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xmoonlitxdreamx · 1 month

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Notes/thoughts/interpretations/critiques on p. 1-7 of the junker short story "a friendly rivalry"

I'm not much of a reader but I thought I'd try to read the junker short story since it's available for free now. I took page-by-page notes on my thoughts/impressions while I was reading, which I'll put below. :0

This is only the first 7 pages because the latter half of the story was kind of confusing for me (a lot of combat that wasn't making sense to me), but I'll try to give those a proper read some time too.

(Please note that I'm critical at times because it's easier for me to write about things that don't work rather than do work, so if you don't like reading critique this might not be for you. I try not to be too negative or upset sounding but idk not totally sure how I come off in these notes. personally I'm like Extremely Neutral™️ about the story because I don't really care much about reading in the first place so lskdfjlsdfj)

This will prob not make much sense unless you have the story open at the same time, just a heads up;;

Page 1

Narration is 3rd person mostly limited to Junkrat’s thoughts/impressions (aka narration is in 3rd person but comments/etc made in the narration is indicative of Junkrat’s perception of things)

The cover art made me think it was gonna be from Roadhog’s POV but nah it’s mostly Junkrat

Narration refers to Roadhog as Junkrat’s “best mate” (implicitly Junkrat’s thoughts, so Junkrat thinks of Roadhog as his best mate)

Roadhog possibly nervous & Junkrat is able to pick up on it OR Junkrat is nervous & projecting his nervousness onto Roadhog (as the story progresses, it becomes clear that it’s the latter)

Junkrat calls Junker Queen “Queenie”; can be interpreted as affection for her or disrespecting her

Junkrat thinks he and the Queen have a mutual respect; Roadhog disagrees; indicative of Junkrat’s inability to accurately assess his relationships with other people I guess

They sell boba at a bar in Junkertown apparently LMAO?? I always interpreted it to be that Junkrat picked up the taste for boba from traveling around the world during his heist spree (tho honestly Junkrat’s boba interest was just a fun thing they added based on a fan question about Junkrat’s canteen iirc so I kinda get not taking an earnest route with this lmao)

Sludge pit = some sort of punishment for criminals in Junkertown I guess. Also Junkertown has a jail. I guess there is some sort of criminal justice system in Junkertown idk.

Footnote on p. 1 is kinda funny (meant to emphasize that Junkrat’s a blabbermouth) but tbh I always took Junkrat’s “secret treasure” to mean “Junkrat has a treasure but no one knows what it is,” not “Junkrat has a secret and it’s a treasure.” (Junkrat telling everyone/bragging about having a treasure is in line with my headcanon though)

Unclear if this story takes place before or after their heist spree. Honestly continuity-wise it doesn’t make much sense either way; it kinda more feels like the heist spree never happened. (If it was before the heist spree, its weird that Junker Queen would try to execute them here but then just exile them later. If it was after the heist spree, it’s weird she let them back in Junkertown just to execute them since they’re not her problem anymore.)

Page 2

Roadhog’s “worried look” was apparently just him waiting for Junkrat to shut up, cementing that Junkrat’s perception of Roadhog’s emotions was just Junkrat projecting his own worry onto someone else

This is a formatting thing but I don’t like when books have big blocks of text on the page from stuff that hasn’t happened yet LMAO why are they showing me spoilers.

It’s reveal on this page is that they’re here to be executed. Tbh this is kind of tonally weird to me, like I know Junker Queen wants Junkrat and Roadhog killed but it’s kind of at odds with the kind of cartoonishness of how the story’s written. (cartoonishness elaborated on in later bullet points)

Anyway the execution reveal also reveals that Junkrat’s perception of him and Junker Queen having “mutual respect” is something he made up

Junkrat is social in Junkertown and he seems to likes the people there, but he isn’t liked by the people (exemplified in part where someone throws an egg at him); apparently has some sort of sentimentality for living in Junkertown even if no one likes him

Scrumbo Wigley is a ridiculous name.

Scrumbo Wigley’s name & someone throwing an egg at Junkrat = cartoonish tone of the scene

Roadhog taps Junkrat on the shoulder to get his attention -> kind of a light touch from Roadhog which is cute to me, but tbh it’s probably meant to just shift the attention of the scene lmao

Page 3

Idk why “look” was italicized here, it felt kind of unnecessary since “gave him a look” already means “gave someone an irritated look.” (I’m just an italics hater in general tho dslfksdjfsd)

Junkertown has a premium sausage stand

The Outback Bill bit kind of emphasized the cartoonishness of the scene again; entire listing of the crimes bit intended as humorous. (Outback Bill part in particular felt so random to me, like trying to do an “avatar cabbages guy” bit in like 3 sentences)

Outback Bill crime suggests Junkrat and Roadhog blew up some people for fun (I guess the sausage stand was their target but some customers also got blown up; unclear if just injured or killed, but given the intended humor in the scene it’s probably not supposed to be anything serious)

Cartoony tone makes it feel kinda wild that they’re getting executed but I guess it’s more of a Colosseum battle than an execution

Junkrat is apparently not intimidated by Junker Queen given that he banters with her about her not wanting to fight them herself (though later he’s scared of her when she comes down to the battlefield thing so maybe that was just fake confidence.)

Junker Queen apparently finds Junkrat and Roadhog funny/entertaining (biscuit incident) which tbh makes it all the more random to me that they’re getting executed imo

This doesn’t exactly work tonally imo (again, hard to tell if there’s any gravity to this battle or if it’s just supposed to be wacky silly) but Junkrat getting pissy and saying “unbelievable” like a disappointed grandma about having to fight Wrecking Ball is pretty funny

Footnote on this page says that city factions (demolitionist, wrecker, etc) apparently work together or something I guess. Not really sure what they’re trying to suggest with this footnote; I guess it emphasizes the idea of Junkertown being self-sufficient or something. Or that they’re all destructive and violent, but like. In a community-building way.

Page 4

Roadhog pulls Junkrat out of danger (this isn’t new, he did this in Going Legit)

Junkrat eagerly joining in with the bantering/heckling conversation (?) in the crowd -> emphasizes his chatty/friendly personality, wants to make friends

Junkrat largely unaware of what Roadhog does during combat & focuses more on himself; incorporates Roadhog into his plans when it’s convenient for him; possible that it usually works out/Roadhog usually does what Junkrat asks given that it seems to be a regular occurrence (“Roadhog, catch me!” happens at the end of the story too)

Junkrat uses “wicker basket” as a swear. (???????) Again, this kind of just highlights the cartoonish/silly tone of the story

Page 5

Wrecking Ball’s reveal is also very cartoonish/unserious. Personally I don’t really know what to do with Wrecking Ball’s reveal in this story; it’s kind of not cohesive imo but I guess it’s sillay which seems to be the main goal of the story so it’s like fine I guess

Junkrat saying “It’s alright, Roadhog!” is another instance of him projecting his fear onto Roadhog and comforting himself in the guise of comforting Roadhog

Idk I’m not an action story reader (or a reader at all LMAO I never read) but the action feels kind of slow paced. Maybe because it keeps getting interrupted by jokey cartoonish things

Writing kind of too literal at times for my taste (eg: “He threw the grenade.” -> not much rising tension to this moment, almost seems like he does this casually. For example maybe there could’ve been a tense moment between the heckling from the crowd messing with Junkrat’s confidence or something (knowing that he seems to value the approval of people in Junkertown or is at least affectionate to them) but idk the scene ended up feeling very literally like “the crowd chanted -> Wrecking ball started spinning -> Junkrat aimed at Wrecking Ball -> Junkrat threw the grenade” without much investment)

Outback Bill gag happens again on this page (more cartoonish tone) but like he’s not bothered by it so good for him I guess

Junkrat’s scared of Junker Queen on this page; wasn’t much explicit indication of his worries or fears about Junker Queen before this (mostly just the implicit stuff with him projecting onto Roadhog which was very light), so idk to me this felt kind of out of nowhere for him to be explicitly scared especially since he bantered with her earlier. There’s also been like very little feeling of gravity through the whole thing (see: cartoonish moments) so it was hard for me to feel scared with him.

Apparently no one cares about Junkrat’s treasure. This suggests that Junkrat hires Roadhog just to protect him from the Queen’s men who want him dead since he’s a troublemaker. Tbh this is totally at odds with Wasted Land, where the Queen’s men are threatening him to give his treasure to them or something. Personally I think it’s just better drama for Junkrat to be wanted by the Queen and other greedy people in Junkertown for his treasure, with that being the main reason he hires Roadhog. Plus I think it just kind of ties in with his apparent theme of wanting to be liked by people: there’s something interesting to the notion of a guy that no one likes or wants to be around being literally wanted/coveted for his treasure

Junkrat’s kind of hurt when the crowd groans at him in annoyance but acts proud about it; suggests he’s not oblivious to people’s opinions of him and does get bothered when people find him annoying and don’t like him

Page 6

Crowd kind of feels like a studio audience or something at times LMAO kinda just emphasizes the cartoony/silly tone of the story

The reason given for Junkrat finding the final door is kinda wild lmao like he just fell in from holes in the roof??? Guess it’s again just supposed to emphasize his ~zany nature~. Either that or he like maneuvered his way in like a rat, but the phrasing makes it kind of unclear exactly what he did imo.

Junkrat’s “saucy wink” at Junker Queen meant to emphasize the importance of his eye and also make him flirt with Junker Queen I guess

“The crowd considered this” again kind of literal writing; I guess here it’s especially supposed to be snappy comedy but idk if it was working for me

There’s an abrupt free-for-all for Junkrat’s eye, which is kind of at odds with earlier where no one seemed to want or care about Junkrat’s treasure. I guess they’re all that curious to know what’s behind the final door? Idk the free-for-all would make more sense if the previous part about no one caring about Junkrat’s treasure wasn’t included.

Point of the free-for-all idea here that Junkrat revealing his treasure was supposed to be something he used to get the upper hand, but instead became something that gave him the lower hand (?); aka shows Junkrat is not able to read the room, is poor at manipulating/negotiating, and is always flubbing things

Page 7 (last page I read carefully)

“I thought you were gonna say idiot” -> suggests Junkrat values Roadhog’s opinion of him, insecure about himself (overcompensates when he suggests “Junkrat you’re a genius?” because he’s insecure)

Junker Queen saves Junkrat from a knife, so I guess his plan to reveal his treasure to Junker Queen did kind of work as leverage to get her on his side

Junkrat never told Roadhog what his treasure is or where it is; not sure what’s meant to be implied here, it’s kind of weird that he’d never tell Roadhog especially since this story emphasizes Junkrat being a blabbermouth. It’s possible that he was saving the details specifically for a situation like this so he could use it to his advantage. Initially I thought maybe Roadhog said he didn’t know either as a lie (because he doesn’t trust Junker Queen) or because he forgot (suggesting he doesn’t actually care much about Junkrat’s treasure), but the end of the story makes it seem like he really just didn’t know anything about the treasure.

Roadhog agreeing about looking forward to Junkrat dying was kind of mean-spirited imo LMAO like I guess supposed to be just a joke given the overall cartoony tone of this story + the unserious atmosphere it’s created surrounding execution, and I usually don’t mind when Roadhog’s kind of an asshole to Junkrat, but that was kind of out of pocket for me lskfjldsf

Other misc notes:

2nd half of the story is kind of action-heavy (since there’s no heckling from the crowd anymore) which is kind of at odds with the cartoony tone of the first half imo.

Specific detail I liked: the idea that Junkrat projects his fears/worries/nervousness/etc onto how he interprets Roadhog and that he talks “Roadhog” through his “worries” as a way for him to verbalize his own fears and work through them. Basically this quirk allows him to believe he’s still a cocky, self-confident person when he actually has worries or insecurities. (Like “These aren’t MY problems or worries, they’re Roadhog’s!” but like they’re clearly his.) I guess it is kind of a selfish reading of Junkrat in that it seems like he doesn’t really understand Roadhog but idk for me I think it makes sense for him to be kind of a self-centered person most of the time.

I also kinda liked Junkrat being chatty with some people in the crowd and him being sentimental for Junkertown and its people. Honestly all the details I liked were so minor; I kind of wish they were somehow expanded on a little more. Especially think there could have been a lot more tension between the crowd & Junkrat’s desire to be liked or whatever vs how that might affect (and distract) him in combat. I mean it was literally a crowd, they could have very explicitly made him try (and probably fail) to be a crowd-pleaser. (Like there was a little of this but not much and not in a way that I found super compelling while reading. imo)

I think the main thing for me is that the writing was very straightforward or literal so most of the time was spent describing things that were literally happening instead of writing with a particular theme or goal in mind. Unfortunately I don’t really have a ton of examples of what I mean so. Whatever LMAO;; I think this kind of story just isn’t really my taste in the first place since I like moody/introspective stuff more than combat-heavy stuff. The lightheartedness was like fine I guess but I did feel like it was frequently awkward when couched between the combat scenes. Again I don’t have examples/evidence of this off the top of my head so I may be totally off here but the writing style felt a bit like describing an action movie or cinematic rather than being a work that utilizes writing to portray action scenes. That’s not really a big deal to me because I’m not expecting like amazing writing from Overwatch (it’s primarily a fps not prestige literature) but idk maybe it would’ve worked better for me if it was animated or a comic or something.

Sorry for the Junkrat-heavy notes; the story was mostly from Junkrat’s POV in a way so it was easier to write notes about him than other characters. maybe I'll have more to say about other stuff when/if I try to reread the last couple pages of the story.

Anyway thanks for reading if you did! Hopefully it was interesting to someone!;;;;;

#overwatch #junkrat #roadhog #junker queen #wrecking ball #a friendly rivalry #blab #? idk yeah whatever #info

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fantasythetrashywriter · 2 months

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HI! i know this is really random, but i really wanted to share this with someone who likes madoka magica and get their opinion on it! (also, youve seen more then i have, so i dont know how well it fits...)

i think the song Dynamism by Muship REALLY REALLY REALLY fits madoka magica. i cant really put it into words, it just screams madoka magica, and none of my friends can truly understand how much it does!! this song has literally made me cry just thinking about homura and madoka and the entire plot its so complex just like the show, gives off a magical yet dark scratchy vibe, has the sort of weirdness that the witches give off...i seriously cant describe how much it has affected me and my view on madoka magica.

i would LOVE to get your opinion on it!! let me know your thoughts and how you like it!!!♡♡

Oh dear…to be honest, I’m not sure if I’m the best person to answer this, and and I’m not sure if I am correct with this…but I will help! Ahhh but, I’m not sure if I am correct with this, there’s a high possibility I am wrong or I misunderstood certain parts.

Okay, first of all, I absolutely LOVE the song! It’s so beautiful, and I love how the beginning starts off calm and mellow until it suddenly becomes rough and scratchy. This does fit the Witches from the series, the scratchy and glitchy-like sounds fit them so well oddly enough. The lyrics meanwhile make me think of Homura and Madoka, though I’m not entirely sure why. The lyrics fit Homura, especially this line: “The reason I came to see you, the reason I let hearts float, is that you have wished for it strongly. I want you to trust me with your fate” which, in a way, represent her constant looping. She’s pushing on because Madoka asked her to. Remember, she nearly gave up in timeline three until Madoka made her request. That is what rejuvenated Homura. Also, the portion with the “trust me with your fate” makes me think of when Homura begs Madoka to let her protect her.

However, the lyrics give me an obsessive vibe, especially these parts: “You are alone. A slave to delusion. An uncontrolled dropout.” this and “The almost-unused body of yours is hopping, the dim eyes of yours are a bit confused, my beloved, you are my doll, true to desire, crazy love inside” and one of the comments even say it’s about abuse. Homura did become obsessed (with either Madoka or her safety) and did develop a tunnel vision focusing on her only, but I wouldn’t say their relationship is abuse. Plus, this scene feels like manipulation, and I can guarantee there isn’t any manipulation in their relationship, as far as I can tell…

The song also gives off a surreal yet dark atmosphere, which is similar to the series and yes, I agree with you on the Witches portion. It’s a weird sound, sort of glitchy too, kinda like a Witch. It’s a very complex song, just like the series, and it’s giving me some thoughts but I think I won’t voice it here.

Okay! I think that is all I can say about the song! So, just a little reminder, I may have misread or misinterpreted certain scenes, and I do agree with you on most parts. Honestly, stuff like this is very much not my stromg suit I guess. I’d suggest you ask others, especially since I haven’t been here for very long either (a few months, I believe) and because I am not very good at this 😔 If you want, maybe you could ask @evergreenalice (they seem to be really good at analyzing stuff like this) or maybe @homuraakumaakemi. He seems to know a lot more about Homura than I do, I’m probably only scratching the surface. Also, they’ve been in this fandom much, much longer than I have, so you could always ask them too!

Anyway, I hope this answered your question, even if slightly. Thank you so much for the ask as well, this is my very first ask!! Feel free to ask any more questions!

Oh and here’s the link to the song I heard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5wYntIGTNE

#ASKS!!💌#Fantasy talks #I hope this answered your question!#Also thank you so so so much for the ask!! I really appreciate it!#I may be wrong with this but I hope it helps!#Also I really like the song it’s really nice!#Thank you again!!#What a beautiful and mysterious song…#The lyrics seem to speak about cannibalism for me on a re-read #One of the comments in the video I saw also said something about that #That could be taken metaphorically though #But then that feels like it would fit the Witches instead…

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theadventurerslog · 6 months

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Discworld | Part 8

Time to continue my exploration and gathering information on what it takes to be a hero. Next up I went to the Inn to see what was happening there now.

Inn:

New stuff outside!

We've got an inn/bar-keeper, a sailor, Gaspode the Wonder Dog who talks and his wooden man, I mean totally normally man and not a weird puppet? at all.

Gaspode was basically using the wooden man as a ventriloquist dummy and every time I tried to talk to the sailor Gaspode would take over there, too. I tried giving Gaspode the bone, but he just spat it out when I tried talking to the sailor and I lost it. I reloaded then left for now but would be back.

Street: Toy Shop: the toy bin had new toys: this time a dinosaur! Otherwise things were unchanged.

Dino.

I didn't find much else of interest in the Street areas, although the fishmonger was back and no longer being tormented, I mean loved on, by the toilet octopus.

Shades: Hovel: Found a knife in a bag of thief's tools.

House of Negotiable Affection: I chatted with one of the ladies there and found out a hero should have camel-flage (possibly a kind of perfume according to her?)

My last location in the city was the newly opened Sybil Ramkin's Dragon Sanctuary for swamp dragons which are far less dangerous than the current full dragon terrorizing the city. Swamp dragons are mostly a terror to themselves with their tendency to explode very easily.

I met her at the door after knocking but she told me to come round the back as she's feeding her darlings.

So to the dragon pens!

And this has gotta be a Monkey Island reference. "That's the second largest woman I've ever seen!"

Monkey Island: "That's the second biggest monkey head I've ever seen!"

Unless they're both referencing something else.

There were a few things to do here. I scooped up a nail and a leash. She seemed fine with me just taking the leash... Of course I had to examine all the dragons it would let me.

There was also a blue rosette and ribbon, but I couldn't grab it without Sybil chatting at me. It was a reward for one of her prize winning dragons. The dunnyking, er, custard king, was calling his custard blue ribbon custard, the best custard. So I figured there's a connection there.

I chatted with Sybil and discovered she WAS the woman at the barber's from early in the game as I wondered. I also learned of the swamp dragons' drive to eat anything that will help work their digestion up for flames but will often overdo it and explode. One of them sadly exploded during the conversation.

I moved on and decided to deal with the areas outside the city next.

I went to the woods only to find the barber still there still waiting on the girl ever coming to meet him. I didn't get anything else though. I next went to the Edge of the World, or rather I tried to but then things took a little diversion.

As Rincewind started to enter the water a big monster showed up.

By its many eyes and tentacles I can only assume it's meant to be a Thing from the Dungeon DImensions, which I'm not sure the game has mentioned yet or I may have forgotten. It's possible one of the wizards referred to it before. Either way, things weren't looking good for our wizard here until a giant hand suddenly came down and scooped him away leaving him in a tight place.

Then I was shown a scene of the gods in Dunmanifestin. The gods were arguing about cheating and trying to swap dice. The God, Offler seems to be planning another meeting with one of his monks. This was all, I assume, meant to be in reference to some events in the first books, but it felt like it came from nowhere in this game and would probably confuse players who hadn't read The Colour of Magic... I guess it's a note that the gods are watching and life on the Disc is all a game to them. Certainly, Rincewind's fate is.

Anyway, after a bit of back and forth it had turned out Lady Luck (I assume her) had whisked away Rincewind and stashed him in her bosom... She released him again and placed him back on the Disc.

Then I was back to my own devices and continued on my way to the Edge of the World where I found nothing new.

After all of that diversion and potential foreshadowing, there's really nothing to do but carry on business as usual. I moved onto the mountain pass, but found nothing there either, so I continued on to Nanny Ogg's place. She's home now and was knitting.

By examining a very long winding string of wool, Rincewind started following it until finding a hatch that led out back where I found a mallet and a sheep!

Aside from getting the mallet and appreciating the sheep I wasn't sure what else to do here, so I made note of Her Wooliness and took off again.

Cue another wander and fiddling with items while I tried to figure out what to do next and what I might have missed.

I went again to the inn, and tried the bone again, but still resulted in Gaspode spitting it back out with no further hints. So, I left and went to the dungeon to see if I could get another bone. That wasn't a problem and while I was there I took another look at the mouse-hole. Just like way back when I was trying to get an imp, I tied the twine to the worm and set the worm on the hole. A rat came out and Rincewind caught it.

Examining and using it revealed it had a zipper on its back and was actually just a rat costume for... an imp! Or possibly the same imp! So I've got the imp back for the camera.

I realized I forgot to go to the brotherhood's hideout when I was doing my city sweep, so I went there, did the usual password at the door and got handed a custard tart. I will never be free of custard.

Back at Nanny Ogg's I took a photo of the sheep.

I went back to Sybil's and this time figured out how to get the blue rosette by knocking at the front door to summon Sybil then leaving her without saying anything to go back to the pens and snag the ribbon before she came back. I've had that framed octopus picture for ages. I was able to put the sheep picture in it instead... I look forward to seeing what that'll be used for. I went again to the toy shop thinking maybe I could somehow glue the blue ribbon? Get it to stick to the custard tart container? I dunno. That didn't work but I realized, sticky! I needed something sticky to keep Gaspode from spitting out the bone. And so I glued up the bone. That would hopefully solve my problem with Gaspode.

Yeah, the gluey bone kept Gaspode from spitting it back out, so I was able to talk to the sailor without interference this time. He wanted some milk but I was able to get some from the barkeep then he talked.

He told me some tales about Amazon women, but also, importantly the topic of his tattoo came up. However, he won't say where he got it until his parrot, Polly, is found. He gave me a whistle to summon the parrot.

The only place I've seen birds is at the edge of the world, so I went back there again and with the whistle was able to summon Polly. He stayed in the air and like a stereotypical parrot, he did the ol' Polly want a cracker. I didn't have crackers, but I had a firecracker... I launched it at him knocking him into the water, but still out of reach. He's fine just a bit stunned. I tried the butterfly net and Rincewind did do an animation with it reaching out, but it couldn't reach.

I hit a point of just trying stuff on stuff. I thought maybe the snake might be involved somehow? Since it's long? Turned out I could stiffen it with starch and make it longer with the fertilizer for an extremely long stiff snake with magic markings and even with a knob on the end.

It didn't work for extending the butterfly net, but a knob on the end brings a wizard's staff to mind and Windle still had one, so I went back to UU. And swapped his staff again.

I got an extending stick which I could attach to my butterfly net and I caught the parrot at last.

Triumphant, I brought him back to the sailor only to discover that I had dropped his whistle. Now, something had gone by when I was catching Polly and I guess that must have been the whistle and I didn't realize. That was his handcrafted Hublander whistle from his mother, so now he was too distraught to talk still and I had to go back and find the whistle that was swept over the edge of the world.

At first I thought with the fork there looking like part of a slingshot maybe I'd need to launch something. Like maybe one of the birds had scooped the whistle or caught a fish that caught the whistle as the game had made a point that the birds catch fish going over the edge.

With that in mind I thought of the rubber belt as part of the dunnyking's machine. I was able to use the knife to cut away the belt and get it. Unfortunately, that wasn't the answer.

I needed to use the magic hat with the endless ribbons. That led to a ribbon rope going over the edge that I was able to use to climb down.

Part way down I had another run-in with Death who's just watching as usual as it's not time yet, but he dropped some more foreshadowing for seeing Rincewind again in the Square...

Then I climbed further down to end up on the shell of the Great A'Tuin itself, the world turtle.

The whistle was just lying on the shell and I was able to grab it. I didn't see anything else but hopefully didn't miss anything. I left anyway.

After all that, I was able to finally find out how to get a tattoo: go to the barber. That's it. I suspected it'd be him.

Except, he's still waiting for the girl. I stopped by his shop just in case and it was a good thing I did as I had missed a pair of scissors and an appointment book with nice big pages. I brought the book to the milkmaid/actress to get her to sign it which she did.

I then went to see the barber in the woods who was too busy thinking about her to come back, but with the signed appointment book was convinced she would come in for an appointment, so he went back.

Finally, I thought. Before I went back, since I had to pass through the City Gate anyway, I talked to Nobby again now I had collected a bunch of information about what a hero needs. I was able to try different combos of things to get the odds again and confirm what I learned.

Trying everything resulted in odds too high. It's gotta be exactly 1 million. The combination I'll need is:

Magic Talisman

Mustache

Birthmark

Magic Book

Camo-flage

Sword that goes ting

Six items again. I'm hoping the dragon summoning book counts as the magic book, though, so that I only need to find five items and I was well on the way for the birthmark as that's what the tattoo would cover.

So, I moved on to the barber and talked with him. He went into somewhat graphic detail about giving a tattoo and Rincewind chickened out. However, he offered another suggestion: a temporary transfer fake tattoo. His son gets them with bubblegum. His son is the lovable street starfish. And so this all continues...

I went to talk to the street urchin, but he wouldn't just give me one because he's collecting them.

So I needed to figure out some way to get it from him while he's holding it up being all taunting. Or I need to do something to him before that stage. I don't know, but the steps to get this tattoo feel never-ending and that's just one of the items.

I also talked to the old folks again while I was in the square in case they had anything helpful. I had the option to ask about the magic talisman that I must not have checked back on with them. They suggested the "Eye of Offler" in the secret temple of Offler. Only the bravest, most fantastic adventurer could stand a chance of finding out where the temple is. I figured on that braggart in the Broken Drum.

So, my next steps will be to take a last look at my current stuff with this street urchin and then if nothing works there, start pursuing the Temple of Offler in hopes that maybe I'll find something helpful along the way.

Hopefully next time will come much progress on getting these items.

Argh!!!

#discworld #discworld game #adventure games #discworld_log

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swashbucklery · 6 months

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What do you think of Baylan and Shin's relationship?

Oh anon to be honest like - bewildered? I don't know.

Like, I am currently rewatching, and I guess Baylan's Whole Plan kind of makes sense? But also. . .it doesn't? He wanted to stand on a giant statue of whatever like part of the Force Holy Trinity or something (?) and that was going to lead him to power to save the Jedi, maybe? Or solve the cycle of birth and death? Or stop all wars? WHATEVER, DAVE.

(But also - the ~significance~ of the statues in ep 8 is only clear if you have watched a minimum of 3 recap youtube videos or a shitton of animated series episodes so does it count? Like if I'm going on the TV they explained in the actual TV show - traditionally the way one watches tv - he just went all the way to Peridea to go for a nice hike, and good for him I guess?? Best hike ever??)

So IDK that i have a lot of strong opinions about Baylan directly, except that I'm frustrated by how little the show tells us about what his whole deal is. When it comes to his relationship with Shin, I think - like not to put too fine a point on it but I think pedagogically the whole Jedi master-apprentice thing seems to have a lot to answer for, just broadly as a system of learning. I know we're supposed to be like Ah Yes, Masters Are Great Teachers but just because the narrative says it like.

Okay, so you, a weirdo who can hear the vibrations of the universe and can use it to punch people but don't, live a solitary lifestyle where you have eschewed all temptations and do sword practice two hours a day. You are given a random magic orphan. And you're supposed to just. . .try your best to make them precisely as weird as you are. Except you are living in a society with constant war, so half of your supervisors were like. . .evil, or murdered, or adopted the weird sword people lifestyle because of deep society-upheaving trauma. Also you're admittedly not great with kids or doing anything but meditating and sword practice. Also, if you do a bad job this weird orphan might turn into a mass murderer???

That relationship is inherently weird.

It just is. I know it's the backbone of Star Wars, I'm not saying it's bad, I'm not saying Star Wars is bad, but I think that accepting the Jedi Pedagogy wholeheartedly without a little bit of light mockery just isn't possible.

What I think is more interesting is how that relationship, in its weird little glory, affects Shin. Because we see like - whatever that dynamic, whether Baylan is good or bad at Weird Not-Sith Not-Jedi School, she is determined to be an A student. She gets frustrated when she loses. She's hungry. She's proud to be a good Padawan and has a lot of curiosity about what it would feel like to have more - more connections, more people to train with, more power.

And so Baylan and Shin's relationship is really interesting to me as a tool to highlight those desires of Shin's, and as a way of exploring who she might be as a person when she's not having homoerotically-charged duels.

#night of the living anons #shin hati: murder murder laser murder #boom #more tags #go see a star war #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers

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youlooklikeabeeandilikebees · 11 months

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I was surprised to see you put george in absolute best - did you like him the whole time??? I had moments where I loved him but he ended up being too irredeemable for me so im curious to hear your thoughts

he's always been one of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite character! a character being entertaining is way more important to me than their likability and I am almost always entertained by george. take owen for example: i absolutely hate him and don't find him likable because he is a smug murderous abuser but i find him very entertaining. the show has lots of great villains who are awful people but we all love them because they are charismatic and fun to watch. I feel the same way about george.

he brings a lot of the show's humor and i like his awkwardness. his nerdyness and intelligence contrasts well with his monstrous side and i like seeing his progression in season 1 towards becoming more accepting of himself. i will also admit that out of the 3 supernaturals in the show, i find werewolves more interesting than vampires and ghosts. i know a lot of fans of the show are more into the vampire stuff and i like it too but i just like werewolf storylines more anyway so that's definitely part of why i like george.

in season 2 we see how much george was affected both by killing herrick and by his relationship with nina falling apart in addition to his guilt about infecting her. even if he's not always at his most likable throughout that season we see character progression. a boring character is stagnant and doesn't change. seeing a character change and grow (for better or worse) makes them more dynamic. a character with flaws is more interesting than a character who is perfect and never does anything wrong. there are characters on the show who i find likable but mostly boring (like hugh or sykes).

i didn't put season 2 george on a lower tier like i did with mitchell because i was still entertained by george in that season, whereas i find mitchell's s2 vampire king storyline one of the least interesting storylines in the whole show (sorry anyone who loves it, just not for me).

HOWEVER i do wish the show had addressed him cheating on nina with daisy a bit more since nina never actually finds out about it (although he heavily implies it in that scene in episode 3x05(?) and i always thought it was weird that nina never confronted him because she is very smart and i would think she'd be able to figure it out). that felt like a totally unresolved aspect of their relationship and seems like a common complaint about george's character. i do find it kind of funny that most fandoms view adultery as worse than murder since i see people criticize george for cheating but never see people criticize mitchell for the box tunnel 20. im guessing it's because mitchell is seen as unable to control himself and will inevitably fall back into his dark side whereas george knew what he was doing (but i do wonder if it being post-full-moon when george cheated on nina was a factor in that decision with the wolf and its more primal tendencies influencing him more than other times of the month. im not justifying george's actions here but it's just interesting that i never see that possibility discussed while mitchell is granted more leeway for what is a much worse crime).

my least favorite version of george is in 4x01 and i agree with what other people have said about it feeling like a weird one-off episode that doesn't feel like the show we know. the whole episode feels like it only exists to kill off george but not before butchering his likability. he's just a husk of himself and his complete detachment from his daughter to the point of not even naming her is really upsetting. i get that grief can do that but i wish the writers would've went a different direction. i would've much preferred them killing off both nina and george in this episode so that we could've seen them parenting together while also dealing with losing mitchell. george comes off as sort of selfish to me in the way that his grief for nina completely overshadow annie's grief for both nina AND mitchell. the episode doesn't leave enough room for annie's feelings. I wanted to see him and annie coming together, not them being driven apart because he barely lets anyone else into the nursery. so he definitely loses likability for me here but i think a lot of that is that it's just an awkward episode that's really more of a stepping stone between 3x08 and 4x02.

i do find it really interesting how the fandom seems to criticize george more than mitchell. i think mitchell sacrificing himself because he knows he will never be able to control himself forever allows him to be redeemed in the end and he is given a heroic send off. george ALSO gets a heroic send off by saving his daughter and killing griffin but for whatever reason people don't seem to view him as redeeming himself as much as mitchell did.

so i guess my answer to your question is that george is still one of my favorites despite where his character ended up because:

he's very funny

i like werewolves and the contrast of his personality to what he is

russell tovey is a great actor who is good at both comedic and dramatic moments

i like his relationships with nina, annie, and mitchell

his character evolves and has ups and downs throughout the seasons

most of all, i am consistently entertained by him

#sorry that was long #being human uk #being human bbc #being human #george sands #russell tovey

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cutemeat · 2 years

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Im surprised the waitress isnt in it more, cuz in the first couple seasons she really was almost a member of the gang the with the amount she was in it. But now shes barely seen once a season. And like, shes is married to charlie. So I think the reason has to be she doesn't want to be in it more. But it's weird cuz she also sometimes kind of acts like she's a bigger part of the show than she is (eg one time someone did art of each of the gang & she was like "someone's missing" lol). So I dunno.

me too! cuz, at least from things she's said, it seems like Mary Elizabeth would be thrilled about getting to be on the show more. she seemed really excited to get to be in s15 while they were filming? i think it is just also the embarrassing fact that the waitress' character, even if her significance in the plot is to make fun of a predatory and weirdly romanticized trope, is based on her being so ''uninteresting''... which I think (esp with how rob has been with these things lately) makes them more hesitant to approach writing her in/wanting to write her off altogether for a while is my best guess lol? but I really would like to see her become more of a recurring character (or.. in my dreams.. a main part of the cast) again with some actual development. like the waitress' original purpose/joke has made its point, the well is dry-- so from a perspective where they might be wanting to stretch the series out it seems like a smart thing to do would be to change up the dynamics and add in a character who basically has already become a pseudo member of the gang with how she has been affected by them.

cuz they don't even have the same reason that like... Hornsby has for not wanting to be written in as much (not wanting to deal with all the makeup n shit for Cricket, n I know Cricket is a fan fave but tbh I understand why he wouldn't wanna be doing that LOLLL).. so I just think it'd refresh the show in a way that isn't detrimental cuz it would just be sorta switching dynamics around rather than totally changing the chemistry of the group and would introduce some new conflicts to write to! especially for dee's character... her having to confront every day her own competitiveness with other women. idk it just seems like untapped potential!!!

and again after the monkey ep they have such a great set-up to introduce another cast member to the gang... also see in s13, mac saying "the last thing we need is TWO women.. helping us??" and charlie saying in the monkey ep "two cities in one state how is that even possible?" and dee in s13 "I kind of like being the only woman..." but waitress also wouldn't threaten dee cuz the rest of the gang don't rlly care abt her LOL. (also esp if they're going in the macden direction then that would limit the waitress' obsession with dennis... i am chasing the scene in 'Boggs Reboot' where waitress tries to make out with dee cuz she thinks shes dennis but go all the way with it rcg)

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thedragonagelesbian · 11 months

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SO my ideal version of dragon age: asunder would go something like this:

Rather than having Wynne reveal midway through that she was sent by the divine to create an opening for reforming the circle, have it be established from the beginning as the main driver of the novel’s plot.

I get why it’s played the way it is in the book, because none of the point of view characters have any reason to know this in advance, and Wynne has no reason to reveal it any earlier, but. For me personally, it is the single most interesting thing in the entire damn book.

It is the ONLY alternative to the war that’s been brewing for the last three years. The only thing that can prevent the inevitable and that is in and of itself doomed to failure.

It opens up a lot more opportunities for AGENCY, something the current book and its most favorite boys are sorely lacking. And it highlights the tension between individual agency working against and within systems of oppression that are unfathomably large and obstinate

Imagine the political machinations, the Orlesian court drama, the tragedy of it all as our main character comes to realize that there is no other way forward because the templars will never concede.

Move up the Seekers of Truth and the Templar Order breaking away from the Chantry. I actually like a lot of how Lambert is written (minus the Black Divine shit), and the fight between the templars and the first enchanters is one of my favorite parts of the whole book. But in keeping with wanting the plot to hinge around the tension between the Divine and the Order, I want their separation from the Chantry to happen earlier, rather than being solely a reaction to White Spire.

Also more templars than just Evangeline should break with the order.

No more Wynne society has progressed past the need for Wynne.

Our new protag is a spy/instigator within the Loyalist fraternity. Her true beliefs on the Circle are known only to a few (such as Leliana), and she and Adrian have a VERY homoerotic rivalry until protag’s deception is revealed. Adrian helps her see that the reforms she’s been secretly advocating and fighting for won’t actually change anything, and then they kiss about it.

I dunno how much of Cole/the ghost of White Spire plotline I’d keep either... I’m usually never one to turn down a Weird Magic B Plot, but I’m much more mixed on Mr. Mind-Reading Objective Arbitrator of Morality and Hating Adrian.

He also has the Rhys thing of his entry point into the plot being SO dependent on his interpersonal relationships (namely, his affection for rhys) that it precludes more expressly political or ideological engagements & investments

Which is fine as a character flaw (hi hello varric tethras lover here) but should be treated & explored as such

If BioWare is holding me at gunpoint, Rhys and Evangeline can still be there i guess but they’d be a couple at the start of the story with a lot more attention given to how they navigate that relationship secretly within the Circle

Some of the Pharamond plot can stay, but it definitely feels like Gaider took the carnage at Adamant as far as possible just to have some hope of lending credence to the templars’ existence.

It’s not that Pharamond’s experiments CAN’T have unwanted and deadly side effects, particularly given the nature of magic in this world, but like... fucking reign it in my guy.

Also someone shows him love and care and gives him a chance to recover because JFC his story is so dark and often outright cruel

I think other than that, the story beats would stay more or less the same.

A lot of these aren’t fixes for problems per se but ways to tailor the narrative to cater to me specifically, but... The main thing that drew me to reading Asunder in the first place WAS the political backdrop. I wanted to learn more about the balance of power in Thedas pre-Inquisition and what, if anything, people in power were doing about the Circles before the start of the war. There are glimmers throughout Asunder of a novel that is much more interested in the play of power and politics (and actually SAYING something about power and politics beyond ‘but sometimes ppl fighting to change things BAD’). As a protagonist, Rhys stymies the parts of the book that I found most interesting.

#this is a messy mix of legit criticism & personal preferences but so is most of fandom so...........#is it too much to ask for adrian to have a passionate loving revolutionary gf. huh.#edit tumblr is fucking with my formatting hold on.............#sorry this is an incomprehensible wall of text

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ilargeicontradictmiself · 2 years

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Watching Until We Meet Again part 5(?)

There's a bunch of stuff i wrote elsewhere that i may copy here

Part 4 (includes links to all the other parts)

(love that i wrote that as if im not the only one wanting to know how to find these posts)

I need to vent about their sometimes bad acting a bit more, this "ignoring it because its not that bad and i like the show so much" isn't working. So yeah, sometimes, their acting is shit and annoying though i want to say that A LOT OF THAT IS THE EDITING

I get the public affection thing but idk why they joke about people knowing whether they fucked or not (they didn't but that's irrelevant) , everyone knows you're dating, its college, im sure a lot of them think you already are doing the devil's tango

WinTeam is good, potential and all, though (win, who is usually pretty good at not having his acting butchered at the hands of the editors sadly couldn't escape in the lake scene and , this is small but it made me laugh so: when they're in bed having the whole no need to be afraid of me conversation win is on top of team, then team switches them going on top of win and like a second later win switches them again??? What was the purpose??? If he wants to be on top let him be on top what is ha- whyyy??

They made me cry at 10 am with Pharm meeting Alin.

anyway, this "sad→horny-sad→horny" pipeline is an interesting formula to go with

I am a SUCKER for all things reincarnation, immortality the whole "loved one's who don't recognize you" thing , i LOVE IT GIMME GIMME. but i think the meeting the sister scene was done better though I get why they changed a few thing, i think, the part as a whole hits, but not any of the individual scenes that much.

(if i see one more person calling them top-bottom relationships, i get that they're saying it jokingly, but it doesn't sit right with me, just because someone's shy( Pharm is, Team isn't even shy) doesn't mean they're a bottom and again Team isn't even shy, he's just hesitant to take Win and their romantic thing seriously. Top and bottom is just a sexual thing and it's not a "shy=bottom" "assertive=top" kind of thing. And i think it's interesting how they're quick to but winteam and pharmdean in those boxes but not inkorn (cause in's the assertive one and korn's the less femme, so it doesn't fit with the joke i guess)

EP14 PART2 👌 directing, acting,editing (not flawless but good) dialogue goes from great to meh (multiple times not in that order) but i think it may be the english subtitles, when i watched it with greek ones it was better maybe the translation fits better

Oh both dreams where korn leaving in some way

(idk if they do a good job of showing korn's struggles leading up to it or if im understanding him because it has to do with suicide or if me understanding him also means they do a good job of it)

"my parents are not scary" was possibly the best thing she could've said.

Im loving this family time screentime. All of it is 👌

Ooh good job from the dad i really don't know if he's happy uncomfortable or bad uncomfortable

Love everyone's inclusion in this. ("say it in front of the whole family" they all know already my friend)

Idk if the dad's a comedic genius or if im just relieved

"we have to keep doing our best" and im crying

I love this family

("its not good for her if someone knows about this"??? Assuming it was a girl its still a what???😄)

Not the blow job face

↑ (see what i meant about the tears→horny sequences?)

"prepare yourself"? 😄

(See idk why they make him say stuff like "i will not wait any longer" which can be weird and creepy , when that's not the vibe and we all know that if pharm said so he'd be sleeping on the couch, its the dialogues fault and i dont like it)

Pharm is the personification of horny and excited but nervous af, bless.

#until we meet again the series #uwma #until we meet again #uwma the series #a bunch of em cause ill add the one's i have elsewhere at some point too #but currently at #ep14

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rikebe · 3 years

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i do think its sweet and compelling when people write mystique as regretting giving kurt up, but personally i just can't see it cause every time theyve interacted in kurt's adult life it has been just like

#i guess its possible she has a weird way of showing affection.#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #mystique #raven darkholme #xmen nightcrawler #xmen mystique #xmen #x men #art only

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inkdemonapologist · 3 years

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[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

nEW SESSION (summary here!), where there’s been an unexpected development to the music issue and its time to [checks my notes] taLK TO THE PROPHET AND BREAK INTO SUSIE’S APARTMENT??? Also, the Prophet and Joey have made.... a truce(???), Prophet is concerned Sammy isn’t going to stay on task now that music is returning and has left him a sort of alarming note, and Jack is uh, trying to hold, too many things, maybe some things he shouldn’t be holding, Jack please put those things back,

anyway heres a stack of out-of-context quotes from our session under the readmore:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] My favourite thing is, there are so many reasons that Henry could've avoided things that I have no idea WHY Henry isn't affected. [Jack] Like, is he not affected because his art isn't a performance? Is he not affected because he warded his house? Is he not affected because he'S FILLED WITH GLOWING BLOOD?!?

[Jack] He got as far as feeding his cat, and I feel like feeding cat isn't a performance-- [Sammy] Not usually, not unless you sing a song to your cat, which-- [Jack] Awww! [Sammy] -- which, now that I've said that, sounds like something Jack would do actually,

[Sammy] Ohhhh, that's right, Joey just heard some people play some bad notes and start panicking, and then he stood up and passed out, [Jack] Which is probably how Sammy feels every time he hears people mess up music!

[GM] He finds news on the radio, but they’re not talking about that right now. [Joey] What are they talking about? [GM] Something mundane; business or sports or something. [Jack] The, the sportsball team, got a…..uh….. a, a point. Congratulations, sportsball,

[Joey] If the sportscasters sound normal, then Joey is instantly VERY ANGRY.

[Henry] Henry’s not very musically inclined, but he knows some songs, [Sammy] Like, can you hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star -- [Jack] “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

[Jack] Jack has made a vague list of the kinds of people who seem to be affected. [Jack] There’s also “NOT HENRY?????” with a bunch of question marks in this list.

[GM] He’s told that Peter is out of town for a week. [Jack] Hmm. [Sammy] PETER WHERE ARE YOU GOING? [Jack] Hmmmmmm. [Sammy] Jack, is Peter coming here, to check on you, [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMMM,

[Sammy] *exasperated* NPCs Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Challenge [Henry] Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Or Draw 25

[Joey] Peter had never seen a Bendy cartoon, and this needed to be fixed. [Joey] The premier is this weekend, and he sent tickets to Pete to correct this, error, in his ways. [Jack] ...I think it is very slowly dawning on Jack, that this means that Pete has been pulled directly into yet another… supernatural nonsense... [Sammy] WE DIDNT DO THIS ONE!!

[Sammy] I CAN’T BELIEVE PHONES ARE THE ANTAGONIST OF THIS ADVENTURE

[Henry] Oh wait--! oh, no, nevermind, I forgot he and Allison probably aren’t together yet. [Sammy] Yeah, I think they just met; they had a meet-cute where they found out they both like Frankenstein and that’s it. [Jack] They actually got married today, since nothing else was happening at the Studio, [Sammy] That’s why Allison hasn’t shown up, she was busy getting married!

[GM] Bendy might’ve been keeping tabs on Henry, but it depends I guess on how distressed Joey is seeming. [Joey] Joey is probably just going to bury his sorrow in studying magic. [GM] Okay! That’s fine and normal Joey behaviour!

[Sammy] Sammy will note that nothing got done in the music department, because he has good priorities.

[Jack] I like the idea that it’s just like, when the teacher isn’t in, and nobody does the work the substitute teacher gave you, [Jack] Everyone’s just playing pokemon in the back, [GM] I thought you were going to say “poker,” but I like the way you ended the sentence better.

[Jack] HMMMMMM. I wonder if we know, any suspicious women, who were around on that specific day, who are known to have, skill and interest in magical things, [Joey] And also were aware of the cutouts, [Sammy] *cheerfully* Yeah, weird! Anyway!!!!

[Jack] Sammy was acting weird about Allison. Far too agreeable for a Sammy!

[Sammy] *talking about Prophet* If you want to lock him in somewhere, or restrain him, I’ll cooperate. [Jack] Just handcuff him to Jack! [Sammy] SAMMY IS UNEASY WITH THAT PLAN, [Jack] *laughing* What could go wrong! It’s not like Jack is significantly less strong or anything!!

[Jack] Not everyone makes up their entire self, Joey!!! (Affectionate)!!

[Sammy] I give my word, my sheep! [Henry] How good is your word? [Sammy] I mean. It’s pretty good.

[Henry] Henry’s trying to decide if it would be rude to doodle during this very serious conversation. [Jack] I mean, Jack is taking notes, so I feel like-- [Joey] --you can get away with fake note-ing. [GM] No one will know! [GM] Well, Bendy will know, because he’s up high. [GM] Ceiling Bendy

[Sammy] He’s not gonna give you a grade afterwards, like, this isn’t a lecture, [Jack] Time for Prophet Pop Quiz!

[GM] What’s Prophet writing? [Sammy] Um, I gotta think about this... [Jack] “Dear Frightened Shepherd, that Allison person sure is nice, isn’t she?” [GM] “What’s up with everyone ragging on her?” [Joey] “I think I have finally found a way to bridge the gap between us!” [Jack] “I think you need to replace your sheep, they seem kind of suspicious for no reason,” [Jack] “To Do List: Get Better Sheep”

[Sammy] Does this feel like something that’s trying to take his focus, like, very compelling creative ideas? [GM] Yes. [Sammy] ...Prophet will write “don’t get distracted” five more times.

[GM] His mind is abuzz with thoughts of dancing and actoring, [GM] Ideas to be the best Joey ever! [Jack] Oh no.

[Joey] He will wave at the cutout and make a “come here” motion. [Joey] Though also, he’s looking at the cutout like, I’m not quite sure how this works, but I’m going to trust you that it works! So I’m going to do this and see if Bendy shows up! [Jack] Like someone trying to learn how to do phone video calls for the first time, [Joey] YES. Joey’s actually like really close to the cutout, and the motions -- you can make them out, but it’s really awkward,

[Sammy] They’re in no danger. I will take care of the Shepherd’s sheep. [Jack] ...JACK’S BEEN DOWNGRADED!! He’s no longer PROPHET’S sheep!

[Joey] I like how everything Prophet says really just feels like, Knife Cat face.

[GM] You could probably make a Mythos roll to figure it out. [Joey] *rolls* Oh! Extreme success! [GM] Joey’s back!

[GM] Bendy will lead Joey back to the room, where hopefully there are three alive, non-fighting boys!

[Jack] Part of me was like, “What if Jack DOES turn into a cat…?! It’d be pretty hard to write things!” [GM] *laughs* We’ll keep that in our back pocket, in case Jack ever fails a Mythos check. [Jack] Meowthos check…

[Henry] I’m going to have Henry look, look with his Special Eyes.

[Sammy] *failing a roll* Prophet is just, NOT on the ball today, in any way shape or form. [GM] Really hard not to think about music. : ) [Sammy] Ohhhhhh boy, [Jack] Prophet just writes a note to Sammy that says “HOW do you LIVE like this???”

[Henry] Henry’s gonna try to scribble what he remembers of the symbol! [Sammy] Didn’t we learn, from the last scenario, about reproducing weird symbols, [Henry] No.

[Joey] Did Joey get burnt? [GM] Make a dexterity roll! : ) [Henry] *mumbling* Y’all this entire building is made of wood. *Joey fails* [GM] 1 point of damage, you singe your hand -- on the plus side, you kind of were holding it as it burned up, so it doesn’t fall on the wooden floor. [Sammy] OH GOOD, we’re not LOCKED IN A CLOSET that’s about to burn down? GREAT!

[Joey] We could head over to the infirmary -- [Jack] Jack is already pulling the burn ointment out of his bag. [Jack] He’s prepared this time! [Jack] He’s been practicing, he knows what you’re all like,

[Joey] Joey will give him a smile that’s most recognisable as the “I know you will do good!” smile. [Sammy] Prophet will also smile! It is not a friendly smile. [Jack] It’s a “smile” in quotation marks, but it’s like, baring your teeth as an act of aggression.

[Jack] Jack lets him go to do the call, but just before he picks up the phone, he says, “Don’t call him Petey.”

[GM] The phone rings, and is not answered. [Joey] Okay! Joey hangs up, says Peter checked into his room, but is not answering. Most likely asleep. [Jack] Half of my brain is going, “what if he’s just stood outside Jack’s house?” The other half of my brain is concerned about manias. I hope he’s not decided that now is a really great time to do more writing, and now he can’t stop, and this could go wrong-- [Jack] This is what Jack’s mind is doing, thinking of all the terrible possibilities. [Joey] While humming. [Jack] ...yes. He’s writing some very troubling lyrics.

[Sammy] *talking about Jack’s compulsive humming* Like Cornifer, [Jack] *starts humming Cornifer’s theme* Dangit, now it’s in my head, why would you do this to me? [Sammy] It’s in character! [Sammy] Method acting. : )

[Joey] Joey’s going to grab supplies to make sure Bendy can… hang around with them! [Joey] Sleepover supplies! Let’s grab your sleepover bag! :D

[Sammy] I don’t know why the idea of a wild Bendy running around across the rooftops is so cute to me… [GM] Probably on all fours, [Jack] Scampering,

[Jack] It’s a good thing Henry’s around because I don’t think Jack can… carry??? An entire Sammy??? [Jack] Like he’s good at holding but he’s not strong at holding.

[Joey] We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours… [Joey] WAIT. We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours!!!

[GM] Bendy hides under a blanket or something. [Jack] Comfey… [GM] Cozy boy, [Joey] Bendyrito. [Sammy] BENDYRITO,…….. [GM] Rolled up… snug...

[GM] Is everybody coming into the apartment, or just the two? [Jack] Hmmm….. Jack isn’t fond of either of these options. Going in is suspicious and weird; staying outside makes it look even more like they’re breaking in, to steal things, as opposed to, y’know, breaking in, for,,, “good” reasons(???) [Sammy] We’re not breaking in, we’re just walking into this apartment! What’s so weird about that?! [Jack] That’s breaking in. That’s what breaking in is, Sammy. [Sammy] They don’t have to know that we don’t belong here, maybe Susie gave us a key! [Jack] ...they heard us knocking. [Sammy] [Sammy] We’re BEING POLITE!! SHUT UP!!

[Henry] Jack, did you pick up kleptomania.. [Joey] I thought Jack picked up Being Prepared! [Jack] H-he’s just hoarding a little bit!! It’s fine!!! It’s very, useful, see, already Joey got injured!! It was useful to bring lots of things with him okay!!!!!!!!!

[GM] They do not have the police called on them, so that’s nice. [Sammy] Oh good! [Jack] Thank GOODNESS. [Henry] Love when that happens! [GM] If you guys got arrested, the Lurker’s just out in the car all night, [Henry] oh NO, [Jack] Worse punishment than jail… [Joey] Lurker learns how to drive for fun. [GM] *laughs* Gets curious, [Joey] “I said I wouldn’t leave the car, but--”

[Joey] WAIT. There’s a very important factor that we just decided but didn’t say. [GM] Oh? [Joey] If we have Henry heading home, and everyone else sleep over at Jack’s…. [Joey] ...the Lurker finally gets to meet a cat. *everyone gasps* [Jack] Oh that’s SO important

[Henry] And Henry will probably look at these, while in the car, to make sure they don’t have any gold writing on them-- [Sammy] Isn’t Henry driving??? [Henry] ……Henry is not going to look at them in the car,

[Sammy] We’re all going to bed, Sammy, you don’t need a banjo to sleep! [Joey] You might sleep worse if you have a banjo, actually. You might not stop.

[Sammy] Jack you wanna join us? We’re gonna just jam all night! [Jack] It really is Jammy… [Sammy] *laughs* TRUE Jammy!! Real Jammy Hours… [GM] That makes it a pyJAMa party… a real jammy jam…

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #joey drew #Henry Stein #Bendy the Lurker #when in doubt just keep drawing #cthulhu game quotes #everyone except henry got a new insanity and we're doing... fine!

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.

tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜

author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.

“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.

You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?

God, you’re an altruist.

“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)

“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”

“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,” you correct.

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.

“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.

“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.

“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”

“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”

He hangs up immediately.

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.

“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.

“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.

“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?”

“What do you mean?”

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.

“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.

“Sure, we can talk talk.”

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”

“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.

“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”

He nods. You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”

“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.

“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.

“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.

“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”

You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.

You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.

“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.

“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.

Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.

“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.

“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.

You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook: Hey. from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun! to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.

“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”

“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.

“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer: you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.

“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”

“W-what?”

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.

“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.

He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”

“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean? Feel right?

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?”

“You like her, right?”

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?

“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay. Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.

“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”

You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,” she tries again, concerned.

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.

This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.

“W-what?”

“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.

“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”

There’s something thick in your throat.

“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?”

All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.�� There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.

“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.

“I’m kidding.”

It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.

“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”

“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.

“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.

“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.

“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it. Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

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