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periminkle · 4 years

Text

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.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts au #bangtanscenery #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #cypherwritersnet #bangtanhq

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kpopfromtheblock · 4 years

Text

a/n ⇾ i’m so late but better late than never i always say lmao… this is like partially edited, i’m sorry y’all… i’m so tired, i’ll re-read and fix the mistakes i’ve made later on. thank you all so much for your patience and support. i hope you enjoy part one of LWB 010!

for reference,*this* is what i imagine the villa to look like in this story (the photos of the air b & b do not belong to me. the only reason why i’m adding the link is because i’m terrible at descriptions and want the readers to have a good visual of their settings). also, any text that is shown in ‘Bold/Italics’ throughout the story will represent Y/n’s thoughts.

LIFE WITH BANGTAN | ot7

010

genre ⇾ mature content (swearing, smut is implied), fluff, comedy

pairing ⇾ bts x fem reader, ot7 x fem reader

summary ⇾ two years spent together surely calls for a celebration right? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. the boys whisk you away to paradise for the week to celebrate your anniversary!

warning ⇾ talks of kidnapping and murder, slow burn, mature content (the reader and namjoon get a little frisky but no sex… at least not in part one), dirty talk, talks of fellatio and cunnilingus — usual warnings: cringy-ness, swearing

words ⇾ 6,3k

. * 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . * ⁺ ⁺

“No way.” You mumble to yourself as the car you’re in pulls up to one of the largest villas you’ve ever seen. Just from looking at the exterior of this place, you can tell that it was expensive. This couldn’t possibly be the place the boys had rented out for your vacation. There’s no way. This was way too much for just the eight of you and you were only staying for ten days.

“Um, excuse me sir?” You call out to the driver, whose name you had quickly forgotten within the two hour ride from the airport to this castle you’re currently in front of. “Yes Miss?” He answers politely whilst unbuckling his seat belt. “Are you sure this is the right place?” You question, voice riddled with uncertainty. “Of course Miss. This is the address I was instructed to take you to. Please stay seated, I will get the door.” His accent is thick but you are able to make out every word he says.

You enjoy the way the words sound rolling off of his tongue. It’s quite pleasant to hear.

“But this-“ You’re unable to protest because the driver eagerly gets out of the car, jogging around to the opposite side to unlock the backseat door. As soon as the door opens, the extremely hot weather hits you. You had no idea Paris got this hot in the summer time.

You hesitate getting out of the car as it is still cool from the air condition that was just on.

You definitely regret a black hoodie with matching black leggings now…

“Please step out miss,” The driver says with a kind smile. You know that’s just the professional way to say ‘Get the fuck out of my car.’ — so you do, not wanting to hold the man up any longer.

He probably has other people to pick up or maybe you were his last ride and he wanted to get home and retire for the evening, get home to his family... Whatever the case was, you finally decide to step out the car, feet hitting the concrete and the warm weather kisses your face. You instantly hate the feeling. You do enjoy summer, but not when it’s this hot.

“I will get your bags Miss.” You nod and turn to look around.

The place is extremely beautiful from what you can see outside. It’s rustically designed, with bricks, stone and wood. The path leading up to the house is all cobblestones… There’s no way you’d be able to get away with walking around in heels without busting your ass in process.

There is a large archway, made completely of stone. You assume that is where the entrance is.

You pull out your phone and quickly unlock it then go into your contacts... For a few seconds you’re not sure who you should call but then you decide it’d be best to call Taehyung as he is probably the one who picked out this villa… It pretty much has his name written all over it.

The phone rings two times before you hear the base of his sweet voice flow through your ears.

“Hi Darling, have you reached?”

“Kim Taehyung, I’m gonna murder you and the others.” You say, somewhat jokingly.

“Why? What’s wrong? Is everything okay with the house?” He asks you a hundred questions at once. You take few seconds to process everything before responding to him. “Everything is perfect...” You start as you watch the kind man take your duffle bag out and put it on top of your suitcase. He rolls the two up the pathway until he is disappearing behind the stone arch…

You are afraid to move from beside the car, just incase you are in fact, at the wrong place and have to make a quick exit before the owner of the property comes out with a blowtorch to light your ass up for trespassing.

“That’s the not problem.” You continue, there’s a pause on the other end. Tae is waiting for an explanation.

“What’s wrong Y/N? I’m starting to get worried.” Tae says after a few seconds of silence. You suddenly feel bad for making him concerned but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that the boys went out of their way to get a place this fancy for your anniversary.

“This place is way too big and expensive... You guys didn’t have to do this.”

Tae chuckles and shakes his head as if you could see him. “I know we didn’t have to but how often do the eight of us get to go on vacation together?”

He did have a point. You’ve known the boys for five years and have been dating them for two and in those two years of dating, the eight of you have never gotten a chance to go on a vacation without work being involved.

“I guess you’re right.” You start. “But still, isn’t this place a bit too much for the eight of us?”

“I personally think it’s not enough but Hyung wouldn’t let us rent the bigger villa a few blocks down.” Tae sighs and you have to chuckle at him. Tae is definitely Prince High in the land of Maintenance and he has the right to be. He’s extremely humble and has worked hard for everything he has, alongside his members. He deserve to enjoy the finer things in life and if that means spending a large sum of money on a vacation villa for eight then why the fuck not right?

“Okay Miss, you’re all set.” Your driver says as he jogs back over to meet you. “Thank you so much.” You smiled brightly at him. “What time does your flight get into tomorrow?” You ask Tae whilst pressing your phone between your ear and shoulder so that you can rummage through the bag that is draped across your body.

The boys had to take a flight a day later than you as they had a few things to finish up before getting to officially rest. You’d be missing a day with them but you figured you could use that time alone to do a little bit of self care and pampering or maybe a little bit of sightseeing.

“Our flight lands around noon so we should get to the villa around one or two pm.” Taehyung informs you as you pull your wallet out. You hum in response. “Sounds good. I can’t wait for you guys to get here.” You tell Tae as you take the crisp note out of your wallet and hand it over to the driver.

You’re happy that you remembered to convert your dollars into euros before leaving the airport.

The man before you smiles kindly and thanks you before heading back to his vehicle.

“I’m excited too darling,” Taehyung informs you, you can tell by the sound of his voice that there is a smile present on his face and that makes a smile form on your own. You go down the cobblestone path to your new home for the next ten days. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you get closer to the entrance of the villa. You’re relieved to be away from the sun and under the shade of the stone archway.

“Whoa” You mumble to yourself when you see the large glass door and the neon red ‘Exit’ sign beside it.

“I gotta getting going babe. The boys are waiting for me in rehearsal… We’ll call you later” Tae’s voice rings in your ear.

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too baby. Talk to you later.”

“Okay.” And with that you pull the phone away from your ear and end the call with Tae. Phone still in hand, you swipe your finger across the screen a few times to get to the massage app. Opening the group chat you have with the boys, you scroll up just a bit to find the access pin to get into the villa.

Once you find it, you take a few steps up to the door and tap on the key pad. It beeps to life and you slowly type in the pin, not wanting to mess up. The key pad light up a neon green, indicating that you put in the correct code. You grab hold of the handle and twist it before pushing the door open. “Oh my god,” Leaves your mouth in a soft gasps as you see the interior of the beautiful home. If you thought outside was gorgeous, inside takes the cake.

Your place would look like a freaking shoe box compared to this.

You close the front door and take off your bag and the hoodie you’re wearing. The cool breeze from the air condition meets your warm skin and you are incredibly thankful to the owner for leaving the AC on.

You decide to take a few minutes exploring the house. Upon entering the house, you are in the living room which is surrounded by stone walls and archways, just like outside. The brown leather furniture compliments the grey tone of the the walls. Walking further into the house, you step into the kitchen. It’s an open space, with a large window and a rustic wooden table in the center. Moving on, theres a common area with a large cherry wood piano taking up space in the corner. The wall across from the piano has a huge ceiling to floor photo of some musician you’ve never heard of.

Exploring more of the house, you discover that there is a second living room complete with a huge ass fire place and massive tv, a dining room that seats eight, five bedrooms and five full bathrooms. There’s a recreational area outside complete with a grill, benches and a huge pool. A second recreational area complete with a pool table and to top it all off, a gorgeous cement spiral staircase leading up to the second floor.

“This place is a fucking dream.” You think out loud, shaking your head is disbelief. You can’t even imagine how many numbers are on the price tag for a place like this. You don’t even want to think about how much money the boys spent to book it…

Going back to the front door, you grab your suitcase and pull it down the hall towards the bedrooms. There are three of them upstairs and two on the second floor. You’re sure you’ll be room hopping or maybe even sharing one room with all the guys so it doesn’t really matter what room you’re in but you do need somewhere to keep your things while you’re there… So, you go for the first room you see. It’s just as gorgeous as the rest of the house and maybe a little smaller than some of the other rooms in the villa but you don’t mind… It’s designed with stone walls, just like the living room, a queen sized bed facing a HUGE window that basically takes up the entire wall. Theres a small circular table and chair placed snuggly in the corner and a few pieces of artwork on the wall.

It’s perfect for you.

You pull your suitcase into the room and lay it flat on the floor. Pulling your phone out your back pocket, you sit on the floor with crossed legs. Opening up the camera on your phone, you decided to take a quick selfie.

You hold the camera up and stretch your hand out to get the perfect angle for the photo. You don’t look your best after a day full of traveling but you smile anyways. Eyes scrunched closed and two fingers up in a peace sign up, you snapped the picture. You don’t even take a second look at it before going into the family group chat. You select the photo then type out a message under it before hitting send.

From You

1 Attachment

hiiiii, not sure if Tae told the rest of you but i made it to the villa! its absolutely gorgeous and i can’t wait for you all to get here 🥺 love y’all!

After the message has been delivered, you start unpacking. First you pull out all your skincare, beauty and body products so that you can bring them into the bathroom. Next you take out all the little dresses and flowy tops you brought with you to hang in the closet. You take out your hats and accessories and neatly arrange them on the little table in the corner. Last is your shoes. A lot of sneakers and flat sandals because comfort is key and a few pairs of your favorite heels that go with everything. You line your shoes up against the wall in the closet. There’s no dresser in the room so you decide to keep your socks and undergarments in the suitcase before pulling your suitcase into the closet so that it is out of the way.

When you’re done with unpacking, you go into the bathroom to take a shower. You need to wash your hair and wash the flight off of you.

Stepping into the large shower, you immediately sigh when the water hits you. You start by washing your hair, taking time to let the soap lather up and seep into your roots. You could almost fall asleep from how good your fingers feel massaging your scalp.

When you’re done with your hair, you move on to washing your body. You let the warm water smooth your aching muscles. It takes you a total of thirty minutes to finish up your shower.

You push open the shower door and grab the nearest towel off the shelf. You quickly shake the cloth through your damp hair before tossing it in the hamper. You then decide to work on your skincare. That routine takes you about fifteen minutes. That’s enough time for your body to air dry because you are too lazy to pat yourself dry with a towel.

In the middle of the last step of your skincare regimen, you hear what sounds like the doorbell ring. The sound startles you, causing you to yelp. “What the fuck?” You think out loud. It rings again and you quickly pat the rest of your moisturizer into your face before grabbing your silk robe off the back of the bathroom door. You wrap yourself up in it before exiting the bathroom.

Extremely confused, you walk out your room and towards the front door. The closer you get to the front door, the more you’re able to see someone standing on the other side of the frosted glass.

You can’t make out who is it but there is definitely someone there. The doorbell rings again, causing you to jump for a second time. “Hello?” You say, putting your hand on the knob as you wait patiently for a response but it never comes.

The person on the other end lifts their hand up to knock this time. “Who is it?” You ask again, feeling like your heart is about to drop down to your stomach from

how nervous you are...

Who in the hell could be showing up to your secluded air b and b at six pm in the evening?

The knock on the door comes again, a little louder this time. “Who is it?” You ask for the second time, frustration evident in you voice. You’ve watched too many foreign hostage movies to know that the minute you open that door, someone in a mask is going to snatch you up and take you away.

You look to your left and grab the umbrella from the bucket beside the door... It’s not much but the end is pointy and if you push it hard enough, you’re sure you’ll be able to pierce through the skin of whoever is on the other side of the door. You steady your hand on the knob, ready to open it but you halt when the person on the other side finally speaks....

“Kitten, please open the door. It’s hot as fuck out here.”

You’d know that voice anywhere. Quickly pulling the door open, you are both delighted and relieved to see your boyfriend Yoongi, dressed in all black much like you were earlier. His gummy smile makes an appearance and your heart flutters. He looks down, taking notice to the umbrella in your hand before looking back up at you and raising a questionable eyebrow. “I thought you were a murderer.” You told

him and he chuckles. “Come here.” He says before, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. You wrap your arms around his neck, umbrella still in hand.

“I thought you guys wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.” You say, pulling away from Yoongi to look at his face. “We wanted to surprise you.” He tells you and you smile before leaning forward to press a kiss to his soft lips.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to escalate. You immediately melt in Yoongi’s arms. He holds you close to him as his tongue desperately licks at your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You smile against his mouth before parting your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his warm tongue into your mouth. “Mmm” He moans against you. Your tongues caress each other’s, causing few moans of your own to fall past your lip.

“We haven’t even been here a full hour yet and Hyung is already hogging her.” You pull alway from Yoongi against his wishes to find a very pouty Jungkook staring at the two of you. You chuckle then turn back to Yoongi and peck his lips once more before moving yourself out of his grip. You walk over to your big baby and lean up to kiss his next. “I miss you Kookie.” You tell him truthfully and he smiles. “I missed you more.” He says before kissing you again.

“Um excuse me, can I get a little help please?” Taehyung huffs out. You look away from Jungkook to see poor Taehyung struggling up the cobblestone path with two large suitcases. “No.” Yoongi quickly says. “No one told you to bring a hundred bags. We’re only here for ten days.” He adds and you laugh. You walk over to Tae and take a suitcases from him. “Thank you Darling,” He says sweetly. “I can always count on you.” He continues, speaking loud enough for the other members to hear. You watch Yoongi ignore him and walk into the villa, Jungkook following closely behind.

“Wow!” Jungkook says excitedly, upon entering the home.

Turning your attrntion back to Tae, you begin pulling his suitcase along. It’s extremely heavy but you use all the strength you have to get it up the small steps. “Tae, what the hell? What’s in here?” You struggle to get the words out.

“Is it too heavy for you? I’ll take it.”

“No, no, it’s fine I can do it but what’s in here?”

“My shoes.”

You stop dead in your tracks, to look up at the handsome boy. “Seriously?” You question him in disbelief. “It’s good to have options baby.” He says nonchalantly. You laugh and shake your head, finishing your journey up the steps and into the villa.

Tae comes inside after you and his mouth drops in awe at the beauty of your home for the next week. “This is better than the pictures online.” Tae says as he pushes his suitcase to the side and runs off to explore the house.

Yoongi has already taken up space on the couch, his eyes closed and hand placed over his stomach as he lays across the cushions.

Jungkook is in the kitchen unloading his bag of snacks.

You realize that those two are probably done helping with the luggage so you go back outside to give a hand.

As you step towards the door, you come face to face with the one and only Kim Seokjin. He smiles brightly at you. “Hi Princess!” He greets you excitedly. “Hello Handsome.” You give his lips a quick kiss before stepping aside to let him in. “Why do you have an umbrella?” He questions you and you look down at your hand. You totally forgot you were holding it. “Oh,” You says before putting it back in the basket it belongs in. “Umm, funny story. I’ll tell you about it later.” You say in amusement. “I look forward to it.” He says, as he struts back over to you and wraps you in a tight bear hug. Your face is pressed to his chest and you silently inhale, taking comfort in his scent.

“Are you sniffing me?”

‘He caught me.’ You think to yourself.

“What? No.. That’s weird.”

“It’s okay…” Jin tells you. “If I were you, I’d sniff me too.” He says smugly and you instantly roll your eyes. “Ugh!” You groan trying to feign annoyance but the smirk on your face tells a different story. You try to push yourself out of Jin’s grip but he just holds you tighter, laughing at your attempt to escape. “Where are you going?” Jin ask, snuggling closer to you.

“I’m going to help with the rest of bags.”

“It’s okay Angel,” You hear Hobi’s voice from behind you. You turn around as much as you can whilst still Jin’s grip. Hoseok comes into view, looking as handsome as always, Followed by the equally handsome Park Jimin, strutting in a pair of pink tinted sunglasses.

“Jimin and I got the last of them.” He informs you as he drops his duffel bag off his shoulder. “Hi Guys!” You say excitedly before turning you head to look back up at Jin.

“Babe, you gotta let me go now...”

“And why is that?”

“We’ve been hugging for at least five minutes, I wanna hug Hobi and Jimin too.”

“Yeah, we missed her too Hyung,” Hobi says, making his way over to the two of you. “I suppose... But first,” Jin pokes out his lips out, indicating that he wants a kiss from you. You first reaction is to laugh at him...

“You big baby...” You mumble before standing on your toes to peck his lips once. Of course one kiss is not enough for him, so he pecks your lips two more times. He doesn’t get to go for a third kiss because Hoseok is pulling you out of the older man’s grip and into his arms for a hug. He picks you up off the floor and you squeal.

In an instant, Hobi is smothering your face in kisses, ending each one with an exaggerated ‘Mauh!’

“Hobert Jung, put me down. My robe is riding up.” You say through fits of giggles.

Taehyung and Jimin emerge from the kitchen just as the words leave your mouth. “You’ve been naked under there this whole time?” Tae says cheekily. “Obviously, I’m surprise that wasn’t the first thing you noticed.” Jungkook responses for you.

“So what? It’s not that we haven’t seen you naked before.” Hobi states, finally putting you back down. As soon as your feet hit the floor, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. You know they belong to Jimin. You can tell just by the feeling of his chest against your back. You lean into his touch as he places a single kiss on your check from behind. “I missed you.” He says sweetly and you smile at the sound of his honey-like voice in your ear.

“I missed you too.. All of you, I’m so happy you guys are here.”

“We’re happy we’re here too.” Jin responses as he walks over to the couch Yoongi is laying on. He takes a seat at the end of it, putting Yoongi’s legs on his lap. Yoongi has already fallen asleep, eyes closed and lips parted as he breathes peaceful.

“Now the eight of us can really get this party started!” Jungkook exclaims while bouncing side to side enthusiastically.

“Speaking of the eight of us, where is Joon?” You question, you realize he’s the only one you haven’t seen yet. “He’s upstairs, I think.” Taehyung informs you, ignoring the other seats in the living room so that he can plop down on the floor in front of the coffee table. “He snuck right past me.” You say, a pout evident on you face.

“Well Hyung was in you face the entire time and I think Namjoon Hyung was on the phone with Manager Sejin.” Jimin tells you, his arms still securely wrapped around you.

“He should be off by now, why don’t you go see.” Jin suggest and you nod your head in agreement. “We should pick rooms now anyways then we’ll eat.” He adds.

“What should we eat? I didn’t get a chance to go to the market.”

“That’s okay Princess, we saw one in town on our way in. We can stop there.” Jin explains and once again, you nod. “Okay, I’ll go check on Joon.” You say, slipping out of Jimin’s arms. You already miss the comfort of his body against your but it’s fine. You’ll be wrapped up in him again at some point during this trip.

You make your way over to the spiral staircase and walk up the stairs in search of Namjoon.

Upon reaching the top step, you can hear the faint sound of his voice.

He’s still on the phone.

The further you get down the hall, the louder his deep voice escapes through bedroom door.

“We’ll be okay, we have GPS.” You hear Namjoon say. You knock lightly on the door before poking your head in to let him know its you. A smile forms on your face when you see the sight of your handsome man sitting on the edge of the bed, looking oh so delectable in a pair of baggy tan shorts and a cream colored Fear Of God t-shirt that you could’ve sworn you saw on Yoongi once but maybe not?

The glasses on Joon’s face raise as his check puff up from smiling at you. You nearly swoon at sight of his dimples.

With one hand pressing his phone up to his ear Namjoon uses his other hand to motion you over to him. “C’mere,” He mouths to you then pats on his thighs indicating that he wants you to sit on them.

You don’t hesitate, happily taking a few small steps across the floor until you’re in front of him. Joon quickly wraps his free hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You straddle his lap, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. The little robe you’re wearing raises up, exposing more of your thighs as you make yourself comfortable on Joon’s lap. You try to ignore the feel of your bare core resting on top of the soft cotton of his sweatpants but it’s a lot harder to do than you’d like to admit.

The man beneath you brings his hand to rest on your soft skin and you drape your arms over his shoulders.

“Yes, okay...” Namjoon responses to whoever is on the other line, he watches you as your hand comes forward to fiddle with the silver chain around his neck. While you’re in your own world, suddenly fascinated by his jewelry, Namjoon takes the time to admire you. His eyes scan over the features of your face... You look different… well-rested, happier. You’re radiant and glowing and he loves to see it.

You’re too busy admiring the necklace to notice his eyes on you. “There,” You say patting your fingers against his neckline where the chain lays. When you finally look up, the man’s eyes are already on you.

Slightly thrown off by his stare, you ask “What?” your voice comes out in a whisper, you don’t want to interrupt his conversation but you also want him to hear you and he does. Namjoon shakes his head in response, the smile never leaving his face.

“Nothing, you look pretty.” he confesses and you blush, a small smirk forming on your lips. You lean forward to place a single kiss on his plump lips before pulling away. Joon leans into you, chasing your lips for another one. You chuckle at his eagerness... You couldn’t resist him, even if you tried.

You press your lips against his again, this time with more purpose. A soft moan ripples from Joon’s throat at the feeling of his lips on yours again. He pulls back from your lips to speak. “I’m fine Hyung.” He says to the person on the line. Now, that you’re closer to him, you’re able to confirm the sound of Manager Sejin’s voice on the other end of the receiver. A devious smirk forms on your mouth as you think of the time that Joon had decided to eat you out whilst you were on a very important call with your boss. Granted, you didn’t stop but still... You would love to pay him back for the time he spent down on his knees in front of you.

You kiss Namjoon again and he wraps his arm back around your waist, pulling you so close that your chests are touching. You’re sure he can feel the way your nipples have harden through the thin material of what you’re wearing.

Both your hands come up to softly rest on either side of his head, holding his face in place so you can take advantage of his mouth. You tilt your head to the side and begin sucking on his bottom lip. His groan is muffle by you gently pushing your tongue into his warm mouth. He welcomes the sensation of your wet muscle against his.

You taste so sweet to him, always so always.

As your tongue begin swirling around his, you realize that your hips have been rocking back and forth against Joon’s lap. Your bare cunt, rubbing ever so lightly against his clothed cock.

‘When did I start grinding on this man’s dick?’ You think to yourself.

As surprised as you were about your hips having a mind of their own, you don’t stop them from grinding and your mouth doesn’t stop moving either. You decide to drag your lips from his mouth to his jaw line. You begin peppering kisses there before bringing your mouth further down, stopping to give special attention to the spot on his neck that you know drives him crazy. “Y-yes… I’m listening Hyung…” Joon stutters out and you smirk against his skin. He grabs hold of your hips and for a minute you think he’s going to stop you from grinding against him but he doesn’t.

Instead he pushes you down further, pushing your core against the bulge in his sweatpants. At the feeling of Namjoon’s dick against you, you fight back the moan that is creeping up the back of your throat. You are not here for you, you’re here to make him feel good.

Pulling yourself away from his neck after leaving a few bruises on either side, you take a good look at his face. His eyes are low and they gaze at you filled with desire, his lips are slightly swollen, you assume from biting them when you weren’t looking.

He’s so fucking fine.

You can’t stop yourself from sliding your hands up his shirt. Your fingers caress the ripples against his stomach. You’ve always loved Joon’s body but since going back on tour, he’s been working out more, defining his muscles and chiseling out his usually soft features... You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the results.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon whispers his question after having moved the phone away from his ear briefly. “Me?” You ask innocently, fluttering your eyelashes. “Nothing...” You say, voice trailing off before you use both hands, still under Joon’s shirt to push him back on the bed softly. He huffs as his back hits to soft comforter. You smile before leaning back down to kiss him once again.

The kiss is more heated than the last time, all tongue and teeth. Your hips start to move on their own for the second time in the span of ten minutes. This time you can feel your wetness spreading across your pussy lips as Namjoon’s cock rubs between your folds. His hand finally slip under your robe and he grabs a hand full of your ass cheek, using it to push you down hard against him. You gasps softly against his mouth before sitting up on top of him, both hands on his chest.

There is a sneaky smirk present on Joon’s lips. “You’re not wearing any panties?” He mouths to you with a brow raised and you shake your head, seductively bitting your lip. “I’m not wearing anything at all.” You correct him. You thought it was impossible for his eyes to get any darker but boy were you wrong. The way he looks at you with pure unadulterated lust is out of this world.

You lean back down to kiss him, never stopping the rotation of your hips. Joon is solid underneath you, hard as a rock and it feels so good to be pressed up against him like this.

“Uh, I’m-...” Namjoon tries to speak with his mouth against your lips but it sounds muffle... You pull back again, just enough to give him room to talk to his manager.

“Hyung, can I call you back?” He says as you sit up, placing your hands on his firm chest. His shirt has risen up, exposing the skin of his stomach and the happy trail that leads to gold. You so desperately want to kiss him there but the hold he still has on your ass and the look in his eyes keep you in place. “Yeah, I’m fine... I just need to take care of something real quick.” He says, the low bass of his voice causes your abdomen to tighten.

‘Yes, please take care of it,’ is what you want to say but you keep your mouth shut.

“I will hyung. Talk to you later.” Namjoon hurriedly ends the phone calls then tosses his phone down on the bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, now with his full attention on you. “Nothing...” You say, you faux innocent look you’ve perfect over the years doesn’t fool Joon. He sits up, using one hand to support his weight while the other is still on your ass, gently messaging it.

“Why are you giving me a heard time? I’m sure Sejin Hyung heard you.”

You shrug, deciding to focus on something else besides the look on Namjoon’s face.

“Isn’t that part of the fun?”

“You bad girl, couldn’t you wait until I got off the phone?”

“I guess but it would’ve been hard when you were sitting here looking so… Fuckable...” Joon chuckles, shaking his head at you. His pushes a strand of loose hair out of your face. “What will I do with you?” He asks, it’s a rhetorical questions, you know but you decide to answer it anyways.

“Let me suck you off.”

“Oh baby girl,” Joon starts, pulling you closer to him, so that his lips hover an inch or two away from your own. “How could I ever say no to that?” He starts. “But first,” He continues but before you can respond he is flipping you on to your back, his body in between your legs. “Would you mind if I just….” He begins slowly pulling at the tie in front of your robe.

“Take this off…”

“Joon, I..-“

“I don’t think so.” The two of you hear the sound of Jin’s voice. Turning your heads to the door in unison, you see the older man standing against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How long have you been standing there?” Namjoon asks with an expression mixed somewhere between slightly confused and slightly embarrassed.

“I walked in on the ‘let me suck you off.’ part.” Your face flushes at having being caught. No matter how comfortable you are with your sexuality or with your boyfriends, being caught talking dirty will always be just a little bit embarrassing to you. Especially since you were never someone who was good at it or so you thought... Things changed when the boys came into your life.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You finally speak

up.

“I don’t know... Curiosity, I guess.” Jin shrugs. “Anyways, there will be no sucking off anyone in this house, not until after dinner.” He explains and you have to giggle at his choice of words.

“Ah but Hyung we haven’t seen her in ages.” Namjoon whines, still on top of you.

“It’s only been a month Namjoonie.” Jin protest.

“A month too long... Don’t you miss having her mouth on you?” He says. “Of course I do,” Jin confesses. “Which is why we, as in all of us should wait until later. Why should you have her first?” Jin continues and you sigh, rolling your eyes at the conversation the two are having.

“First of all, she is laying right here. Don’t I get a say in who I get to sleep with first?” You say as you begin to sit up, forcing Namjoon to remove himself from between your legs, you’re quick to push your robe down, not wanting to expose you wet cunt to world right now

“You know you do Princess. It’s your say or no say at all but I just thought since the seven of us haven’t seen you in a month…”

“Hmm,” You hum in response. “Now I have to think about it.” Your tone is playful as you get up off the bed, smoothing down the silk material your body is wrapped in. You retie the strings, so they don’t come loose as you walk past Namjoon’s pouty face and over to Jin, patting his chest. “I’ll be in charge during this trip... Especially when it comes to my body.” You tell him before leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Where are you going?” Joon asks, as you step out of the room. “It’s about time I put some panties on.” You say before going back downstairs to finally get dressed…

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff

225 notes · View notes

couldbeasong · 3 years

Note

1-60 for the ask meme

Ope sorry I did not see this until today. I think I know the one? If it’s not the one you meant just lmk lol

1. Selfie?

You can have this picrew but I wish to be unperceived.

2. What would you name your future kids?

For female names I like: Harmony, Slyvia, Edelweiss, Bethany, and Opal

For male names I like: Uriah, Aiden, Kai, Levi, and Luke

3. Do you miss anyone?

My grandpa and Midnight (old dog)

4. What are you looking forward to?

Going on vacation in a few weeks, the end of the semester, and seeing @calligraphywitch tomorrow

5. Is there anyone who can always make you smile?

@calligraphywitch and my other girlfriend. They’re hilarious lmao

6. Is it hard for you to get over someone?

Romantically? Not really. You kinda gotta just accept it and move on. In the past, always being like: this will never work because of reason xyz helps.

Friendship wise? Absolutely. It depends a lot on the emotional investment I put into the relationship, but I find myself still missing people I haven’t talked to since High School or Middle School.

7. What was your life like last year?

It was weird being a freshman in college and trying to survive. I had a lot of family problems going on along with one of my best friends from High School being on her death bed for a while. A bit of a crisis of faith as well. But we survived, God willing! I miss pre-pandemic times tho

8. Have you ever cried because you were so annoyed?

Ask my brother. I’m sure there’s been an instance.

9. Who did you last see in person?

My grandma across the room from me!

10. Are you good at hiding your feelings?

I hide them so well I can’t even find them!

I like to pretend they aren’t there and repress them a lot but idk if I’m good at hiding them from others per say.

11. Are you listening to music right now?

I’m in a zoom meeting for class, so I guess my professor's voice?

12. What is something you want right now?

Freedom

13. How do you feel right now?

Kinda tired, kinda nauseous, kinda bored. Idk I probably need to drink some water.

14. When was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you?

Uhhhh idk about a week ago? My last hug was probably a week ago too XD

15. Personality description

I like to think I’m funny

16. Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t?

I work in customer service- everyday (:

17. Opinion on insecurities.

Everyone is insecure about something. It’s kinda fascinating how even though all of humanity is exactly the same (in terms of our struggles and insecurities, we don’t vary) we still judge others for having them. Confidence is seen as a virtue and the most attainable goal. Society profits off of your insecurities tho so be aware of what they are and don’t let yourself be scammed.

18. Do you miss how things were a year ago?

Certain aspects perhaps. But 2019 is gone. It performed and then it left. It can’t hurt us or help us anymore. There’s little use in dwelling on that and wishing for 2020 to be 2019.

19. Have you ever been to New York?

No, but I swear Ima go one day and see a show on Broadway.

20. What is your favorite song at the moment?

I have like three I’m cycling between rn

When You’re Home from In the Heights

Wake Up by Jenny Owen Youngs

Together by For King and Country

21. Age and birthday?

Old enough to know better and October

22. Description of crush.

He’s super great and super intelligent, not to mention super in love with God. Frankly, he deserves better than me. I gotta lot of self-improvement that needs to happen, but we’ll see what happens XD

23. Fear(s)

Heights, drowning, spiders, super dark streets and rooms, not being good enough

24. Height

5′5″ respectfully

25. Role model

It’s changed through the various stages of my life. Rn tho a few of my Christian online friends

26. Idol(s)

I mean I stan Brian David Gilbert, but I don’t idolize him lol

27. Things I hate

Cheesecake, sickly sweet stuff, when someone grabs the receipt out of the printer even though it’s way more effort for them to do so than for me just to hand it to them and it throws me off of my rhythm, fudge

28. I’ll love you if…

You exist (and even not then because fictional characters just hit different lol)

29. Favorite film(s)

Tangled, Ella Enchanted, Enchanted, Howls Moving Castle, Princess, and the Pauper

30. Favorite tv show(s)

Brooklynn 99, Parks and Recreation, Ouran High School Host Club, My Hero Academia, and Bojack Horseman (I’m going through a phase with it rn lol)

31. 3 random facts

Blue is my favorite color, I own almost nothing in blue, people are better at identifying members of their own race better than members of other races.

32. Are your friends mainly girls or guys?

Girls- they’re easier to talk to and approach. Tho I stan and love my guy friends. They are kings.

33. Something you want to learn

Everything? Idk I have an insatiable desire to learn and it switches. Consistently, I want to learn how to make my own clothes, play either piano, guitar, or violin, and detail cars.

34. Most embarrassing moment

Uggg I’m not talking about it and neither is @calligraphywitch

35. Favorite subject

I really enjoyed Statistics as much as I have hated it. My all-time favorite class I have ever taken tho was AP US Literature

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

Graduate grad school, get married, travel overseas

37. Favorite actor/actress

uhhh probably Chris Pratt or anyone who was on Parks and Recreation. Tho Broadway actors, I love Christian Borle

38. Favorite comedian(s)

John Mulaney

39. Favorite sport(s)

I miss playing softball and volleyball so prolly those

40. Favorite memory

There are too many to count. But usually, involve good conversations under the stars after 2 AM.

41. Relationship status

Have a picrew of my sister and me. Keep scrolling and mind ya business (jk ily anon)

42. Favorite book(s)

The Bible lol but fictional book wise, I will always love the Warrior Cats series. Red Queen was pretty lit. The Hourglass Door gave me a love for time travel aus lol. And Library Wars is near and dear to my heart.

43. Favorite song ever

You can’t ask me thisssss

Idk Hope is what we crave by For King and Country

44. Age you get mistaken for

24-30 it depends on the context

45. How you found out about your idol

@calligraphywitch

46. What my last text message says

No xD not disney

47. Turn-ons

When you have a musical playing and the end of one song is the start of another so they bleed into each other. CHILLS or when a line of poetry just expresses how someone feels. OR when different parts harmonize just right

48. Turn-offs

When my computer deletes my homework right before it’s done

49. Where I want to be right now

In a little cabin in the woods

50. Favorite picture of your idol

51. Starsign

Scorpio

52. Something I’m talented at

Reading peoples emotions

53. 5 things that make me happy

Music, Friends, Deep Conversations, Hugs, and God

54. Something that's worrying me at the moment

So much to do so much to see

55. Tumblr friends

Friends and mutuals include:

@calligraphywitch @an-assortment-of-forks @repentance-brings-healing @synthetic-blanket-hairs @loneallegiance @boywiththewand @knightof-cups @a-lil-strawberry @linkedwolf @indygo @obnoxioushair

There’s plenty more than that and I love you all ^^

56. Favorite food(s)

Tacos, Crab Ragoons, Salty Foods, RICE

57. Favorite animal(s)

Wolves and cats

58. Description of my best friend

Artistic, beautiful, supportive, hardworking. She is hilarious and an amazing person. There’s so much to the many reasons I love her I just can’t do it in words

59. Why I joined tumblr

Back in the 7th grade, my friends all had one and helped set me up with one. And that’s that.

60. Ask me anything you want

You want nothing ig lol if you want to submit one I can answer it still

11 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1159

survey by -egocentricity-

Describe the last time you...

Went swimming: It was in Nasugbu with Angela, Sofie, and Gab nearly a couple of years ago. We wanted to go to a nearby beach before the semester started, so we planned the trip at the last minute and literally just right after we enrolled for our classes.

Went on a date: It was at BGC at this nice, romantic French restaurant. Then as we headed back to the car we spotted a jazz bar that had a live band performing, so we took a detour there to have drinks and nachos.

Were hurt by someone you love: My mom says a lot of hurtful things all the time I’ve stopped keeping track of them and letting them affect me too much, but I’m sure she’s done it recently.

Did something nice for yourself: I got myself a night lamp to improve the ambience in my room and make it feel even more homey. The lamp I had before it was just something I borrowed from my parents and it had white light, so it didn’t feel the most calming. The one I have right now emits this soft yellow shade that makes me feel infinitely more relaxed.

Did something nice for someone else: I ordered KFC at like 1 AM last Wednesday because I was feeling hungry and there was nothing at home that could meet my cravings, and aside from getting orders for my parents I also got a Zinger for my delivery driver as a way to thank him and lift his spirits for working that late into the night.

Were injured: I always sport some sort of scratch or gash somewhere on my body these days from playing with Cooper. This morning I got a new wound on one of my knuckles since he was pulling on his leash way too hard when I was walking him.

Went to the hospital: I had to take blood and urine tests last May to figure out what was wrong with me since I had been sick for a week by that point. That was also during the peak of the pandemic, so there was a lot of anxiety about me catching Covid. It turned out to be a UTI, and even though that technically sucks the whole family was relieved it wasn’t Covid.

Understood something that previously confused you: I had my dad explain to me how buying and bidding for houses works. Hahaha I am sooooo not equipped to be a fully-functioning adult.

Faked sick to get out of going to class: I don’t think I ever did this. If I had wanted to skip class, I just skipped it.

Hung out with your friends: I went to Perfy’s with 7 friends shortly before it shut down for good as a result of the pandemic. We had some beer and bar chow, and to be completely frank it felt quite nice to have that one night where things felt normal again, as ignorant as it was. We vaped until we were dizzy and some of them smoked too much that the smell ended up clinging to me and my clothes, but luckily I got home when my whole family was already in their rooms so no one was able to smell me.

Met someone new: There’s this girl who recently got onboarded to one of our client brands and we started working with her about a week or two ago. She’s honestly been a bit over the place, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt because she’s fairly new at a particularly hectic time in her workplace. My first impression of her was that she gave such a strong UP vibe so I looked her up on Facebook, and it turns out we went to the same college and the same high school.

Did something that you were afraid to do: A couple of months ago I had a one-on-one video call organized by the CEO of my employer so that she could get to know me better. She was super nice and listened attentively to my answers to all her questions, but it was easy to tell she wanted to see what I could bring to the table and how well I could mesh with the team especially since I’ve never met her and everyone else in person, so I made sure my social game was maxed out for those 15 minutes haha.

Did something you promised you would never do: I vaped literally half an hour ago. I never expected to form a habit out of it especially after being vehemently against any form of smoking for most of my life. Not particularly proud of it but then again I’m here for a good time and not a long time lmao.

Regretted something: Lazada had this huge app-wide sale last week and their Hydro Flasks were like ₱600 cheaper, but I didn’t buy it because I was feeling stingy that day haha. Now the products are back to their normal price and they’ll probably never get to be that cheap again :( There’s another sale happening tomorrow but the discounts aren’t as big, but I’ll probably place an order this time.

Went shopping: I went to H&M last January to get Andi a late Christmas present. I asked Leigh what they would appreciate as a gift, and she told me they’d wanted to start experimenting with feminine clothes so I got them a nice black skirt and this really elegant dress (that I honestly wanted for myself). I heard they cried once they opened the paper bag, and making people cry with the gifts you get them will always be one of the best feelings ever haha.

Asked someone out/were asked out: Idk, it was 5 years ago and nothing I want to remember anymore.

Broke up with someone: I’ve never broken up with someone.

Had someone break up with you: It was terrible and the stuff of all my nightmares combined, and it happened in the middle of an already-shitty month to boot so I had little hope for myself to come out of it alive. I had everything planned and ironed out and all that was left was for me to leave.

It’s been 7 months and I’ve never felt emotionally and mentally better and healthier.

Were heartbroken: I follow this animal rescue NGO on Facebook and they regularly post about dogs who’ve lived through awful situations and need urgent care and forever homes to live in. Fortunately the page has a wide reach and regularly gets support, and I try to donate to their bank account as often as I can.

You were angry with someone: Haven’t directed my anger towards anyone in a while.

You felt "in love" with someone: It was during the time I was still reeling over the breakup and was caught in an endless loop of still being in love with them and forcing myself to finally detach.

You wanted something unrealistic: I was at the rooftop this morning and I could feel the temperature getting warmer every hour, and when I finally couldn’t tolerate the heat and was forced to go back indoors I felt super annoyed because all I want is to live somewhere with a chilly climate all-year round hahaha UGH

You made someone angry: It was when I spilled a tiny drop of soup onto the dining table and my mom had a complete meltdown about it. After 89457843957 years of her getting mad at First World Problems I wasn’t intimidated by her anymore, but it still irked me at how something so little can piss her off so I just decided not to speak a word for the rest of the night.

You made someone's day: I hope I made my delivery driver’s night when I got him his burger as a surprise. I hold so much respect and appreciation for them considering they’ve been working very hard to get people’s goods to their doorsteps in the midst of a global pandemic.

Tried something new: When I bought my lamp it was the first time I got something to decorate my room. I usually spend all my money on food, so that was a nice change to try out.

Tried your best: I always try my best at work and to make each day more improved than the last.

Didn't try at all: A couple of nights ago I asked my dad to light up my scented candle and he challenged me to try lighting up a matchstick by myself for once. I was all primed and ready to go, but backed out at the last second :(( I told him there was a big chance I could freak out, drop the lit matchstick. and set something in the dining room (where we were) on fire, and that’s when he gave up and just lit it up himself hahaha

Got nothing for your efforts: I’d gladly refer you to my big waste of a 6-year relationship.

Had a serious talk with someone: I always have deep conversations with Andi and they’ve been about various topics over the last few months.

Told someone how you really feel: It was when Bea scheduled a quick one-on-one catch-up call with me to check up on how I was doing with work and if I was doing okay with the everyday craziness of it all. But I didn’t say anything grave; I just told her I honestly like the work we do and that it’s nice that it keeps me excited everyday, so there’s little to complain about.

Hid what you felt from someone: One of my co-workers, Denise, is honestly a little challenging to work with. I always have to pick up after her and remind her of stuff we need to do together, and even Bea has let a few comments slide between us about how difficult she can be. But considering I’m a lot newer than her and we’ve never met each other I’ve stayed quiet for now.

Took something that didn't belong to you: I got the matchbox from my parents’ room to ask one of them to light up the aforementioned scented candle I have.

Borrowed something from someone: I borrowed one of my sister’s cords the other evening to charge my vape pen.

Lost a game: This was when my orgmates and I played a couple Jeopardy games over Zoom about a month ago and I lost to Robin.

Won a game: Not sure, I don’t really play a lot of games.

Told someone you love him/her: Jo, after she shared that she tested positive for Covid.

Went on vacation: It’s been a year and a half and the world has changed a lot since then, but my family and I went to Tagaytay and Cavite for a quick weekend getaway; it was Tagaytay on Saturday then we drove to another hotel in Cavite the next day. We played Heads Up, ate Jelly Belly jellybeans, had a lot of nice food, took some walks, but then I also had to work on a Powerpoint in between because I had a presentation that was due that Monday lol.

Went on a roadtrip: Last January we drove to Tagaytay (again) for my dad’s 50th birthday. Before heading to our accommodation we had brunch at La Creperie where we happened to be seated beside Larry Gadon – bleck – and his wife. Then we headed to the condo unit where we stayed the night at, ordered a samgyupsal set, and I watched GMM’s Let’s Talk About That into the night until I fell asleep.

Flew on a plane: That would be over two years ago and it was during our vacation to Bicol. That also marks the last time I ever spoke a word to my brother, because on our way home my family got into a heated argument and he ended up slapping me in the face. I don’t tolerate physical acts of violence, and especially not from someone younger than me, so I was more than glad to cut ties with him moving forward.

Were annoyed with a family member: My mom is politically incorrect 24/7, and it grinds my gears 24/7.

Took something too far: Idk, maybe cutting off ties with Gab. A part of me wanted to reconnect at some point, once I’ve healed; but I’ve reached a point in my life where that doesn’t seem so necessary anymore. Life just works funnily sometimes, I guess. I haven’t completely cut her off; we’re still mutuals on Twitter (though she also never uses it so it barely counts), and also still Facebook friends (though I’ve unfollowed her and I’ve also blacklisted her from seeing my posts – thank god for that feature), so now it’s really just a matter of pressing some buttons and finally disconnecting for good.

Gave up too soon: I wanted to learn riding a bike during the early days of the pandemic last year, but I gave up after like two days of being unsuccessful.

Listened to a band you had not heard before: I started exploring some of BTS’ music earlier this week after weeks of just knowing Dynamite.

Judged someone: Some of the bloggers that I regularly correspond with for work, and who’ve recently added me on Facebook, have opinions I don’t necessarily agree with.

Asked a "stupid question": I ask a lot of newbie questions at work that maybe some people would consider dumb, but I’d rather get answers to do my work correctly than take guesses and end up doing the wrong thing.

Got "a stupid answer": Not sure.

Took a picture of something/someone: I recently took a photo of my work desk setup so I could show off my new pretty lamp, hahaha.

Told a lie: I told my mom my Hydro Flask is still with Angela and that I should be getting it soon, but I really lost it a few years ago and would have to buy a new one.

Told the truth: Idk I tell the truth all the time.

#survey #surveys

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dearinheadlights-archived · 3 years

Text

11 April 2021

it’s always a mix. i’m anxious about my current classes, and how the semester will end, and being ready for the summer. and summer in general. i don’t know if i’m staying in my college city or going back home. i’d hate to have to go back home. it’s more cost effective, but i can’t stand it. every time i think i can handle it, for holidays and breaks and summer vacation, and i always can’t. the arguments and mental abuse always starts. usually soon after, but sometimes i can escape it until the later part of a short holiday break. but it always does, and it wears me down. i’m already worn so thin after this year, with the pandemic and everything that happened, where i found out my ex cheated on me with my best friend, and i harshly fell out of communication with all of hometown friends. for the better, probably. i have good friends now. we take care of each other. but it was so hard. i can’t go back home, to my parents, and to everyone in that neighborhood. [001] would be in the same neighborhood. i’d think about it every time i drove past where i would turn onto her street. [002] and [003] live just a street away from me. [004] lives in the neighborhood where a boba tea place just was build. fuck [004], though. he’s elitist and made me cry because he made me feel like i made poor college choices based on loans and family’s money. sorry my parent’s can’t help pay my tuition and buy me a car like they did for the rest of everyone who i used to be friends with. they never really understood what it was like, but that was one of the shittiest conversations. i hated crying in front of him, all of them. they all had it so easy when it came to money.

driving past [005]’s street would be hard, too. i miss his cat. one of my old friends that i have on snapchat still, and am on good terms with, i think, posts videos of her sometimes. one video showed her pawing rapidly at a tall carboard box until the accidentally knocked it over. it was cute. i wish i had a cat. i wish i was on okay terms with [005]. the worst part, i think, about going back to my hometown for the summer, would be that i would have no idea who was in town at any given time. i would constantly be on edge whenever i left the house. not that that would be much different from leaving my dorm room right now, though, since [001] lives on the same floor. god, i hate that she and i were so happy that i was moving to this dorm. i partially did it because i knew i’d have a friend there. then she dropped me a week later. i’m so tired of being hurt. ugh, but i guess i wouldn’t even mind running into [005]. maybe. i don’t know what would even happen. it’s not like he would talk to me. he probably hasn’t changed at all. he’s a pretty stagnant guy: he was a junior last we talked, and he’ll be a rising senior this summer, and he had hardly changed since he’d graduated high school. which is weird, since i’ve changed a lot since then. that’s part of why we broke up, i think. plus all the other stuff.

basically, i really hope i find an internship for this summer... i say, as i’m writing this instead of applying for any of the internships i found earlier OR doing my homework for tomorrow. i’d like to stay in my college city. i like it, and my friends will be here. and i can take my summer class here, and stay away from my parents. plus, [006] would probably be here. i hate whenever i factor a guy into my academic/career plans even the tiniest bit, because that’s lame, but it would be nice to not be away from him over the summer. i like him a lot. plus i certainly have other reasons for wanting to stay in the city, so it’s not like he’s my only reason. but yeah. hopefully it all works out and i get my internship soon. i’m actually really looking forward to it. i want an income, and i really want to do some political science work.

things with [006] have been going really well the past few days, i think. he was feeling kinda sad the other night and didn’t know why, which always makes me nervous. mostly because i hoped it wasn’t about me. i hope he’s feeling better, regardless of what it was about. but yeah, things have felt like they’re going well. he makes me really happy. i like that we look out for each other, and all the things we do together. we have a check-in tomorrow, and i’m a bit more nervous for it than i’d like to be. just because of our track record, i guess, lol. it’s only been two weeks since we’ve been officially together, so i hope he’s not being too hard on himself if his nerves about being together haven’t fully calmed down yet. plus, he has an appointment to be prescribed anti-anxiety medication in a little over a week, so i’m sure that’ll help with his nerves about everything—not just our relationship—too. i know starting medication is scary, so that’d be another bonus for me staying the summer in the city: i don’t want him to go through that alone, because i know he’s nervous. and i’ve got his back. of course, he could always call me or text me or whatever, but being physically present is preferable. i’d honestly miss him too much over summer vacation too, if i had to go back home. he’s my best friend, too. and i love him. sheesh, i say that every time. it’s on my mind a lot, i guess. i think he’s really cool, and great, and sweet, and i like him a lot and i love him.

but i REFUSE to end on such a sappy note. that was dripping with sap. uhhhh.. i’m finding that i really like mentos? they’re like, gum, but. a mint candy, genius. idk, lmao. sometimes i get really hooked on a certain candy. drugs? no sir. i’ve gone through certain candy phases. once it was sweet tarts: i would eat them so much my tongue bled. another time, it was those haribo berries? like the candy raspberries and blackberries? then another time it was werther’s hard caramels: oh my god those were so good. i felt like a grandma, lmao. i always had those golden-wrapped candies in my bad. that was all in high school though. wayyy back in middle school, it was icebreakers mints. the wintergreen kind. i kinda mentioned this to [006] the other night, but i think i have addictive tendencies? i find something i really like and i just keep getting it until i burn out. like, how [006] and our friends go to this one chinese food place probably four times a week. it’s my favorite, and i’m not consuming it at unhealthy rates, so there’s not a problem, really. i don’t know. gonna sweep that under the rug for now, haha.

#journal #diary #daily diary #anxiety #school #relationships

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XIX (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: Starting year two!!! So far this has been my favorite book to write, but I expect to say that with every book lmao

P.S. I hope COVID-19 isn’t ruining all of y’all lives and are staying healthy, remember to keep up your studies!

Words: 1,935

Warnings: None!

Series’ Masterlist

Book I // Next Chapter

Chapter One: The Weasleys.

‘When I got to Hogwarts everything was so lovely, the students, the history... my history.

I never thought that I would have something special in me and that so many people knew my name. You know I got sorted into Gryffindor -the same house as you and mum- and there I met Hermione, which is the first girl-friend I've had! There's also Ron, he is wonderful when he's not complaining about school.

And Harry, of course, I still can't believe he's with me in all this madness, I wouldn't have guessed we were so similar, Harry was so brave! I admire him if I'm honest. I do not know what would I do without him, he's changed so much since we arrived at school, he's like a brother! I'm sure these memories will stay with me forever.'

"You see? Brother," The man said through the phone, "pay me."

"Not yet, mister," Emily laughed, "my daughter's twelve, she's too young to decide whether if the bet is won or lost."

"Mily, I'm certain you'll lose, don't make it harder," He teased, "if I know something about Mel is that she's deathly honest. She would tell me"

"Mel's a child," She insisted, "don't you remember how we were at her age? I was definitely not thinking about boys"

"Lies, we all know you were crushing, just not on the right boy, that is."

"Oh hush," She stayed quiet for a moment, hearing footsteps on the second floor, "I think she's up"

They had been talking for almost half an hour, it was around midnight and Emily had lost track of time, but Mel's uncle had been nagging about their silly bet and she couldn't keep herself from giving her opinion on the subject.

It was all nonsense really, but it amused her.

The footsteps went back to her daughter's room, she returned her attention to the phone call.

"Try next year, I bet we'll have some interesting letters then."

"You're having too much fun with this," He chuckled, "I just hope she never finds out, or we'll be in trouble"

"What did I ever do to have such heathen for a daughter?" Emily smiled, "You should go to bed, don't you work tomorrow?"

"...yes, I should go"

"You paused," Emily leaned on her seat, "everything alright?"

"Yes"

"Is your boss upset because you skipped last week?"

"I talked to him about it"

"He couldn't have possibly-"

"I said I talked to him," He insisted, "no need to worry, Mily"

"...I wish you could come live with us, Mel needs a role model"

"I'm no father," He laughed.

"You're the only constant in her life apart from me and Harry. She needs a good man to build up her expectations if a man is what she wants that is, if not, then I'm afraid I'm giving her a terrible example of a woman"

"Don't be silly, you're the best"

"She'll be so much better than me, though," Emily smiled, "such a temper! Maybe that's on me, Matt was always kind"

"Except on times when people would tease you," He reminded her.

"Oh, that Ernest kid was so scared!" She chuckled, "I guess she's a lot like her father as well, judging on the way she looks after Harry"

"She'll be a good girl... it's late and tomorrow you'll be leaving Privet Drive, correct?"

"Yes, the Weasleys have kindly asked us to spend the rest of the summer with them and Mel have been bugging about it ever since, my ears will finally be put at rest"

"And Harry?"

"He was invited too, but he's yet to receive the letter. If it were for Mel though, she would take him with us."

"I bet she would"

"It won't take long"

"Remember to send a letter once you're suited there"

"Will do," Emily sighed, "And darling? Take care of yourself..."

"Will do."

It was probably the first time Mel had woken up without her mother barging into her room to urge her to get dress.

At eight o'clock she was ready, bags packed and cat in his basket, all prepared to leave the house for the rest of the summer. There was just one thing missing.

She opened her window, throwing small rocks at the house next door, specifically the window that faced hers. A boy with ruffled black hair and lopsided glasses opened it, looking a bit grumpy.

"What?" He grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" She leaned on her window, "Come down for a moment"

"It's cold"

"And I'm leaving"

"I'll see you in a few days!"

"Sweet Merlin, I get it," She scoffed, "I might as well just disappear and let you sleep soundly, all alone in that room"

"Mel..." Harry groaned, passing a hand through his hair, "I'll see you in a minute"

The girl rushed to the door carrying her bags and Grey's basket with her, leaving them in the living room.

"Be careful or you'll break your neck!" Emily hissed, catching the poor cat.

"Sorry! I'll go say goodbye to Harry," She hurried out to her neighbors' house.

"Glasses!" Mel stretched out her arms and hugged Harry, he returned it with a chuckle, "I know you won't admit it but you'll miss me, I know you will"

"Dumby, what fun there is on admitting things that would only make you more annoying?" He grinned.

"Rude!" She nudged his arm, "I hope your letter gets here soon, I can't wait!"

"Me neither..."

"I could've written a letter before leaving saying you were coming with me, but noooo you refused because you didn't want to invite yourself," She crossed her arms, "Am I wrong?"

"You're right"

"Harry Potter, always polite," She gave a small smile.

"Mel!" Emily walked out of their house, carrying Grey's basket and a large trunk, "Time to go!"

"Coming!" She turned back to her friend, "I'll write to you for as long as you're away, which won't be long, I owe it to you-"

"I deserve vacations too, you know? Away from your nagging"

"You're really trying to hurt my feeling today, aren't you," She huffed, "it won't work, I know you love me"

"Goodbye, Dumby."

"Goodbye!" She happily replied, leaning to kiss his cheek briefly.

"Mel!"

"I'm going!"

The girl left without glancing back, if she had glanced, she would've noticed Harry was bright red.

"Are you sure this is their house?"

"Positive," Emily walked up to her, holding her trunk, "it wasn't as you were expecting?"

"It's better," She replied breathless, "so much better..."

A construction that looked like it had evolved on its own stood in front of the, it had the Weasley's soul marked onto its walls if that made any sense. It was messy and colorful, just fun all around. Exactly like the people living in it.

"Emily!" Mrs. Weasley walked out to the garden to welcome them home, "Mel! So good to see you again! Come in, come in... Ron! Your guests are here!"

A sound similar to a stampede came from several floors up until three redheaded boys stumbled out of the house.

"Mel! Hi!" Fred and George were fighting with Ronald to be the firsts to get to her.

"Hi boys!" She exclaimed.

"And these are your boys," Emily chuckled, "care to help us?"

"I can carry my own bag," Mel said quickly, "I don't need help"

"S'not a problem," Ron finally made his way out of his brothers' hold to welcome her properly, "Hi, Mellow..."

"That horrid nickname," She grimaced, "you better don't use it once Harry gets here, he wouldn't stop calling me that"

"It's better than Dumby"

"Everything's better than Dumby, oof!" She stumbled across the front door, her legs quivering under the weight of her trunk.

"Let us help," George appeared beside her and took the other end of her trunk.

"We don't want you dying on your first morning at the burrow," Fred added, taking her bag.

"The burrow?" She asked, too distracted by the room she was in to fight against the twins.

"That's how we call our humble home," Fred joked, "now, you can stay with our sister Ginny our with your mum in Charlie's old room. Ginny's lovely but you might feel a bit odd staying with her on your first night"

"Is she here?" Mel asked with curiosity, "I would love to meet her properly"

"She's in her room I think," Ron said, then he yelled, "Oy, Ginny! Come down to meet Mel!"

Mel helped the boys take her luggage to Charlie's old room. Footsteps approached them, a set of brown eyes peering through the door.

"You must be Ginny," Mel took off her beanie, getting used to the warm home, "I'm Mel..."

The girl, a few inches smaller than her, opened the door and smiled at her.

"Hi! My brothers have told me tons of things about you," She walked up to her and hugged her.

"All good I hope," Mel giggled.

"Oh no, all bad," Fred smiled, "terrible! We told her you're the castle's biggest nightmare-"

"You did not," Ginny laughed, "don't believe a thing, they never shut up about you, my brothers have turned into a pile of lousy admirers"

"You're one to talk..." Ron grumbled.

"You'll always be our number one though," George ruffled her hair.

"Back off!" Ginny complained.

Mrs. Weasley and Emily walked in carrying Grey's basket and Em's luggage.

"Is that your cat?"

"Do you want to meet him?" Mel opened the basket, Grey's little head peered from inside, "Harry gave it to me as a birthday present"

"Oh please don't talk about him with Ginny," Ron moaned, "she'll ramble about how pretty his eyes are"

Ginny blushed.

"I won't!" She threw him a pillow.

"Don't fight inside the guests' room!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Take Mel to the garden or give her a tour around the house while I help Emily unpack-"

"You don't have to," Emily replied, "How about we go to the kitchen and we make some tea? I'm exhausted from all the driving"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley smiled, guiding her to the first floor.

"I'll show you my room," Ginny took her hand and was about to leave when Ron got in the way.

"No way! You can't take her," He frowned, "she's my friend, not yours"

"We were going to show her our room," Fred and George said.

Mel laughed, feeling her cheeks burning from the overwhelming attention.

"How about we go to the nearest room?"

"That's Percy's room," Ron grimace, "he's been in there since we came back"

"He's writing letters to Merlin knows who," Ginny rolled her eyes, "my room is the nearest after Percy's, I win!"

The boys grumbled and stepped back, not wishing to go inside their little sister's room.

"I'll see you in a while, boys," Mel chuckled, letting herself being dragged to the girl's room.

'Dear Harry,

Ron's house is amazing! My first day here was lovely, I got to meet Ron's sister and his father! They were both really kind to me and my mum, I'm sure they'll be the same with you.

He told me he sent your letter with mine but his owl is a bit old, maybe it dropped yours by accident. Ron's sending another just in case, it should arrive in two or three days, so I hope to see you soon.

I can't wait to have you here so we can all have fun together! You'll be able to fly in your broom here! (And maybe lend it to me?)

Missing you,

Mel.'

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #molly weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #WITT fic

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

Note

Lois/Clark + travel au + fake dating + “are you sure this is legal?”

again, its kind of a fake marriage and...also again....this is kind of the set up for the fake marriage scenario? i basically used this as an opportunity to write down a bunch of my lois headcanons for a period after superman reveal but before the get together lmao but i hope you still like it!! thank you so much for sending the prompt, i love lois sm and this was i think the first time i’ve really written from her (or actually written out lois and clark lol) so everyone please send feedback re: lois and clark characterizations!!!!

love u to the moon and back!!!!

---

“Clark, what does legal really mean, other than the things our government arbitrarily decided we’re allowed to do?”

Next to her, Clark rolls his eyes and Lois tries not to show the awe that briefly floods her body when she remembers that Superman is Clark is Superman is Clark, which means that when he responds to her quip, it’s not only as Smallville but as Kal-El, who she once named ‘the Man of Tomorrow.’

“Nice to see Libertarian Lois make an appearance,” Clark-El quips, and Lois nearly melts. It’s been about a month since what she, agnosto-sympathetic as she’s always been, termed in her own mind as the Revelation. Clark is Superman is Clark, she reminds herself as she always has to, to keep herself from running in as many directions as she can, vainly trying to outrun the fastest man alive.

Being, maybe. Because he’s not really a man, is he?

Clark, Lois thinks again. Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas. Son of Martha. Man, man, man. Lois is no fool to think that he could really be anyone else -- Clark, for all that he’s apparently lied to her, couldn’t possibly have lied about this. Superman had always seemed so aloof, so removed from the daily grind of humanity’s issues: sure, he’s saved plenty of cats up trees, but Lois had always wondered if he understood why those cats were so beloved, or worse if he saw humanity as the perennial cat constantly stuck up in trees of its own making. But she hadn’t known Superman, really, hadn’t thought she would be able to.

Not like she’d known Clark. Clark, of the long-form article following the production of a single plaid shirt he’d been wearing on Monday during the week’s pitch meeting. Clark, who was always falling into step right next to Lois no matter where she was, or who she was up against, his heart the only one that burned like Lois when confronted with the nastiness of the world.

Clark, who Lois has always considered the most human man she ever met. Clark who is somehow biologically, the least human man in the universe.

“Lois?” Clark’s voice is just slightly strained as if he can hear the thoughts scurrying round and round Lois’s mind, but no Lois had asked about that during those first few terrifying days when up had seemed like down and she’d felt like the shittiest investigative reporter since Arnab Goswami. Clark couldn’t read minds, not really, he’d said -- he could at most see the neurons firing (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought?) but he hadn’t tried to figure out a pattern.

“But I don’t watch your neurons,” he’d said with what then-Lois had recognized as a hint of human-Clark, who she later realized was just-Clark’s shit-eating grin. “Your mind makes me dizzy enough when I’m just observing from the outside. Can’t imagine what would happen if I was trying to follow your thought process in real-time.”

Now-Lois shakes her head slightly, unattractive like a wet dog. “Sure it’s illegal to impersonate a pair of massage therapists, but you’re an extraterrestrial traveler, Clark. Do the mighty dictums of the United States really mean that much to you?”

She knows almost as soon as the last half of the sentence leaves her lips that it’s the wrong thing to say. Clark’s from Kansas, just like he always said. He was raised in Kansas, with Kansas values whatever the hell that means. Christ, she thinks, she’s never been so insensitive to an adoptee in her life.

A month ago, Clark’s face might have crumpled. Two weeks ago, he might have thrown Lois’s insensitivity right back in her face. Today, though, his eyes only go wide for a second, right before Lois sees them glint with what she can only label as sheer Clarkness. It’s a near cousin of his shit-eating grin, that’s for sure, and if it makes her heart race with a little anticipation that between her, the universe and, if he’s listening, Sup--

Shit.

But maybe Clark isn’t listening, too focused on what he’s about to say, because he plows on despite her heart rate. “Lois,” he drawls, “I don’t ignore the dictates of the United States because I'm an alien.”

Oh for fuckssake. “Clark now is not the time to crib off of your much cooler mom’s actual anarchist credentials. You can talk as much theory as you want, but you were the one who just asked if we should continue our pursuit of justice based on legality.”

Clark scoffs. “Perry suspended us for two weeks, and on day two you called me up and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation.”

Sometimes, Clark’s whole Clark-shtick makes it so that Lois can’t tell if he’s actually hurt, or if he’s just fucking with her emotions, the ones everyone told him she’d long shot dead and buried behind the house, for his own amusement. She squints, leaning in a little closer to check for his usual tells, and there! Just at the corner of his lip, a slight twitch, so minuscule that no one but Lois could have found it.

“You asshole! You were bored too!” Lois crosses her arms. “C’mon, would you really have been happy with a normal cruise, just floating on the ocean and wearing Hawaiian shirts while eating shrimp, no care in the world?” She raises her eyebrows, grinning like she’s trying to sell Clark a tub of Crisco. “Isn’t taking down the Mob just so much more exciting?”

According to her therapist, Lois was never really in love with Superman. Lois was in love with the idea Superman represented -- a good man, powerful without the corruption she saw infesting those with power every day, a man so far above humanity that he was safe from the trainwreck that was Lois’ interior self. He could never really love her back, so Lois was safe loving him, never had to worry about her job putting him in danger or her tongue slicing him up during an argument until there was nothing left but his torn up suit.

Clark, though, Clark was very real, her therapist said. Says, though Lois hasn’t been responding to her calls since the Revelation. She doesn’t know how quite to say “hey Doc, remember how we’ve been talking on and on about Clark and Superman, and how I have to ‘give up my illusion of safety in order to take a real leap of faith?’ Well, do I have a doozy for you!”

But anyway, the point her therapist was making was that Clark actually knows Lois, inside and out. Probably better than Lois knows herself, at this point, and he loves her for it anyway. Because he does love her, Lois knows. Just like Jimmy knows, and Perry, and Lucy, and hell the guy at her corner bodega too who thinks that “that nice plaid-shirt guy you’re seeing, who comes in to buy you a whole dozen maple donuts before he picks you up, he’s gonna pop the question any day now Miss Lane!”

Clark has loved Lois for a long time but never told her because Lois has spent almost the entirety of their partnership pretending to love Superman, afraid of being judged wanting by the only person in the world who could actually make that judgment in the first place. Clark loves her now, but Lois’ parents loved each other too once, and that relationship ended with her mom being just a little grateful that the cancer was actually going to kill her so that she wouldn’t have to put up with the General anymore. Lois knows that Clark thinks she doesn’t love him, that he thinks her love for Superman died in the fire of knowing that Superman was actually her bumpkin friend Clark, but for once she’s too afraid to report the truth.

The truth, that all those parts Lois’ mother hated in the General -- his stubbornness, his arrogance, his inability to see anything outside of the scope of his gun -- Mad-Dog Lane has too, probably in equal measure. Clark isn’t her mom, but he too is kind, and gentle. Soft sometimes, in ways that Lois can’t believe he manages when faced with the horrors of humanity twice over. He’s her best friend, her partner, but if they added another step to their weird dance wouldn’t it finally be too much? Clark has parents who love him, makes friends easier than Lois can breathe, but Lois has only Clark. Maybe Perry, but even then who knows -- Clark might get Perry in the divorce since he can actually spell.

“Hmm?” Lois shakes herself again, finally seeing Clark’s hand wave in front of her face. “Sorry, Clark.”

He laughs. “It’s fine Lois, I was just saying something you’d probably have liked to hear so it’s probably best that you didn’t.”

Lois clicks her tongue, rounding on Clark. “Well if it’s that I was right about you being bored after an entire two days off, then I don’t need to hear it. I already know I’m right and that’s good enough for me.”

Clark rolls his eyes. “One of the precious few times you are, since this idea of yours is all sorts of wrong. Beyond the legal thing, which I will remind you, is a matter of having a massage therapy license that neither of us has and as such, cannot in good faith offer massages as part of our jobs as massage therapists.” Funny that Clark seems to have no comment on the whole “fake marriage” part of Lois’ plan.

Lois brushes off his concern with what she thinks is aplomb. “See that would have been a problem for the Lois-of-a-month-ago, but today-Lois knows something that you apparently haven’t thought about!”

“Oh?”

Lois beckons Clark closer, and because he loves her, he humors her by leaning in close. “See,” she whispers into his ear, “Today-Lois knows that her partner Clark has super-vision, and can see all those pesky muscle groupings neither of us knows about. Just talk to me in a language we know but the client doesn’t, and we’ll be all good!”

Clark chokes. “You want me to...use my powers to aid in our...subterfuge?”

Lois raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t used them on a story before?” That would be very Clark-like of him, she supposes, but on the other hand, the Clark she knows would never not use a resource to help break a story. And, just like she thought--

“No,” Clark says, flushing beet red -- I made Superman blush! Lois thinks and tamps down -- “No I have, but just not so....”

“Planned?”

“No,” Clark admits, “it was definitely planned.” He laughs softly. “Honestly, I think it’s that no one else has ever planned to use my powers, at least not as Clark.” Superman, of course, helps build millions of homes and launches nuclear waste into space: there’re entire forums where top scientists compete to see which of their ideas Superman can help them fulfill. And here Lois is, asking him to use those same powers so that they can fake being massage therapists to coax out leads from horny couples with connections to the Mob.

She bites her lip, insecure in only the way Superman and Clark have been able to make her feel. Just figures that they were the same person the whole time. “Is..,” Lois swallows, “Is that ok? That I planned it?” Her eyes widen, sudden panic suffusing her body. “Ohmygod Clark, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or anything, I mean I definitely think your powers are cool but I love you for your mind first and fore--”

Everything inside and out of Lois’s brain shuts off. Did she just--

Clark’s jaw drops, wild hope Lois doesn’t even think he realizes creeping into the corners of his eyes. “Did you just--”

“I..” Lois’ brain is now entirely composed of those moments when your CD skips, no words, no feelings, just skips.

And then, like the greatest gift and curse the Universe could possibly bestow at once, the Cruise Director’s door opens. “Hello,” she says, glancing down at the names on her clipboard and doing a double-take. “Bumpo and Geraldine McTungus?”

#lois lane #clark kent #superman #clois #lois and clark #obviously we're gonna drag this shit out #so lois and clark's room is probably bugged and they cant kill the bugs because that would make People Suspicious #so they cant actually talk about her Confession #and clark thinks that she loves him because she knows hes superman #and lois is like ... Clark...Plaid Shirted Love of My LIfe #like she's not an idiot she thinks its sexy that he can fly #but she doesnt need it #a bitch could have just gone skydiving for the Thrill #but anyways there's a showdown after the mob is Caught or w/e and the tension has racketed a bajillion more degrees #and finally all is explained and there's a big sweeping romantic kiss between mrs and mr bump and geraldine mctungus #its great!#maya writes

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blkmxrvel · 5 years

Text

Thanks, A Latte

Pairing: Lena Luthor x Black!Female!Reader

Words: 12k

Prompt:

Summary: the five times y/n takes Lena’s heart and the one time she does something about it.

Warnings: Just a whole lotta gay shit, also I seriously didn’t feel like editing this so-

A/N: This blank layout has been sitting in my drafts for months and it’s christmas lmao, i tried my best, it’s probably gonna be in here for a few more by the time I get done with it. (i’m posting this May 20th, 2019. I started this draf in november 2018. jfc) It’s Lena’s “POV” meaning you really only get her side of the story, you get a bit of Y/N’s view point.

It was a regular day for Lena, so it was boring. She was the owner of a coffee shop, Brainy’s. It was her first time owning anything, so she took great pride in it; it was quiet, quaint and homey, just like she liked it.

She didn’t have many employees, but she didn’t really mind it either. She was fine with making tea and coffee and getting to know her customers.

It was only her today. Winn and Kara were out of town on vacation, and Sam didn’t work weekends, so she picked up the missing times. The bell above the entrance door chimed, and in walked a short girl with her backpack hooked around her arm. Lena took notice immediately, head looking up from where she was restocking cups. She was beautiful, Lena knew that immediately.

She’d never been here before, Lena would have recognized her if she did. Her laptop was soon out in front her, eyebrows furrowed together and fingers wiggling in frustration. Even with the stress radiating off of her, Lena was pretty sure she was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

Once she was done with the small work, Lena grabbed her notebook and pen and strutted over to the pretty girl in question. She didn’t want to disrupt her, as it was clear that she was surrounded by her work.

“Hi!” She said softly, but enough to catch her attention. Lena could have swore she was in a trance. She’d seen many eyes in her life, they were her favorite feature on anyone; but her Y/E/C were something eyes. She had never seen anything like them. They were big, vibrant and dull at the same time, they held anguish, stress, pain, but sparkles of joy and peaceful were sprinkled in them. She was heartbroken and in love.

“Welcome to Brainy’s! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before, so I have a menu for you, if you would like to order.”

The girl looked at her for a few seconds, making Lena’s cheeks go a little pink. “Or not…”

She shook her head, seemingly coming out of a trance. “Sorry!” She apologized. “My mind is just so jammed packed right now. I know this is like a… special cafe, so do you have anything for focus? Something that could help me study a bit better?”

Lena thought for a moment, going through the menu that was engraved in her brain.

“Yes! But it’s not a traditional tea or coffee, it’s more of a boosted latte, that alright?” The girl nodded her head, subconsciously bouncing her legs up and down. “I’ll be right back then.”

It didn’t take long for her to become immersed in her work again, Lena noticed. The Y/E/C girl was writing things down on a notebook, softly saying the words to herself in hopes of memorizing them. Lena’s face turned down into a frown; she knew what those days were like, she was glad she was finished with school. But still, she wished that she could do something to lift her spirits.

“Here you go.” Lena said as she walked back to the table again. She didn’t acknowledge Lena’s presence, probably because she was so into her studying.

Taking note of this, Lena just sat the cup on the table. That seemed to catch the girl’s attention, she jerked her head up and smile guiltily at Lena.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you, thank you so much!” Lena chuckled and just smiled back at her.

“It’s no problem at all,” Lena reassured. “I’ve been there too. Big exam?” Lena wiped her clammy hands on her apron. Her eyes were staring up at Lena, big Y/E/C eyes feeling like they were boring into Lena’s soul. She wasn’t used to this, this wave of pure euphoria that crash through her body from head to toe. She had only heard about love at first sight, she didn’t think to would ever happen to her.

“Yeah, midterm.” She replied. “It’s tomorrow and my house is never quiet enough for me to study, so places like this are my savior.” She let out something between a sigh and a chuckle before running her hands along the top of her pants. Lena frowned a little, disliking the way her body deflated.

“Well!” Lena put on her happy face and cheery face. “Good luck! This place is always open to you, and if you need anything at all, just let me know.”

The girl smiled a toothless smile at Lena, grabbing her pen and twirling it in between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said after a while. “I definitely will.”

Lena smiled one last time and walked back to the Kitchen. The mystery girl came in at the perfect time it seemed like, because at soon and Lena set her apron on her chair, Brainy’s got even busier. A wave of customers flooded through the shop, she didn’t even have time for a break that day.

It was 10 ‘till 9 and Lena was completely wiped. She had spent the rest of the day running around; taking orders and wiping tables. She hadn’t even had time to look and fawn over the pretty girl that was sitting diagonal to the counter.

How rude.

Lena stood at the counter, hands splayed over the edges. The coffee shop was practically empty, save for a few people just finishing up. Footsteps were heard getting closer to Lena, so she lifted her head. She was pleasantly surprised to see her favorite person– the new girl walking toward her. She had her bag on her shoulder and her phone in hand. Lena smiled right back, standing up straight and using her now clammy hands to smooth out her apron.

“I just wanted to say thank you, for the Latte. It was literally the best thing ever, I got all my studying done and I can finally sleep.” There was a certain giddiness to the way she spoke, something like relief and relaxation. Lena noticed that her eyes were a little brighter and that made her rejoice.

“Well I’m really glad that I could help. Would you like another for the test? Just something to boost your memory. On the house.”

She immediately shook her head. “I can pay for it, it’s fine.”

“Nah,” Lena waved her hand, leaning in a little bit. “Once my mind is made up there is no changing it.” She smirked at her, walking back to the area where the made the latte.

“I’m Lena, by the way. In case you didn’t see the name tag.” She swirled the chocolate into the cup holding it up to the whip.

“Y/N.” Lena smiled. She grabbed the lid, walking back towards Y/N.

“How fitting,” Lena said, boldness surging through her veins. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Lena reveled the way blush crept up onto Y/N’s cheeks almost instantly, a slight smile grazed her lips. She could’ve died when Y/N’s fingers brushed against hers, taking the latte out of her hands. It seems like she almost combusted, the red on her cheeks even more prominent.

She squeaked out another “Thank you, Lena.” and then turned around rather hastily grip firm on the cup.

“Good luck!” Lena wished before Y/N walked out the door. She blessed her with another smile, opening the door and getting lost in the National City crowd.

Lena’s body was still on a high, a light buzz surrounding her. She smiled to herself and faced the wall. She tried and failed to stop the pace her of heart, certain that she was going to die at any second. She turned off the machines, deciding to close a few minutes early; the shop was empty and clean, she could leave.

Grabbing her purse and changing her shoes, she locked the door to Brainy’s, keys in her hand and Y/N in her mind.

ii.

The second time Lena sees Y/N, (two weeks later on a chilly, fall day) not much has changed. It was after Lena came back from a much needed vacation.

Y/N’s in the same state: flustered, frustrated and in a rush. Lena watches as she walks over to the same table, shoving her car keys into her pocket as she sits down. She smiles at Y/N before walking towards her.

She’s still the prettiest girl Lena has ever seen, even when it looks like she’s five seconds from combusting.

Lena arrives to the table, smile morphing into a frown when the girl she’s grown so fond of literally looks like she is about to combust.

“Another exam?” That makes Y/N’s head whip up, eyes wide with shock.

“Oh, hi! And, no. A paper this time. Due tomorrow, actually.” Her eyes went back to her laptop, scrolling through the pages she’d written so far.

Lena chuckled to herself. “Do you have a habit of starting really important things at the very last minute? Because if that’s the case then studying might not be your issue?” Y/N joined in on the laughter, Lena’s heart and eyes swelling at the sound. She knew she’d do anything to hear it over and over again.

“Trust me, I like to get head starts on these things.” She clarified then shrugged. “I just I like it here, it’s kinda like my last resort when it comes to studying. When I finally realize that my parents won’t stop yelling, I come here…” Y/N subconsciously let her shoulders fall, eyes still on her laptop.

Lena felt a sudden surge of protectiveness run through her. She placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulders, frowning slightly. “I’m sorry, but know that you’re always welcome here. From the time the doors open until they close.” She smiled reassuringly at the Y/H/C beauty.

“I’ll make sure you have an unlimited supply of anything you need. On the house.”

At that Y/N’s head snapped up, shaking immediately. “Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll just-”

“Nonsense, this is my shop.” Lena interrupted. “Let me do an act of kindness. You deserve it, truly.” Y/N smiled appreciatively.

“Okay then. Well, thank you in advance. I’m Y/N.” She stuck out her head towards Lena, and with no hesitation, Lena grasped hands with the other girls, shaking lightly.

They were warm, Lena noted. Y/N’s hands were warm, they sent a hot wave through her body on this cold November day. They were soft, smoother than any baby she’s ever met. She didn’t want to let go, but she knew she had to.

“I’m Lena.”

If it was anybody else, Lena would’ve laughed at the way Y/N had completely forgotten their first introduction. Her eyes would’ve scrunched up and a small little chuckle would’ve erupted from her throat. But instead, a smile fell upon her face, soon morphing into a frown. How much stress and pressure was she under, Lena wondered. The thought made her nauseous.

The rest of Lena’s day went as planned. She counted money, served customers, made drinks; the usual.

Lena’s day at Brainy’s was coming to an end. She had serviced the last customer, the bell ringing as they walked out. Well, she thought that was the last customer.

As she was putting the chairs on top of the tables, she noticed her new found favorite person in her same spot. Lena smiled at the triumphant grin on the other girls face. Her heart fluttered at the way Y/N’s eyes closed in relief, her body doing a little dance.

Lena had finished wiping down the tables when she spoke up.

“That smiles is a good thing, I hope.” She tossed the rag back into the sink and unraveled her apron. “It’s too beautiful to be anything but joyous.”

Lena had no idea where that had came from, and she didn’t regret it when she noticed the small blush on Y/N’s cheeks and smile on her lips.

“It’s a great thing actually.” She responded. “I turned in my paper and I’m really confident about it. Perks of a quiet environment, I guess. I know I would never be able to get this done at home.”

Lena feels her heart break a little inside. She didn’t understand how someone this sweet and kind couldn’t find happiness in her own home. She hoped Y/N could find home somewhere else, maybe in the form of a little coffee shop she ran. She didn’t say that though.

“I’m glad that my shop could be a part of such a beautiful journey.” Y/N chuckled.

It’s quiet for a moment. Y/N packs up her things, puts on her hat and scarf. Lena is grabbing her purse and the keys to the shop. They both head towards the door at the same time.

They meet at the door, facing each other and smiling, eyes locked. Y/N goes out on a whim, something Lena was sure was just a spur of the moment thing, and wraps her arms around Lena’s middle. The significantly shorter girl squeezed lightly.

Lena is taken aback, but doesn’t let that show on her face as she hugs Y/N back. Curls lightly hit Lena’s face, a flood of blueberry scent flooding her nose. White heat made it course throughout her. Lena closed her eyes.

“Thank you.” Y/N says as she pulls away. She looks shy at first, timid. It was like a natural instinct for her and Lena didn’t like it. She wanted to hear the rich laugh she heard earlier, see her lips and smile the most. But she sufficed with soaking up the happiness she felt as the small smile that graced Y/N’s lips.

“I don’t mean to be weird but you have no idea how much your shop and the things you do mean to me.” They lock eyes again and Lena smiles a sad smile. She steps forward and hugs Y/N again, loving the way the smaller girl melted into her frame.

“It’s nothing at all.”

iii.

This time, Y/N walks in a mess. It’s nearly a month later and tears are streaming down her face, bag in hand, hair disheveled and shaking. There aren’t many people in the shop, surprisingly, just a few people on the left. Y/N was grateful.

It’s close to midnight, so Lena is cleaning up her counter, she wasn’t really expecting anyone else. But when she hears the bell and looks up to see who it was, she immediately notices Y/N. Not the crying, though. Just the fact that she didn’t say hi and she wasn’t in her usual spot. She’s sitting in a booth.

No greeting, not even a smile, and she’s sitting in a booth. Y/N was not a booth girl. Something was wrong.

The last few people that were in the cafe left and Lena didn’t hold herself back. She walked right up to Y/N, who’s spaced out, and sits right next to her.

Lena doesn’t say anything, just closes as much distance as possible before wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. The latter turns her head and stares at Lena, willing herself not to cry into front of the person whose opinion she cared about most.

That didn’t work, Lena knew the girl across from her way too well. The nights they had spent talking had really done wonders. Lena never thought she would care about someone as much as she did with Y/N. She felt like she knew Y/N: strong, determined, albeit stubborn. She also knew that Y/N was one of the most kind-hearted people in this world. She was so strong that she felt like she couldn’t feel vulnerable, Lena knew, because she felt the same way.

Lena squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, going out on a whim to lean forward and press her lips to her forehead.

That broke the dam. Y/N released a shaky sigh, her body convulsing as she leaned into Lena’s shoulder. She sobbed into Lena and wrapped her arms around Lena’s middle. The raw pain vibrated into Lena’s soul, so she held Y/N tighter and forced herself not to cry.

Lena knew pain like this. She had lived it time and time again growing up. The pain of all your problems, breaking the weight of your soul, not being able to hold it any longer. The way your sobs spoke for you, Lena had been through this all before.

That’s why she didn’t say anything. She didn’t try bothering with the whole self-assuring mantra. She knew the it’s okay and you’re not alone speeches were useless. They only made people feel worse. So she resorted to comforting Y/N the way she always needed somebody to comfort her.

She pull her closer into herself, so much that the smaller girl was practically sitting on her lap. Arms wrapped around her neck, she felt tears soaking through her shirt but she couldn’t bring herself to care. A shirt over the heartbroken beauty she had grown to like? It was impossible. Her hands soothed over Y/N’s heaving body, so calm and so gentle, the way she always needed. Soft, pillow curls ticked her chin, and Lena smiled.

It didn’t dawn on her that the position they were in was anything but platonic. That for people had known each other for 2 months were this close, this comfortable. It all felt so natural for her that she didn’t realize her heart beating and breaking at once. All she cared about was you.

She let Y/N cry for as long as she needed. Her loud sobs eventually dulled into weak whines, and soon into silence. She didn’t know what time it was. It was silence before Lena spoke up, hearing her take a deep breath.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. We can just sit here until you feel better.”

She felt Y/N shake her head. She sniffled a little before she lifted her head. Bloodshot Y/E/C eyes stared into Lena, and the latter just smiled.

“No it’s fine. I’m not gonna do all this and then not tell you. It’s not fair.” Lena chuckled while moving some hair out of Y/N’s face.

“It’s not about me, Angel. You do whatever you’re comfortable with.” She pretended not to see the smile and blush that appeared on Y/N’s face.

“I’m comfortable.” Y/N replied as she laid her head back onto Lena’s shoulder, facing the counter. Lena smiled and kept rubbing her back.

It was several minutes before Y/N spoke up again. No matter how comfortable Y/N said she was, she knew it would take a while for her to let it all out.

Lena had to strain her ears to her Y/N. “My parents arguing got worse. The worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what was said, but my mother left and took my two younger sisters with her. I don’t know why she didn’t take me, she knows me and my dad don’t get along. Oh well.”

“They did all that while I was studying for my exam too. It was so quiet all week I thought that they were finally starting to get along. Guess not.” A sniffle. “My dad yelled at me so bad afterward. He told me to go after them or do chores or something. I don’t know, so much was happening it was hard for me to process it all.”

Lena still didn’t say anything. Knowing that if she did Y/N would stop.

“I’m so tired, Lena.” Y/n’s voice broke. “Everything is just so much between school and home. I can’t even go back home because I know I’d hear my dad’s mouth if I did. He would try and blame it all on me. After a while I know I’d start to believe him. I mean my mother just left me there with him. Just me. Maybe I am the problem.”

“Okay, no.” Lena spoke up, not allowing Y/N to belittle herself. “That’s not your fault. Whatever problems your parents have is not up for you to take the blame for. You didn’t ask for any of it, not the arguing and discomfort. Hell, you didn’t even ask to be born.” Y/N chuckled. “Your parents are problems are results of your parents issues. Not you.” Lena ended firmly, letting Y/N know that she was 1000% serious.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Lena’s neck tighter and sat it silence for a little bit. This time it was Lena who broke it.

“You can stay with me. Since you said you don’t want to go home. I have an extra room and I live alone, it’s fine.”

Y/N lifted her head up and kissed Lena’s cheek, an action surprising them both. “Thank you, Lena. I’m staying with my grandma though. At least for the week, and then I’ll figure out something from there. She’s old and fragile, I don’t wanna stress her out too much.”

Lena hummed. “Well, just let me know. My door is always open for you.” Lena had the sudden urge to say that her heart was too, but she didn’t dare.

“You’re a saint.”

—

Three hours had passed before Y/N had decided to leave. Lena did her best to distract Y/N from her problems. Lena seldom left any subject untouched. They had talked about it all: book, hobbies, school, friends, music, and most importantly dreams and goals. Y/N wants art, Lena wants science. Y/N told Lena about her love for roller coasters, and Lena told Y/N about how terrified she was of them.

They played games. TicTacToe, I-Spy, hangman hide and go seek. They had the time of their lives. Especially for Lena, she had liked to think it was a date, but she’d never voice that out loud. It wasn’t until the 6th round of hide-and-go-seek that Lena decided to call it a night. She had been looking for Y/N for 10 minutes, 10 minutes! She should know this place like the back of her hand, it was her shop. Y/N wasn’t doing anything to help her out either, there wasn’t a sound heard anywhere.

Lena had decided to look in the closet, she was positive that was where Y/N had to be hiding. There was literally no place else.

Lena held her breath, steadying her hand onto the door handle.

3…..2…..1…..

“Got you!” Lena yanked the door open, smile wide on her face and ready to see the shocked look on her face. But she was the shocked one. Y/N was laying on the floor, curled up into nothing more than a ball with a bundle of curls on top.

Lena’s heart melted at the sight. Y/N hand was scrunched up under her chin. She knew she was in love. Okay. Maybe not in love, in love, but pretty damn close to it.

She took out her phone, yawning herself when she saw the time. 4:27. She kneeled down, getting a good look at Y/N before slowly waking her up.

YN’s face contorted into an expression of discomfort and anger when her eyes open. That dissipated though, when she saw Lena’s caring smile above her.

“Hey, Sleepyhead. It’s pretty late. And I’m not going to leave you here to sleep in the closet. But I will walk you to your grandmother’s house if you’re up to it?” Y/N nodded her head sleepily, taking Lena’s hand and standing up. It took a little while for Y/N to balance herself, but a few seconds later she had it.

Y/N walked to the exit, smiling gratefully when Lena handed her her bag. She opened the door for Lena, subconsciously leaning into her. Lena blushed hard, thankful that Y/N had been too tired to look up.

“Cambridge Street. It’s just a block or two away. I can walk alone.”

“This late at night? I think not.” Lena scoffed.

“But then you would have to walk home, that’s not safe either.” Lena smiled and grabbed Y/N’s hand, walking a bit slower.

“I’ll be fine. I have friends who look out for me.”

“What? Is your friend Supergirl?” Lena just laughed. If only she knew.

“Whatever.” The two of them walked in silence. Both of them were most content they had ever been. Y/N rested her head on Lena’s shoulder, Lena rested her head on Y/N’s. It was quite perfect.

Just as they rounded the corner, a large white house with silver lights screamed at them.

“This is me.” Y/N yawned. She didn’t lift her head until they had reached the steps.

Y/N wrapped her arms tightly around Lena’s middle, squeezing incredulously while Lena reciprocated. “Thank you.” She said. “Thank you for everything you’ve ever done. From the first moment I walked into your shop until now. I’m forever grateful.

“Anytime, sunshine.” Lena smiled as she let go of Y/N to reach for her phone, handing it to Y/N. “I’m always here. You can put your number in if you want, and then anything you need to talk you can alwa-”

Y/N grabbed the phone before Lena could finish her sentence, entering in her number and handing it back to Lena. “Done. You don’t have to tell me twice.” Lena chuckles, and they end up wrapped in that silence again. Only this time it was more vulnerable.

They stand at the doorstep, staring at each other. There’s something there. Y/N can feel it too, Lena is sure of it.

She’s never wanted to kiss someone so bad. She’s never wanted to wrap her arms around someone’s body and feel their warmth; protect them from every single threat. She’s never wanted to hear the laugh, see the smile, and just know that she’s made a beautiful heart beat a little faster. She’s never wanted to take someone’s pain away and be their happiness, not as much as her does with Y/N. Should she kiss her?

She doesn’t. She just settle with a kiss on Y/N’s forehead and a promise to see each other soon.

As Y/N walks into the house, Lena feels a pang of regret in her chest at the soft lips that pull up into a shy smile. Lena wanted to feel that same smile as their lips were pressed together.

She sighs. She should’ve kissed her.

iv.

Lena sees Y/N for the fourth time at Brainy’s two weeks later. They’ve been hanging out quite a bit since that night and it’s safe to say that Lena is completely infatuated with the brown skin beauty.

They’ve become the best of friends in the past two weeks, attached at the hip. They hang out at the park near Y/N’s house, go out for lunch when Lena had days off, shopping on Lena’s payday. Was Lena spending her money on Y/N? Yes. Did she enjoy spoiling her? Of course. What she ever going to tell Y/N about her feelings? Absolutely…..not!

With everything that Y/N has been going through lately, it wasn’t fair to just drop such a bomb on her like that. Besides, they were just starting to get to know each other, she didn’t want to jeopardize what little they had so quickly. And she didn’t even know if Y/N liked girls, let alone if she was the slightest bit interested in Lena!

Lena’s perfectly fine with falling in love from afar right now. She’s content with staring at Y/E/C eyes, or secretly reveling in the beauty she saw on her wash days, dripping with water in all its curly glory. She was fine with going to sleep wondering what it what feel like to have her right next to her, deep in a peaceful slumber. She was okay with suffering in gay silence.

For now.

It was another day at work for Lena, taking orders and wiping down tables when a chime came from the entrance. She put on her best fake smile and prepared to say the tired out greeting. Flattening out her apron she looked up.

“Welcome to Brainy’s! How may I he- Y/N? What are you doing here?” Y/N smiled, gripping her bag a little tighter.

She smirked. “Are you not happy to see me, Ms. Luthor?” Lena rolled her eyes playfully.

“You know I always am Ms. Y/L/N. I just wasn’t expecting you is all.” Lena straightened out her posture, placing her hands on the register. “What brings you? More homework?”

Y/N laughed and shook her head. Lena’s head was spinning.

“Nope, still on winter break! I just figured I’d pop up and pay you a visit! If that’s alright…” Y/N tilted her head towards Lena, her face changing, almost like she was beginning to regret popping up. Maybe she wasn’t as close to Lena as she thought she was.

Lena recognized this and shook her head dismissively. She was thinking of me. She. Was thinking. Of me. “Of course it’s alright! As long as you don’t waiting for awhile before my break.” Lena looked at the clock. 11:57. 1 hour to go.

“I don’t mind.” Y/N raised the bag that hung across her shoulder. “I brought some music theory and compositions with me. Can I get my usual please?” She rocked up on her toes, shiny a pleasing smile (Lena’s head was really spinning) before reaching into her bag to grab her wallet.

“Sure. But you don’t need that.” Lena turned her back to go and start making a Brainiac Boost Latte, the machine whirring as Lena added the ingredients.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s on the house, as always.” Y/N was the one the roll her eyes this time.

“Oh come on, Lena. You never let me give you things. While you always get me things, buy things for me. Why can’t I do the same?”

Lena shrugged, taking the cup off the machine and placing a lid over it. “Maybe I just like spoiling you.”

Lena was glad that her back was turned, because that did not mean to slip out of her mouth.

“Well, what if I wanna spoil you, too? Can’t I?” Lena wasn’t expecting that one either. But she didn’t let it show as she turned back around and gave Y/N her drink. “Isn’t that my right?”

Lena thought and let it sink in before she shrugged again. “I suppose.”

“Thank you.” Y/N handed Lena $10, walking away quickly and sitting at the table right next to the counter.

That wasn’t her usually spot, but at least she wasn’t at a booth, Lena surmised.

There was a comfortable silence between the two. Lena was working, doing her usual, and Y/N would occasionally ask Lena questions to cease the quiet. This time it was about music.

“Do you have a favorite genre of music, Lena?” Y/N lifted her head up to watch Lena wipe away at the counters.

“Classical is up there. Always been a sucker for a good composition.” Y/N smiled, eyes slanting.

“Do you have a favorite composer? Besides me, of course.” Lena stopped her wiping, shining a signature smirk at Y/N.

“I mean you are number one on my list. But Riopy and Mozart are a close second.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. “Maybe your mind is greater than I thought.” Lena chuckled.

“Why do you say that?”

“No reason, I just love both of them too. Not many people appreciate Classical.”

“That’s true.” Lena paused. “I’ve always been a sucker for country too!”

Lena wasn’t ready for the way Y/N’s eyes lit up and she bounced in her seat. “Oh my god! Me too! So many people talk shit about it, and I don’t understand it.”

“Their minds aren’t as great as ours.” Lena glances at the clock, feeling giddy when she saw that it was indeed her lunch break. “Great minds do think alike, after all.”

They fall back into silence as Lena sits across from Y/N at the table. She has her art supplies, sketchbook, pencil, the whole lot. She isn’t really hit with anything to draw, that us until her eyes fell onto Y/N.

There’s something about the energy that Y/N radiates that makes Lena so inspired. She wants to capture it with her pencil, put it on paper so everyone could see what she sees. (Okay maybe not, because she doesn’t want anyone else falling in love with her Y/N. That would thoroughly complicate things.)

Lena’s in love frustrated. How do I say I want to draw you without saying I want to draw you?

By saying it, dum dum.

Oh, shut up.

“Hey Y/N?” Lena leans in a little, glancing at her work.

Y/N doesn’t lift her eyes as she mutters a ‘hm?’ in response. She’s too focused. Lena made sure to add ‘Y/N’s focused face’ in her mental archives. “Would you mind if I drew you?” There’s a stutter in Y/N’s movements. Lena’s mind goes in overdrive with anxiety.

“I- Its just that your hair…its so beautiful.” Creep much? “A-and I need practice on drawing different textures and facial features. I don’t want my art to be whitewashed and bland, I need…..a pop of color.”

Y/N snickers and Lena wrings her hands, nervous that she totally fucked up.

“What?”

“I know that wasn’t a black joke but the irony got me,” Y/N finally looks up, the sides of her eyes in crinkles as she tries to hold in her laugh. “Go ahead.”

Lena laughs and goes to a fresh new page. “You don’t have to like… look at me or anything, just do what you’re doing.”

Lena begins drawing. Starting with Y/N’s face: Heart shaped, round, perfect for her hands. She got the way Y/N her lip in concentration. She smirked when she licked her lips, knowing that Y/N was growing anxious with Lena’s eye on her. Then her hair, the way a pink bandana holds it back, taming it’s glory nature. She left the bandana out, though. She didn’t want Y/N to be tamed. She wanted her to be loose, carefree. She wanted to look at the way Y/N laughed and groaned when the strands of her hair got caught in her lip gloss. Or not care when her hair got wet after she had just straightened it. She wanted Y/N: uncensored, unfiltered, unedited.

It didn’t take long for Lena to finished her sketch. She committed every stroke to her memory, knowing for certain that this wouldn’t be the last time she drew the brown beauty sitting across from her.

Y/N was writing the last of her notes when she heard the incessant sound of the pencil on paper come to a slow halt. The sound of the long sigh fell from Lena’s lips, making her lift her head.

“Are you done?” She asked. Lena’s eyes met her own, a smile coming onto her face.

“Yeah. You wanna see?” An eye roll.

“Duh, Luthor. I gotta see how pretty you made me.” You’re already the prettiest, how could I improve something that’s already so perfect?

Lena keeps her mouth shut, grabbing her book and flipping it to show Y/N. Y/N is taken aback when she sees it, sees her. She’s drew…so meticulously. Every detail is there, every wrinkle, curve; Lena didn’t miss a thing. It looks exactly like her. Except, the Y/N on paper looks different, more serene and undisturbed.

“Is that how you see me?” Y/N asks after a while. Her eyes are staring at Lena, heart racing and cheeks hot. “So…angelic?”

“Well angels are angelic, Y/N. It’s kind of implied.” Lena quips. Y/N just smacks her lips and shoves Lena a little, forcing a chuckle out of her.

“Well, thank you. You’re really talented, Lena. This looks beautiful.” Lena shrugs and hands the drawing over to Y/N (She’s already taken a picture).

“No need to thank me. I didn’t do much. Your face is already like that, I just put it on paper.” Y/N giggles as she declines it. She wants Lena to keep it. A beautiful piece like that doesn’t need to get messed up at her grandmother’s house.

The rest of their time together is spent laughing at Y/N’s terrible attempts at drawing. She tried to draw a dog, which oddly turned out to look like an alligator. Then a baby, which ended up as a dog. And then a fruit, you don’t even want to know how that turned out.

“Don’t laugh, we all know art isn’t my thing. I just wanted to see how much I was working with.”

“Apparently not much.” Lena mumbled under her breath.

“Hey! I heard that.” Y/N laughs.

“Oops?” Another eye roll is giving before Lena glances back at the clock, her break over with.

“Well, I have to head back. This was quite a pleasant time.” Lena stands up as Y/N does, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Y/N utters as her face is in Lena’s shoulder. “I always have the best times when I’m with you.”

Lena feels the rush of pride through her veins. It doesn’t go away, instead it’s inflated when that new but warm feeling of love comes it. Lena welcomes them both, head cloudy as she walks out the door, a promise to text her on her lips.

She needs to kiss her.

The air is even colder than the last time Y/N was here, if not colder. White lines appeared on her hands when she scratched them, a clear indicator that it was way too cold for her to be outside.

The sun had just set, it’s red-orange light beamed on her as she walked towards the entrance, keys in hand.

She walks in, a bit more smiley and pep in her step. Lena doesn’t notice, she’s too busy cleaning up the mess that James had just made. He’d locked a cup into the machine and forgot how to unlock it. Needless to say, he’s stuck on busboy duty for a while.

Lena had just tossed the rag back into the bucket. An exhausted sigh fell out of her mouth when she walked up to the counter, not even lifting her head up just yet.

“It looks like you need the pick-me-up latte this time.” Lena subconsciously snapped her head up, an immediate smile spreading across her lips.

“Y/N!” Lena beamed. ��Hey, how are you?” She quickly lets her eyes scan over Y/N’s body: a cute, fluffy blue sweater with black slacks (that hugged her curves in just the right way), fit black flats and a silver hat snug on the top of her head. She looks likes a princess and Lena melts, quite literally.

Y/M shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking on her tiptoes and trying not to fluster at the way Lena’s eyes were locked into hers.

“I’m doing alright. You?”

Lena huffed out a small laugh. Typing on the screen in front of her. “As best as I can be. I hope you don’t have to work today. It’s Christmas Eve!”

Y/N smiled to herself. Lena didn’t know that though, so when her bright white teeth caught Y/N’s eye, she nearly fainted.

“I actually don’t! Classes ended last week, but it’s not like I had anyone to celebrate it with anyways.” She shrugs. Lena feels bad.

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring it up. I’m over it anyways.” Lena doesn’t believe that. She lets it go, though, when Y/N shakes her head, dismissing the cute brunette with crystal eyes across from her.

“Of course you didn’t! I know that. Don’t worry about it.” Lena suddenly gets an idea in her head. Invite the pretty girl over for Christmas! Give her a present, tell her how you fell. Okay, maybe that last part was a bit…premature.

There’s a silence again. That silence. The silence that makes Lena want to close down the shop and kiss Y/N until the sun comes up.

“Spend Christmas with me.” Okay, Lena most definitely did not mean for that to come out of her mouth. Not like that at least. Y/N sputters, there’s practically smoke covering out of her ears. Lena blushes like hell.

“I mean! M-My friends and I, we have this thing we do every year, we call it friendsmas. It basically just a second Christmas, but with your friends!” Lena feels this sudden wave come over her. Was that…nervousness? Oh god.

“You’re welcome to come. I’m sure they would love you.” I do. “No one should have to spend Christmas alone.” Especially a beautiful woman like you.

Get a fucking grip, Luthor.

Y/N rocks back and forth on her toes. She’s playing with her fingers and avoiding Lena’s eyes.

“I- I don’t know. I mean I wouldn’t know anyone and I wouldn’t have a gift-”

“Just bring food.” Lena interrupts. “Literally anyone would be happy with food. They are greedy.” They both chuckle. “Only if you’re up for it, though. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable. It’s completely your choice.” Though it would make my year if you came.

Y/N shrugs and rearranges her bag. “I’ll think about it. Anyways! I wanted to know what time you were off. There’s this cool new ice skating thingy at the lake and I wanted to know if you wanna go check it out.”

Hey! Let’s go on a date! You’re really pretty inside and out and I don’t ever wanna leave your side. Y/N didn’t say that, Lena knows. But she really wishes she did. Was this a date? Could it actually be possible that Y/N returned Lena’s feelings?

She just smiled through her thoughts, reaching behind her to take off her apron. “I’m off now, actually. Cal is already here, and of course I would love to go.”

They walked outside together. Y/N didn’t have a car, and she assumed Lena didn’t either, so she thought they were going to walk. It wasn’t until she felt a warm hand grasping hers and pulling her towards the parking lot did she realize she was wrong.

Lena pulled Y/N along, trying to memorize the way her hand felt. It was soft, smooth, but she could feel the calloused fingertips on her skin, a result of endless hours of music practice.

Y/N’s eyes bulged out of her head when they got to Lena’s car. “Wow! This car is….” “Cool?”

“Hot!” That made Lena smirk, walking over to the passenger door. She held the door open for Y/N and closed it when she was in.

They drove in basic silence the whole ride there, the good silence. It was almost natural for Lena to grab Y/N’s hand as they approached the door. She noticed her uneasiness. Maybe it was because Lena was holding her hand and she didn’t want her to. Maybe it was because it was Lena, the girl she has been wanting to kiss since she was her. Maybe it was because Y/N wanted to blurt out i like you! Into the expanse of the car, but couldn’t find the courage.

Whatever it was, it made Y/N grip Lena’s hand tighter.

When Y/N and Lena got into the rink, they were both apprehensive, though the presence of one made the other feel better. And the scenery, oh, God the scenery. They had never seen anything so peaceful. A giant Christmas tree sat behind the rink, lights wrapped all around them. Music was playing loud enough to sing along, but soft enough to keep the merry energy. Kids, friends, parents, lovers were all skating around. Laughs were heard – the sound of making memories with the ones you loved most. Y/N wanted to feel what they felt. Lena wanted to give Y/N that feeling.

Lena didn’t tell Y/N that she hated the cold, and Y/N didn’t tell Lena that she didn’t know how to skate, but they sucked it up to be in each other’s presence.

“Are you ready?” Lena was trying her best to hold in her laughter. Y/N was clinging onto the side rail, wobbly in her skates and shivering. She wasn’t even on the ice yet. She was in the entryway, scared to take the first step.

“Um, not really. I changed my mind.” She tried to bargain. “Let’s just watch christmas movies inside instead.”

Lena grabbed Y/N by the waist, easing her onto the ice. They stayed still for a bit, Lena keeping them upright when Y/N lost her balance. “I won’t let you fall.” Y/N trusted her.

And so they skated, skated for two hours. Lena teaching Y/N how to keep her balance, and Y/N giving Lena some warmth every time she failed and fell right on top of her. It was a win-win situation.

They ended up sitting on the ice (Y/N fell and didn’t feel like getting back up. Lena got down for moral support) as the fireworks were being set off.

Lena looked over at Y/N when it happened; white, green, and red illuminating across brown skin. She swore she had never seen anyone more beautiful. Y/N’s nose was a bit red, her hands clammy as she blew into the, to keep them warm. The wind blew her hair back a little when the fireworks started, big Y/E/C eyes shining brighter than the lights. Her skin was glowing. Lena knew that in that moment she was going to kiss her. She didn’t know when, but she was certain she wasn’t going to wait longer than she had to.

Y/N leaned into Lena, trying to save body heat. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” She asked. “I’ve never felt so…calm.” She turns to Lena after a moment, smiling brightly. “Thank you, Lena. Thank you for everything.”

Y/N moves completely on top of Lena, arms wrapping around her neck and she hugs the Luthor tight. Lena hugs back, obviously, rubbing her back and rocking them lightly. “You’re so welcome, sunshine.”

They move from the hug, but stay in close proximity of each other. After a while, they get too cold. They return their skates, grab their things and get back in the car. Two hours of cold and skating really makes you hungry, so Lena suggest Big Boy’s. Y/N, a lover of anything food, just agrees. This ride is filled with that silence too, Y/N grasping Lena’s hand.

They eat in the car. Lena paid, obviously. And when their down Lena drives Y/N back to her grandmother’s. Lena gets out the car and walks Y/N up to the door, the same spot the first time Lena wondered what Y/N’s lips tasted like.

“Did you have fun?” Y/N chuckles.

“I should be the asking you that. I’m the one that invited you. But yes, yes I did. I had the most fun I’ve ever had.” That seems to be a recurring thing whenever she’s around Lena, Y/N notices. “Thank you.”

They were silent for a few seconds, Lena tested the air. It was identical to the one last time. The same pull, same mutual desire. She could feel it. They had most definitely went on a date.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow? Will you text me the address?” Lena stared at Y/N confused for a second, but then she quickly figured out that Y/N was referring to friendsmas.

“I’ll do you one better. Let me pick you up? 7-ish?” Y/N nodded, her hands going to her back pockets. Lena was just itching to replace Y/N’s hands with hers.

“Yeah. Is there a special attire or something?”

‘Not really.” She wanted to say that Y/N looked beautiful everything so it doesn’t matter, but this time she….actually did? The blush on Y/N’s face and the small thank you that left her lips was evident enough. She actually did it!

Lena was feeling like hot shit now. “If you want, you can bring extra clothes and stuff too. We usually end up staying the night since it’s just us. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can drive you back home.”

Y/N shook her head. No, it’s fine. I can stay, you’ll be there right? All night?”

Lena nodded. “All night and into the very late morning. I won’t leave you, sunshine. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Y/N giggled.

“Darn it! So close!” Y/N joked. Lena’s carried more weight than either of them realized. Lena meant it, she knew it and was sure Y/N knew it, since there was a smile on her face. There goes that silence again.

“Well! I guess it’s settled then. I promise you’ll love them and they’ll love you even more. Hopefully it’ll feel like home to you.” Hopefully I’ll feel like home to you.

“Thank you, a lot Lena. Really.” Y/N stands on her tiptoes, going to hug Lena for the last time that night, and pressing her lips to the corner of Lena’s mouth for the first. Y/N didn’t see the blush on Lena’s lips, thank God. She slipped in the house before Lena could open her eyes.

vi. [versus 1]

It’s Christmas! Lena wakes up smiling to herself, it’s the happiest she’s ever been. She doesn’t have any immediate family, Lillian is still in jail and her brother is…..her brother. She took the majority of her day to do some last minute shopping. She prepped some food and did her laundry.

She spend most of her day shopping for Y/N, though. She had to make sure that this day was perfect for her, which includes the perfect gift. She remembered you talking about how you loved music and time you spent the whole time studying music. She also remembers how beautiful Y/N looked, she had the portrait to prove it. Y/N told her that she wanted to play music more often, piano specifically, she just didn’t have a piano to play it on.

After she took her shower and ate some food, she made her way to the highest rated music store in national city. Lena knew that Y/N’s confession wasn’t a cry for pity, Y/N hated pity. She wasn’t trying to guilt trip Lena into buying her instruments, she just felt comfortable enough to tell Lena these things. That doesn’t mean Lena wasn’t going to buy you one anyways.

“Hi! Welcome! Do you need help in finding anything?” An employee greeted Lena as she walked into the store. She smiled, shifting in her shoes.

“Yes actually, I’m doing some last minute shopping and I was wondering where you keyboards were.” Justin, the associate, smiled.

“Yes! Right this way.” Justin led Lena to the back of the store, immediately they were surrounded by piano keys. “Were you looking for full size or partial?”

“Full size. Which one is the closest to an actual grand?”

“That would be…..” Justin trailed walking around. Lena followed. “This one right here, Yamaha Arius YDP-143. It’s one of the newest, digital but has everything that an acoustic piano would have: weighted keys, pedals, the lot.” Lena nodded her head, satisfied.

“That’ll work, thank you. ” She watched as Justin called another associate to assist in bringing the keyboard to the front.

Lena picked the one that looked the best: Black, sleek, pretty. Just like Y/N, she thought. She mentioned that she would like your name engraved at the top, and made her way to check out.

Meanwhile, Y/N was out buying something for Lena. Art was her favorite, Y/N knew that much. Lena probably had every art supply there way, so she wasn’t even sure the gift would mean anything to Lena. I mean, look at her car: freaking immaculate.

She bought them anyways though. Easel, paint, brushes, pencils of all sorts, it was safe to say Y/N was officially broke. She left that store and went to another, buying ingredients for Empanadas, fruit salad and brownies. She wasn’t going to show up empty handed. She needed to make a good impression, she needed to stop wallowing in her grandmother’s sun room being lonely, and she needed to put herself out there. She was thankful Lena had given her the opportunity.

Y/N wrapped the easel, paint, and brushes carefully. She spent a lot of money on these and would be damned if they got messed up before she could even give them to Lena. She prayed that Lena would like these.

The hours fly by and Lena is trying to get dressed, trying being the key word. She was freaking out. She dropped the gift at Kara’s place in advanced, it was too big of a gift to just hide in the trunk, you know. Besides Kara was a doll and lifted it with ease.

She’s stressed out over her outfit. She has to pick an outfit that says look at m e! but not one that says look at me! …Lena was having a hard time understanding it herself.

There was so much she wanted to do tonight: introduce Y/N to her friends, make her happy, hopefully she’ll make friends, hopefully she’ll like the gift, confess feelings and kiss her! She really, really wanted to kiss her. With consent of course, but what better day than the day of love and giving.

She decided to go with something simple, black jeans and cute Christmas sweater. She had simple black boots on and her hair was straightened down her back. When it’s getting close to 6:45 she pulls out her phone and texts Y/N.

hey, sunshine. i’m on my way. be there in 15 x

Y/N was sitting on the porch when Lena pulled up, way too anxious to just be sitting in the house. She smiled when she saw the white Tesla in her driveway. She picked up the art materials first, wrapped in pink and yellow paper. It wasn’t the best since Y/N hasn’t had a Christmas in a while, but it was decent.

Lena jumps out to help Y/N with the gifts, giving her a kiss on the cheek when they met each other. Lena doesn’t dare ask what it is and who it’s for, she just slides it in the backseat.

Y/N runs back and grabs the containers of food and gets in the car, Lena closing it behind her. Y/N bounces her leg up and down, shaking her hands out. Lena takes her seat, putting the car into drive.

“Ready?” She asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Y/N smiles weakly, her leg bouncing faster. Lena notices and nudges Y/N’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. I promise. None of them bite. And if they do….bite them back.” They both laugh at that, Y/N rubbing her hands over her thighs.

“I know, I’m just a little nervous is all. Thank you again for inviting me, Lena. It means a lot.”

Lena scoffs playfully as she stops at a red light. “Stop thanking me, Y/L/N. There’s no need. Just relax, feel the moment, be happy.” Y/N exhales a deep breath, trying to follow Lena’s instructions.

It wasn’t long before they got to the party. As soon as the door was opened, a blonde girl with glasses smiled and gave her a big hug.

“You must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you! Lena talks about you nonstop!” Lena shot Kara a whatthefuckwhywouldyousaythat look.

“It’s great to meet you too, Kara.”

They stepped inside and Y/N was immediately greeted by everyone. She met Winn who was dating James. Alex who was dating Maggie. Cal, who’s she seen a few time at the cafe, was dating Nia. She felt at home right away, they were laughing and giggling. Christmas music played in the background.

Y/N was dancing around with Alex when she heard her name being called. “Please tell me you’re coming over for game night.” Her voice was muffled, a warm Empanada in her mouth.

“Yeah! These brownies are freaking delicious! Not too much chocolate, not too bitter. Perfect.” Winn.

Y/N blushed. They actually wanted her to come.

“You guys only like her for her food, so shallow.” Maggie came over and wrapped her arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “She should come back because she’s so great to be around, idiots.” Maggie turned to Y/N. “Seriously kid, you’re like a breath of fresh air.”

Y/N only muttered out a small thank you and sure before Nia came and demanded to give gifts. She zoned for the most part of that, she was too nervous about whether Lena would like her gift or not. If she would say thanks, but no thanks. Or be disappointed that she didn’t anything better.

“Okay! Lena your turn.” Y/N broke herself out of her thoughts. She forced herself up and walked over to the tree. “These are for you, it’s not much but I hope you like it.”

Lena gasped to herself. Y/N got her a gift? She wasn’t expecting that. Tears sprang to her eyes when she opened the gift. She’d been wanting these paints and brushes for months. She never got them because she figured she had other things to worry about.

“I love it, Y/N.” Lena got up to hug the girl that was literally quaking in her boots, well… fuzzy socks. She squeezed tighter when she felt a breath of relief coming from Y/N’s mouth.

“I actually have a gift for you too, but it’s in the other room.” No one paid them any mind as they walked to the guest room, they just finished exchanging gifts. Lena stopped right before the door, telling Y/N to cover her eyes.

“Why? You aren’t going to kill me, right?”

“Of course not, too many witnesses.” Lena smirked and Y/N laughed. She covered her eyes, goosebumps raising on her skin as Lena led her inside.

“Okay…. Open!” Y/N let her hands fall, eyes widening like little moons when she saw the keyboard box. She immediately teared up.

“You didn’t.” Lena stepped next to Y/N, a light smile on her face.

“I did.” Y/N stammered, looking between Lena and the box on the floor.

“Lena you… You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“I can’t take this.” Lena frowns and steps in front of Y/N.

“Why not?” She asked. “You deserve it, more than anyone I know.” Lena steps closer, invading Y/N’s personal space. She could feel Y/N breath as she looked up at her.

“You’ve already done so much for me, I….I don’t wanna seem like a moocher.” Lena chuckled at Y/N use of words. She feels a surge of confidence flood her veins.

“You aren’t a moocher, sunshine. You’re just a pretty girl that I wanna spoil and give the world to.” Her hand came up to cup Y/N’s face, heart swelling when Y/N leans into her touch.

This is the moment, the one Lena has been waiting for. Where that air is flowing around them, entrapping the two in their own bubble.

Lena takes a deep breath and places her other hand on Y/N’s cheeks. She feels her heart race as Y/N looks up at her with those big Y/E/C eyes, full of wonder and curiosity. Lena continues.

“From the first moment I laid my eyes on you, the girl with the best hair and the smoothest brown skin I have ever seen. All stressed out. It broke my heart seeing you like that, and I knew I would do everything to make you feel safe, happy, protect you. And when you spoke, and showed me your heart time and time again. I know that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Can you let me do that?”

Lena can tell that Y/N is processing her words. Her eyes move all around Lena’s face. Lena knew she was looking for any sign of hesitation, insincerity, anything that would lead to believe that this was all a joke, too good to be true. But when she didn’t find any she nodded her head, leaning herself more into Lena’s hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Lena asked. Y/N stared and nodded again. As soon as their lips touched, there were fireworks. Y/N was shy, so Lena took her hands and placed them on her shoulders. She felt Y/N grip them and pull herself closer, almost like she was just know coming to her senses. Lena’s hands went back to Y/N’s cheeks, squishing her cheeks.

They pulled away when it was hard to breathe. Y/N immediately giggled and hide her face. Lena smiled. “Are you okay? Was that okay?” Y/N nodded.

“I’m fine and that was more than okay.” She smiled up at Lena, like a happy puppy.

“There’s something else.” Lena squinted. Y/N ducked her head again, covering her face it her hands. Her words were muffled.

“What?”

“That was my first kiss.” Lena’s eyes widened. She was glad Y/N didn’t see, that would’ve been bad. Instead, she put on a sly smile, wrapping her arms around Y/N.

“Well, I hope your first kiss wasn’t too bad.” Y/N looked from her position on Lena’s chest.

“It was great, really great.” She smiled. “Just….why the keyboard?”

“Every future famous composer needs one, right? Rather sooner than later.”

“But….” Y/N cringed at house broke she was. “It’s fucking expensive.”

“I would’ve gotten you a baby grand, I just didn’t wanna scare you away.” Lena panicked. “I hope this didn’t scare you away.” Y/N shook her head.

“This most definitely didn’t, it did the opposite.” Y/N took a chance and stood on her toes to press a kiss to Lena’s lips again, smiling widely. “Thank you, you can’t expect me to not say it when you spent two-thousand dollars on me.”

Lena just laughs. “Fine, I’ll let it slide. You’re worth it, sunshine.”

bonus!

It’s raining when Lena hears a knock on her door. She didn’t know it was a knock at first, it was 2am and raining cats and dogs, she couldn’t decipher much.

All she had been caring about was why her girlfriend (it feels so good for her to say that) hadn’t texted her back in a few days. Lena wasn’t clingy, no, she was protective, worried. She wanted her baby safe, and understood that sometimes she couldn’t spend her days wrapped up in Y/N. Clingy was not a word Lena associated herself with.

Y/N usually texted back relatively fast. There were moments when she was driving or cleaning or working that delayed her response by a bit. But Lena would always get a reply – whether it be a full blown text or a simple emoji to let Lena know she was alright – there was always something. It had been two days, and Lena was starting to lose her mind.

“Alright! I’m coming, Jesus!” The person banged on her door again, more frantic. Lena yanked the door open, ready to eat into whoever it was ass.

“What the fuck is your problem? Baby? Oh my god what are you doing!? Get in here!” A wide eyed Lena ushered a shivering Y/N into her house. She immediately led Y/N to her room, helping her get rid of her wet clothes.

“I’m- I’m sorry for not texting you back. There was just so much going on and my grandmother-” Y/N had choked up on her words and Lena immediately dropped her spare clothes, pulling Y/N’s body into her own. She couldn’t care less about the fact that her girlfriend was naked, all Lena cared about was the fact that she was shaking with sobs. This reminded Lena of the first time she held Y/N in her arms as she cried, she hated it then, and she hated it now. No one deserves to be this hurt, especially not her baby.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Lena said. She immediately assumed the worse when Y/N wrapped her arms around Lena’s neck, face burying deep into her shoulder as she cried even harder.

Lena felt her heart clench. Tears sprang to her eyes as she laid on her back, Y/N on top of her as she rubbed her back. Y/N’s hair was still wet, it was probably going to get matted without a proper detangling but Y/N didn’t care and neither did Lena.

“It’s gonna be alright, baby. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” Lena shushed.

A few minutes later her cries died down. Y/N held onto Lena with a vice grip, her face still in her neck.

“I’m a good person, right?”

“Of course, the best. Why do you ask?”

Y/N lifted her head and Lena’s heart broke and she gazed into her girlfriend’s red eyes. She had never seen Y/N so….defeated, like a child who no longer had anyone to guide them, take care of them.

“Why do bad things always happen to me?” Tears fell from your eyes. “What did I ever do that warrants me to keep getting hurt like this?”

“You know what they say, baby. The world’s toughest soldiers fight the world’s toughest battles.” She frowned as she held Y/N’s face, her thumb rubbing in circles.

“Well I may not be that strong, I feel like I’m ready to break.” Y/N sighed and laid her head back down on her girlfriend. “Hell, I’m already cracking at the edges.”

“Well, it looks like I’m gonna have to be the E6000 to make sure you don’t.” Y/N chuckled. She didn’t say anything, just played with Lena’s figured and yawned a few times.

“I told my grandmother about us.” If Lena wasn’t searching for Y/N’s voice she wouldn’t have caught it, she was speaking so soft. Lena looked down at Y/N, brushing the hair from her forehead.

“Yeah?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I wish I hadn’t though. Maybe then I’d still have a place to live.” Lena stopped, a sudden rage flooding her veins as she processed Y/N’s words.

“Y/N….” Lena began.

“Yeah she did it. She kicked me out. I couldn’t even process what she said afterwards, I was just so… shocked. My own grandmother, the same grandmother that said I was her favorite and she would love me no matter what. Just….poof.”

Lena didn’t say anything this time. Trying to calm her anger before she said something she regretted. It wasn’t about her, it was about the angel with broken wings laying on her chest. She got herself together.

“I’m sorry, baby.” She kissed Y/N’s head. “I know how hard that is.” Y/N hugged Lena closer.

“Yeah, she hasn’t even met you and she made these dumb assumptions. It was crazy.” Y/N sat up suddenly. “And she told me I could stay if we broke up.” An eye roll.

Panic settled in Lena’s body. “And what did you say?”

“I told her tough shit.” Whew. “There’s no way I’m gonna ruin the best thing in my life because she’s a shitty grandmother and can’t accept the fact that I like girls. That’s not my problem.”

Lena rubbed her hands along Y/N’s side. “I’m the best thing in your life?” She smirked and Y/N leaned in, pressing her lips to Lena’s.

“Without a doubt. You’re the only one that hasn’t left yet, and you make me happier than I ever thought I would be. I lo-” She stopped herself, Lena needed her to keep going. “Thank you.”

“What did I tell you about all those thank you’s? It’s nothing at all. And I’m never going to leave you if I have anything to say about it. As long as you want me, I’m gonna be here.” She kissed Y/N again, pressing into her girlfriend’s hips and smiling at the sigh that fell into her mouth.

“Do you think you could help me find a place?” Y/N asked as they pulled away. “I wanna be out of there in 2 weeks tops.”

Lena smiled. “I could have you in a new place by tomorrow.” Y/N rolled her eyes and laughed at her overachieving girlfriend.

“And where would that be, Ms. Luthor?” She rested her hands on Lena’s stomach.

“You’re already in it, Ms. Y/L/N.” A smile took over Y/N’s face.

“Wow, I didn’t peg you to be a U-Haul babe.”

“Oh, shut up.” Laughter fell from Lena’s lips as she pinched Y/N’s thigh. That made Y/N laugh, her head lulling back.

“Seriously though, you’d let me move in? Are you ready for that?”

“Baby I have been ready for you to move in since I first spoke to you.” Okay maybe she was a U-Haul. “I was serious when I said my door was always open for you.”

“So you weren’t just saying that to get my number?” Y/N squinted.

“It wasn’t the motivator of my intentions, no. That was just a bonus.” Y/N giggled.

“Are we going to be living together?”

“If you want to be, my love. It’s up to you. If you’re not ready, then first thing in the morning we can go apartment hunting.” Lena sat up herself, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s middle and kissing her chest.

Y/N grabbed Lena’s face to kiss her once again. She pulled Lena as close as possible.

“I think I’m ready. ‘Honey, I’m home!’ is going to sound great coming out my mouth.” Lena smiled brighter than ever, wrapping her arms around Y/N tighter.

“I can’t wait to hear it, baby.” Lena really couldn’t. She couldn’t wait to wake up with Y/N every morning. It didn’t even have to be in the same bed, just knowing that her girlfriend, her baby, her everything was going to be within a 500 foot radius was enough. Getting to cuddle when it’s cold, eat breakfast food together at 3pm, seeing her damn beautiful face was enough. It was everything to Lena.

“I know that you hate when I say thank you but I have to.” Y/N looked into Lena’s eyes. “Everything you’ve done for me, out of nothing but genuine want and need. For being my safe place when I didn’t have one. Being my calm when I was spiraling. Being my sunshine when all I could see was darkness, it means more than you know.”

“You don’t have to s-”

“Thank you, Lena. Thank you, a latte.” Y/N started at Lena for a few seconds before she burst into a fit of giggles. “Do you get it? Because I would always get a Latte, and it sounds like a lot, but it’s latte.” Lena laughed along with her girlfriend, she’s in love with a complete dork.

“I get it, baby.” She kissed Y/N’s nose. “I love it. I love it so much but not as much as I love you.” Y/N’s eyes lit up at Lena’s words, smashing her lips onto her girlfriend’s.

Lena felt tears hit their lips. She knew they were Y/N’s, she knew they were happy tears. She could feel the sheer emotion transferring from her girlfriend to her and she knew Y/N loved her too.

Neither one of them has ever been this happy.

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