#kingdom hearts 1 final mix | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taecherries · 4 months ago

Text

the princess bride | jungkook ( 2 )

synopsis. soon to be betrothed to a neighbourhood kingdom, you escape into the woods toward your freedom. there you find your calling in the hold of a dark and troublesome stranger instead.

pairing. jungkook | you + yoongi | you

genre. royal au, angst, smut, fluff

word count. 7.1k

rating. M

warnings. ❗️steamy scene, violence, threats, mention of rape❗️

a/n. chapters will be coming out whenever I'm able to post and they may vary in word count greatly ♡

chapters. 1 × 2 × 3

Freedom didn’t last long.

You managed to hold your own through the night, running and fighting against your dress that stubbornly would entangle in the branches of the tall bushes, draining you throughout. You barely caught on any sleep, trying your best to keep walking and pushing yourself toward your new-found goal—the borders of Keirn’s citadel.

But once the first rays of light greeted you, and the shadows of the night were long gone, even the woods couldn’t protect you from your father’s cunning.

The tall walls surrounding the kingdom seemed tranquil on this side of the border; completely unoccupied saved by the chirping birds that flew by. You had been counting on it since you knew this to be one of Keirn’s blind spots.

You approached the wall carefully, your head paranoidly snapping at any sound. It loomed above you, imposing and seemingly insurmountable. Inhaling deeply you reach for the dagger Yoongi had given you, its weight a comforting reminder of his promise. Holding it tightly, you find a small crevice in the wall, just wide enough for your fingers.

With a deep breath, you begin to climb. The rough stone bites into your hands and feet, but you press on, using the dagger to wedge into cracks for leverage. Each movement is deliberate, your muscles burning with effort. The climb feels endless, but the thought of Yoongi and the freedom that awaits you on the other side keeps you going. You think instead this is just the customary climb toward the tall window of the castle you grew up running from in the middle of the night.

Finally, you reach the top, pausing for a moment to catch your breath and scan the horizon. No movement. The kingdom lays quiet beneath you. You allow yourself to close your eyes even if for an instant, breathing the scent of the pine trees your home is known for, and the faint one of lilies. Arden’s borders are just there, waiting for you.

You open your fingers wide on a lazy morning stretch, and a smile, even if bittersweet, tugs at the corners of your mouth. You did it.

Carefully, you begin your descent on the other side, your grip firm on the dagger.

As your feet touch the ground, you swiftly place the dagger back in the strap around your thigh, relief flooding through you. Even with no belongings besides the dagger, or plans, that is what you feel, relief. You could make a life for yourself in the borders of Arden, you were sure of that.

But the respite is short-lived. Before you can take another step, a group of soldiers emerges from the shadows, their armor glinting menacingly in the early morning light. Leading them is the face of your eldest brother, Seokjin.

You gulp down the tears that threaten to blur your vision. In the space of one single night both of your brothers, the brothers you loved so dearly and thought to have a deep bond with, pierced a sword through your heart.

There is really nothing nor no one that beats the loyalty to your father, the fearsome king of Keirn.

“Y/n,” he calls out, his voice carrying a mix of authority and if you didn’t know better, sorrow. “Did you really think you could neglect your duties?”

Heart pounding, you take a step back, only to feel the cold steel of a blade pressed against your back. One of the soldiers had moved in behind you with lightning speed.

“Seokjin, please,” you plead, your voice trembling. “I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Your brother’s expression softens for a moment, a flicker of something—perhaps regret—crossing his face. But it is gone as quickly as it came. “The King has ordered your return. You know I can’t disobey him.”

You clench your fists, the dagger in its sheath a cruel reminder of your fleeting freedom. Your fingers tap gently the fabric of your dress as you ponder retrieving it and trying to fence your way through. But who are you kidding? Even if great with a blade, and sure you could turn tables with the odds you’re being dealt with, you could never hurt Seokjin.

You love him too greatly to strip the life out of him. And that’s what this situation would come to, as you know his soul well enough to ignore how he would only disobey your father’s orders if death were to fall upon him. “And what about what I want? He’s selling me like cattle!”

Seokjin sighs, stepping closer. “Sometimes, our duty is more important than what we want. Come quietly, Y/n. Don’t make this harder than it has to be…Please.”

The soldiers close in, their grip on your arms unyielding. As they lead you away, your mind races, searching for a way out. You glance back at the wall, the symbol of your almost-achieved freedom, and silently vow that this will not be the end. Yoongi’s promise echoes in your mind, giving you a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.

“I’ll find you,” you whisper to yourself, the resolve in your voice strengthening with each step you take back toward the castle. “No matter what.”

The journey back to the castle was a blur of rough handling and harsh words. Seokjin stayed by your side, his presence both a comfort and a constant reminder of your impending fate. The soldiers led you through the familiar corridors, and though your surroundings felt like home, each step deepened your sense of captivity.

Once inside the walls of your childhood home, you were taken to your chambers. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and rose, but it did nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Servants you barely recognized bustled about, drawing a bath and laying out garments on your bed. The dress chosen for you, which you could pinpoint to be your father’s doing, was beautiful, but it felt like a cage, its silk and lace suffocating you.

You bathed quickly, the warm water doing little to wash away your anxiety. Every moment you spent in the tub, your mind raced with plans and desperate schemes to escape. But when you emerged, the sight of guards posted outside your door and under the tall window sill crushed any fleeting hope. It made you question if all these years going on silent escapades was indeed merit of your skills or just a jest your father allowed.

It made you feel like a farce.

The dress fit perfectly, of course, but it wasn’t yours. Although its silk was made of the softest blue, a color you were peaceful with, you had never worn it. Ever since you were little, you always dallied through bold and sometimes dark colors that enhanced your features. You weren’t made for the delicatessen this soft blue suggested, or better, you weren’t made for the role this color, the color of Ilya, demanded of you.

And so its fabric clung to your body, a constant reminder that even your own appearance was no longer under your control.

Servants that were never appointed to you before tightened the corset, fastened the clasps, and stepped back to admire their work. All the while being silent like stones. You felt like a doll, dressed up for display and to be ignored entirely.

Sat in the comber as the youngest of the maids fight your stubborn hair, you notice through the mirror more guards approach the hallways, blocking every possible exit. Your father had spared no effort in ensuring you had no means of escape.

Your thoughts go to Yoongi and his well-being. You don’t know what happened to him after fleeting his hut, nor do you find yourself brave enough to ask for information seeing that even your greatest confider has betrayed you so easily. So you hold onto the hope of Yoongi having managed to escape if his face not being amidst the guards is of any indication.

You are snapped out of your thoughts as you are dragged through the halls of the palace by a stern-faced soldier instead. He is also the one informing you that you will be having your lunch inside the carriage that will take you to your doom instead of the dining hall, as you protest in his arms.

The words sting, and you can’t suppress a shudder. Not that you would want to see his face at the moment, but your father didn’t even allow you to say goodbye to anyone else who mattered to you. Not to Binna, the cook who had raised you like a mother since you were an infant. Her warm smile and gentle presence had been a constant comfort… How could you imagine life without her and the sticky buns she made every time you were sad?

The thought of leaving without a farewell is not only a bitter pill to swallow but unfathomable.

As you are dragged your feet start caving a ragged track in the rough path of the entrance, you frantically scan the fleet that will escort you to Ilya. You see Seokjin leading it, sitting proudly atop his white stallion. What you don’t see is your own horse, Solas.

“Where’s he, Seokjin?!” you shout exasperated, the hands of the guards tightening around your arms as you mention diverge the path toward your brother. “Where’s Solas?” your throat gets hoarse from the sudden strain.

Seokjin doesn’t spare you a glance. And as he tries so hard to look forward instead of you, the message is clear and is delivered to you like a punch in the gut.

Solas won’t come.

They are forcing you to abandon everything, even the treasured things that could travel with you.

This is a lesson from your father. A way to say from now on you either abide by the rules or you won’t be allowed to have anything at all.

The thought of Solas’ gentle eyes and the way he nuzzled you for treats plague your mind, an invisible hand squeezing at your heart so hard you think you might stop functioning. And in a way, you do.

“Please,” you grab one of the maiden’s hands as you’re about to be pushed into the carriage. “Tell my brother- Tell Taehyung to take care of my horse. Please!”

Taehyung.

It’s only then that you realize you aren’t seeing your younger brother either. You choke on your words, your heart almost coming to a stop.

The pain of not being able to see his face or feel his embrace one last time is almost unbearable. Who knows when or if you will ever get the chance to do so again?

Taehyung had been more than a brother, in ways that Seokjin hadn’t been so; he had been your confidant, your rock, but more than that, the two of you shared a bond that words couldn’t fully capture. From a very young age, you had learned to communicate with just a glance, understanding each other’s thoughts and feelings without a single word. His absence now was a gaping wound in your heart, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever experience that kind of connection again.

You steal one last glance at the castle, hoping against hope that Taehyung might be there, watching from the shadows. But there is nothing, just the cold, impassive stone walls and the unwavering gaze of the guards.

You settle into the plush seat of the carriage deflating, the door closing with a finality that echoed in your soul. The carriage lurches forward, and you feel a heavy weight settle in your chest. Would Taehyung not even attend the wedding? Would you ever find someone who understands you as he did, who could communicate with a mere glance like best friends do?

As the castle fades into the distance, your eyes close, your head rocking with the shake of the carriage. Everyone you love, the life you were building for yourself, and everything that you are is being left behind.

This journey may as well try to break you… But it won’t.

That is your promise to yourself.

You won’t marry the King of Ilya.

You won’t ever not try to escape this fate.

Even if you have to die trying.

Your breath quickens as you find yourself enveloped in Yoongi’s arms. The both of you lie in a secluded glade, the moonlight filtering through the trees, casting a silvery glow over everything.

His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands roam over your body. His lips trailing hot, and tortuous slow kisses along your neck.

“Yoongi,” you call for him like a beacon, your voice trembling with desire. His name is like a prayer on your lips, a plea for more.

He immediately responds with a low, hungry growl, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you momentarily dizzy. Your bodies press together, and you can’t help but claw at his back.

You feel feverish as his hand slides down a sinful path between your breasts, fingers deftly unfastening the laces of your nightgown. You gasp against his mouth as the cool night air brushes against your bare skin, but his warmth quickly replaces it.

His touch is everywhere—tender, demanding, setting you aflame.

You arch into him as he squeezes your inner thigh, your own hands tugging at his hair, exploring the feel of his muscles taut under your touch.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe, your eyes half-closing in ecstasy. Yoongi’s lips curve into a Cheshire cat smile as he obliges, his mouth tracing a path down your collarbone, his hands lifting you higher into his embrace.

You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, feeling the heat and hardness of him through the thin barrier of your clothes. Pushing his hips down with your heel you almost unravel at the sound he makes.

Your head falls back, a moan escaping your own lips as he whispers your name, his voice thick with need. You are lost in the sensation, the world around you fading into nothingness as the both of you move together, driven by mad desire.

But then, something shifts.

The cool night air seems to grow colder, the moonlight dimming. Yoongi’s touch begins to fade, his presence becoming insubstantial.

Panic surges through you as you try to hold onto him, but he is slipping away, his form dissolving into mist.

“No,” you cried out exasperated, your hands grasping at nothingness. The glade around you begins to blur and dissolve, being replaced by the dim, familiar surroundings of the carriage now moving into the night. You are alone inside, sat at an erroneous angle, your body aching with unfulfilled longing.

It was just a dream.

The realization hits you like a splash of cold water, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You adjust yourself as you hear the clip-clop of the horses outside, staring up at the ceiling, your heart pounds in your chest. The vividness of the dream lingers, the sensation of Yoongi’s touch still ghosting over your skin.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the ache of loss settles in. You quickly wipe away the tears, you haven’t allowed anyone the satisfaction of seeing you crumble ever since you left Keirn.

It’s been two days now on the road. Every time you closed your eyes you had seen Yoongi’s eyes staring back at you, felt him, his touch, his kisses.

Every time he is ripped away from you by the cruel reality you swear to yourself this is just a reminder of what you are fighting for.

“No matter what it takes,” you mumble.

Not a second passes before you hear Seokjin’s voice coming from outside, “Y/n? Do you need something?”

During the day and the occasional breaks you take to eat and rest, he has been keeping his distance. Either because that’s the order he received from your father or because he feels guilty about it all, you don’t know. But at night, he always falls back to help guard your carriage, and every time you so much make a movement inside the damned thing he always checks on you.

You sigh, tired of the monumental turn your life made, and consequently your relationship with your elder brother. “No, I’m quite satisfied in my confinement, thank you.”

He says nothing else, and just like the previous night, you find solace instead in the soft melodies the hooves of the horses make against the gravel.

Your heart sank as soon as morning came and you saw yourself passing through the gates of Ilya’s castle. Looking through the small window of the carriage, Ilya’s kingdom revealed a breathtaking view that under different circumstances you would have been captivated by.

The castle’s towering spires seemed to reach toward the sky, adorned with intricate carvings that told tales of a rich and ancient history. Lush gardens surround the structure, filled with soft-colored flowers and meticulously pruned hedges that showcase the kingdom’s prosperity and attention to detail.

Everything seemed to fall into order, even the crystal-clear streams that flowed through the gardens, their gentle babble almost soothing. Almost.

You step out of the carriage once a sea of castle workers line up to greet you. You can’t help but notice every and each of them is impeccably dressed, not a thread out of place or a crooked button in sight. Their eyes to the floor, hands clasped behind their backs, all ready to serve.

Your stomach flips with the sight. Your memories float astray before your eyes. Binna with her apron full of flour, Jina, and Peggy all smiles with shaggy flower crowns on their heads.

Everything feels wrong.

You don’t even notice as Seokjin takes your hand and helps you out of the carriage, entwining your arm around his as he walks you to the front doors.

“Y/n,” he says as his eyes keep focusing forward, his voice tight with urgency. “This will be as far as I’m allowed to go. I’m expected at the front lines…I won’t be able to make it to the wedding.”

Your eyes widen with the news, heart pounding in your chest. “What do you mean front lines? We didn’t declare war on Arden yet and—” you pause as the puzzle pieces all fall in place. Suddenly the rush of your wedding doesn’t feel so strange.

You remember Yoongi commenting on how they weren’t gaining territory over Arden at all, on the contrary, they were rioting and pushing the soldiers back. With this marriage, your father gained the men needed to make a difference on the front lines. They would be attacking soon before the surprise effect lost its spark.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say.

Seokjin comes to a stop and you follow suit. He turns to face you now and you see how his throat bobs. “I’ll do my best out there, so you do your best out here.” he chants something you used to say as kids and you force your jaw shut trying to fight the tears.

He’s going to the front lines.

Suddenly you’re back at being five, finding his already big for his age shoulders to be the only thing you needed to fight your fear of storms. “What if- What if something happens-”

Seokjin doesn’t pull you into a tight embrace like he used to, shielding you from the world. Instead, he flicks your nose, out of custom. Something he only does when you accomplish something that makes him proud. The smile on his face is measured and yet so full of meaning.

His eyes say it all.

“You’ve always been braver than you think. Don’t stop now,” he adds. “We’ll see each other again.”

You don’t have time to react as he turns away, taking long strides toward his horse and away from you.

He is going to the front lines. Your brother is going to war.

Your head starts spiraling again. It’s been an avalanche of farewells, and suddenly, against better judgment, you don’t think you can hold yourself together.

With tears welling up in your eyes, you watch him mount his horse and ride away, followed by his fleet. The sound of hooves echo through the courtyard as a maiden holds you by the arm keeping you from hitting the ground.

Seokjin is headed into the danger of war while you are left to face a different kind of battle.

Each and every attempt of yours to glean information about the King of Ilya, as you hadn’t met him yet, was met with tight-lipped silence. No maiden dared spill anything, not even a description of said man.

Their refusal to answer your questions only heightened your apprehension.

You tried to search your mind after your father’s comments about the other kingdoms and their rulers but came out short-handed. The only thing you managed to remember him saying about Ilya was that its last king had died in an unfortunate altercation and his son took over.

Although sure his son, the new King, was about your age, your heart was already entitled to another.

You did not want this marriage, the alliance, and the burden it came with. Not only because you didn’t even know the King, but mainly because he didn’t know you.

If he did, he would spare the trouble, or at the very least understand you are not the type of woman to sit and be ordered around, and therefore no marriage would happen in the first place.

For the entirety of the day, you were shown around the accommodations. You were fed and bathed, and as soon as the latter activity was over, you were locked inside your pompous excuse of a room in nothing but a nightgown and Yoongi’s silver dagger that you managed to hide like a swindler.

The balcony served you with no comfort. As soon as you stepped foot on it you realized it was too high of a fall for you to even attempt climbing off it. And even if you were desperate enough, which you are, there was no wall close enough, no crevice, to hold on to on your way down.

Or a bed sheet, and even a curtain wide enough to help. You had checked.

The wedding was to be held at night, that much you were told.

And was only when the sky started to get painted a darker blue that the maidens walked into your room once more.

You stood before a large mirror, on top of a small platform, as the girls dressed you in layers of delicate fabrics. You were in shades of yellow and hues of gold from head to toe. Even the jewels were composed of yellow sapphires.

You liked what you saw in the reflection. This color made you feel at home, but as you caught your eyes you saw that they were nothing if not urgent and alert. You didn’t have time to admire the somewhat modern cut of the dress and how it hugged you in every right way, no. This was the only time you had to think about finding a way to escape. To at least postpone the wedding to get to know the castle better, its exits, its people.

One of the maidens tugs at one strand of your hair, trying to secure the last hairpiece. Your eyes fleet to her figure.

The girl didn’t appear much younger than you. Perhaps she was Taehyung’s age, exactly seven months your junior, who knows. She had been quiet just like the others, but her eyes always lingered a bit on yours before aiming for the floor. She didn’t ignore you intently like everyone else.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she works, and suddenly you notice the sapphire hairpiece slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor.

“Forgive me, Princess,” she says, bending down to retrieve the piece. As she does so you notice that she sends an authoritative glance toward the others, and as they exchange glances, they discreetly exit the room.

The inked-haired girl rises to her feet, the sapphire piece in hand, and yours travel instinctively toward your thigh where the dagger is sheathed safely. She accompanies the movement with determined eyes.

“Your Highness, there won’t be a need for that,” she starts and a friendly smile eases her complexions. “I apologize for the startle, but I needed a moment alone with you.”

You eye her with suspicion still, “Go on…”

She takes a deep breath. “We’re not friends or better acquaintances- You don’t even know my name. Yet I can’t help but sympathize with what I see in your eyes.”

You cock your head at that comment. You never bothered with people’s assumptions regarding you, but it didn’t mean you liked it nevertheless. “And that would be…?”

The girl seems unfazed by the gesture, and if she fears the disparity in status, she doesn’t show. Instead, she continues. “I know what it means to love someone and be forced apart. Or at the very least, know the feeling of being imposed with a life you don’t want to yourself. Am I close?”

At the lack of a response on your end, she takes one step closer to you. “I want to help you, your Highness. I can assist you in escaping.”

You swear your heart skips a beat and for a moment you think you are hearing wrong. “Why would you risk such a thing?”

What if this is just a ploy of yet another cunning King?, you think to yourself. Why would a maiden risk her neck to save mine? She doesn’t even know me.

“Because I have someone I love, too,” she confesses, and something in the way she says it gives you a feeling that she for a fact is speaking the truth. “I can’t stand by and watch someone else be denied their happiness. If there’s a chance to reunite you with the one you love, or what you want, I will do everything in my power to help you.”

You always thought of yourself as having a high judgment of character. Never once have you failed to do so, but things lately have turned into a mess.

“I don’t have the means to pay you and if you get caught-”

“We don’t have much time,” the girl interrupts your poor excuses, her voice urgent. “Tonight after the final preparations, I will come for you. Be ready.”

You nod at the warning, dismissing second thoughts as a flicker of hope ignits within you.

The maiden carefully secures the sapphire hairpiece in place, and you stand tall once more facing the mirror.

The girl comes to stand by your side and as your eyes lock in the reflection of the both of you she says in a whisper, “You can call me Hana, your Highness.”

You don’t think you had ever been so nervous in your entire life. Not even when you lied through your teeth that time Taehyung vanished for two days and you covered for him with your ruthless father.

It isn’t an easy feature to put your life in the hands of someone else, especially not blindly.

Hana had left you with the other maidens, claiming she would come for you, but nothing else was said. You didn’t exactly know what would be the plan, you just knew she would come for you.

But as you are escorted to the chapel to bind your life to the King of Ilya in front of his order and his guests, you start doubting if Hana is ever going to show.

You are one step away from the staircase that will lead you to the entrance where the spectacle awaits when said girl carves a path between the guards and maidens to reach you.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, your Highness,” she huffs and two guards come to drag her away.

In sudden fear, you shout at them, “Leave her!” and they do as you command.

Hana straightens her simplistic dress before coming closer to stand in front of your figure. “Will these do, your Highness?” she opens her hands in front of you, head down in a theatrical display for the others, as she shows you the most scintillant sapphire earrings. They are composed of two pieces, one polished yellow stone at the top and another one hanging, only secure by a bird’s claw that tightly embraces it.

It’s beautiful.

Your hand is like a ghost as it touches your ears, unaware they had been bare until now. “Yes, these will do.”

Hana presses down a smile at your astonishment for the piece, and if you were in Keirn, where you had power, you’d be pushing her in a playful jest.

But you are not in Keirn, and you recognize this is the moment she will somehow execute the plan. It has to be.

Your eyes are laser-focused on her as she comes even closer, trying to secure one earring on your ear. You can barely understand as she whispers, “Open your mouth slightly- Not like that. Gentler.”

You do as you’re told, and in a flash, when she swifts her hands to your left ear, something is inside your mouth.

Immediately you close it and your tongue goes out to inspect what appears to be a capsule.

“Once you’re to say your vows, crack the capsule and fall. I need you to appear faint,” she whispers again, stalling the insertion of the earring on your ear as the soldiers start to get agitated.

You search her eyes for more but she only says, “Trust me. Don’t open your eyes until I’m with you and I tell you so. Just play dead.”

And then she steps away, saying loudly, “All done, your Highness!” and you’re back moving toward your doom.

You feel the capsule hidden under your tongue as you start walking down the aisle of the cathedral.

Rows of guests turned to gaze upon you, their eyes filled with curiosity and judgment. The whispers and murmurs seemed to close in around you, but you kept your head high, determined to see through with the plan.

Just play dead, you think, easy enough.

Your dress, the exquisite creation of silk, seemed to shimmer in the soft candlelight, each step causing the delicate fabric that only cinched in your bust and waist to ripple like waves. The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of incense.

Your attention however floated elsewhere as you finally dared to look ahead, your eyes catching the ones of the man you are being sold to.

Standing at the altar, the King of Ilya awaits you dressed in all white, a vision of purity and grace. As you see his honey gold hair cascading around his equally gold crown, you understand the choice of color for your dress.

His features are delicate, almost ethereal, with a softness that belies the power he holds.

Coming closer, almost reaching him, you notice how his plump lips curve into a beautiful smile, one that takes you by surprise. Somehow you’d imagined it to be faker, or filled with ill intentions, but none of that is present.

You see yourself fleetingly wishing that you could have met him under different circumstances. If you were a friendly visitor to Ilya, or perhaps meeting him as a future ally, one that had ascended to the throne of Keirn instead. You would’ve wanted to know him better.

You wondered what kind of person he was beneath the crown, what dreams and fears he harbored.

But those thoughts are quickly overshadowed by the reality of your current situation. As you reach the altar, the King kindly extends a hand to you, his smile never faltering. You accept it, feeling the warmth of his touch, and look deeply into his eyes.

You don’t know if it’s nervousness about what you’re about to do, but you can’t read him.

“My bride,” he says gently, kissing your knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. If you had more time to ponder, you’d risk saying he was finding amusing the way you were analyzing him.

He guides you to stand face-to-face with him, and from between you, you hear the priest proclaim, “Without further ado, we are here today to be testimony of the sacred matrimony between Y/n, previous princess of Keirn, and our beloved King Jimin, ruler of Ilya.”

The whole room filled in with, “All hail King Jimin,” as if it were a prayer.

You take that as your cue to bite the capsule.

The bitter taste of whatever content was inside it makes you pull a face, and as you open your mouth a bit distraught by the liquid now swirling in your tongue, you see droplets of red falling.

King Jimin frowns, scanning your complexion. “My dear, are you feeling under the weather?”

You don’t waste any time before rolling your eyes back and falling heavily onto the ground.

It’s a hard task not to wince at the blow your head suffers once it meets the cold stone beneath you, but it had to look credible. You do your best to look lifeless as you hear Jimin shouting for assistance, kneeling beside you while holding your hand tightly.

Or when the crowd goes into a frenzy when Jimin does the same path you just minutes ago walked, as he bravely carries your limp body to a private room escorted by his royal cavalry.

You keep playing dead even after he gently places you on top of what appears to be a wooden table. “Get me a healer. Now!” he commands frantic.

There’s the clink of steel and then a new pair of footing making noise on the cold stones.

“Your Highness,” it’s Hana’s voice, you believe.

Jimin who was still holding your hand, seemingly guarding you like a lion, places your limb on top of your own belly, softly caressing your temple before walking away.

“Where’s the healer?!” he inquires, closer to losing his temper, if he already hadn’t done so.

“He’s on his way, your Highness,” you now know for certain to be Hana as she says meekly. This must be yet another facade of hers as you can gather by now she is nothing but meek. “I came as the priest ordered me to. Your Highnesses are not yet married to the eyes of the lord, you can’t be alone in a room.”

She waits patiently as you hear Jimin sigh and grunt, pacing in what you can imagine a furious state, contrasting greatly with the image you built of him earlier on the altar.

“I’ll be right outside,” He warns. “Don’t you even dare breathe near her. We don’t know as of yet what this could be, I don’t want…Nothing happening to her. Do you hear me?”

“Of course, your Highness. I’ll stand over here.”

You wait until you hear his footsteps growing further down the hall. And then the wooden door slamming.

You wait as Hana’s feet come closer.

And only when she whispers, “And… Wake!” on your ear do you rise like a ghost.

As you do so, still a bit overwhelmed to have pulled such a display, you’re met with Hana’s smile.

She guides you out of the table and gestures for you to keep quiet, indicating for you to follow her.

You do it readily, watching as she opens a secret doorway hidden behind a tapestry, leading into a dark tunnel.

Both inside it, Hana closes the door behind you, cutting your eyesight completely. In instinct your hands shoot before you, feeling under your fingers the musky stone walls.

“Listen to me closely,” Hana murmurs, and by the proximity of it, she’s standing right to your left. You try to look her way. “Down this tunnel, at the very end of it, you will find a horse strapped in a tree. I packed it with food and some things for your journey,” her speech is rushed, you can sense neither of you has much time.

“This is as far as I can take you,” she says finally.

“Thank you, Hana, truly,” You try to put every sense of gratitude in the small words you can offer. “If we ever cross paths again, I hope we can call each other friends. If not, I’ll carry you with me with the utmost gratitude. I need you to know it.”

You can hear her smiling in the dark, “Go before there’s nothing else to thank me for, Princess, but alas- If it’s not asking much, could you smash my head in the stone in a friendly way? It’s no hard feature, you just have to-”

You chuckle, “I’m well acquainted with that, don’t worry. Just show me where your head is.”

Hana swiftly takes your hand and guides it toward her skull. She then proceeds to get closer to the wall and you tag along to execute the move.

“To make you black out or…?”

“Christ, woman!” she hushes, “No. Just to give me some kind of excuse when the King barges in and finds me alone when I should be looking over the future Queen of Ilya.”

“Oh!” you exhale, wincing at what you’re about to do. It won’t be that hard but it will hurt anyways. “I do this with the utmost gratitude.” You feel the need to add.

“Just do it—!”

You smash her head before she can say anything else, and as you leave her trying to suppress a wave of screams and curses, you do your best to navigate in the dark to the end of the tunnel.

For her.

For Yoongi.

For you.

You found the horse Hana had left you with ease. The white stallion was hard to miss.

Your mind raced as quickly as your heart as you guided the animal toward the dense forest. The night had been pitch black, the canopy of the trees above you blocking out any light from the stars. Navigating your way out of Ilya’s kingdom and toward the borders of Arden was proving to be an arduous task, made all the more difficult by your bold attire.

Your yellow wedding dress, though beautiful, was a cumbersome hindrance in a survival mode meant not for a party. Its skirts tangled in the underbrush and caught on every low branch. It looked like a beacon.

Keeping the mount atop the white beast had been also a struggle, the dress snagging and pulling at you with every movement. But you kept holding on.

You missed Solas. He was not only swift but pitch black as the night itself. Riding him had always been like a thrill, the wind whipping through your hair as you galloped across open fields and dense woods. This poor animal beneath you, that you didn’t even have a name for, by contrast, was a gentle and slower beast. Its white coat was visible even in the peering darkness, its pace frustratingly sedate.

You clung to the reins through the entirety of the night. The adrenaline that had fueled your escape was waning, replaced by exhaustion, a throbbing head, and a lack of sleep.

You hadn’t slept properly in days, and the weight of the past travels pressed heavily on your body. The steady, rhythmic plod of the horse’s hooves was almost lulling, and you found yourself fighting to keep your eyes open as you steered the beast Southwest.

You just have to keep going southwest, all the way. Then Arden will be there, your mind swirled with drowsiness.

Something sharp and unyielding wraps around your waist, yanking you violently from the saddle. You have barely time to gasp before you’re thrown to the ground, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

The horse, startled, rears up and bolts, disappearing into the morning light.

You lie on the forest floor, stunned and disoriented. Your vision is a blur of soft shades of orange and blue, indicating you have indeed snoozed somewhere along the night.

You begin to panic as the throbbing pain oozes off and a stranger points an arrow at your head.

“I wonder what kind of insanity consumed Ilya that now they are letting their Queens go on crusades into the woods alone,” his voice is rough, with a deep undertone that makes your nails claw at the earth beneath you. “Get up. Slowly.”

You take the opportunity to do so, with the dress you are wearing, it’s better if you are on your feet than in full display to your enemy.

Rising to your feet, you take that your foolish and careless act of rendering yourself to sleep awarded you with your captivity. Jimin must have ordered his men to search for you as soon as he saw the empty room, and as you slept through the night, you lost terrain on them.

Idiot. Idiot. idiot!, Guilt gnaws at you.

“You better kill me now,” you say through gritted teeth. “I won’t go back!”

“Kill you?” the strange soldier dares to look amused and a chill climbs down your spine. Oh Gods, he’s going to have his fun with me first, you panic. “Oh no, my Queen. I have better plans,”

“No!” you grunt, fumbling with the silk of your dress to get a hold of your dagger.

“I wasn’t asking.” he exudes confidence in his statement and you feel your blood boil.

He lowers his bow, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he starts taking slow and assured steps toward you.

This is a play for him. He’s having fun.

His eyes are a deep sea of black and he pins you with it, his stare so intense it’s like you’re drowning in tar.

But then they turn round and alert, snapping to look in the direction of a rust of leaves.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, but you can’t take your eyes off him.

In a quick and sudden move, he grabs you by the waist, taking you by surprise at the ease he does it as he rolls the both of you to take refuge at a large trunk of a tree.

Your body is caged between the tree and his own, which feels like warm steel as he presses it further on you. When he covers your mouth with his hand, pinning you with his eyes once more, you notice his cloak.

A brown ragged thing that now serves as a disguise for both of you when he pulls the hood to shield his face. He can’t be a soldier, is the first conclusion you make.

Not one from Ilya.

His nose is so close to yours that it tingles.

And from this close, you can see a deep scar on his tanned cheekbone. You gulp.

“Do not make a sound, Honey,” he whispers, his nose brushing your own.

taglist. @starvvie @kookisoorecs @httpextaevaganza @codeinebelle @ttanniett @hoseoksluv89

*comment down bellow if you want to be part of it ♡

234 notes · View notes

five-and-dimes · 4 months ago

Text

Sunbeam

Part 1 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo Adoptable prompt: Cat Ears

Rating: M

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort

Summary: King of the cow Kingdom, Hob is given a cat person as a warprize, and he'd give him the very sun if he could. But perhaps some sunbeams will be good enough.

Read on AO3

It takes a village to make an au like this- It all started on our fav @gabessquishytum 's blog (specifically these posts), plus a lot of inspo from discord, and Hob's design based on the amazing art of @amielot. Thanks for feeding my obsession with this au, friends! 🤘

~~~

By the time Hob makes it back to his room, finally released from a dull morning council meeting, it is nearly afternoon. And Dream is kneeling on the floor.

It’s been a little over a week since King Hob was gifted the cat person now staying in his private chambers. When Dream had been presented to him, Hob remembers feeling a mix of emotions- rage and sorrow and confusion and offense. The bovine kingdom did not trade in people.

(Not anymore.)

He had wanted to refuse the ‘gift’ out of principle. But he had looked down at the wounded, far too thin creature in front of him and knew immediately that he could not let him go back with his captors. So he had accepted the offering with the minimal amount of politeness to not start a war. He had beckoned the cat to him, and learned that his name was Dream, and that he was too weak to make it up the stairs to Hob’s room. His body was withered and wasted, starved and neglected, even a short walk leaving him panting and shaking. Hob had waved the guards away and lifted him up into his own arms to carry him the rest of the way.

Dream had trembled against him, no matter how Hob tried to reassure him. Part of him still wonders if it was a mistake to bring the poor man into Hob’s own chambers, to lay him on his own soft bed when his fears were so obvious. But Hob could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and scared in some strange room in the palace. In truth, he wanted desperately to care for him himself. Some part of his heart had been given to the cat the moment Hob saw him, and he was determined to see him healed.

The first night was hard, and Dream continued shivering even as he drank from Hob’s chest, falling into a fitful sleep in Hob’s bed after being tugged away guiltily to ensure he didn’t make himself sick drinking too much too fast. In the days since, Hob has left him in his room as he went about his business throughout the day, returning to check on him and feed him, and always finding him in the exact spot on the bed where he left him. Until today.

It had been raining for much of the week, but today the sun was streaming through the open windows, the light falling vibrantly across the floor in the center of the bedroom. Dream was crouched at the edge of the thick rug placed beneath the bed, reaching one long arm out to dip just the very tips of his fingers into the light, his face full of equal parts longing and trepidation.

It is a look Hob remembers on his own face when he was a young calf, sneaking into his mother’s study and standing on the tips of his hooves to admire her golden collar and bell. He would tap it, giggling at the heavy chime, feeling mischievous as he imagined a day in the future when the beautiful adornment would be passed on to him. He also recalls getting caught, his mother admonishing him sternly yet fondly, and the way he never once felt fear of her.

He put his grimly little child’s hands all over literal gold, and he never felt anywhere near the blatant terror he sees now on Dream’s face at being caught reaching for a sunbeam.

“I apologize, my lord,” Dream scrambled frantically back onto the bed, folding his limbs to kneel and forcing his hands to release his robe, laying them in his lap meekly. It broke Hob’s heart every time, the way he so clearly wanted to hold the robe closed around his body and just as clearly expected it to be torn away from him.

He had been given to Hob naked.

The robe he wore now was meant for a calf, too short and too wide and still the best fit they could find for the cat until the tailors finished the custom robe they were working on. Dream had been near tears when he was presented with something to cover himself, bowing his head and offering anything and everything of himself in thanks. So grateful. All for a robe that didn’t even fit.

Hob approached the bed slowly, smiling gently even when he wanted to cry for the poor creature, “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Dream shivered, keeping his gaze downcast, “I should not have moved without your permission, master.”

Hob flinched at the title. As king he was accustomed to being referred to as lord and sire and majesty- it was only appropriate, and he did expect to be given the respect due his station. But he was no one’s master.

Right now though, he had to choose his battles. “You are free to move about the room, Dream,” it was true that Dream clearly needed rest, but his heart ached to think of Dream sitting stiffly wherever Hob ‘put him’. He turned and gestured at the sunlit spot, “You may even move some of the pillows or blankets from the bed, should you wish to lay in the sun.”

Dream looks horrified at the very idea, ears pinned back in fear, “I would never, sire,” his voice nearly pleading for Hob to believe him, as though he is being tested.

Hob feels his own ears droop, before straightening with resolve. He keeps his motions clear, walking to the bed to gather an armful of pillows. Dream keeps his head down, but his eyes follow Hob’s movements as he begins arranging the pillows on the floor where the sunlight is hitting. He adds a few blankets to the pile too, until he has a little nest in the middle of the room, soft and sunlit.

Dream still hasn’t moved.

“Come here, Love,” Hob keeps his voice soft and soothing, but Dream still tenses when Hob scoops him up into his arms easily, so frighteningly light, “You must be hungry. Breakfast feels like ages ago.”

As much as Hob wishes he could sustain Dream with his milk alone, they had begun introducing some light foods- small morsels of fish, and select vegetables that the royal librarian deemed safe for cat people- into his breakfast and dinner. In between though, Hob fed him himself. Hob was used to being responsible for an entire kingdom, to making decisions that were far and long lasting and praying that he might make his country even a little bit better each day. And he was proud of his position, he would not trade it for anything. But there was something so special about being able to hold this one person in his arms and see the good he was doing.

It still took some encouragement. As he settles into the nest, leaning back against the pillows and facing the window so that Dream can sit in his lap in the direct sunlight, Dream is still tense and trembling. Hob shushes him gently, slipping his shirt over his head before placing one hand at the back of Dream’s head to guide him to his chest. He remembers how confused Dream had been the first night when Hob had fed him, opening his mouth wide like he might for a different part of Hob’s body, unsure of what was expected of him. He had allowed himself to be maneuvered without any resistance until Hob was finally able to get a few drops of milk onto his tongue. He had watched as Dream’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating as he licked his lips in something like disbelief.

After that it was a little easier. He is still nervous and hesitant, but Hob is able to press his mouth to his nipple and say, “Drink,” softly, more of a request than an order even if Dream does not yet recognize it as such. Hob shivers at the sensation as Dream begins to suckle, biting his lip to hold back a groan. He turns his gaze up to the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensation. Dream shifts in his lap and Hob has to mentally recite every trade detail he’d been given at his morning meeting in order to restrain himself from moving his hips.

The first night, Dream had looked so resigned when he finally noticed the hard prick in the lap he was sitting on. Hob had just pushed him back, not wanting him to throw up what was most likely the first substantial meal he’d had in who knows how long. He had looked so sorrowful, gazing longingly at Hob’s chest, and then he leaned back and gasped, Hob’s cock hard and hot against his hip.

He had seemed to wilt, any relaxation Hob had coaxed from feeding him vanished, and he spoke like he was reciting a script, “How shall I repay you, master?”

Hob had felt his blood run cold at the title, “There is nothing to repay, sweet one,” he promised, his smile more of a grimace. Dream had stared at him in blatant disbelief, and as much as Hob wanted to keep holding him, he knew his body’s response was not helping the situation. So he had moved Dream off his lap, tucked him under the bed covers to sleep off his meal, and then gone and taken a long bath to take care of the problem.

It is a routine he has kept ever since. Dream no longer asks what Hob wants in return, though he still looks at him expectantly, and Hob smiles and pets him and then excuses himself to the bath to spend as much time as he needs pleasuring himself. And if he spends that time imagining the soft pads of Dream’s hands, or his sandpaper tongue, or the few glimpses he’s gotten of Dream’s enticingly barbed cock, well, no one needs to know.

Glancing back down at the cat in his arms, Hob is drawn now to Dream’s ears. His own are soft, yes, but they are also thick and sturdy. Dream’s are so thin. Even with the blackness of his fur, the sun seems to shine through at the very tips, a soft glowing pink with little veins just barely visible. Almost without thinking, Hob moves the hand on the back of Dream’s head to lightly grip one ear between his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Dream startles, a frightened chirp escaping him as he releases Hob’s teat.

“Shhh,” Hob soothes, nudging Dream back towards his nipple, “It’s alright, you can have some more.” He has to be careful not to let Dream make himself sick, he had been warned by the palace physician what to look out for, but they were nowhere near that point yet. Dream shyly begins suckling again, eyes glancing up at Hob through his eyelashes for approval. “Good boy,” Hob praises, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut, relaxing minutely.

In his hand, he runs his thumb across Dream’s ear. So soft, so delicate and paper thin. He feels a strange compulsion to put it in his mouth. Not to bite, like he did with his playmates growing up- Dream feels too frail for that sort of roughhousing, and Hob does not ever want to hurt him.

No, he wants to hold his silky ear in his mouth like a delicacy, wants to lick and suck at it as gently as Dream does to his teat until the gossamer fur is wet and warm from his tongue.

For now, he settles for simply rubbing the skin between his fingers, stroking the velvet softness in a feeble attempt to distract himself from his own lust. Eventually, too soon for his or Dream’s liking but in accordance with the doctor, Hob must gently push Dream away, his chest feeling emptier and yet still too full. All he wants is to feed Dream until he is fully sated. It hurts that, for now, he cannot.

Dream has become more accustomed to the routine, and so his whimper is nearly inaudible when leans back in Hob’s lap. Hob can feel the way his ears go from lax contentment to physically pressed down, tense and flat against his head. Or trying to be, at least, in the case of the ear still in Hob’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Hob coos, “I know you want more, just have to wait a couple hours, Love.”

“You have been more than generous, master,” Dream replied shakily, and Hob suddenly realizes that he does not want to run away to sequester himself in the baths.

At the moment, his body is not betraying him, at least not so much that his robes do not hide it. And so he shushes Dream again and turns him in his lap, easy as a doll, until they are both facing the window. He nestles Dream between his thighs, bracketing him between thick, warm fur and tugging him to lean back against the softness of his belly. He feels Dream’s breath hitch as he brings his free hand around to rest softly on the subtle swell of his stomach.

“Relax,” Hob whispered, one hand on his ear while the other rubbed his stomach soothingly, helping encourage his starved body to digest the meal it’s been given, “Just relax.”

As he strokes Dream’s trembling belly and pets his ear, Hob cannot help but tilt his face into the sun. He thinks perhaps he has taken this warmth and light for granted. How many times has he awoken and scowled at the light streaming across his bed? How often has he walked past these sunbeams, stepped across the warm fibers of his extravagant rug, and not even spared them a glance? Now, feeling his body warm- feeling Dream’s body warm- in the glowing light, he feels a pang of regret that he has not appreciated this simple pleasure before.

Well, he is appreciating it now. He smiles to himself as he feels Dream slowly relax under his ministrations, body melting back against him and sinking into Hob’s abundant, pillowy flesh. Hob thinks that if he could, he would keep Dream here, surrounded by his body, soft and warm, forever.

Maybe he can’t hold him forever, but he can hold him now. And maybe it is too soon to mouth at Dream’s silky ears and press his tongue to them like a salt lick, but he allows himself to press a fleeting kiss to the one in his hand.

Dream doesn’t flinch. And that is more than enough for now.

#the sanmdan #dreamling #my writing #cw lactation #cw warprize #warprize au #cat!Dream #cow!Hob #my art

153 notes · View notes

fumifooms · 7 months ago

Note

hey i have a lore discussion for ya. so. basilisk chapter: laios is like 'wow monsters that are a mix of multiple animals are so cool! i used to have this fake monster that had all these cool attributes. but i've realized now that i'm older that it's better if a chimera only has two or three animals, instead of a bunch.' however, the Ultimate Monster has about 12 animals in it. and because chilchuck says 'i thought he grew out of this', it's clearly not a continuity error. 1/2

So. Do you think this Ultimate Monster transformation was influenced by the Winged Lion, and it's evidence that the Winged Lion was specifically preying on the fantasies of laios when he was a kid dreaming about being a monster? i've never seen anyone talk about how odd it is that despite laios saying 'chimeras are better if it's just one or two monsters', he still likes his Ultimate Monster design, and even adds the third head to it during the story. 2/2

You’re right that this is a layered topic, but no I don’t think it’s a fantasy he only had as a kid that the WL had to dig for. Below we have a EverydayHeroes Scans glossary page plus the final chimera sketch. As you said, the third head is added during the story. "That scylla sure was cool, let’s add a wolf head in there." Something which he has to note down before going to fight the Winged Lion.

Notice the emphasis on "cool". I think the familiar chapter is the other major relevant bit for this plot thread. It shows us with no ambiguity that Laios does care about aesthetics. It shows us that he can build a monster through logic and be reasonable about it, but he’s also not immune from getting carried away.

Ultimately, it’s still Marcille who builds the perfect familiar that succeeds for the situation, and Laios undermines it for its looks before seeing it in action. Marcille here ALSO mentions how he ‘should have grown out of this phase’.

So yes I mean, I think it’s clear that Laios’ fantasy is a fantasy, it’s not rational or logical or even something good that would work out, and even he knows that. Kind of like how when the winged lion showed him visions of a golden kingdom he reigned over during the succubus-induced dream he ended up saying "yeah… Things wouldn’t be so simple". The winged lion draws from deep seated desires, wether or not the person knows it’s stupid or that they shouldn’t, morally or otherwise, doesn’t matter. The winged lion is brute forcing through enticement for them to cave in. I don’t think Laios thinks becoming a monster would be all that he’s hoped for rationally, especially after seeing the whole chimera Falin situation. It’s like people irl saying they’d like to be a housecat and lounge all day; it’s a fantasy but not something that would really work out, as most people can acknowledge while nevertheless still keeping that pleasant daydream. The winged lion calls it out too! "If you’d wanted to be another kind of monster instead of animal, you’d be invincible right now". His preference for chimeras itself is a matter of taste and not practicality. It’s not well thought out, it’s a craving. Laios wanting to be a chimera is a soup mix of comfort fantasy and childhood coping mechanism and special interest hobby and idealization, and more.

And!!! That’s the point! What saves the world, how Laios saves the world, isn’t a flawless plan! What saves the world is Laios’ most authentic most flawedly human desires, ones he couldn’t control or repress. It’s the weird interest that everyone shamed and denigrated, his uniqueness and feeling of disconnect towards humans, that ultimately saves humanity. Because he genuinely desired becoming a monster, genuinely had that hungry curious nature in the deepest corner of his soul.

The Winged Lion doesn’t work through thoughts and the brain but through wants that are more primal, in your guts, in your heart. It doesn’t seek to checkmate you through logic, it wants you to surrender yourself willingly through manipulating your wants, your weaknesses, your emotions.

It’s like Laios’ curse at the end too, and even the succubus. If Laios were to rationally go through these desires-based trials, it’d reflect his actual wants, instead of just desires and cravings: the curse would have been that Falin can’t be revived, and his most alluring form would have been Falin safe. Dunmeshi in this way is kind of about the struggle of rising above our animality and these deep seated desires that go against productivity and what we actually want, like say, always feeling physically hungry even if you’ve eaten more than enough and knowing you should stop there. Like, it’s why we’re talking about allure and enticement.

Like aughhhh!! Why Laios got to eat desires is because he genuinely wanted to see how it tasted so bad, it wouldn’t have been granted by the lion if it wasn’t something he truly desired, like <3 it’s not something he could have simply strategized he needed to genuinely want it. It wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t plan A or B or C.

Laios my favorite fucked up cinnamon roll who saves the world through his authentic selfish desires

But no I don’t think Winged Lion was preying on his kid fantasies as much as like. The remnants of it that are still there and repressed in him. Kinda like how Marcille’s desire is also about childhood trauma, but if it’d been processed better it might have been different. I do feel like irl we carry a lot of stuff with us that was shaped in our childhoods, often some level of unhealthy and irrational that we have to kinda work through and be like ok that’s enough of that let’s be serious now. And yeah! Yeah. You’re very right that his chimera is strongly associated with his childhood desires though. It’s just that these desires really do stick, and sometimes they can overtake logic, wether or not you’re an adult and wether or not you have a demon on your shoulder telling you to let yourself be tempted.

So yes! Laios knows that a chimera with fewer animals is logically better, but a True Heart’s Desire isn’t always rational or good and his heart yearns for the Rule of Cool.

It’s, again, like the succubi! Laios is interesting for this because the thing with succubi is that they freeze people: they make the prey freeze and not want to resist/run away, but they don’t make it reciprocate either. They don’t- they don’t usually have to reason with them and be like "no i swear we’re totally real <3". Like no one in the party thinks there’s any chance of hot naked blonde women, general Hareus or Izu’s mom actually walking out of the darkness in the dungeon, especially since they were already on guard and knew succubi were going to attack. But with Laios it was more complex than that. And I think it’s way less "oh haha yeah what you’re saying makes so much sense" and more "I want to believe this is real so for a lack of a better reaction I’m just going to not do anything, maybe just maybe it might be". Again it’s enticement, it appeals to your desires. Again it doesn’t operate on a rational level, and that makes sense because the succubi are monsters who seek to trigger your fight or flight or freeze instinct and make it land on freeze; it doesn’t operate on a rational level but a deep seated one that seeks to shortcircuit logic and better instincts. And part of that was Laios’ succubus going "oh your party members have 4 heads each!!!! Ain’t that cool!!!" like, his desire for chimeras and many headed monsters is so not rooted on a logical level.

It’s a silly fantasy. He thinks several heads are cool and he wants them, like the familiar he makes with Marcille. He chooses aesthetic over practicality becahse he wants to try and believe it’ll work out so bad, and truly I can’t blame him.

#Dungeon meshi #spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Laios touden #meta #More stuff i’m gonna talk about in the marcille & chil’s arc analysis gdbdggd. Ideals vs wants vs desires. It’s getting convoluted over her #Ask #sorry everyone who sent an ask i’ll get to you i just needed an easy win today #I have more analyses on the succubi and the importance and meaningfulness of monsters for Laios if you dig around my blog #Ahh this is a post where the image composition gets messed up for no reason I see. Sorry can’t do anything about it it’ll stay long af #Analysis

88 notes · View notes

monimccoythings · 2 years ago

Text

Tiny and cute!

Here I come with a new one! Thanks to all the shitposts that give me life and inspiration to write this! I think this might be the last one I write of this series for now, because I’m literally out of ideas lol. But it has been really really fun. I really enjoyed it. But don’t worry, I’ll keep posting if I get more ideas.

Ayyy lmao when I get a better quality of the angery boi in a pickle jar I update it. This contains spoilers!!! If you haven’t watched the movie yet, go and watch it now! It’s worth it!

Previous parts: 1 and 2

Next parts: 4 and 5

tags: @loveforfandomsstuff @harpy-space

After so many tiring weeks working your ass off for the minimum wage, you finally got a very well deserved vacation. Which you were totally planning to spend with your friends and your little pal.

He was such a grumpy pants, he cussed you whenever you came close, but deep down inside his little black heart you knew he craved the attention. If only he didn’t try to bite your fingers with his hampter teef.

So, you, Peach, Mario, Luigi and Toad set off on a journey to the Kong Kingdom, a tropical paradise, for a week of unashamedly lazing off. Since nobody trusted Bowser to be left on his own without causing a ruckus (throwing the piano over and over again against the bars of the cage), you so kindly offered to bring him along in a pet carrier. Oh he was big mad now.

Didn’t help that you kept feeding him apple slices through the bars saying “does the Big Boy want his appy slices?” and it certainly didn’t help either that the Big Boy really wanted his appy slices. To make up for the embarrasment, maybe you’d let him take a sip of your Caipiranha plant cocktail.

The Kong Kingdom was something you wouldn’t have even imagined in a thousand years, and you came from the Mushroom Kingdom. Throw tropical paradise, with Aztec aesthetic and Nash Car in a blender, mix it, and that’s what you get.

One of the Kongs kindly took you all to your huts and very wisely ignored all the Traffic regulations and laws of safe driving, which moved you so much, you spent the entire journey with tears in your eyes and your mouth open in a never ending scream of pure terror. Yeah, next time you were walking.

One of the most peculiar traditions of the Kongs that you experienced there was some kind of tournament in a stage that was literally floating on air. You had to say it was a bit awkward when the kinda handsome? and cocky prince of the Kongs invited you all over to ‘smash’. Oh well, it would be way too difficult and weird to explain it to them anyways, and quoting Mario, ‘that was a pipe that wasn’t worth exploring’.

The tournament was like watching a real gladiator battle, but the gladiators had superpowers, and they were monkeys. Of course DK won, since, until Mario, he was the undefeated champion. He was a show off, you were truly impressed and cheering for him. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. And a loud thump was heard from inside the carrier. Awww, potato man didn’t want anybody else catching your attention. That was so sweet of him, actually.

The truth was, that despite this being a bit of a holiday, the real reason you all were there was because the turtle had to answer for his crimes against the Kong Kingdom. Godzilla v. Kong. It was jury duty for your friends, yaaayy.

Apparently Bowser didn’t get the memo. He was absolutely angery, screaming, raging, fighting. There was no way to handle him. To try an coerce him out of the carrier and into a proper cage was a task no Kong was patient enough to endure.

Would have it been easier to handle if he had remained in his temporary enclosure? Yeah, it would, but Kongs were monkeys with deeply rooted traditions, and if the teeny mutant ninja toitle had to be in a cage on the witness stand, then he would be in it, conscious or not. Looks like they had very little regard for the rules of the courtroom, but he had tried to kill them, so they were even.

Nobody took into account the possibility that he would manage to break free and make a run for the entrance. Tbh, it was kinda sad to watch him give the effort of his life trying to get to a door that was like ten feet away from where you all were. Still, no Kong was able to lay a hand on him, given how slow he was and how eager he seemed in getting hit, it was as if they were avoiding him on purpose. Peach would later explain you that given the nature of the power up, if he got hit in any way the mushroom would loose its effect and would turn him back to his original size, which was a big nope.

While the jury was debating wheter let him enjoy what little freedom he would have before he was tricked back into the pet carrier or just pick him and finish it, you had a moment of enlightment. That was it, the moment you had been waiting for for the last months, what you had unconsciously been training for your entire life. This was your moment to shine, your moment to be the hero, your moment to-

“Look at you so tiny and cute!” You gushed, picking him up, mindful of the spikes in his shell. He wiggled, trying to be set free and demanding you to put him down that instant or throw him as hard as you could against the wall. But the only thing you wanted to do was...

* smooch * You kissed the tip of his nose. You had been wanting to boop it since day one, and its scales were as soft as you had imagined. Your life dream had been achieved.

Bowser went very still in your hold. His eyes were wide and his pupils had shrunk with shock. The Kongs looked horrified at you so casually holding a narcissistic and psychotic tyrant like a pet, Peach was awkardly smiling at the eldest Kong, Cranky, while Mario and DK were trying as hard as they could to not burst out laughing. Luigi quietly snapped a pic and quickly hid the phone in his overalls, when the guards shot him dirty looks.

It were a couple of uncomfortable minutes that felt like years for all of you, until someone decided to clear their throat, snapping all out of their stupor. Bowser was still frozen so putting him inside the cage was easy. And so, the trial went on without any more disturbances. Whetever the sentence was, he didn’t hear it, nor did he care. Because his mind was occupied by something else. The kiss.

BONUS SCENE

You didn’t know how it had all started but suddenly there was a loud explosion and the entire castle was on flames. Tumbling, you made your way through a bunch of screaming toads towards the source of the blast. Because you perfectly knew where it had started.

The thick smoke made your eyes watery and you blinked several times, trying to clear your vision through the tears. You coughed several times, your lungs ached and you felt like you were going to pass out at any given moment. But you had to keep going fowards, make sure everyone got out safe. And by everyone you meant every single one of the creatures inhabiting this castle.

Finally, you reached the giantic doors. Exhausted, you tripped and desperately clinged onto the golden knobs, burnng your palms in the process due to the overheated metal. Thankfully, your weight was enough to pull the doorknob and push the door open.

You fell against the cracked marble floor, the only things in front of you were the dark columns of smoke that clouded your vision and the burning roar of the flames in your ears. Until, you saw it.

A gigantic dark shadow with glowing red eyes pulled out from the darkest of nightmarish Hells. The eyes burned with a flaming passion and seemed to be piercing your soul. For the first time in a long time, you felt true fear running through your veins. Still, you were too stunned to move.

A low rumble came out of that disturbing sight. It started to approach you, with every step it took the ground shook, and the less time you had to make a run for it. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought that were you brave enough to run, this monster would catch you in a matter of seconds despite its size.

A sob got caught in your throat when the smoke cleared and you got to see the owner of those eyes.

Your little fella. Your beloved tiny musical tot that played piano. Literally everyone’s warnings against him suddenly came to mind. He was not so little now.

Bowser extended one hulking arm, and with one of his meaty fingers, he dragged a claw through your collarbone without breaking the skin, like some twisted version of a caress. He let out a low purr, certainly deepest than it had sounded merely days ago. “Look at you...So tiny and cute...”

#bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser x you #super mario movie x reader #mario movie x reader #Bowser #y/n #mario movie #x reader

783 notes · View notes