Moodboard Ship(s): NCT and TXT...
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“…hiii my love !! how are you ? i hope you’re well ashaja it is now my turn to threaten so yes you better be well or else 🔪 aahha.
may i get a moodboard ship with nct and txt please ? if not two then either of them is fine love !! thank you so muchh you’re absolutely an angel and im so happy to have you as a friend. we need to talk more truly…”
“Why do I get the feeling our relationship is backwards?” he asks as he wanders into your room, shrugs his jacket off, and hangs it over the back of your desk chair. You stare at his back, perplexed. Why was he here? “Isn’t it usually the girl who always wants to talk about feelings and the guy who bottles everything up inside?” he continues, his words finally catching up to you. Relationship? Feelings?
“I don’t bottle things up,” you shoot back, unable to clearly process the deeper meaning behind his words. Well, there is an imaginary box you like to hide things in, but that’s different—you think, in afterthought. “Right.” he responds, concurring. You can practically taste the sarcasm, his usual honey-like voice dripping with it.
“Why—” you clear your throat, “Why are you here?”
There’s a brief pause—not too long, but still long enough for your palms to begin to garner sweat. “Give me the setting sun, and I’ll be a richer man than most.” his voice is soft, almost as if he’s whispering. His hand reaches back in a swift motion, and he’s pulling off his shirt. As pure reflex you lower your gaze, but not before catching sight of his wings. They flutter momentarily, the sheer pink reflection catching in the setting sun.
“For never have I seen gold like that which glows above the earth. Give me the night sky, and I’ll be the richest man for sure. For never have I seen diamonds like those that dance beside the moon.” he continues, back still facing you. You just barely recognize the scripture, fae are an ancient breed who take tradition very seriously. They have scriptures for everything—some more important than others. Your gut tells you this specific scripture is important. You begin to panic, wracking your brain for any clue as to what he’s saying to you—what he means.
And that’s when you see it, tucked beneath his left shoulder blade, almost hidden by his wing. A tattoo. Tattoos, to fae specifically, are much more than body art. They’re not meant for fun, they’re a declaration. A promise. A vow. You swallow your shock, narrowing your eyes to get a better look at the art. It’s small, delicate—but it also sticks out amongst his smooth, wide back.
You open your mouth to question him but your words die in place, your tongue suddenly feels thick, heavy in your mouth. It’s your name—the intricate design, the complex lines. This was more than a friend showing another friend some body art. This was a confession of the highest degree. A confession a fae of royalty should not be making to a simple human.
“That’s incredible, Jaehyun. It is. But—" you swallow loudly in the quiet room, your heart jumping erratically in your chest.
“No.“ He turns around. "No buts. You think I’m going to hurt you? You think I’m going to get bored and run off with some undergrounder, some fairy, the first chance I get?” his eyes are piercing, dark with frustration. “You obviously have no idea how amazing you are. You are incredible, and I want you.” you take a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by his proximity, what he’s saying. “Every part of you. I want your stubbornness and your sarcasm and your competitive spirit. I want you challenging me and fighting beside me.” His large hands settle around your shoulders, pulling you closer. You resist—holding your hand on his chest—keeping him at a distance. What if one of the guards saw?
“I want to hold you and kiss you and so much more because there’s no one else in the world who knows me like you do. You have always been the one for me, even when we couldn’t stand each other.” he lowers his voice, and suddenly everything becomes much more intimate. “You’re beautiful, and you’re more intelligent than any fairy I’ve met. It just feels right when you’re beside me. It feel like I’ve been lost in the desert for years, and…I’ve finally come home.” he finishes, winded like he’s ran a marathon.
His dark eyes trace your features, gently removing your hand from his chest, closing the distance between you slowly. And, instead of fighting it like you should, you close your eyes and let yourself go. You feel the muscles of his shoulder beneath your hand. The frame his arms create is strong, secure, but you want those arms tighter around you. You want there to be no space at all between you.
As if reading your mind, he closes the distance. Tilting your chin up—his lips drawing you in—your breath becoming one. You want him so badly. You want to kiss him, laugh with him, cry with him, share every waking moment of your life with him because no matter how many awful things he’s done in the past, you can’t shake the undeniable feeling that when his arms are around you, you’re home.
“I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trelon. I have spent the night with the Duke of Death and left with both my sanity and my life.” he’s ranting now, his wide eyes holding you in place, hands frantically waving about. “I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during the day. I have talked to gods, slept with sirens, and written songs that make the minstrels weep.” you cock your eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to get to the point.
“You have to have heard of me.” he balks at your impassive expression.
“Your highness,” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I know who you are, I just don’t care.” The absolute shock that momentarily paints his handsome features has you holding back a laugh. “But—” now you do roll your eyes, already bored with the conversation.
“Your highness, I’m here to teach you—not indulge your ego. You’re going to be king soon—” he cuts you off, abruptly. “I do not wish to be king.” there’s an edge to his voice, a hard set to his jaw. You take a deep breath.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you will be.” There’s a dark, forlorn and almost heartbreaking look in his eyes—it’s sudden and it’s gone as fast as it appeared—but it’s enough to stop you in your tracks. You swallow down the insult that was steadily making its way up your throat and you look at him, really look. Despite all of his accomplishments, if you wish to call sharing a chamber with a siren an accomplishment, he still just a kid. And suddenly your heart hurts for him,
“I once knew a troll who was heir to the throne of a great kingdom, he lived as a ranger and fought his destiny to sit on a throne but in his blood he was a king.” you say offhandedly, gazing out the large window to the east woodlands. You can feel the snap of his gaze on you. “I also knew a fae who was the king of a small kingdom, it was very small and his throne very humble.” you smile to yourself, remembering how delighted you were to meet such a respectable court. “He and his people were all brave and worthy conquerors.”
He takes a step towards you, you feel his eyes settle on your own—but you keep your gaze resolutely out the window. “And I knew a vampire who sat on a magnificent throne of a big and majestic kingdom, but he was not a king at all, he was only a cowardly steward.” you confessed quietly, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of such a cruel ruler. Your eyes must reflect your feelings on the matter because the prince steps in front of you, cutting off your line of sight to the great woods.
“Why are you telling me this?” he questions, his tone lowered to match yours.
You finally concede, looking up and catching his eyes. “Because I want you to know. You will be the king of a great kingdom, human or not—whether you want it or not—you will be the king, even if you live in naivety.”
His gaze darkens as you turn around and reach for a book on the 9 woodland kingdoms, the kingdoms you’re meant to teach the prince about, thoroughly; the book is old and worn, it smells like burnt leaves.
“My lady, I did not think you could answer it.” his voice cuts through the sudden silence. You tilt your head in his direction, for the first time, curious. “Answer what?” you voice, confusion etched in your features.
“Your calling, of course. When my father took you from your home without your leave—and set value only on your gift—I questioned your knowledge on the subject matter at hand.” he rounds the table, holding your gaze hostage. “But I am answered truly. You have given fair return for insult thrice over and set your worth: higher than my life and all my kingdom and all who live therein.”
He comes to a stop in front of you, yet again, this time much closer than before. “And though you can send my people to the fire, I can claim no debt to repay. It would be justly done.” his whispered words catch you off guard—the implication, the suggestion of a confession. You drop the book you’re holding, the noise echoing through the barren halls.
@urirealvibekiller omggg you’re sooo sweet 😍😭 I’m going to cryyy. But also? That knife threat sENT ME hahhahaa 😂
And no, YOUR an absolute angel! I can’t get over how pretty you areeeee! Teach me your ways! 🥺
Lol I hope you like your moodboard ship(s) — It started out one way, and then I randomly got inspired by a fantasy cottage-core advertisement lmfaoooo sorry! 🥰