouches down to your level, baring her pearly white teeth as she threatens, “Leave. Be a good little girl and go hole yourself back up in that tower. Don’t worry, Mommy will come get you if we ever need that magic of yours, hm?”

You desperately wriggle around to loosen her hold, but she only grips your strands tighter, pulling downwards to introduce more pain to your scalp. “That thief will stay right here to ensure you keep up your end of the deal, alright?”

At the mention of Jungkook, your heart stutters and your expression morphs to that of despair, momentarily forgetting about the strain to the sensitive skin of your head. “Where is he?”

She smirks and snaps her fingers. The door to the throne room is pulled open with a loud clack, and Jungkook’s weak, bloody form stumbles through the grand entrance, hanging upright with the help of two sturdy guards.

“Kook,” you achingly howl.

“Mopping all his blood off the floor would be terribly tiresome for the maids.” She jerks your head down to bear witness to the sneer stretching across her lips. “It’s all up to you, really.”

“Let me heal him!” you agonize, sobs ripping through your chest, burning through every tissue to the outermost layer of your skin. “Pl-please, please let me heal him. I’ll leave, I won’t say a word, I’ll do anything you want—I’m b-begging you, please.”

The wicked smirk playing on her lips grows wider at your pleading. She shoves your head away, the momentum of the push throwing your whole torso over to the side, bringing about a harsh meeting with the floor. With Jungkook occupying every crevice of your mind, there’s no space to register the pain pulsing through your groggy body.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You scramble to your hands and knees, disregarding the scrapes and bruises littering your limbs. Despite your tunnel vision directed towards reaching Jungkook, your movements are sluggish from the extended period of time spent kneeling in one position.

The guards supporting him release their hold on his arms, and you scramble to catch his limp frame in your arms, but your depleted muscles can only manage to soften his fall with your body. You detangle yourself from him and hurriedly begin wrapping your hair around his torso.

Your jaw trembles at his damp locks, sodden with sweat and stuck to the side of his head dripping in crimson. The vicious colour oozes out of the deep gashes you locate across his back, peeking through the tears in his shirt and stains the bloody spit drooling from the corners of his cracked lips. Great purple welts fill the rest of his exposed skin, completing the heart-wrenching picture before you.

You pick up the weak croak of your name, and you hiccup from your fierce laments at his red-rimmed eyes. “Guess I was right all along, Princess.”

Your mother’s cruel words follow the nasty glower she shoots his way. “Shut up or we’ll end your pitiful life now, you filthy criminal.”

“Jungkook, I’m here,” you reassure him, beginning to wrap your excess strands around his arms before he stops you with a stained hand. “Jungkook let me—”

“Stop,” he mutters, gripping his side in pain.  

“No! I can’t—I can’t let you die.” You grit your teeth, disobeying his words and going to wrap your tresses around his broken body once more.

“If you go back there,” he coughs, an alarming amount of blood spurting out, “then you’ll—”

“It’s fine, everything will be alright, okay?” You press your palm over his hand and the icy bite that greets you hardens your resolve. “We’ll figure it out.”

You take a deep breath, readying yourself to sing the incantation engraved into the back of your mind when Jungkook’s fingers graze your cheek. You unconsciously lean into his touch, examining every crimson stain marring his delicate features.

His doe eyes soften at your orbs roaming his face and when your gaze settles on his thin lips, he snatches the chance to land a peck against your mouth. The fleeting kiss fills you with greed, and your eyes flutter shut despite your rationale as you dip towards him for another.

You halt, gasping at the gut-wrenching sound of your tresses being severed from the base of your neck, the noise snapping you back to reality. Your eyes widen at Jungkook’s relieved countenance as his torso reclines to the ground, the sharp dagger in his hand rattling onto the tiles beside him. When you reach back to assess the damage, your hand grips onto the short strands that reach no further than your shoulder.

You glance back at the heaps of dead, brown hair sprawled across the palace floor and your mind wipes clean of any coherent thought. Instead, your chest caves in on itself, breathing made impossible because of your collapsed airways and you choke out, “Jungkook, what did you—”

“What an absolute halfwit, does he think he did anyone a favour with that little stunt of his? Without your hair, we have no need for either of you.” Your biological mother laughs, the notes turning ominously maniacal towards the end. “Kill them.”

Guards immediately surround you two, and in a weak attempt to protect him from their pointed swords, you cradle Jungkook’s powerless form to your chest. You prepare yourself to bear the end of their piercing blades.

“What do you roaches think you’re doing?” she seethes, blazing orbs flashing with white-hot fury. “I said, kill them!”

The gigantic doors burst open again, but this time, a lean man strides forward. His blond strands are neatly styled away from his forehead and the regal red robe hanging upon his shoulders elegantly sway after him. The soldiers part ways to make room for the intimidating man and one of his retainers at the door announces, “The King is here!”

You struggle to even out your frantic breaths, thankful for the distraction that grants you a break to rack your brain for a method to escape the dreadful situation you two have found yourselves in. Debating whether you should fight back, sneak away or plead for forgiveness, your eyes dart wildly around the room. A woman donned in a black cloak lingers slightly behind the King, gazing at you with a murderous glare that sends pin needles into the thin lining of your stomach.

“That’s enough,” the King states.

“Jimin.” The former Queen races up to him but is stopped by the retainers that encircle the King.  “What business do you have here? There are more important matters for you to attend to.” Her eyes narrow at the sight of the woman behind him.

“No, I think this has gone on long enough.” He sweeps his gaze over to the two of you, Jungkook barely clinging onto life, nestled within your protective embrace. The woman latches onto his bicep, her head vigorously shaking back and forth, yet you’re uncertain whether her disagreement will relieve your anguish or worsen it.

Despite her insistence, his head nods in your direction and the woman that raised you begrudgingly marches up to you, barely acknowledging your presence in favour of pressing her palms against Jungkook’s open lacerations. He winces at the pressure and just as you’re about to tell her off, you discern the thick gauze that rests between her hand and Jungkook’s side, the sterile white shade expeditiously being replaced by a bloody crimson.

“What are you talking about, dear?” the former Queen asks, a hard edge to her tone. “These two are hedge-born lowlives, simply not worth your time.”

He crinkles his nose in disgust, flicking his hand towards the former King and Queen. “Lock them up in the dungeons.”

Both their eyes widen comically, jaws dropping to the floor. However, you can’t find joy within their despair when Jungkook’s survival is still up in the air.

The woman sputters, recklessly thrashing her body to escape the soldiers’ grip. The man simply lowers his head, seemingly having accepted his fate as he follows the guards without another word.

“Did you forget who put you in that throne, Park Jimin?” the woman screeches, the blood vessels lining her neck about to implode. “How dare you disrespect your pare—”

“How could I ever forget your treacherous actions?” he spits out, disgust lacing his voice, “How could I ever forget how many lives you’ve ruined, dear aunt.”

“We did it all for you!”

“You did it for yourselves,” he hisses. Relief trickles through the tips of your fingers, spreading across your body like wildfire from the King’s aid. “Get them out of my sight.”

“You worthless—” Her shrieks echo throughout the halls, though you’ve long lost focus in their conversation after watching the two wretched souls being punished and put in their rightful place.

Your aunt passes some thick bandages from inside the bell sleeve of her cloak. You gratefully accept the offering, pressing it against his lower back—wishing that it’s not too late, that Jungkook has not lost too much blood yet. The passive stare that your aunt fixes you with crams your head with doubt and you begin to panic, bringing one of your hands up to cradle his face.

Although you’re convinced that you wailed through an entire year’s worth of sobs, the tears sliding down your face refuse to stop, dripping down and landing onto the dirtied skin of Jungkook’s cheek. You press your forehead against his, hoping against hope that some magic remains within your body, that the tiniest bit will reveal itself like a bag trick and heal his wounds.

But your magical hair was extraordinary enough, and this is no fairytale.

“Get those two to the physician’s,” the King orders.

Guards scramble to action, ripping you apart from Jungkook as you unsuccessfully attempt to resist being separated again. You’re absolutely spent from the tiring events of the past couple of days and your weary legs give out as the soldiers lift your drained form into a standing position.

Jungkook is moved onto a sturdy sheet, then carried away past the double doors and out of sight. Your flimsy arms wrap around the shoulders of two guards as they assist you in following Jungkook to the physician, passing the King on your way.

His plush lips stretch into a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile, but the adrenaline from earlier wears off and the sting of your own wounds drains you of your manners, uncaring that you’re facing the King. Thankfully, he dismisses your discourtesy instead of beheading you, and you’re hauled away from the gracious man.

On the way, you’re close enough to overhear what he mutters under his breath. A garbled scream rips through your throat in protest, and you shoot the King the deadliest glare you can muster. He releases a deep sigh at your childish antics, waving as you turn the corner.

“Poor guy doesn’t look like he’s going to make it.”

You spend the next few, rather tedious, days in a luxurious bed, being fretted over by everyone from the maids to the chefs. It was difficult to indulge in the extravagance that the castle had to offer when you were anxiously awaiting news regarding Jungkook, which they refused to disclose until your own condition improved.

After all the pampering, you were permitted access past the confines of the expansive room you were forced to recover in. Your injuries were minor in comparison to Jungkook, thus you were granted freedom much earlier than him.

Not like he was capable of stepping outside of his room anyway.

Although his body is repairing his torn flesh incrementally, he shows no signs of consciousness—not the twitch of a finger, the flutter of an eyelash, nothing. Doubt claws a bit higher up your torso each day, waiting for the moment that the disquiet slithers up your esophagus and suffocates you.

Despite the crushing news of his coma-like state, you work diligently to ensure that neither you nor Jungkook becomes a burden to the castle by picking up various duties. Jimin continuously waves off your attempts to help, but you’re restless and desperate for a distraction from wondering about Jungkook’s condition all the time.

Jimin banned you from performing some of the maid’s tasks once, then sorely regretted it when he had to tend to your nervous breakdown in the afternoon. Since then he has kept his comments on your excessive working habits to himself.

Today you’re in Jungkook’s room, dusting off the spotless shelves that house the many herbs being grounded into powders and rubbed as a salve onto his injuries daily. You organize the rolled bandages for the second time in the past hour and mop every inch of the floor.

You can’t devote yourself to lingering by the unconscious man’s side for too long, otherwise your mind gradually begins to spiral into every possible worst-case scenario and you simply can’t handle the reality of a future without him. It sounds overly dramatic—many of the maids you have grown close to over the months claimed as much when you brought up your journey together.

But they didn’t hear his melodic laughter that followed his teasing smirks when he said something flirtatious, effectively making your heart skip a beat. They didn’t feel his hand always reaching out to make contact with you in some way, craving your touch to ground him to reality. They didn’t see his eyes softening when he gazed at you as though you were holding his entire world in your eyes.

They didn’t know Jungkook the way you did.

You strain the mop of its excess dirtied water before stowing the tool away in the storage room. When you return, a draft filters in through the open window and you race over to close it, worried that Jungkook may catch a bothersome cold that will delay his healing process.

You take a seat on the lavish mattress adjacent from his thighs as you stare out the window in front of you. The air remains stale in spite of the fresh breeze that blew into the room seconds prior, and the dull atmosphere persists due to the lifeless man inhabiting its space.

You’re uncertain how many more times you can handle walking into this room with his weak body lying motionless on these pristine sheets, but you will endure it all without complaint for him. A knock at the door catches your attention, and you twist around to meet Jimin’s friendly beam. “How is he?”

“Same as he always is,” you state, allowing yourself to take in Jungkook’s sunken cheeks and pale face. “Unresponsive.”

“You wanna join me in the gardens for some fresh air?” At your unsure raise of a brow, he convinces you with, “You’ve been cooped up in the castle the whole day.”

The both of you head out to view the lush scenery outside, seated amongst the blooming tulips, although your eyes are drawn to the lilies that border the lilac cosmos. You trace the familiar shape of the orange flower with your pupils, reminiscing on the doodles decorating your room’s walls back at the tower. That seems like forever ago now.

Other than his lack of consciousness, Jungkook’s condition remains relatively stable and yet you still find it burdensome to stray too far from his side. The staff is under orders to instantly notify you should he arise while you’re away, but that doesn’t ease the disquiet that rouses whenever you leave the castle walls.

You’re convinced that the second you wander off, he will wake up without you there; a thought too unbearable to consider. You crave to lose yourself within his molten ember orbs once more, exploring the undiscovered galaxies in his gaze.

“These past few months must seem unfathomable,” he starts, pressing his lips together to ponder over his next words before continuing. “I don’t know how my mom treated you in the tower but, knowing her, I’m guessing it wasn’t too great.”

His casual mention of the affectionate term you pleaded to call your mother for ages—the topic she despised almost as much as you begging to venture outside the tower—stung the slightest bit. From her actions, it was evident that she never cared for you as much as her own, biological son, but it was difficult to dismiss the joyful memories you shared with her, no matter how few and far between they were.

“She started visiting me a few years back, explaining all their horrendous crimes and insisting that she was the only one I could trust. She told me about you, too. Your mother ordered her to lock you away in that tower and ensure that nobody ever found out the truth in exchange for my seat on the throne. ”

Your head lowers at the information, brows furrowing as you contemplate your true relationship with the woman that raised you from birth.

“When my mom caught word of you travelling with the thief, she returned the crown in hopes that Jungkook would run for the hills, and you would be left to come back with her. Her goal was to overtake the kingdom from your mother.” His eyes gloss over with a distant sheen and you sympathize with him; the boy was used as a tool, just like you.

“It’s reassuring in a way.” His strange admittance prompts you to glance up at him, confusion swirling within your orbs. “At least we’re both suffering from our family’s despicable actions.”

Our family.

His optimistic viewpoint hits you like a wave crashing against the shore, sharing his vast fortitude and washing away a fraction of the sombre agony tormenting your heart. Although Jimin’s life was no doubt disparate from your own, you two are connected through the blood running through your veins. Even if those same bonds brought you to a tragic meeting with your own wicked parents, at least you could rely on one person within your family.

The edges of your lips curl into a tiny smile aimed at the blond man across from you, your own short, chestnut coloured hair providing a stark contrast. “I’m glad I can rely on you, Jimin.”

He readjusts his weight on the green, iron chair and leans forward to rest his elbows on the metal table between the two of you. “I think this is the first time you’ve called me by my name without me having to remind you.”

You quietly giggle at the memories flooding your mind, from the hostile attitude you first approached him with, then the days he comforted you over Jungkook’s motionless form, to Jimin demanding that you call him by his first name. You consider yourself extremely lucky to have someone as gracious and compassionate as Jimin to be your half-brother.

“I know we’ve already gone over this,” he starts with a serious edge to his tone, “but this is your last chance.”

You rip your gaze away from the plants to lay a couple of light pats to his hand. Despite the lack of context, the topic is familiar to you, as he has gone over this with you many times. “No, I don’t want the throne. You trained for this position your whole life, so I’m entrusting the kingdom to your capable hands. All I ask is for you to fulfill my request.”

Jimin releases a heavy sigh. “If you really want him free of all his crimes, there’s no way you two can live within the capital.”

“That’s fine with me.” You shrug your shoulders, unconcerned about the prospect of having to leave the busy city. “I don’t think I could live somewhere like this anyway.”

You don’t expand on your reasoning, and he doesn’t question you further, simply sparing you a solemn, understanding gaze. Supposedly, you aren’t supposed to pick favourites within your family, but Jimin is definitely golden in your eyes.

“Deeply sorry to intrude, Your Royal Majesty, but your betrothed is at the door and wishes to meet with you.” A guard inches his way towards your table with his head bowed, hands respectfully gathered behind his back.

Jimin looks to you with an apology on his tongue, but you wave him off before any explanations can spill from his plump lips. “Go get your girl.”

A bright smile enlightens his features as he springs up from his seat, dusting off his uniform before bounding after the guard. When he quirks his head back, you demonstrate your encouragement through a thumbs-up that you wave from side to side until he is satisfied, facing forward with a gleeful snicker.

You inhale the outdoor air, about to head inside yourself to rearrange Jungkook’s bandages again when your eyes wander back to the tiger lilies that caught your eye earlier. Within a few strides, you reach the vibrant buds, stretching your hand out to pluck a few stems. The sweet smell invades your senses.

With a tiny bouquet in hand, you make your way back inside, the metaphorical load on your shoulders a bit lighter than it was before. You expertly maneuver your way through the halls towards Jungkook’s room with the dwindling hope that today will be the day that his honey orbs reflect the sun’s light filtering in the window, filled with the mischief and tenderness that you remember.

When you’re met with his unmoving form instead, another sliver of that faith shatters into tiny shards.

You shake it off and head back to the windowsill, where an empty flower vase rests. The lilies within your grasp are carefully inserted inside and you place the bouquet back onto the tiny platform. Their floral scent wafts throughout the space as you take your place beside his legs.

As part of your usual routine, you use this time to relax. Just for a moment, you give yourself the room to breathe, giving your brain free rein to feel the emotions raging within you and fantasize about your future with Jungkook. You imagine yourself in a tiny cottage, craving a quaint place to live after the immense tower you were raised in.

The two of you would settle down there, adopting a pet to keep you company before you inevitably brought a few children into the world. Their genders didn’t matter, as long as you could raise them with Jungkook, forming a tight-knit family that shared all the love the both of you lacked growing up.

A warm hand wraps around your wrist. Your head snaps to follow the direction of his arm, curving into his broad shoulders, and past his sharp jaw with your heart in your throat. Tears gather at your waterline, spilling over onto your cheeks as you hiccup from the sudden sobs that overtake your body.

The doe eyes that stare back at you carry your whole world in their weight.

+ epilogue.

Tiny footsteps scuttle around the wooden floors, screaming in delight from being chased by a much larger, yet still very childlike, man. “Betchya can’t catch me, daddy!”

Your husband playfully roars at the taunt, speeding up his strides to snatch the little girl up into his arms. She shrieks at the hand that comes up to tickle her little torso.

“Okay, okay, enough playing you two,” you command, calming the baby boy in your arms that becomes far too excited from the chaotic energy erupting within your cottage. “It’s dinnertime!”

“Dinnertime!” your oldest repeats, violently wriggling around in her father’s grip to force him in lowering her back to the ground so that she can run to her spot at the table. She looks from side to side, doe eyes flitting back to you with a pout on her lips. “But where’s Pascal, Mommy?”

You pass the baby to Jungkook, freeing your hands in order to bring the steaming hot food from the stove to the table. The beige chameleon fades back into his natural emerald colour once you grab him by his scaly torso, dropping him into your daughter’s awaiting hands.

Her squeaky voice chides, “You can’t hide from Mommy.”

A boisterous, yet melodic neigh notifies you of Max’s presence in your backyard, and you shamble past the wooden door to hand the carrots you prepared for him. He snorts in delight as he lowers his head to the floor and begins chomping away. At the sight of his dirtied mane, you take a mental note to give him a thorough wash and brush later on.

Before you head inside, you catch sight of a blond man making his way towards you. “Jimin!”

His eyes reduce to two crescents from the wide grin that occupies his face. He swapped out his imposing robe for a commoner’s shirt and slacks, and they strangely suit his lithe form better than his bulky uniform.

“And where’s our lovely Queen?” You tease, elbowing him when he reaches out to ruffle the top of your head.

“Taking care of things that I don’t want to do.” You two snicker, ecstatic to see one another, and you step aside to let him coddle your children. The slight breeze in the air gingerly kisses your face, rustling the leaves on the trees surrounding your tiny house, and you close your lids to relish in the tranquillity of nature.

A pair of familiar arms curl around the shape of your waist and a smile creeps onto your lips as you open your eyes to examine Jungkook’s face, inches away from your own. He brushes your brown strands over your shoulder, leaning in for a quick peck as a loud chorus of disgust is vocalized behind you.

Both of you break out into giggles at your daughter’s behaviour and turn to face your family waiting for you inside. With your hand tangled with his, you walk to a brighter future together.

[ghoulciifer]

Lol, aight, I'll bite. Shinsou, Bakugo and Shoto hcs for what they would do for you in animal crossing? Like, would they plant flowers for you, or help you meticulously plan your island? I kinda imagine Shoto becoming obsessed with the Stalk Market, originally to pay of all your loans but then it it becomes really fun for him... Something like that? :3c

hc: how Shinsou, Bakugou, and Todoroki play Animal Crossing with you.

tw: none

tags: fluff, animal crossing, me gushing over hitoshi and shoto

notes: hi anon, ty for taking my bait hehe i really had to think about this one and it was actually super fun to write!! idk why i’ve been in stuck on ac mode or what my obsession w thinking how hq or bnha characters would feel about it is but i’m glad you guys are feeding into that lol. as always ty for requesting, inbox is open, and ily dearly, nonnie. ❥

» out of these three i definitely think shinsou is the only one who actually owns the game and plays on his own island

» he’s a gamer boi, prove me wrong i fkn dare you

» so i think regardless if you two are hanging out with each other or not he’s always on your island or you’re always in his, switching back and forth between the two to help each other out

» i see him as an aesthetic player, he wants his island to have a certain vibe when his friends (literally just you n’ denki) come to visit or when he’s just chilling by himself, fishing with tex or smth idk

» so he’s always on the lookout for things to add, be it from nook’s cranny or design codes he stumbles upon

» he also cares about your island’s atmosphere so best believe he’s sending you shit left and right

» can’t even count how many times you’ve hopped on the game to find your mailbox full of things he sent you with a mix of cute n’ mean notes attached

» they range from “y r u so stinky >:(“

» to “i love you so fuckin much have this shaved ice maker”

» no in between

» also somehow pays off his loans WAY too fast, like where is he getting this fuckin much he spends so many bells on the two of you

» never fails to drop bags of them in front of your house before he hops off for the day

» you try to get him to take the bells back because you are an independent woman who don’t need no man jk pls love me ‘toshi

» but he just runs to the airport and shuts his switch off as soon as you start chasing him

» texts you not even 30 seconds later to say he doesn’t mind being your sugar daddy 🙄

» now I see bakugou as being someone who can’t be bothered by ac LOL

» not that he wouldn’t enjoy it bc i very much so think he would (though he’d never admit it)

» but he wouldn’t really make an effort to hop on every day, maybe doing so every once in a while to blow off some steam or kill some time

» he probably wouldn’t own his own switch either tbh so he’d be on your island as player two awe

» probably put his house way the fuck at the top of the map so no one could bother him LOL

» when you’re not on with him he’ll just do some housekeeping like picking weeds, selling overgrown flowers, watering any plants you were trying to grow, etc.

» just help out with the general upkeep of the island

» lets you do all the decorating and building because he likes your style much better than his own also can’t stick with an aesthetic to save his life

» wracks up a SHIT ton of bells from all the tree chopping, weed picking, bug catching and fishing he does (BUT DOES NOT SHARE WITH YOU)

» majority of your museums donations were from him because he just wants you to worry about making the island look nice

» he. is. a. villager. gatekeeper. WILL NOT let an ugly villager move in and if they do? he’s bonkin’ them with his net and sending them trash DAILY

» “GET THE FUCK OFF Y/N’S ISLAND YOU UGLY ASS RAT”

» you don’t mind tho because he’s uh, kinda right

» overall he’s just helping you out with the small, tedious things that come with your island. would never admit it but deep down he does it because he knows how much you enjoy putting things together to create your own cute little world

» always sends you post cards at the end of the day to tell you what he did and remind you he loves you <3

» i really had to sit and think ab this one because while i wholeheartedly agree with anon that he’d be into the stalk market, he would not understand why tf you play this game LOL

» honestly don’t even try to sit there and explain it because he’ll just stare at you like

» “?? you like being in debt to a raccoon ??”

» but i think once you convince him to give it a try he’ll KIND OF see the appeal

» especially, like anon said, the whole stalk market dynamic and how relatively easy it is to make bells

» another one who probably doesn’t own a switch so he plays on your island too, but he definitely puts his house RIGHT NEXT to yours, what a cutie

» he’s just trying to help out out the best he can. really likes putting whatever bells he makes during the day toward your loans or dropping them in your home so you can use them to relocate a building or smth

» surprisingly really into gardening ??

» when he complimented your flowers in front of resident services you told him he could have a whole lot to himself to make a garden, if he wanted to

» his face LITERALLY went 🥺 ‘n you almost cried from how sweet he looked

» so now your entire island is just covered in pretty flowers and shrubbery, a whole garden off to the side next to a waterfall and an orchard right beside it

» sometimes he’ll pick whatever flower matches your outfit the best and give it to you so you can put it on your character’s noggin’ HE IS SO CUTE

» you like to remind him how funny it is that he’s suddenly so invested in the game when he could not understand why you liked it so much

» “Well... it’s almost like I’m building another life with you, Y/N. Of course I like it now.”

» then proceeds to hold your cheeks in his hands when you become a blushing, blubbering mess from his words

[iridescentjin]

Summary: A year after the start of your relationship with Taehyung and Jungkook together, life seems pretty quiet and routine. A break from routine causes the three of you to come together in a way you haven’t in a long time.

Pairing: jjk x reader x kth

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: oh boy, oral sex, unprotected sex, multiple partners during sex, double penetration, dom!Taehyung, sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, anal sex, mentions of recreational alcohol use, swearing, copious amounts of stupid Harry Potter knowledge

a/n: I don’t know man. This was wild to write. This is a continuation of Powdered Moonstone and Pearl Dust. I hope you like it. Thank you to the amazing @fairyqook​ who read and edited it.

Word Count: 10k+

✨

When you open the door to your London apartment, you immediately inhale deeply at the dry air pregnant with the scent of flowers. The smell is welcoming and homey. Taehyung had recently taken on some herbological endeavours, planting countless magical and non-magical plants all over the sun-bathed the little apartment. They hung in planters above the ground, in the windows and in the kitchen. You loved the smell and the look of it. Jungkook tolerated it.

Taehyung had stayed for dinner with one of the other Aurors that he’d just finished a case with, but you wanted to get home, having accidentally worn your most uncomfortable shoes to work that day. You’d kissed him goodbye in the Ministry lobby and taken the Flue Network to a shop near your apartment. 

You loved living in the muggle world, keeping a fairly “normal” life from the outside, but everything was magical inside. You had grown up in the muggle world and so had Jungkook. It was what you knew. Even though the two of you did magic every day, you still enjoyed the comfort of the muggle world. Plus, your relationship with Taehyung and Jungkook had proven to be the most magical part of your life outside of Hogwarts.

When you'd left Hogwarts, the transition had been a little bit difficult. You'd had someone housing and feeding you for 7 years, and house elves always cleaned up the common room and Great Hall. You hadn't had to be responsible, not with money, time, or your living arrangement, and it showed in the way the three of you took care of your home. It was a disaster much of the time for the first 2 months.

Once you'd gotten into the swing of things, it had gotten easier. The hardest part was that you hardly got to spend time with Jungkook because he was either training or travelling with the English National Quidditch team. When he came home in the evening, he was exhausted and unable to really give you or Taehyung any attention. It wasn't that your job wasn't demanding, it was, but it was a different kind of demanding.

Sometimes Jungkook got long weekends off or a bye week, and the three of you got to spend all of it cuddled up together, watching movies and making love.

Tonight is not one of those nights. You know that when Jungkook gets home, he will be tired and hungry and just want to relax. You figured that you could order out some food for the two of you, and maybe, just maybe, you could help him unwind in the shower.

Jungkook trudges through the front door of the apartment. His hair is flat, and he looks tired behind the eyes. You rush over to him and kiss him on the forehead.

"Hi Jungkookie. I missed you so much," you say, brushing his hair away from his forehead, planting gentle kisses on his cheeks and forehead.

He sighs deeply. "I missed you too darling. I just had a long day of practice."

You know that it's hard to practice Quidditch all day every day, but it feels like every day is a long day for him. You wish that you had your Jungkook back sometimes. This new Jungkook is exhausted and less full of life than you are used to. It hurts you to see him like this.

You let him sit on the couch, and you bring over two plates of food, one for each of you. You eat together quietly, but it’s not uncomfortable quiet. You are always comforted by his presence, and he and Tae are what feels like home to you. Even if you don’t feel the same passion as usual, you’ll always be happy just to be with him.

“JK, I thought maybe tonight, you might like some company in the shower.”

He looks up at you, a noodle falling out of his mouth. A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He nods and puts his hand on your knee, running his fingers up and down your exposed skin.

After you finish eating, the two of you sleepily touch one another on the couch, wrapping your arms around each other, fingers tracing up his back and down your thighs.

You push yourself from the couch and make your way toward the bathroom. You turn on the faucet, then you start to undress, watching Jungkook watching you in the mirror as it starts to fog slightly at the top. When he looks up and catches your eye, you smile at him, dropping your bra from your tits. The nipples stand completely erect with the arousal that’s coursing through your vein.

You stand watching him naked in the mirror as he tosses his clothes aside. The muscles on his body ripple as he moves around. The sight of him is breathtaking and sinful. Finally, you turn to him, placing your lips against the skin on his neck. You take a slow path from his neck, up his chin, and onto his lips.

You kiss him deeply, slowly, and softly, experiencing every smooth millimetre of his lips. After a few minutes, the two of you transition to the shower. You lather his soap with your hands, and you scrub his skin for him. You make every effort to care for him. Squirting his shampoo into your hands, you make him turn so you can put it in his hair. He leans his head back, and you take your time massaging his scalp. The way he feels beneath your fingers is so sensual and so arousing. You can see that Jungkook is also aroused because his cock has grown hard between his legs.

Once you finish massaging, he turns and rinses the suds from his hickory toned locks. He switches places with you, letting the hot water pour over your head and drip down your limbs. He returns the care that you gave to him, washing your body and your hair. The act is so intimate, that you can't stop yourself from kissing him.

You wrap your fingers around his erect cock that rests between the two of you. It’s slick with the water, and your hand slides easily up and down his smooth skin. He moans slightly, and you feel a rush of arousal in your pussy. You want him more than you’ve wanted anything in a long time. 

You drop to your knees before him, letting the water run off your back. You lick the tip of his cock, and then you can’t force yourself to tease any longer. You wrap your lips around the head and sink down on it. His cock slides easily into your mouth, and you open your throat. You take him as deeply as you can while using your fingers to gently roll his balls in your hand. 

His hips thrust slightly while you continue your motion. You hear the bathroom door open, but you don’t stop.

“Hello, my loves,” Tae says, waiting a moment, then opening the shower curtain to see you in this compromising position. “Mind if I join?”

You nod slightly with Jungkook’s cock still in your mouth. Tae peels his clothes off and clambers into the shower a little clumsily. He immediately brings his mouth to Jungkook’s, and the two share a passionate kiss while you continue sucking Jungkook’s cock. Taehyung’s fingers lace into your hair and pull you gently away from Jungkook. He positions you slightly differently so you’re in front of him.

When your mouth drops open for him to do what he pleases, he whispers, “Good girl,” then returns to kissing Jungkook.

You use your hand to stroke Jungkook as your mouth pleasures Taehyung. Both men seem to be growing weaker and more desperate. Jungkook pulls you up off your knees into his chest. While facing Jungkook, his smooth chest against yours, Taehyung embraces you both from behind, his chest against your back.

You feel desperate for both of them. You need someone to fuck you right now. Though you’re all soaked with the water, Taehyung shuts off the nozzle and ushers you and Jungkook into your bedroom. No towels. The slickness of your bodies making everything that much sexier. 

Taehyung throws you onto the bed and positions himself between your legs. Jungkook takes his place above you, inserting his cock into your mouth once again. Tae slowly slides his cock all the way in, deep and leisurely. You moan as he hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl.

The rest of Tae between your legs is a blur of pleasure and slow strokes. You cum twice just from his slow strokes. He hasn’t cum yet when he beckons Jungkook over to him. Jungkook immediately listens, and Tae positions him on all fours on the bed. Tae takes the lube from the bedside table, once again at a painfully slow pace, slides himself inside Jungkook.

Something about the image of Jungkook’s cock bouncing up and down while Tae fucks him, making him nearly cum from the stimulation of his prostate alone, makes you feel like you could cum without being touched. Instead, you position yourself underneath Jungkook, taking his cock in your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, then he paints your throat. You smile up at him as you wipe the remnants from your face, and at that moment, Tae pulls out of Jungkook. You open your mouth to him, poking out your tongue slightly. He cums mostly into your mouth but some on your face as well. You lick it all up, savouring every bit of it that you can.

The three of you curl into a cuddle on the bed, even though you’re still wet. You and JK start to drift off, and Tae is the one who goes to get towels for everyone. He also comes back with the extra blankets from the hall closet and covers all three of you.

“Dinner was fun and everything, but this was way better,” he smirks, and that’s the last thing that you comprehend before you drift into the throes of sleep.

✨

“Oh my gosh, seriously!?”

You hear the sound of Jungkook’s boisterous tone from down the hall as you wipe the sleep from your eyes. You slept hard after the night you’d had with the boys, feeling refreshed and reconnected with them, if not a tiny bit sore in the jaw. You wonder what time it is and who Jungkook is talking to and if there’s coffee and if maybe, just maybe someone has made breakfast.

You look over at the body of the man passed out next to you, so you know that Tae definitely did not make coffee or breakfast, so your chances are cut in half. You listen to Jungkook talk excitedly on the phone, and you think you hear mention of Italy. When he hangs up, you divagate to the kitchen, softly padding on your toes on the hardwood floor. He doesn’t immediately look up when you enter the room.

“What’s up, Jungkookie?” you ask, and he spins around to see you.

He has a huge smile on his face, and he trots over to you. His arms hook around your back, and he uses his muscles to swing you around, only to put you right back down where you began.

“We’re going to the World Cup!” he exclaims.

You are so thrilled for him. From the day that he started with the English National Team, he had been secretly hoping to make it to the Quidditch World Cup. It was probably even before that when he was still in his days on the Gryffindor House team, but he rarely brought up professional Quidditch then, scared he might jinx it.

Elated, you throw yourself into his arms, leaping off the floor at him. Fortunately, he catches you and holds you there for a moment. He kisses your nose and sets you on the floor.

“Jungkook, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you!” You press yourself up to kiss his lips. “Where is it going to be this year?”

“A small town in Italy called Sarteano? I’ve never heard of it, but only a few thousand people live there I guess.”

The idea of Italy makes you swoon slightly, and then you realize that because of work, you won’t be able to go. As rookie Aurors, there’s no way that you’re going to get time off to go watch your boyfriend play Quidditch. Plus, the Ministry wasn’t totally on board with your relationship with both Taehyung and Jungkook. Some systemic misogyny at its finest. No one ever said anything to Tae, but they gave you sideways glances and whispered about you as you passed. For the most part, you didn’t care. Harry Potter had been nice to you the few times you talked to him, so at least you knew he wasn’t a total dick.

Taehyung, Jungkook, and you had celebrated together that morning, but then you had to continue on your separate ways like a usual weekend. You and Taehyung had the day off together, but Jungkook had to go to the arena and practice hard since they knew they were going to the Cup.

Over those weeks, you hardly saw Jungkook, feeling more and more distant from him even though you’d finally just reconnected physically. You missed him, though you loved Tae, and he was amazing at taking care of you. You wished that it could be all three of you all the time.

Three weeks after Jungkook starts training for the World Cup, Taehyung approaches you frantically at work. You are standing in the hallway talking to the ever animated Regina Westcord about a recent batch of particularly bast hinkypunks that had terrorized a village in eastern Romania. She was regaling you about how the pod had been fairly quick work for the Aurors, but the people of the town were so resistant to Obliviate that some of them had to be tracked down in the fields and some had to be re-charmed.

Taehyung approaches rapidly, and you hear him panting slightly as he comes closer. He politely greets Westkord then asks for a moment alone with you. She gives you a wonky sort of look, surely thinking about the dynamics of your relationship with both Tae and JK, which is none of her business.

When she walks down the corridor, her short heels clack slightly against the marble floor, and the two of you watch her disappear after making a turn.

Tae turns to you. His face looks ecstatic, and you think that maybe he has solved one of his impossible cases.

“I got us a case!” he exclaims. While it’s exciting to have a case together from time to time, you don’t think this merits coming to track you down.

“Oh good. I love working with you.”

“No, wait. The best part. It’s going to take us to the Italian countryside for at least a week. We leave next Tuesday.”

The realization dawns on you. At the very least, this case is in the same country that Jungkook will be in for the next few weeks. You don’t ask for any details. A smile tears at the corners of your mouth, and you fling yourself into Taehyung’s arms. He catches you, and the two of you giggle together for a little while until you hear the echoing tone of dress shoes on the marble.

You quickly separate and try to look as professional as possible.

“Kim yln, there you are!” cries Ciaran Murphy, a secretary on the Auror floor. “Head Auror Potter would like a rundown on the case that you’ll start next week.”

You smile at him and take Tae’s hand in yours. “On our way now, thank you, Ciaran.”

✨

That night is the last night together before Jungkook leaves for Italy with the team. You and Taehyung have already decided that you want to keep it a secret from Jungkook and surprise him. 

You make Jungkook’s favourite dinner, lamb, rice, and kimchi jjigae because Tae is hopeless in the kitchen. Jungkook is particular about his laundry, so Tae doesn’t want to touch it. He’s moping around trying to come up with something to do when he realizes that he can clean the bathrooms and the bedroom. It’s something small, but Jungkook always notices when the bathroom is really clean or needs to be cleaned.

When Tae emerged, a small sweat broke out on his forehead. You giggle and wipe the skin free of the small droplets and you kiss him on the lips. The final timer of dinner chimes at the same moment Jungkook walks into the front door. Perfect timing.

You pull the food from the oven, and Taehyung meets Jungkook at the door. It’s all so domestic that it makes you laugh a little. It’s unlike the three of you, but playing homemaker once in a while is fun.

The three of you spend the evening eating, drinking, and just watching tv. It’s a nice, quiet evening at home that you’ve been longing for lately. It’s a perfect way to spend the last night together for a while.

✨

One week later, you and Taehyung are following a pretty flimsy lead into Sarteano, Italy. The case that you have is actually getting juicier, and it’s near here, fortunately. The lead came from a guy named Jimmy in a white tank top with his chest hair spilling out over the top. You knew that the Jimmys’ of the world often need to be taken with a grain of salt.

But this lead meant that you got to see Jungkook in action for the first time in person in months. You were so excited that Jimmy could have told you that it was a talking mouse who had the intel in town.

The town itself is sleepy and quiet. There is no way any muggle would know that thousands of wizards were just outside of the town’s limits, cloaked in magic.

Since there are so many open port keys to the stadium, you decide to simply take one to the countryside area where they’ve nestled the whole event. With a stretch and a bit of a pop, you are in the campground. It’s full of fans for England and Russia, faces painted, mouths screaming national anthems.

The noise, smells, and sights fill the air and overwhelm your senses. You try to breathe deeply to calm yourself, but the air is thick with the smell of fried foods and waste. You cough slightly as it fills your lungs. Your eyes, watering now, turn to Tae with desperation. You want him to assure you’re not alone in feeling overcome by the urge to run. You are sorely disappointed. Tae’s face is beaming with glee, his eyes flitting from one sight or crowd to the next. He looks like he is ready to take on the day in true World Cup style. Suddenly, you feel out of place.

Though every well-known Death Eater is in Azkaban or dead, there are still some faces in the crowd that make you uneasy: the cousin of Fenrir Greyback, the daughter of Antonin Dolohov, the brother of Augustus Rookwood. None of these people were ever proven to have any connection to Voldemort or the Death Eaters, but they were so close to the face of evil of the war. And here they are just walking around, enjoying the spectacle of the Quidditch World Cup like they weren’t the blood relatives of murderers.

You shake your head. You can’t think like that. Association and relation is not guilt. You know that. Still, you know how vulnerable people are at this event, so you decide to stay on your guard just in case.

Taehyung got in touch with one of Jungkook’s teammates, Leonard Scuttletoss, who told him how to get into the restricted players only area and which tent was Jungkook’s. Taehyung said Leonard seemed giddier about the surprise than either of the two of you put together. Leonard is a Beater for the English national team, and you think that maybe he’s the softest guy off the pitch because he has to be so tough on it. Regardless, you love his joyful participation in romantic surprises.

Leonard meets the two of you by the entrance to the players’ section and babbles constantly as he walks you to JK’s tent. You thank him politely and turn to the entrance of the canvas structure. You turn to Tae, and he nods. You pull back the flap and enter into the spacious living and dining area. Magic still sometimes blows your mind.

“Hello?” You hear a familiar voice say in an uneasy tone.

“Oh my gosh! Jeon Jungkook! I’m your biggest fan!” Tae shouts in a slightly distorted voice. 

You smack his upper arm while trying to hold in the laugh that’s trying to escape from your lips. At the top of the steps, Jungkook appears, draped in a dressing gown and holding his wand at the ready. You can’t hold in the laughter anymore, and it spills out of you, filling the tense air. As soon as he comprehends who is in his tent, Jungkook comes running toward the two of you. He whacks Tae in the same way that you did and then pulls you both into a tight embrace.

“What are you doing here?! I thought you had to work?!” His eyes are brimming with tears, and he turns away to wipe his face.

“Well, we do. But Tae found us a case here in Italy. We won’t be able to make every match, but we will get to see at least one,” you blurt out. It comes out so quickly, you fear it might have just been one word.

Jungkook is beaming at you. He runs a hand through your hair and tucks it behind your ear. You know how much this means to him. He’s been talking about coming here and playing these matches almost as long as you’ve known him. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

You love your relationship with both Tae and Jungkook together, but you suddenly have one of those moments where you wish you were alone with JK, just for a few minutes. As if he read your mind, you see Taehyung straighten and shift awkwardly next to you.

When you turn to him, he says, “Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Leonard for a little while. We have some catching up to do.”

Jungkook kisses Taehyung firmly on the mouth, cradling his face between his palms as he does it. He pulls back slightly, rubbing their noses together. With their foreheads pressed together, Jungkook whispers, “Thank you. I love you so much. This is perfect.”

Taehyung smiles a massive grin, and then he turns and exits the tent, leaving just the two of you alone.

“Can you believe it!?” Jungkook asks, walking slowly around the room.

“I can’t! I know you’re good enough to win this and be here, but it feels like all of your hard work has finally come together!”

Jungkook looks up at you with tears glimmering in his eyes again. “And you’re here. Both of you. But baby, you’re here. You get to see it.”

You feel the tears biting at the back of your eyes, and you push them away. This feeling, the feeling of watching the love of your life achieve his dreams and goals, it is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You didn’t think you could get any prouder of him, and yet, here you are, chest ready to explode with the pride you feel for the man before you.

“You are amazing,” is all you can get out without the tears trying to fight their way out of your eyes.

You fling yourself into Jungkook’s arms, holding him tightly against your chest. Feeling his breath slowly steady as the tears fall and then cease. He runs his hands through your hair over and over as you stand there wrapped together. You never want this moment to end.

But of course, it has to.

“Jeon!” Someone shouts into the tent.

Both of you turn suddenly, seeing a giant man with black hair, a black beard, and tawny skin standing in the entrance to the tent. You instantly recognize the team manager, Tobias Learstrom. You know that his presence means that your time with Jungkook is over. 

JK pulls away from you and quickly wipes the tears off his face, trying to look as put together as he can.

“Yes?”

“It’s time for warm-ups. And you know the rule, no sex during a tournament,” Tobias adds the last part with a cheeky glare at you. He stands in the doorway waiting for Jungkook.

“We weren’t-“ you start, but Jungkook shushes you.

“I have to go now, baby. And I’m sure that you and Taehyung have work to do anyway. I will see you very soon. I love you.”

You know that this is your cue to leave because he still has to get dressed. You plant a quick kiss on his lips and turn toward the door. You nod awkwardly at Tobias as he holds the canvas flap open for your exit. Once you emerge, you see Tae standing about 10 meters away, talking animatedly with a woman you don’t recognize. That man could strike up a conversation with a brick wall if he wanted. Mr. Kimgeniality.

You walk up to him, and he excuses himself from the conversation. He explains that that woman is Oliver Wood’s younger sister, here to support him. This season would likely be Wood’s last season before retirement, but he was still an amazing Keeper after all these years. You secretly hoped he would take over as coach once he retired because you weren’t the biggest fan of the current head coach.

Tae leads you through the athletes’ area back out to the campground. Walking through the rows and rows of tents, you hear Tae quietly saying letters and numbers as you walk past each new row. It dawns on you that he is looking for a particular tent. Oh no.

“Here it is!” he exclaims with pride.

He opens the front entrance for you, and you reluctantly duck inside. It’s almost as nice as the one that JK has, and it’s much larger inside, clearly made for multiple people.

“Tae, are we-”

“Staying here so we can be close to Jungkook? Why yes, my love. We are.”

You swallow hard and try to breathe through your anxiety. The discomfort you feel must be obvious on your face because Tae closes the distance between the two of you in two strides. He places his hands on your shoulders.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing. This is perfect. We’re close to JK. We’re close to the case. I just…. I’m a little over-stimulated already, so I’m anxious and worried and irrational.”

“Shhh shhh. It’s okay, yn. These things are perfectly valid. I think what we need is to magic the tent shut real good, conjure up some mufflers, and take a nice hot bath together. It will be like the world outside doesn’t exist for a little while.

You feel weak in the knees just from the suggestion. The lights in the tent are a deep golden colour that floods the room in warmth. You shrug off your sweater, and Tae beckons you to follow him. There’s a lavish bathroom in the back of the tent that makes you wonder just how much this cost. He starts drawing the bath into the white and gold clawfoot tub. He sprinkles bath salt into the water as it fills the ceramic. He crosses back to you. He slowly undoes the buttons on your blouse, untucking it from your skirt. He unzips the skirt, and soon you’re standing before him in just your underwear. 

He takes in the sight of you, and before he continues to undress you, he strips down to his underwear as well. You can see the outline of his half-hard cock through his underwear. The idea that you, not even completely naked, turn him on like that, makes your heart flip a little in your chest. He pulls down his boxer briefs and stands before you completely exposed. You look over at the nearly full tub and realize that it’s time to get into it.

You peel off your bra and underwear, smiling shyly at Tae while you do it. It’s kind of dumb that you still feel shy around him, but you do. He situated himself into the bath before you, then he motions for you to come and sit between his legs, back on his chest. As soon as you sink into the hot water, you melt back into Tae. After a few minutes, you’re not sure where you end and he begins, and you love the connection you feel to him right now.

He puts soap on a loofah, and he scrubs your arms, and the lavender and vanilla scent fills your nostrils, causing you to sink further into him. He continues like this, cleaning your whole body for you, every inch. He rinses you, and you wish you could express to him how much you love him at this moment. You curl up slightly against him when he sits still again. He chuckles slightly and traces delicate patterns on the skin of your back.

The two of you stay locked together like that until the water in the tub is no longer hot. Tae realizes before you do.

“Honey, we need to get to work if we’re ever going to solve this case,” he whispers against your hair.

You know he’s right. You know the water is getting cold. But it was so comfortable there, so it’s hard for you to agree to get out. Reluctantly, you climb out, pouting slightly. Tae wraps you in the fluffiest towel you’ve ever felt then holds you against him.

“I know this is hard. I know this is overwhelming. We have to do this for Jungkook and for the Ministry of Magic, right?” Taehyung says softly.

“You’re right. I was just getting into my head too much. Let’s go catch some smugglers and watch our boyfriend win some Quidditch.”

You gather your clothes off the floor and make your way to the bedroom. You dry yourself and slip back into your outfit. You had picked out this outfit especially this morning because it complimented your body well, and you know that Jungkook likes it. Putting it on now, you hope that it will give you some confidence to work through this case quickly.

Once ready, you and Taehyung apparate to a small town about 100 miles from Sarteano. You don’t love apparition, but it does make it so you can see JK during this case. You shake your head as your ears pop, and you scowl at the sensation.

Nothing seems to bother Tae. Everything bothers you.

“Okay, so Antonio and Carlo Gipaldi both report the same address. They’re our guys, and hopefully, we can get them quickly and get back to the match.”

“Considered armed and dangerous?” you ask.

“Of course. They’re selling illegal potions on the black market, who knows what they have.”

You nod. You’d read the file and debriefed yourself before you left, but you liked when Tae gave you a recap of the details before you bust in on any criminals.

You walk down the dirt road until you come to a small cottage nestled into a field of wildflowers. It looks so quaint that it’s hard for you to wrap your head around the nefariousness happening inside. You picture the two brothers over their cauldrons, sweaty and cackling.

You knock on the door and when it opens, boy were you wrong about the scale of the operation. Inside are roughly 20 works, each with 2 cauldrons before them. It’s a whole assembly operation. They all look filthy, terrified, and a little relieved.

“Where are Antonio and Carlo?” Taehyung asks the room.

No one responds. They likely don’t speak English. Maybe not even Italian. 

“yn, can you apparate to the Ministry, open a Portkey, and come back here? I’ll keep an eye out here.”

“Tae, is that safe?” you ask, a little miffed that he wants to try to stay here alone, outnumbered so severely.

“The quicker you do it, the safer it is. Please, Honey.”

Goddamn him and his smooth talk. You apparate as close to the Ministry as you can, take a flue inside, and debrief the other Aurors on what’s gone down while opening a Portkey.

It’s probably less than 10 minutes that you’re gone, but you feel every second tick by and hope that Taehyung is staying safe. When you appear back in the room, everyone is in the exact same spot. The works look as terrified as the moment you busted into the house.

After a lot of effort, you communicate to them through gestures that it’s time to go. They take the Portkey back to the Ministry, where a team of Aurors and interpreters are waiting for them. 

You and Taehyung stay in the house inspecting each of the cauldrons. Draught of the Living Death. Poisons. Illegal love potions. You name it, they were brewing it. You walk around the room to each cauldron, adding various ingredients that will deactivate the effects that have been put into effect. Potions are so satisfying in that one thing can make them deadly and one different thing can make them innocuous. You still carried a love for potions close to your heart.

The adrenaline and excitement of the case courses through your veins. Your cases lately haven’t been the most exciting, but this seems to be developing into something huge.

Other Aurors arrive on the scene, and you all gather as much evidence as you possibly can. They take it back with them to London, and you and Taehyung stay in Italy. The two of you have the opportunity to find Antonio and Carlo before they notice that their whole operation has been shut down. In the meantime, the London crew will interrogate the workers.

 You and Taehyung embrace each other as you leave the little cottage. It feels so good to work with one of the loves of your life, but it also just feels good to have a big case for the first time in a while. You felt like you’d been getting the short end of the stick with cases lately, but now, now you have a real chance to show the Heads of your department what you’re really made of.

By the time that you apparate back to your tent, it’s past midnight. Your eyes are heavy, and you can’t even get your clothes fully off before you fall back on to your bed and drift into slumber. You aren’t sure you even move at all that night as you sleep because you wake up in the same position you remember being in last.

 You’re awoken by the sound of an owl screech just outside of your tent. Taehyung is motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest, so you sleepily pad your way through the living room and over to the locked entrance. When you open it, the owl looks impatient, if owls can look impatient…It’s not your fault he came at…whatever time it is in the morning. You look at the watch on your wrist and see that it’s already 10:00 am. Fuck. You slept so long.

 You untie the note from the owl’s leg, pat him on the head, and let him carry on with the rest of his day. The letter is from the Minister of Magic himself.

Mr. Kim and Ms. y/l/n,

 Thank you so much for your service to not only your country or the magical realm but the world itself. Together, you’ve stopped over 50 cauldrons full of poison, potions, and whatnot from entering into the market. Congratulations on your success.

 Here is what we know from the workers. They were employed by Carlo and Antonio roughly six months ago. The demands have been getting higher and the quantity of potions that they’ve been required to make each day has tripled. One worker says that he overheard Carlo saying something about selling it to the American government. Muggle government.

 It appears that the two of you have stumbled across one of the greatest international smuggling rings. Though the two of them seem to be the only sellers, the buyers range from small-time criminals to full governments. We need to be able to take down these two before they can do any permanent damage, especially in the muggle world.

 I am headed out now to speak with the President of the United States, the Prime Minister of Canada, the Prime Minister of England, and the Chancellor of Germany. Hopefully, this will help slow the dissemination of these potions. Your job is simple. Find and arrest Carlo and Antonio Gipaldi. Their workers said they left the country two days ago and aren’t scheduled to be back for two more days. Please await intel from our Aurors monitoring the Flue Network.

 Thank you again for your service,

 Kingsley Shacklebolt Minister of Magic

Holy crap.

Not only are you holding a letter addressed to you from the freaking Minister of Magic, but you are also in the middle of one of the biggest cases, outside of Voldemort, that the Ministry of Magic has ever seen. An international conspiracy. You and Tae, who were just going after two small-time criminals, are now in the spotlight, the whole world waiting to see what you’ll do.

You feel your head start to spin slightly, and your breath gets shallow.

 “Who was that?” you hear a sleepy voice behind you ask.

 “It’s a letter from the Minister of Magic. I need to sit down.”

 You flop down on the squishy chair in the corner of the room. It has a gold cord adorning the outside seam, and the upholstery is white with gold and red flowers. Honestly, the thing is gaudy and outdated, but it’s so comfortable that you don’t care.

 Tae makes his way over to you, hair dishevelled on top of his head. You hold out the parchment in your hand, and he takes it, eyes poring over the content. You watch the expression on his face change as he reads further and further into the letter.

 “Oh shit,” he mutters as he finishes. “This is...huge.”

 You nod faintly, and you can’t even begin to wrap your head around what you have to do. You know that you have to hold tight until you get intel that Carlo and Antonio are back in the country. It would be hard just to sit in the tent and wait.

 “I know what we should do while we wait,” you say, halfheartedly. “We should watch Jungkook win the World Cup.”

 Taehyung shoots you a huge grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

 The two of you dress quickly in comfortable white and red clothing. Taehyung dons the English flag across his chest, and you have tied white and red ribbons in your hair. You know that you look more girlish this way, but it’s fun to be young and juvenile for such an event.

 You make your way toward the stadium, and you realize that it might not be possible for you to get in. What if it’s sold out? You didn’t preemptively buy tickets. You turn and look at Tae, and the confidence in his expression tells you that he has made some kind of arrangement. You enter into the stadium without problem when Tae flashes something to the ticket taker, and you don’t see what it is. Climbing the stairs is exhausting. It feels like you’re climbing 100 flights of stairs. You would think they’d put in elevators or Portkeys or let you apparate or something. Finally, you reach the top level. You emerge from the labyrinth of stairs into the bright sunshine. The warmth and light on your face feel phenomenal like they’re warming you from the outside in.

 Tae waves to a familiar female across one of the boxes, and she waves back. It’s Oliver Wood’s sister again, and you can’t believe that Tae secured seats with her. In the box are two burly men that you don’t recognize, a smaller older woman, and a blonde family that you can’t see their faces.

 “yn, this is Elena Wood. These two fine gentlemen are Harold and Bruce Scuttletoss, Leonard’s brothers. And this is Margarite Bane, the Seeker, Kevin’s mother.”

 You nod to all of them, shaking their hands. You wonder how Tae got to know these people, but you don’t put anything that has to do with human connection beyond him because he is so good with people.

 “Who are they?” you ask Tae in a bit of a whisper, pointing at the stark blonde-haired family that is looking away from you. Something about them seems familiar, but you can’t quite place it.

 “Draco Malfoy,” he whispers into your ear. “Best to leave them alone, honey.”

 He ushers you into your seat while you stare open-mouthed at the man in the corner of the box. Even turned away from you, you can see the sharp lines of his jaw, and you wonder what he’s actually like in real life. You’d only heard stories about him, but you guessed he was probably an asshole.

 You don’t have much time to ogle the stiff man before the teams make their way out onto the pitch. The referees fly high above, and the Minister of Magic announces the start of the game. The snitch zooms from the case, and the bludgers are immediately zipping past players heads.

 Jungkook is the first to catch the quaffle, and he weaves between the players of Team Russia. He dips below them, and his Beaters are deflecting every bludger that comes his way. He scores easily within seconds, the Keeper from the other team unable to stop the ball that Jungkook whipped into the left goal hoop.

 The Seekers are circling high above and moving slowly as they watch for the Snitch. However, everything down below is moving so quickly that you’re grateful for the commentator narrating the action.

 “Jeon intercepts the Quaffle again, and he dips below the Bludger sent by Osmann. He takes it toward the goal. He shoots, and England scores again! We’re 20 minutes into the match, and Jeon has scored 6 times on goal! He seems to be vying for MVP this year, and it seems likely he’ll get it.” 

You cheer loudly for him every time he scores, and Leonard’s brother whoop loudly. You feel even more excited by their enthusiasm. Ms. Bane keeps her eyes locked on her son, clearly nervous for him. She’s on the edge of her seat, literally, and you worry that she’s going to fall to the floor.

“Nabikov takes the Quaffle and makes a shot on goal. Wood blocks it! He tosses the Quaffle to Jeon who ascends. He’s gaining elevation, and he is flying over the crowd. He dives! That speed has got to be terrifying, but Jeon is holding on tightly, straightfaced. And another goal for Jeon!!!”

The game carries on like this, Jungkook scoring on goal. Team Russia trying to score with Wood blocking every shot. Then it happens. Bane sees the snitch. He dives after it, pursues it. The other Seeker follows, but she can't keep up with Bane. You blink, and you lose your focus on the Snitch.  Bane doesn't though.

"Bane catches the Snitch! The match is over! England wins!! For the first time in Quidditch World Cup history, we have a shut out!!"

Immediately fans start chanting "England" and singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs. Leonard's brothers hug each other and high five Elena. Bane's mother looks thrilled beyond belief. She is beaming with pride. Even Draco Malfoy is up out of his seat, whooping and hollering for his team. You smile to yourself seeing that. This stern tough-looking man celebrating your boyfriend with his adorable tiny child.

You and Tae hug and celebrate the victory. You can't wait to see Jungkook and celebrate with him. Your lips are moving against Tae's, and you feel all of your excitement and passion melting into his mouth. You close your eyes and run your fingers through his hair. Ms. Bane clears her throat, and you pull away from Tae, laughing.

One the crowd thins a bit, you make your way down from the top level. It takes more than half an hour to get out, but you are so filled with the pride and joy of the win that you don't even mind the huge crowd that you are moving with. You are revelling in the chants and songs from the people who are pouring out of the stadium like ants out of their anthill.

The camp is filled with fireworks, drinking, singing, and chanting, and you smile at the thought of simply getting to experience it. Attending a Quidditch World Cup was never something that was on your bucket list, but, now that you've done it, you feel incredibly lucky to have had the experience. Especially with Jungkook playing.

You and Tae pass the time with a few butterbeers in the tent while you wait for the hype to die down. He pours you two shots of firewhisky, and it's over. You pass out with your clothes on, again. You normally don't drink, and you know that Tae is laughing to himself while you struggle to stay conscious.

The next morning you wake with a start when Tae pokes you in the arm. You feel your eyes wide but heavy staring up at him.

"Let's go. JK is waiting for us." You smile up at him. "But brush your teeth first, okay?"

You cover your mouth bashfully and pop up to go to the bathroom to freshen up. You brush your teeth and hair and wash your face. When you step out of the bathroom, you throw your clothes into a haphazard pile and change into a new, clean outfit. You've got to stop making a habit of sleeping in your clothes from the night before.

Finally, you trudge across the camp to where JK's tent is, and you enter without announcing yourselves. Jungkook is lolling lazily in an overstuffed chair, smiling in his half-awake lucidity. You smile at him.

"My loves," he exclaims, and he tries to get himself up off the chair.

You can see that he's exhausted from the night before, probably not having slept much. You bounce over to him and throw your hands around his neck. Tae follows and does the same.

"We are so proud of you. Congratulations, Jungkook," you say against his hair.

"Thank you so much loves. I can't believe that we did it. I can't believe we've all made it here."

You giggle and brush his hair away from his forehead, planting a soft kiss there. As you sit in his lap, you can feel a slight stirring in his pants the longer you sit there. You pepper kisses over his cheeks and his neck. Taehyung pulls open Jungkook's dressing gown and plants kisses directly on his collarbones, sucking lightly at the skin.

"Darling, do you have a break for a little while now?" Taehyung asks as he nips at Jungkook's skin.

"Yes. A whole month off."

Taehyung giggles a little bit. "Good. These will fade in plenty of time."

He bites and sucks the skin, leaving red-purple marks all over Jungkook's chest. Jungkook moans at the sensation, and his hand comes up to the back of your head. He presses his mouth hard against yours, tongue entering your mouth. He runs his hands over your breasts and hooks his fingers in the front of your pants. Taehyung looks down at it and pushes his hand away from you.

"No. Today, we're taking care of you," Taehyung says with a smirk.

You drop to your knees on the floor before Jungkook, and his eyes widen. Tae seems to not be able to stop chuckling at every little thing that happens, and you think that it's probably giddiness for seeing Jungkook after he won the Quidditch World cup.

"yn, honey. I need you to suck Jungkook's cock right now."

The command sends heat shooting between your legs, and you feel your heart race slightly in your chest. You love when Tae commands you to do things because he is the dom in the relationship with both you and Jungkook. Though Jungkook lets you be in control, Tae controls the whole situation. You love it.

You pull Jungkook's sweatpants and underwear down around his ankles. You rest your head on his thigh and take in the sight of his cock. You blow a puff of air through your lips, and you feel JK's legs shake beneath you with the anticipation of what's going to happen. You know you shouldn't tease, but you can't help it.

You lick a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock. You position yourself back down by his balls. You play with them with your tongue, rolling them slightly back and forth. You kiss them then suck them between your lips. He squirms slightly beneath you.

While you tease Jungkook's cock, Taehyung is standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Jungkook looks so relaxed, but there is slight anguish in his face from your ministrations between his legs.

Taehyung shifts Jungkook's position in the chair, pushing him slightly forward so that Tae can slide in behind him. He wraps his arms around JK's chest, and he latches his mouth on to the skin of his neck. The whole scene, you sucking JK's cock while Taehyung leaves marks all over his chest and neck is reminiscent of the first time the three of you made love together. More arousal shoots directly to your pussy. You moan on Jungkook's balls.

You're not sure how much longer you can tease. Your mouth is watering with anticipation of taking Jungkook's cock, and you need it now. You kiss the tip of his cock gently and wrap your hand around the base. Slowly, you take him into your throat, letting your hand follow your in and out motions to make it feel even deeper to him. His hips thrust slightly, making you gag around him. The convulsion of your muscles around him, makes him moan deeply against the side of Taehyung's head. You take him in and out of your throat, swirling your tongue around the shaft as you pull out each time.

"Jungkook, darling. Do you want yn to ride your cock for you?" Taehyung growls into Jungkook's ear.

Jungkook shakes his head and stares at you with glazed-over eyes for a moment. He seems like he's struggling to make words, and you giggle around his cock.

"Want us both to take her," he manages to breathe out.

You feel your eyes widen immediately. You look up at Tae who has a cheeky grin on his face. You know that Jungkook is going to get what he wants today, and you feel yourself dripping into your panties at having both of them at the same time.

Taehyung guides Jungkook up, and he pulls both of you by the hand toward Jungkook's bed. He whispers to Jungkook, "What hole do you want to fuck, darling?"

"Pussy," Jungkook says back, at a slightly louder than regular volume. It's adorable to you how worked up he already is.

"Good boy," Taehyung coos as he lowers Jungkook on to his back on the bed.

You strip at Tae’s command, dropping your clothes in a pile on the floor. Taehyung leads you over to the bed, and you climb on top of Jungkook, straddling him. You don’t sink down on him yet because you know that it will be best to have Tae slide his cock into your ass first.

Tae flicks his wrist without an incantation and produces lubricant. He coats his cock and your hole, smiling at you as you turn to look at him.

“Ready, honey?” he asks as he lines himself up with your tight hole.

You nod, trying to position yourself in a way that you are not clenching. He presses against the entrances, and at first, you’re afraid that your body won’t let him in. With the lube though, he makes quick work of entering inside of you. The pressure is unlike anything else that you know how to describe. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but it still stimulates you in a way that makes your clit throb.

“Slide into her now, Jungkook,” Tae instructs, rocking his hips back and forth painfully slowly. Taehyung has a way of knowing exactly how to fuck you to make you want to cum over and over.

Jungkooks cock slides slowly inside of you, and the three of you moan at the same time. The pressure of both of their cocks inside you clouds your mind. You feel like you are in a fog of pleasure, and you can’t stop the sounds that are coming out of you. Each cock stimulates a different sensitive area inside of you, fucking you just right. You fall forward onto Jungkook’s chest, and his hands caress your back.

“I’m gonna-” you start, and you can’t finish before you are clenching around Jungkook’s cock hard, sure that Tae can feel the contractions too.

Jungkook’s fingers tangle in your hair and pull hard. “Tae, can I?” he asks.

Taehyung must nod because you don’t hear any response, but Jungkook is spilling inside of you. His hot seed fills you, and you clench around him again at the thought of his cum inside of you. Taehyung moans loudly behind you, and you feel him painting the inside of your ass with his cum. You are dripping with your own juices and both of theirs. It makes you cum again. You laugh as you come down. What the fuck was that? You just came three times just from JK and Tae coming inside you.

Jungkook slips his softening cock out of you, and then Taehyung follows suit. You feel the cum dripping down the insides of your thighs. Tae’s finger slides up your right leg to your pussy lips. He brings the finger to Jungkook’s mouth. He obediently opens, and Tae pushes the cum soaked digit between his lips. JK moans. Tae does the same motion again, but this time he puts it in your mouth. He does it one more time, bringing the cum to his lips. You can’t believe how hot your boyfriends are, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed by the love that you feel for them.

The three of you curl up together on the bed, sticky, covered in cum and lube, and fall asleep there in each other’s arms. When you awaken, the sun is beaming in through the small window in the living room of the tent. You keep forgetting that you’re in a tent because it’s so nice. The soft hoot of an owl outside the door catches your attention, and you slip on Jungkook’s dressing gown.

The snowy owl looks like it’s seen less trauma than the barn owl that you met yesterday. You take the letter from its leg, thank it, and it carries on on its way. You see that the letter is addressed to you and Taehyung.

Dear Mr. Kim and Ms. yln,

We have word that Antonio and Carlo may not be back for weeks. We would like the two of you to go undercover in the Cetona area to catch them. We would also like for you to keep an eye on any other suspicious comings and goings in the area. Please respond post-haste to let us know that you’ve received this correspondence.

Congratulations to Mr. Jeon.

Regards,

Harry Potter Head Auror

Post-haste? That doesn’t sound like Potter. You think that his secretary probably typed the letter without him reading it. Oh well. You need to tell Tae immediately.

Jungkook and Tae are stirring in the bed, and you gently wake Tae. You hand him the letter, and he reads it quickly. He smiles up at you. You aren’t sure why he’s smiling, now you’re going to be here without Jungkook for weeks until the Gipaldis return.

“I’ll write a letter back to Mr. Potter,” he says with a wink.

He clambers out of bed, somewhat ungracefully. He goes to the dining table, muttering an accio parchment and accio quill as he heads to his chair. He scribbles on the parchment quickly. He rolls up at the parchment and hands it to you. He whispers, “don’t open it yet.”

You’re confused, but you leave the roll of paper on the table and follow him back to the bedroom.

“Jungkookie, wake up, please. I have something really important to discuss with you.”

Jungkook wakes, though his eyes are filled with the sleepiness he feels.

“Jungkook, yn. I need to ask you something. Now is the time,” Taehyung starts. You have no idea where this is going. “We’ve been together for over a year now, and I think that it’s time that we made this deal official.”

“What do you mean official? We are official,” Jungkook asks, confusedly.

“Shhh,” you shush him, feeling uneasy like you know what’s coming.

“Will you two make me the happiest man on earth by becoming my husband and my wife?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and Jungkook makes a small noise in his chest.

“Yes!” you both exclaim at the same time.

The three of you look amongst yourselves, and there are tears in all six eyes that are glancing around. You all hug and kiss one another, and it feels like you are walking on clouds. You definitely don’t want to leave Jungkook now.

“Tae, we can’t stay here. We need to stay with Jungkook especially now.”

“Stay here? Why are we staying here? I’m down,” Jungkook blurts out.

Taehyung just laughs. “Yn, go read my letter to Potter.”

You walk to the table and unfurl the parchment.  In Tae’s blocky handwriting are written words that make you smile so wide your cheeks hurt.

Head Auror Potter,

Ms. y/l/n and I are more than happy to stay in Italy undercover. I, however, will be unable to do so if both of my fiances, Ms. y/l/n and Mr. Jeon, are not with me. Mr. Jeon could be an asset to the operation because he is not an Auror. If necessary, he can stay in a different apartment than us, but I believe that he is observant enough to keep him around. Additionally, as we are newly engaged, the three of us refuse to be separated.

Please respond post-haste to let us know if you accept our terms. We will continue to work this case until we are told not to.

Kim Taehyung Auror Soon-to-be Husband

You run across the room and hurl your body at Tae’s. He catches you and spins you around. He plants a soft kiss on your mouth and one on your forehead.

“Jungkook, want to go undercover with us for a few weeks?” you ask, still unable to wipe the smile off your face.

He looks from you to Tae quickly. “Seriously?”

You aren’t sure if he’s happy or not from the tone of his response. You let go of Taehyung and stand awkwardly next to him.

“Of course! We’re newly-engaged, we must be together! Plus, that sounds like a blast!”

The three of you embrace each other again, and with a kiss on each of their lips, you know this is the start of a new chapter for you, in both your career and your relationship. You really are growing up.