#Coming Soon: Revenge Tastes Sweeter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kuro4thegays · 3 months

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- Happy birthday to my favorite architect

[Word count: 1.7k] [Kaveh x gn!reader] [Content: picking sunsettias on a vast field and playfighting, not much more]

“Stop wiggling around. I could fall, you know?” You did your best to steady yourself, but it was becoming clear that if Kaveh doesn't stop moving your faith might be sealed. “Maybe if you were to grab that sunsettia a little quicker we wouldn't have to worry about breaking my back!” Kaveh was fast to make his issues with this little setup of yours known as salty beads of sweat started to collect on his forehead. You sighed, quite harshly at first, but obliged, reaching your hand as far as it could go. “Just a little more…” That’s it, the branch was just within your reach, just another stretch and that sweet, juicy reward will be in your hands. You could practically taste it, the juice of the ripe fruit trickling down your chin as you bit into its soft flesh. That’s it, so close, just the last push and…

“Nope.” Kaveh tumbled onto his knees, quickly removing your body from his already sore shoulders. “No more…” As soon as the weight was gone he fully let his body give into exhaustion, letting the soft grass soften his fall. “What?! It was literally in my hands and you just… ugh!” You stood up on your own two feet, leaning over the man’s worn out body. Kaveh couldn’t even breathe, let alone answer, but his bright red face told you everything. “You have said that 12 times in the last ten minutes we’ve been trying this.” The artist struggled, but managed to utter those snarky, but truthful, words.

He wasn’t getting up.

“Oi! Kaveh!” Your attitude evaporated within seconds, like a water droplet landing on hot metal. You dropped to your knees, leaning directly over Kaveh’s weak frame as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Did he really overexert himself? Does he need a medical professional? Oh God, what have you done? Not knowing what to do, you straddled Kaveh, not fully wrapping your legs around his waist to leave room for him to breathe, before pointing up your ring finger. “What finger am I holding up?!” You looked at the exhausted architect wide eyed. Awaiting his response with a heavy breath. “You…” Kaveh extended his hand. “Yes?” You leaned closer, your face only centimeters away from his. “... are an idiot.” Just like that you felt him lightly slap your shoulder. “Huh?” Blank face. Evidently, it took you a moment to process the hit. Only when you heard Kaveh’s light chuckle did it finally register.

“You!” You were quick to straighten your back, now leaning away from the male. “I should have seen this coming.” Of course, you could have just gotten up, but truthfully you still had some of that pettiness left inside. “You got riled up so quickly, I couldn’t help it.” Kaveh chuckled, completely unaware of your new intentions. “Oh, yeah? Seems like you got me wrapped around your fingers. Maybe I should try taking some control back, hmm?” You looked at him like you were going to pounce, now tightening your hold over the other male’s body. You wrapped your thighs around Kaveh’s waist, no fear of suffocating present now as you prepared yourself for an attack.

“What are you planning on doing?” Kaveh gulped, readying himself for whatever was about to come. He could sense the want for revenge in your eyes. He might have started to reconsider his actions. A shame that it was all in the past now.

Suddenly, you grabbed Kaveh’s sides, your nimble fingers ready for a counter attack. Just a single move of your digits and Kaveh knew what he was in for. Tickling. “Wait!” He tried to push you away, but before he even got the chance to raise his hand his body had already started to squirming with laughter. He tried desperately to shove you away, but you already got him by his weak spot. You really did have many ways of stealing his breath away. “Too late.” Your attack on his sensitive spots was relentless, oh that revenge might have been sweeter than that fruit still standing out of their reach. “Stop it!” Kaveh tried to grip your teasing hands, yet they were too damn fast. “Maybe I’ll consider it if you apologize.” That should have been easy enough, well, it would have been if you had stopped. Obviously Kaveh was too busy trying to catch his breath to even begin to form a sensible sentence. His mouth was wide open, but no words were coming out. “No?” You raised an eyebrow, directly challenging your victim which seemed to have only agitated him further. “No… f- fair.” Kaveh choked the words out, his lungs fighting for their dear life. He kicked his feet at you, throwing his hands in a feeble attempt to catch one of yours. Though stamina wasn’t one of your strong suits either. Sure, tickling was easy enough, but having to dodge Kaveh’s wild moves proved to be quite tiresome. You faltered and even if it was just for a second Kaveh too found your weak spot. “Sorry not sorry.” And your waist seemed just within his reach.

“My turn.” Using all of the strength he had left inside he flipped you on the grassy field beneath. But, unfortunately for him, you were not a quitter. “Hey!? You grabbed both of Kaveh’s hands, blocking his tickle attack while trying to reverse the roles yet again, using only your lower body force. “What are you trying to do?!” Despite the losing battle, Kaveh laughed from the very bottom of his soul, no tickling required. At this point the both of you were pushing past the exhaustion.

You wriggled out of Kaveh’s grasp, yet as soon as you turned around to crawl away he had already caught you by the foot. Things grew blurry from then. The only safe thing to say was that the two of you were now just two idiots rolling in the grass. Perhaps it was that familiarly sweet scent of early summer that was influencing you or the lingering taste of the equally sweet sunsettia lingering on your tongues. The only thing you knew for sure was that in that exact moment Kaveh was only yours. Be it his body that so beautifully glistened with sweat under the setting sun, his ever so witty tongue that threw teases your way or simply the fact that his eyes were only looking back at yours. In that sense you were fully his too. Your words were equally teasing, your body equally vulnerable and your gaze fixated on one man and one man only. “Take me.” Your body so painfully screamed, yet your mouth was already preoccupied with wild laughter. And even if you could speak it wouldn’t be necessary. You found your answer in the way Kaveh looked at you.

“You done? Already?” You chuckled, but you really weren’t any better. Your body gave out, falling on top of Kaveh in a way that could only be described as the opposite of graceful. You were now very sweaty, awfully so, and the dirt lingering on the fabric of your shirt wasn’t really complimenting the look. “You’re a mess.” Kaveh was quick to point out, ignorant to his own disheveled state. “Look who’s talking.” But you shut him up rather quickly. The two of you just laid there, feeling the cool shade embrace your hot bodies as you let your lungs relax for a while. Admittedly, you never knew one’s cheeks could hurt from smiling, but somehow after experiencing it you don’t think it’s all that bad. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind feeling it again someday. “Can I kiss you?” You asked. You were far past the point in which this question would be necessary, but just looking at Kaveh’s peaceful face made you want to make sure that you weren’t being too needy. “When have I ever said no to that?” You took that as a yes. You didn’t waste time before planting a tired, but plenty affectionate kiss on Kaveh’s soft lips. Even in your most worn out state there was that last bit of strength reserved specifically for Kaveh. You slipped your tongue in, barely, just enough to have the briefest taste. It was enough for you, enough to give you all the energy in the world you would ever need. Because if there ever was anything you wanted more from Kaveh than his love was for him to accept your love, for him to be on the receiving end for once. He has enough trouble in his life already, why would you ever want to add to that?

You leaned in for another, opening your mouth wider this time, hell, you were even feeling bold enough to stick your tongue out just the tiniest bit, but were stopped in a rather comedically painful way. “Ouch…” You stopped right in your tracks, hands swiftly searching for the place of the impact. You rubbed your head before noticing something coated in that familiar shade of orange. A sunsettia, that damned sunsettia. “Mehrak!” Kaveh giggled, pointing at his trusty, sentient workcase. “How has it charged so fast?” You questioned, not that impressed by the robots ability to pick fruits. “You’re just being salty.” Kaveh retorted. “Perhaps.” And you weren’t exactly trying to deny it. You grabbed the ripe fruit, the best one they have found this entire season, before offering it to your love. “For you.” You smiled, placing it securely into the man’s hands. Kaveh bit into its hard surface before suckling in all of its sugary juice. He took the time to savor it, but eventually returned it into your hands. “Are you sure? I want you to have it.” You shook your head, but the architect was as insistent as ever. “[name].” The call of your name spilling from Kaveh’s lips was enough reassurance. You too bit into it, the same spot Kaveh previously did. It was heavenly, the juice slowly trickling down your chin and onto your shirt. Truly one of a kind. The artist really did have the eye for good fruit. The gentle summer breeze reminded you of home and the sunsettia in your hand of that first pang of love you felt all those years back.

“Kaveh.” You murmured, lips still attached to the orange sweetness.

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

[Writer’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY INDEED. Anyways, it was a good one. I'm absolutely in love with his birthday art, he really is the prettiest man there ever was. Now I'll probably be working on the next part of What does freedom look like without you? The only thing that I'll say is that it'll be a backstory bit, so do with that what you will. Have a great rest of your day and say happy birthday to my favorite boy. Bye bye]

#kaveh x reader #kaveh x male reader #kaveh #genshin x male reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaveh x gn reader #archive

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metranart · 2 months

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Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 9)

Being a gang leader doesn’t leave a lot of free time and having hit the critical age of the hormonal teenager, Draken and Mikey are beginning to feel the raging urge of having some needs meet.

You end up ordering hot cakes and mint tea, Mikey orders a milkshake and waffles and Draken takes eggs, bacon and black coffee.

Silence follows when you all start to eat, only munching sounds and your loud thoughts can be heard. The three of you actually so hungry that your plates are empty in less than five minutes.

These are the best hot cakes you have ever had! Or maybe you were that hungry, but whatever it was, you sigh satisfied and grin at feeling comfortable at least by the food.

Searching for the scarce remains of that comforting feeling, your finger slides across the porcelain plate to get the remains of honey you can.

You're usually not that messy but it's a little inevitable when these flavors are the only thing at the moment giving you certain kind of peace of mind.

A golden, honeyed drop rolls from your fingertip to your lips and then down your chin. Your tongue darts out to stop its journey down but it’s a second too slow.

Your gasp catches inside your lungs, and unrequested goosebumps raid your whole body when both blonds mercilessly attack you.

Mikey's lips are the first thing you feel, in a chaste, gentle peck next to your lips, as if asking permission, even so, he doesn't wait as he always does and the next thing you feel is his velvety tongue, wet and warm, following the rebellious path of the honey drop, down your chin.

While Draken, for his part, yanks your wrist in the gentlest of pulls, like re-teaching your body to stretch. The tall gang member merely grins when your stares cross and even when your shocked expression screams of how unsettled you feel for what he is about to do, he still does it.

His mouth opens and your honey-coated index finger finds its way inside it. Those glossy lips close around the stoic digit and his tongue dances slowly, almost sensually lazy around the skin. Devouring the honey but mostly feeding on your blushing, nervous disposition, since his gaze never falters from yours.

You gulp hard, having both blondes stick to a part of your body in public isn’t exactly what you ordered for breakfast and once clean, both reluctantly abandon their task.

Mikey gives one last smooch to your cheek as Draken pecks tenderly the pad of your finger, and soon both are using the sleeves of their uniforms to wipe off the rests of saliva from you.

“—My milkshake was good…. But damn! How do you always manage to taste sweeter, darlin’?”

Mikey’s cheeks are red, chest heaving, all the sign you don’t wanna see.

“It-…. It isn’t me, Sano.” You reply swiftly as if trying to dissuade whatever thought might be inside that hormonal head of his, “… it was the honey what you tasted—”

“Nah~” Draken butts in, “sure the honey was sweet, but nothing compared to your pussy...”

“Draken, shut it—”

“Your pussy is…” Draken openly ignores you and keeps daydreaming, “fuck! Is my favorite flavor.”

“Stop, Draken!”

“I mean, if I could have as every meal, a full plate of your sweet, shaven—”

Both your palms slap at his mouth to stop his next words, and you can hear Mikey burst out laughing.

“Knock it off, Ken Ryuguji.” You scold him like a little child, and he merrily shrugs, nonchalant.

Your face is beat red and your heartbeat a mess, a wild mix of emotions painting your whole face: embarrassment, anger, shock, uneasiness with a pinch of honeyed excitement…. You are not sure where the excitement comes from, but it surprises you to even feel it.

You can feel Draken smirk under your hands and then his lips start kissing your palms making you recoil back, fast.

The sub-commander chuckles. “Do that again.” He asks suddenly.

And putting your hands under the table on top of your thighs, you shake your negative.

Mikey snickers at your sheepishness. “—I bet you thought I was the worst of the two,” the short blonde grins, “…. I’m a walk in the park compared to this one.”

He motions to his bestie and the tall teen stares back smugly, before repeat.

“Do that again.”

You squint your eyes at him, “… it was a spurt of the moment—”

“Nevertheless, do it again.”

You shake your head stubbornly and Draken narrows his eyes mischievously.

“You have the sweetest PUSS—”

His loud statement is cut short by your hands pressing again against his mouth, and Mikey can’t help but laugh, clutching his stomach while he amusedly enjoys Draken’s misbehaving.

“God, it’s like dealing with a child in steroids!”

You complain a little fed up, but your outburst only makes Mikey laugh harder. Draken starts to say something, yet his words come out muffled, and he ends up licking your palm in order for you to let go.

“Gross, Draken—”

“Not Draken,” he points out, “Ken-… Ken Ryuguji.” He asks, and his heartfelt request slowly fades Mikey’s laughter into a curious grin.

“Say my name, my real name…. Do it again.”

That’s what he meant before. His name, he wanted you to say his name.

“I loved the sound of it,” Draken admits, “in your voice,” he continues, “tagging me as taken and owned since no one else is allowed to use that name apart from MY boy—”

You raise an eyebrow and quickly Mikey lifts a finger to claim your attention, “I’m HIS boy.”

“… His boy.” You repeat more to yourself and a thousand memories of them flood your brain, from them eating each other’s mouths, to them jacking off, to them sucking, groping, kissing, fucki—

“Are you a couple?” you can't help but ask, “I mean…. since when are you a couple? I mean…does anyone know? .... Probably not, since no tough, gang member from Japan” you point out, “…would faithfully follow a homosexual couple-…sometimes we are such a closed-minded culture—”

“We don't like men,” Mikey interrupts you, “…we like and are crazy about women.” The Toman leader states and soon adds, “—we have never and will never be with another man.”

You pout, doubts and questions reflecting in your features.

Draken chuckles lightly, to then reach out to you and draw his knuckles gently over your creased forehead until it smoothens.

“We don’t fancy cock,” the tall blond explains, “we fancy pus-…”

Your hand raises in warning and Draken giggles, ending up just mouthing the word without sound. So, you lower your hand.

“But I saw you-…” you remind them, “I saw you, kissing, touching and doing stuff to each other—”

“Sure, Draken is mine and I’m his.” Mikey claims without shame. “We are each other’s exception.”

“-Then I’m just your plaything…”

“NO.” They stress in unison.

“You are OURS.” Draken is the one to speak first, “our girl, our soulmate, the missing part on our triangle…”

“Our future wife.” Mikey adds, swiftly. His black gaze set on you, to watch your reaction firsthand.

You do your best to keep the shock down and under a serene facade of numb detachment, to then say as cold and indifferent as you can.

“I’m your actual cumdump and future sex slave—”

“NO!” they say in unison one more time. Their voices sound strained as an angry beg.

“We love you-”

“DON’T say something you don’t mean,” you say in a fit, “it’s kind of a dick move, you don’t have to pretend,” your words stop them cold. “I already slept with you, I already did everything with you-…. you can cut the crap!”

There’s a solid awkward silence which would have linger there if it wouldn’t be interrupted by the waitress asking you if you needed anything else. You ask for the check and the silence permeates the booth until the check arrives.

“—Like I promised yesterday, this one is on me… you know, for take me to the hospital and pay for it,” you take some bills out of a hidden pocket in your pants and place it on top of the table, “… and this-” you take another couple of bills, “is for the scarring sex, that way we can stop calling it rape,” you add in an icy, full of contempt tone, “… I won’t call the police on you and you won’t look for me again, we are even.”

Your voice is final, yet silence is the only response you get.

You sigh, unable to look them in the face, that way you can keep the tough act at float.

“Excuse me, Sano.” You say to the immobile blond next to you, and to your utter surprise, he does move.

Standing up, Mikey offers you his hand to get out of the booth, yet you don’t take it but do thank for his chivalry to which he faintly nods.

Not a single word has come out of their mouths and somehow that uneased you, but whatever this strike of luck is, you are sure to take advantage of it.

Sporting the same utter silence, the three stand still for a minute before starting to walk to the exit, when a better idea grazes your brain.

“I’m going to pass to the restroom before go, wait for me here?”

Both gang members merely stare at you in response. Those sharp gazes devoid of any recognizable emotions make you look away and at your feet instead, and a little more than shaken, you spin on your hills to go to the bathroom.

Once inside you check the door to confirm that they won't burst inside and once more at ease. You splash some cold water to your face to then look for a window.

“There.” You mutter mutedly when you finally find a way out of the nightmare. A small, yet big enough, window greets you from the last stall, and using the toilet as leverage, you glance back through your shoulder one last time to then sneak out.

Your little legs are the first thing to stick out the window, using your hands to support your weight before letting you fall to the floor of the alley hidden between the streets. Sound of people reach your ear, yet you ignore them.

Before your feet touch the hard ground a wave of happiness begins to invade you, God! You did it! You escaped from them…. You are so excited that your face feels numb and when you feel the soles of your boots touch the ground, you almost jump with excitement.

Crouched down, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment of victory, a victory that threatens to turn to ashes in your mouth when the sun bouncing off the walls of the alley is blocked by something large.

“Look guys, don't we know this cute little thing?”

You hear someone say in a familiar voice and turning around suddenly, your eyes widen in worry, as you encounter a faction of the gang, you defeated the night before.

The beaten and putrid face of the person who betrayed your gang and the Toman and unleashed all the conflict between gangs, smiles macabrely down at you while licking his lips.

“You, little bitch,” the gang member spells slowly, “I’ve been looking for you. Yesterday I lost to you, but today I'm going to get even.”

The traitor's henchmen make a half circle, cornering you against the wall and blocking any escape route, your main enemy takes the center to be able to see you from the front and to delight in the terror your eyes show when he begins to unbutton his pants belt.

“First you are going to pay me for the beating,” his belt opens wide and now his fingers continue with the buttons of his pants, “then you are going to compensate me for my effort,” he lowers the zipper, “and once that you have that annoying mouth full of my cock and my cum slides down your beautiful esophagus, all of we are going to teach you that in gangs there is a rule that should never be broken," he takes out his vulgar cock, erect and swollen, and strokes it a couple of times, smearing drops of precum from the head all over the shaft, “No Girls Allow!”

This is your fucking luck!

From your crouching position you scan the horizon and seeing a small space, you lunge towards it hoping to get away, but one of the boys catches you and pulls you back towards the center of the circle, scratching and kicking to no avail.

With no options left, you throw a punch, and a scream of pain paints the silence of the pleasant morning when the bandage wrapping your closed fist begins to turn red.

Even when that painful punch managed to take down one of the boys, and if it weren't for the incapacitating wound throbbing in your hand, you might have defeated the rest, you now that you are doom. You're so tired and exhausted, the little strength in you slowly fades as you fall to your knees hugging your hand to your chest.

“You fucking stuck-up bitch!” one of the henchmen shouts, kicking you in the stomach, “we are going to teach you how to behave!!”

Yanking you from the hair, he stands behind you and presents you to his leader once he has you subdued. “Go on, shove it all the way in, that's what this slut is good for.”

The insults and laughter do not wait, and you almost block your jaw by closing it so tightly.

“Open your mouth, so I can give you your breakfast.” The traitor mocks, swanking his junk in front of your face before slapping you with it. You almost open your mouth in gag reflection, at the disgust of feeling his warm, wet skin against your cheek.

“Open your fucking mouth, scum.” Large, rough hands fixate on your jaw, trying to open it with violent and rough movements but you refuse, the pain is getting higher and higher, but you prefer it to swallowing what awaits you. “Come on, otherwise we're going to have to use another, tighter hole.”

Everyone laughs, some watching animatedly while others holding your hands to prevent you from hitting them.

“Dibs on her ass.” You hear one say.

“Oh man, I wanted her ass, well I’ll settle for her pussy.”

“Fuck that, I want to fuck her tits, look at those! So freaking big and plush!”

All the stares fall on your breast, and you can almost hear them lick their lips, terror fills you to the point of desperation when one of them finally uses his brain.

“Pinch her nose,” one suggests, “my mom used to do that to force me to eat when I didn't want to.”

“Ten points for Gryffindor,” the traitor says, and one of his henchmen pinches your nose painfully tight. Air stops flooding your system, and everyone waits with bated breath, enjoying the way your face is starting to change color.

“She has to open her mouth eventually, don't she?” one wonders, worry looming just a little, unable to wrap his head at how much you have lasted without air.

“She's stubborn but she's not stupid,” the leader reaches out to smear the tip of his cock against your trembling lips. “Ready to suck me off?”

The air finally runs out and your lungs scream for oxygen, your mouth opens and tears of frustration fall down your cheeks when a loud crash is heard and you suddenly fall to the ground, gasping.

Your tear-filled eyes can't focus properly and you're too busy sucking in air to pay attention to anything else, but you definitely see what looks like a mass of black and gold, delivering out punches.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I’m going to kill ya!”

Someone roars while entering running from the entrance of the alley, someone tall and big, and you can sense with half-numb ears and glassy eyes how all the boys attacking you are now a throbbing, bloody mass on the floor.

Thus, that enemy faction lies unconscious, pulverized and catatonic against the hard and dirty cement of the alley teased by some shy sun rays.

Mikey and Draken don't stop at that, they continue demolishing them with blows until the inert bodies are barely breathing.

The gasps you hear from the two blondes are more of fury than real effort, they both heard your scream and entering the bathroom, they didn't find you.

Panic set in when Mikey, the only other one who was able to slide out the little window into the alley, saw that you were about to be assaulted.

Falling from the sky in front of you, like your angel of salvation, the blonde went crazy with anger, not even waiting for his lover, who had to go around the restaurant to get there.

Once the anger subsided a little, they were able to think again, and both ran to your side. Crouching next to your battered body, covered in bruises and a bleeding hand.

“Damn it, her wound opened again.” Draken exclaimed, removing the shirt under his jacket to stop the bleeding.

“Let's take her to the hospital—”

“And what money are we supposed to pay with, Mikey? Or we let them patch up her again and then sneak out using a bathroom window….” Draken's annoyed gaze falls prejudicially on you and your recent actions, and Mikey immediately tries to calm him down.

“No need for the sarcasm, man.” Mikey disapproves, “later we can discuss how to reprimand this disobedient kitten. I know! Let's take her to Mitsuya and Hakkai.”

The leader of the Toman suggests. "He’s good with this kind of wounds, plus Mitsuya is excellent at sewing-"

“Sweaters and dresses, not people!” Draken chimes, applying more pressure to your wound.

“Take me… home.” You suggest weakly, and they both look down at you.

“My older sister is a nurse,” you inform them, “she will help me for free, she is very good.”

The blondes don't seem convinced and soon the questions everyone harvest in their minds, pops out from Mikey’s mouth.

“Why didn't we take you to her yesterday?”

The blonde motions his head at the wound on your hand, which started it all, and you frown.

"She works in the private sector in Kyoto, just this morning she arrived home to-... just take me to her.”

Draken and Mikey share a look and it's like they're having an internal conversation. You see it in the way they look at each other, and finally reaching a secret agreement, they both nod.

The tall blonde rubs the back of his neck and the short one cracks his knuckles before saying.

“Fine, kitten.” Mikey shares, a sullen grimace on his face is soon replaced by a playful grin, “…let's meet the sister-in-law.”

COMING SOON PART 10....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of NSFW content from Tokyo Rev and other popular anime, exclusive smut fanfiction and more.

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linuxgamenews · 1 month

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Discover the World of Medieval Rodents in Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter

Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel for the action RPG game is releasing this Winter to Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. Thanks to the brilliant work by Odd Bug Studio. All due to make its way onto Steam. Big news at gamescom – United Label just confirmed that the sequel, Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter action RPG is coming out in February 2025 for Linux. If you like the first title, get ready to dive back into the world of medieval rodents, but this time with even more epic action. In the Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel, you’ll step into the boots of Arlo, the son of the Warden of the North. The story picks up after the southern war from the first game. Since Arlo on a mission to take down some seriously ancient evil lurking in the frozen wastelands up north. It’s a chilly, tough journey through harsh lands. But Arlo also has what it takes to face whatever comes his way. This sequel cranks everything up a notch. Remember the intense battles from the first title? Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter is upping the ante with all-new monster hunting gameplay in the sequel. You’ll be up against gigantic beasts of the North, and trust me, these aren’t your run of the mill enemies. Arlo’s combat skills have also leveled up. Offering new elemental effects like fire, ice, electricity, and poison added to his weapons. So, whether you’re freezing your enemies or shocking them into submission, there’s a lot of fun to be had in how you take down the bad guys.

Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel | Release Date Trailer

youtube

And let’s not forget about the voice acting. Doug Cockle, the award-winning voice behind Geralt in The Witcher 3, is back to narrate Arlo’s bloody quest for revenge. His gritty voice adds that extra layer of badassery to the game. Due to make every victory feel that much sweeter. If you’re at gamescom, you can get an early taste of what’s coming with a demo available to play at the Indie Arena Booth. It’s a great chance to warm up for the brutal battles you’ll face in the action RPG this February. The Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter sequel isn’t just about fighting, though. There’s a new base-building feature where you’ll rebuild the shattered settlement of Winter’s Edge. As you upgrade, you’ll unlock better items, tastier meals, and even craft powerful traps. Due to keep those pesky enemies at bay. Plus, the new day and night system means different foes will show up depending on the time of day. So you’ll need to stay on your toes as you explore. With six biomes to explore, new animal factions to meet, and a ton of challenging beasts to take down, Tails of Iron 2: Whiskers of Winter is shaping up to be one epic sequel. February 2025 can’t release soon enough. So be sure to Wishlist it on Steam. Plus it's due to make its way onto Linux, Mac, and Windows PC.

#tails of iron 2 #whiskers of winter #action rpg #linux #gaming news #odd bug studio #ubuntu #mac #windows #pc #unity #Youtube

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colteyes · 3 years

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fic: Darling I'd hang the stars for you

Fandom: ACOTAR Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand Word Count: ~3,200 Warnings: Sex n feelings. But mostly the former \o/ Summary: A moment where Rhys reflects and resets with Feyre. AO3 Link

AN: Ok you know what this is so gratuitous that I really struggled to think of a title/summary for it and this is the best we’re gonna get ok. Also World Ending Rhys is my favourite Rhys. Desperately on his knees in love Rhys is a close second (they're the same thing really).

Sometimes it was hard, walking around knowing that the future of the known world rested on his shoulders. In the least fatalistic sense of the phrase.

Lost his temper? There goes a mountain range.

Someone being exceptionally irritating, usually from the Court of Nightmares? Misted.

That was what life was like before he learned control. Real control, where the hurt he inflicted with his power was only ever intentional, and never an accident. Accidents were careless, sloppy, unbecoming. People who were worthy of power could not be allowed to wield it carelessly.

Despite all of his power (and who really knew how deep that well went?), Rhys knew better than anyone what people thought of him. He was the one with unfettered access to most of their minds, after all. Even those who desperately, futilely, tried to bar him access, built mental walls of pliable metal and flammable supports. Most never bothered, never realised, never felt his claws sinking into their very psyche until it was no longer possible to separate him from I.

He knew the taste of their hate, their resentment, and their fear.

Of the three, it was the fear that was never ending, everlasting, that permeated and soured almost every relationship he might've sought before it had ever begun. The fear twisted people's intentions, corrupted their trust, when all he had done was just be.

There's a certain resentment that comes with living under that sort of pressure, something that all that power was not able to take away. It did the opposite, mostly. Helped it fester, helped make succumbing to his temper, to retaliation, all the more attractive. Revenge was sweet when he could not seek a sweeter brand of kindness. Not before the days of his inner circle.

It took a few decades for Rhysand to acknowledge that it was lucky, so lucky for himself and for everyone else that he had not been raised to take an eye for an eye; that his mother was the brilliant, kind, and disciplined female that she was to have instilled so early in him that sense of justice and honour that she did. For if Rhys had allowed himself to believe in a world where he should take an eye for an eye, the world would soon be out of eyes, and Rhys would still be needing to learn other ways to defend himself against the venom hurled his way.

So amongst the hate, the resentment, the fear... Rhys never imagined that there would be love. The kind of love that brought him to his knees, that made him want to cry, that made him want to roar until he brought down mountains.

Feyre frequently called him dramatic.

It was Feyre who he watched now, perched at the edge of her artist's stool, a brush balanced in her hand, a palette knife in the other. She was mixing whorls of paint on a palette board that had been clipped to the easel in front of her, and occasionally blotted in more paint from a different colour as she worked on building her current shade. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun that allowed curls to escape down the nape of her neck, and she wore a light, loose shirt with form fitting pants that cut off above her ankles. She was barefoot in her studio, the instruments that she would need for her current piece scattered around her, held by cups or hanging off hooks or tucked away in the small, wheeled, several tiered trolley beside her, nothing more than an arm's length away.

As usual, she had paint everywhere.

Rhys watched her for a while, and the simplicity of having her there before him, smiling and at peace, was enough to make his heart swell.

If it weren't for the bond, you'd probably startle me ten times a day with the way you lurk. It'd send me to an early grave.

Rhys smiled at the touch of her thoughts curling in his mind, relishing their presence there.

I imagine I'd go to an early grave if I weren't bonded to you too, Feyre darling.

She turned to him then, the soft light of the studio backlighting her, illuminating dust motes in the air and the gold in her hair. She frowned at him, a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

So serious, Rhys.

She showed him what she saw, her mind's eye. He stood silent as a shadow in the doorway, his eyes drowning in the dark as they remained fixed on her, the damper on his magic gone, content to be utterly himself. Comfortable with his power rolling off him in waves, curling off him like deep smoke, like so much dark bleeding from his skin into the space around him. Comfortable because he knew that she would be.

He strode to her then. He may have caused her attention to break, but he always hated physically interrupting her focus on a canvas. He took her shifted attention and lowered brush as permission enough for him to approach.

He cupped her face in both hands when he reached her, tipped her head back and leaned in for a gentle kiss. Feyre obliged, the abandoned brush sliding off her lap and to the floor with a clatter. He drew back slightly, just enough so that he could brush kisses onto each of her cheeks, before finding her lips again.

His touches drew a warm thrum of love from his mate through their bond, which pleased him to no end. But chasing it was still that glimmer of concern.

"I'm fine," he reassured her gently, drawing back. He thumbed a smudge of blue by her cheek before leaning in again.

She arched her brow, setting the palette knife down in a safer position before returning the kiss.

He smiled against her lips, the question she left in the air. I just... love you.

Her eyes softened, her smile brightened.

I loved you as I waited for you and I loved you as you fought for everything we hold dear and I will die loving you, Feyre.

"I love you too, Rhys," she said softly, with a quiet sort of assurance, almost determination, the glimmer in her eyes solidifying to shine with conviction. "I love you." Then mind to mind: With everything I am, with all that I have. Always.

His heart swelled, and his kiss deepened. He delved into her mouth slowly, again and again, one hand remaining on the side of her face as the other dropped to cup the back of her head, pushing his fingers up into her hair as he took his time laying her open.

Feyre made a soft noise, low in her throat, and her body shifted towards him.

The air changed between them.

She made to stand the same time he broke the kiss to step closer to her. Her arms came around his neck the same time he straightened, his hand cupping her thigh as he hitched her up, his other arm wrapping around her waist as her legs wrapped around his. Her body had remained toned, as Feyre trained and kept in shape even though Cassian was no longer around to train with her, but against him and his Illyrian body, she was still so soft, her curves so warm and plush against the hard planes of his own frame. Rhys groaned as he tightened his arms around her, burying his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply his mate's scent, each draw of breath causing that roiling dark inside of him to rejoice.

Feyre turned her own head to him, a smile on her lips as she took his earlobe between her teeth, putting slight pressure on it before she let it slide free. Her legs tightened around his waist, her back arched, and she settled her arms more solidly around his neck as though she too was trying to maximise the contact between their bodies, to press herself closer because as they were now, it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

A low noise rumbled from his chest, a possessive sound, one edged in arousal. Feyre curled a hand in his hair, tugging his head back away from her neck to kiss him again. This time it was her turn to delve, to probe and lick, her body writhing against him with each kiss in a way that drove him crazy.

She didn't pull back from his lips as he winnowed them, but she did to utter a breathless laugh when he let them fall out of the winnow and onto their bed.

"I thought you said you wouldn't interrupt me when I paint," she said, perched on top of him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

He rolled them until she was the one below.

"I didn't." He lowered his mouth to bite gently at the flesh of her throat. "I was merely watching you." His mouth tracked down, sucking her breast gently over her thin top, his tongue probing for her nipple. "It's not my fault you find me distracting enough to set down your work."

Feyre laughed again, even more breathless this time, even as she arched her back into his touch, pulling her fingers through his hair. "I can't imagine why anyone would find the High Lord of the Night Court distracting, especially when he's glowering in their doorway and leaking power all over them."

"I was not glowering," he corrected mildly against her navel, "And I never leak." He nosed underneath her top, licked a warm line across her belly, just above the hem of her pants.

"Oh really?" Her breath shallowed, sped up.

"I just am, and when I think of you Feyre, when I think of how you choose me, every single day of our lives, I cannot contain myself."

Feyre moaned then, either at his words or at the way his hands had slipped her pants down as he spoke, baring her sex, his head at just the right position so that his breath brushed over her, just so.

He liked these pants, Rhys decided as he discarded them. They were form fitting, but they were stretchy, and slipped down her legs easily without a fight.

He laid an open kiss to the inside of one thigh, and Feyre made a soft noise again, shifting so her legs could open for him. He shouldered one over his back, and pushed the other further to the side, nestling it in the crook of his elbow.

"You have no idea how hard it is to contain myself, much less around you," he murmured again, almost to himself, before bringing his mouth to her core.

He ran his tongue once up her centre, just the barest of touches against her lower lips, all the way up to curl once over her clit, before starting again and again, down up down up, each time pressing a little harder, delving a little deeper, until his tongue was buried inside her and Feyre was crying his name in earnest, until her fingers were vice tight in his hair and her hips were stuttering against his face. He coaxed her to find her rhythm, one hand squeezing her thigh and the other arm braced against the bed, his power rolling across her skin again and again, as though even it could not stand to be without her, not even for a moment. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she rode his tongue, bliss bliss bliss, the taste and smell and sense of her all around him, inside him, and there was nothing Rhys would rather do, he could do this forever, the sounds of pleasure from his mate the only thing he ever wanted to hear, the fever pitch of her voice rising with her orgasm, the orgasm that he brought to her, that he would offer her again and again, for as long as she could bear it. He felt it gather like a wave before crashing into her, felt her body seize with it, bracketing his face within it as she shook and trembled.

"Rhys," she panted, her fingers tugging on his head that was still searching between her thighs. "Rhys, please."

He withdrew slightly, a devil's grin playing around the edges of his mouth. "Please what?"

Feyre's face was flushed, her lips red from her own teeth setting into them, her eyes bright. "Please fuck me," she breathed.

Night rippled out from him at her words, cradled them both in a star kissed embrace as he reared up to cover her with his body. His clothes were gone in an instant, then his chest was pressed up against hers, and her thin cloth of a top was the last barrier between them.

Feyre's arms and legs went around him again, and this time she rolled them, and he went with her, allowed her whatever she wanted to do with his body. He was hers, he's said as much to her, to the world.

She sat up, her bare ass resting on his belly, his cock brushing the small of her back. For a moment she just watched him, flushed and still breathing hard, her hands stroking from his chest down to his abdomen slowly. He let his eyes take her in, her tousled hair, her breasts tenting her shirt, her thighs on either side of his chest, her sex pressed against his skin, her own skin glowing softly against his night.

He had half a mind to pull her forwards until she was leaning on the headboard, until he was eating her out again.

"No," she said, reading the look on his face, despite desire darkening her own eyes. She leaned down, pressing warm, open mouthed kisses against his chest. "I want you inside me, Rhys." Her mouth reached just below his pectorals, her tongue finding the crease in his abs. Her ass shifted backwards as she bent over him, his cock nestling between both cheeks as she dipped her tongue further down. Gods she was flexible. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as he tracked her every move. "I want to feel every inch of you inside me. Right now."

He made some sort of noise, some small reflection of what she ignited in him as both hands went to her waist, lifted her, then slid her wet, tight body over him. She cried out at the unyielding intrusion, facing the sky, her thighs tightening around him as he entered her to the hilt, her inner muscles fluttering and squeezing at the sensation of him thrusting up side of her. Pleasure, hers and his own, burst like pinpricks of light behind his eyes, between their bond, glittering like starlight.

"Gods," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as he lifted her. He sat up as he did so, abdominal muscles bunching as both hands stayed to guide her hip, the other squeezing her thigh, her ass, urging her to rise until she held just the tip of him inside her.

Just as Feyre had gathered herself enough to meet his eyes again, Rhys pushed her hips down, slower this time, and she tipped her head back and moaned. The sound made his balls tighten, made a similar noise roll out from deep inside of him at the sensation of her sinking back down over his cock. He raised a hand to fasten in her hair, brought her head forwards and tipped her into his kiss as she became fully seated on him again.

"So tight, Feyre," he groaned against her mouth. "So perfect."

She mumbled something incoherent, her hips rising and falling again without encouragement. He groaned again, pleasure racing up and down him with her movements, and he found that all he could do was watch her, try to keep pace with her as she rode him to another orgasm, this time with him inside her, the bond open between them, and he felt everything she did as she came with a cry, her pleasure shocking through her like so much lightning.

He devoured her with his eyes, drinking in everything she was, the pure satisfaction of making his mate come almost surpassing his own pleasure. He pulled her top off as she was still coming off her high, taking her breast into his mouth, this time unhampered by cloth. He bit and suckled the warm flesh there, until his teeth clamped lightly over her nipple. He bit down, didn't release her until she moaned at the pressure.

"Rhys," she sighed, her arms loose around his neck, sagging slightly against him.

"Yes, darling," he said soothingly, kissing his way up to her neck, his tongue lathing and lingering at certain areas along the way.

"Rhys," was all she said again as he lay her back down on the bed, loose and pliant.

He kept himself sheathed in her body as he slung one of her legs around his waist again, his hand staying to cup the back of her thigh. He leaned down to take her other breast in his mouth. Feyre moaned mindlessly as the press of his body brought him deeper inside of her, her head rolling back in the sheets. She was sensitive now, so much more sensitive, her thighs trembling and hips jerking every time he moved. He could feel her rippling with sensation around his cock, still pressed as deep in her as he could. He rolled his hips once, twice, his mouth still fastened on her breast, and each time drew a small, wild cry from her.

He drew back only after he'd sucked a mark into her skin, and rolled his hips a third time.

"Rhys."

"Feyre," he answered, his voice a croon. "I'm so sorry, you asked me to fuck you but I was terribly selfish and allowed you to do the honours first."

"Don't apologise," she snarled, her hands bunching in the sheets as he thrust again, her heel digging into his back. "Move."

Rhys grinned outright now, her frantic desire delicious on his tongue.

"Anything for you, Feyre darling."

His power exploded around him as Rhys set a furious pace, his grip on her thigh tight and his other hand on the curve of her hip, fingertips digging into her ass as he hauled her body forwards to meet each thrust of his hips. He felt Feyre beneath him, tight as a bowstring, her mouth open in a silent cry as he drove with abandon into her. Stars winked in and out of existence and time drew out and out in the space between them, until his world narrowed to an endless joining of their bodies, exactly what he wanted, exactly what he wished for, he wanted for nothing else but this to go on and on and on, to lose himself inside of her because what better place to be? But somehow the moment still came when he was powerless, powerless to stop it, powerless to do anything but come with a roar that shook the foundations of the house around them as his pleasure somehow reached a peak for him to fall from. His release barrelled down their bond, washed over Feyre, enough to tip her over the edge of another orgasm, and nothing nothing nothing felt better than this, when they came together, when he came inside her body and still she welcomed everything he had and asked for more.

He collapsed wordlessly into the cradle of her arms, eyes closed, didn't move an inch until Feyre laughed and shifted her hips, just enough so that he slipped out of her.

A gentle hand on his face.

"I can't believe I get to do this with you for the rest of my life."

Rhys turned his head, the only movement he could manage for the moment, and pressed a kiss into her collarbone.

"I honestly can't wait."

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #acotar fic #fic #fluuuuuuuff #fluffy fluff #I have a lot of feelings and it's not my fault they come out like this #pwp #probably set sometime during acosf who knows that's not important

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Summertime Swim

Written for @cinnamon-hoe as part of my 500 follower celebration

Arthur, Riches, Something Borrowed, and Surprise Me!

Approx. 1900 words - spicy NSFW!

It was a hot afternoon in Paris. The pavement shimmered in the heat and the air felt thick against the skin, too heavy to breathe. Arthur had shed his gentleman’s coat hours ago, and his vest soon after. His shirt was undone, and his tie hung loose at his collar.

Sweat beaded over his chest, the drops swelling until they ran down his slick belly. He couldn’t remember a day in which he wanted to be naked more than this one. Clothes, any clothes, felt unbearably heavy.

Arthur glanced at the woman beside him. She was pink-cheeked from the heat and fanning herself with her hand. He could see how damp her collar was, and imagined she was even more uncomfortable than he in all those layers of clothing.

They were on their way back to the mansion with a wrapped set of books Arthur had borrowed from one of le Comte’s friends in town, and a few items for Sebastian. The errand seemed like a good idea but now that they were halfway through, he was regretting the choice.

“I suppose we might have been cooler at the mansion. Sorry luv.” He squeezed her free hand lightly. “I didn’t realize it would get quite so hot.”

“It’s alright. It will just make us appreciate the cooler air outside the city more.” She smiled over at him.

Arthur shook his head. “Always so cheerful, aren’t you? Even when you look like you’re about to melt.” He leaned close and kissed the tip of her ear. “If you melted, I would have to eat you up.”

“Only if I melt?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I never said only!” Arthur leaned close and flicked his tongue across the skin just below her ear. He smiled at the way she shivered. “I’d eat you any time.”

She poked him. “When you say it like that, I can’t even think straight.”

“And that is half the point. The other half is seeing how much you want me.” He nipped her earlobe.

“Hey! It’s entirely too hot for you to be doing that. You’re just making it worse.” She smacked his arm and pretended to pout.

Arthur took a step back. She was right, of course, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, taste her . . . even when it was so hot they were both dripping. What he needed was a way to cool down so he could heat things up in a more pleasant way. And being his smug self, he knew exactly how to do it.

They were better than half way home, with the sweltering Paris streets behind them. In the countryside, the breeze was sweeter and a little cooler, though the fields still shimmered under the bright, afternoon sun. In the haze, just past a field of waist-high wheat, Arthur spotted his only hope. A blue ripple in the golden brown afternoon. It was a small lake, rimmed on the far side by trees.

He tugged his lover’s hand. “Come on, let’s take a little break before we walk the rest of the way.”

“What? But why? Don’t you want to -” her eyes found the lagoon and she stopped mid-sentence. “Oh! Yes, I think a little break would be great. We can splash our feet in the water and enjoy the shade.”

Arthur grinned. “Spot on. You read my mind.”

The lagoon was a perfect spot for a picnic, a rowboat trip, or an afternoon swim. And since it was outside the city, few people ever came this way to enjoy it. The two lovers walked around the water to the far side where the trees were tall and the shade was deep.

Arthur set down the bundle of books and began shrugging off his coat, vest, and shirt.

“Ah, A-arthur? You . . . I think you’ve lost your shirt?” She covered her mouth with her hand and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or just teasing.

“I’m about to lose a lot more than that,” he grinned. And undid his belt.

“Wait! But . . . I thought we’d . . . just put our feet in.” She was blushing now, and Arthur knew this sudden shyness was genuine.

He let his belt drop to the ground and slid his pants off. He was gloriously bare underneath and gods but the air felt good on the bits and pieces. Arthur nearly sighed with the sheer pleasure of the breeze. “Oh, come now, my pretty little skirt. You didn’t really think I was going to sneak you off to a secluded pond just to splash our feet in the shallows, hm?”

“But someone will see!”

“Oh yes, there are crowds hiding in the wheat,” he chuckled. Then he took a step toward her. “Don’t you want to take a swim, luv? Aren’t you achingly hot?” He ran his hand up her arm, tracing the droplets of sweat with his fingertips.

“I . . . I can get cool enough . . .”

Arthur tugged at her skirt with his other hand, pulling it up and up until the fabric rested at her hip. “Doesn’t the air feel good on your skin? Now imagine the water . . . look at it. It’s cool and blue and perfect.” He smiled as her eyelids closed and she took a long, slow breath.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grinned. His skillful fingers found the buttons of her gown and he popped them open one after another. With each little bit of exposed skin, he found himself more and more excited. He’d seen her nude so many times before that he expected the novelty to wear off, but with her . . . it never did. Just seeing the curve of her breast, the lines of her bare shoulder - it was hard to go slow. To be patient.

“W-what if there are snakes or - or -”

Arthur laughed. “Luv, the only snake here is the trouser variety.”

“You’re so wicked,” she giggled, and peeked at him from one half-opened eye. “I can’t believe you just stripped down like that!”

“I don’t know how you can even tell, with your eyes shut. Why don’t you open them and see if you enjoy the view?”

She blushed a deep crimson, but her eyes fluttered open. They traveled from his damp brow and messy hair to his eyes, and his lip. Past his shoulders to his bare chest. A pearl of sweat trickled past his nipple to the dimple of his bellybutton. She licked her lips.

“Ah, Arthur, oh . . . you . . .” she coughed. “You -”

“Now you see what you’ve done to me, hm? Naughty girl.” He popped another button open, revealing even more of the inner curve of her breast.

“You can’t blame that on me,” she said breathily.

“I can. I do.” The last few buttons came loose. He pushed her top open. “Come on luv. Come swim with me.”

The last bit of resistance in her broke as the cool breeze sighed across her breasts. She slid her clothes to the ground.

“Mmmm, that’s the way.” He lifted her up, sweat slicked-skin to skin, and carried her into the water. The pond’s bottom was soft and he stirred the silt with each step as he walked them deep enough to be covered to the shoulder. Then he let her down.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she sighed.

Arthur laughed. “Is that so?”

“It is!” She splashed him. The water drops fell in a splatter over his face and shoulders.

He sent a little wave of water at her in revenge. In seconds they were shouting and laughing, turning the lagoon into a warzone of water weapons. It was all fun and games until Arthur went under. He swam out past her and then turned. She was watching for him to surface, but that wasn’t the plan.

Instead, he moved slowly until he was close enough to touch. And pinched her. Just a light one, enough to startle.

She let out a shriek and leapt up, half out of the water like a startled mermaid.

Arthur surfaced, laughing so hard he was almost in tears.

“That isn’t funny!”

“It is,” he grinned.

She crossed her arms. “I thought for a second that something bit me!” Her lips were set in a frown, half annoyed and half amused.

Arthur sidled close. “But luv, something did bite you . . .” He lowered his head to her neck and kissed her. His teeth grazed her skin lightly, enough to pull a sigh of longing from her lips.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms went around his shoulders. “You’re an awful tease.”

“Pot, kettle,” he muttered. With her snug against him like this, his need became a physical ache. No more play. No games. He just wanted her.

She smiled. “I never said I wasn’t . . .” She leaned down and bit his neck where at the join with his shoulder. Her little teeth were sharp for a human, but what made him gasp was the way she suckled at the bite, and licked the skin.

“Wicked,” he gasped. His wit was nowhere to be found. Gone along with all sense. He could hear the pulse of her blood. It matched his own heartbeat. Fast. Desperate.

Her smooth fingers circled his shaft under the water. Playful fingertips danced along that so-sensitive skin from root to tip and he felt - he felt as if he might burst just from that light caress. “Mmm, I guess I am . . .”

Arthur felt helpless in her grip. The water and the way she’d entwined him . . . “Is this payback,” he asked hoarsely.

“For all the times you teased me? Absolutely.” Her laugh was crystal chimes and silver bells. Sweet and saucy. “But especially for that pinch!”

She laid bare his need with her soft hands, taunted him with her lips. She used him, rubbing the head of his cock against her hard little pearl until she climaxed. And worse, slid just the tip - the tip - inside to let him feel her heat, and the shuddering pleasure he brought her.

Arthur was almost begging to be released. Every brush of her skin on his was torture, bliss, a fire in his heart and his groin. “L-luv . . . I’m . . . please . . .” He gasped as she let his shaft slide against her clit again.

She drew back and for a moment, he thought she would only tease him again but this time she sank onto him. A slow descent. The cool water replaced by her searing, tight heat.

He might have tried to draw it out, but he was savage with need. Arthur grabbed her hips and plunged deep into her, again and again. It was heaven. The silken slide of their flesh, the gasps and sighs and shivered cries, the way her nails dug into the skin on his back.

Arthur felt himself almost peak. He lowered his head to her neck and bit. The sound she made pushed him over the edge, and he knew he’d brought her there too - again. He came hard, with the sweet-copper taste of her on his lips. He would give all the riches in the world to stretch this moment into forever. Their breath mingled, joined at heart and hip, and the pure ecstasy of making love.

They got back to the mansion near dark. Hair dripping wet, both smelling of pond-water and sex. Sebastian didn’t ask any questions. Just pointed them to the baths. Arthur set his borrowed books down along with Sebastian’s bag of sundries. There would be time for reading later. Right now, he was ready for some payback of his own in the shower.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #follower celebration #smut and fluff #ikevamp smut

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Kaiseki

2x01

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, angst

Author’s Note: Season! Two! This may be a little harder cause Will is in jail and it’s to big a plot point to change. But i love will graham so much dudes. I hope you guys enjoy!

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine.

Official Episode Summary : The psychological thriller based on the Hannibal Lecter legend returns. FBI profiler Will Graham has been framed for Lecter's crimes and wants revenge.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll

(not my gif)

“Kaiseki. A Japanese art form that honors the taste and aesthetic of what we eat,” Hannibal said to Jack Crawford as he sat at his table. The lighting of the room was pleasing but also semi threatening. Not that Jack noticed. He wasn’t very good at noticing things. Hannibal himself had noticed that.

“I feel guilty eating it,” Jack said, looking down at the dish. It was amazingly well put together. It was no surprise that Hannibal had done it.

“I never feel guilty eating anything,” Hannibal said with a small mischievous smile. Jack took a bite and chewed a bit.

“Can’t quite place the fish.”

“He was a flounder. I last prepared this meal for my Aunt Murasaki under similarly unfortunate circumstances,” Hannibal said. Jack waited for him to go on and when he didn’t he nodded.

“What circumstances were those?” Hannibal shrugged.

“A loss. This is a loss. Will is a loss. We’re mourning a death,” Hannibal said gently.

“Will’s ‘death’ is on me,” Jack said. Hannibal took a bite of his food and chewed for a moment, considering this.

“It’s on both of us.”

“I doubt that Y/N would consider you had anything to do with it,” Jack suggested. Hannibal smiled a tad at the mention of your name and the fact that you likely wouldn’t suggest Hannibal was much to blame.

“I tended to be kinder to her and more compassionate to Will,” he said.

“Abigail thought that you liked them both a bit more,” Jack said chuckling. Hannibal shrugged.

“We’re all friends.”

“Do you have friends Hannibal?” Hannibal shrugged.

“I had Will. And of course Y/N.” Jack pointed his fork at Hannibal.

“I don’t understand how you managed to stay in her good graces.”

“I suppose she had about as many friends as I did.”

“I still can’t comprehend it. Will’s gonna be convicted of five murders. I’ll be convicted of one,” Jack muttered.

“You’re not on trial.”

“I will be. In the halls of the FBI. So will you. According to Will Graham, this was all you. Another place where I’m not sure why Y/N continues to see you.”

“Will was your bloodhound. You can’t ignore where he points.” Hannibal smiled at his plate. “And I do believe you’ll be on a trail in her mind as well.” Jack sighed.

“What’s one more person to convict me,” Jack said.

Alana stood beside you. You had a few papers in your hand. The only reason you were still Hannibal’s secretary at all was so that you could have the hours off to come and advocate for Will. Alana handed you another piece of paper and you looked over it.

“You’re a goddess Alana,” you muttered. In your hands you held all the complaints and disagreements Alana had ever had with Jack about Will. Behind the scenes she had been formally sending in a few letters when she believed, like you, that Will should not have been put into the field.

“You can give Jack all the hell you want but until the FBI looks into it, nothing will happen. And Will’s entire life has changed due to Jack’s actions. It deserves to be documented.” You nodded, a smile gracing your face. She put her hand on your cheek and made you look at her which you did. “You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah well,” you shrugged. “This has put a rare smile on my face,” you promised. She pursed her lips. She looked into your eyes and moved her hand away but she still looked concerned.

“I’m doing everything in my power to make sure that Will Graham has a fair trial and that he isn’t convicted.”

“Because you think he did it but he wasn’t in the right mind,” you muttered.

“You do too right?”

“I don’t think he did it period.” She shook her head.

“Then who did? And don't’ say Hannibal otherwise I’m going to have to throw you in the hospital.” You shook your head. You felt tired. You hadn’t been getting much sleep. It was probably an attachment issue when it came down to it. Not being able to sleep beside Will was harder than you thought it would be. The bed always felt cold. Other than that, you had been worried about Will here. Your mind wandered when you tried to sleep about everything that was going through his head. You had the dogs. He had Frederick Chilton.

“I don’t know who did it Alana. I would like to converse with my boyfriend about that but Chilton has limited visiting hours the bastard.”

“I’ll try and talk with him. We’re sort of friendly. I think I yelled at him about something a while back but he doesn’t seem to remember it.” You nodded and handed her back the papers on Jack.

“Make him pay.” She nodded.

“I will.”

The phone rang as you sat on the porch with the dogs. Winston sat in front of you while the others played and whined at the door. He had been doing that on and off since Will was arrested. You picked up the phone and pet Winston, trying your best to calm him down.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Bev said. You tried to make some emotion come out when you spoke next but nothing emerged.

“Hey.” Bev cleared her throat. You didn’t want to fight her. You truly had no interest in it. In fact, Bev had always been in your corner so the worry that she might not be today would have made your heart hurt if it wasn’t already pretty numb with bitterness.

“I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing,” she said.

“As well as you may expect. But I appreciate you calling.” She hummed.

“I’m sorry this happened. I know you didn’t ever agree with Jack.” You scoffed.

“You could say that again.” She laughed lightly.

“I’m going to see Will soon. For help on this case. Jack doesn’t know. But I kinda wanted to tell you first so that he didn’t tell you and then you were by default pissed at me.” You weren’t very pleased to hear that but there wasn’t much else you could do.

“I would go in saying you support him or something. He might help you more.”

“Thank you.”

Hannibal noticed you at the desk. He wasn’t having many patients and didn’t expect to see you. You still had on your coat and looked like you weren’t staying. But still, you looked over the computer and let out a sigh.

“Do you need something?” he asked. You looked up, surprised to see him. He also didn’t look like he was staying. “I thought I gave you a few days off.” He knew he did. He did it explicitly.

“I just thought I left the necklace Will gave me here. I guess not. It’s probably in his car but I have no idea where he put the keys,” you said and laughed dryly in remembrance of sweeter times. “Where are you off to?”

“I have to go and see a crime scene,” he said. Your eyes went wide and another dry laugh left your lips.

“Nice to see you ‘the new Will Graham’,” you muttered.

“I don’t think Jack intended it to be like that.” You shook your head.

“No because you can’t be nearly as good at it as Will was.” Hannibal was the only person to notice the shift in your emotions correctly. Not from happy to sad. It was from normal to bitter. He would likely see the same shift in Will Graham if he decided to go see him.

“Would you like to come?”

“Is that the best idea? Doing my boyfriends old job with Jack Crawford watching me like I was going to slip up at any given second?” Hannibal shrugged.

“Perhaps it would be good for you. Step where Will once did.” You shook your head.

“Thanks Hannibal but I can’t today. Maybe another murder.”

“Off to see Will?”

“Off to attempt to see Will. Perhaps have a fist fight with Frederick Chilton. I’ll decide in the car.” Hannibal laughed lowly and walked over to you. He put a hand on your arm and you leaned into his touch, happy someone was touching you.

“If you ever need a dinner,” he started and you nodded.

“I’ll call.”

“You’re not worried about what Will says about me are you?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I don't know yet. I just have to talk to him.” Hannibal nodded and you looked up at him. “I care about you Hannibal.” He was silent for a moment and then hugged you, placing his hand on the back of your head.

“I care about you as well.” And for once, Hannibal was not lying.

Chilton shook his head.

“You will only hinder his therapy,” he said simply. You shook your head and walked up to his desk.

“Do you think for one second I would do anything that could cause Will to be this bad ever again? I can’t simply not see him.”

“What if he doesn’t want to see you?” Chilton asked. You were stumped at that. Your face fell.

“Did he say that?”

“Not in so many words. Just maybe that it would be better for you to live a life on your own.” You shook your head and a small smile went over your lips.

“You’re lying.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know Will Graham better than anyone in this whole world and he is just conceited and rude enough to tell you to go to hell before saying that about me.” Chilton looked up at you from his spot behind his desk. You stared hard into his eyes.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Once a week. Thirty minutes.” You nodded, happy your point had been made. “Come back tomorrow.” You nodded and turned around, taking your small victory with you out the door.

“How was Dr. Bloom’s visit?” Hannibal asked. He sat across from Chilton at dinner in his home.

“He asked her to hypnotize him to recover memories. This is delicious,” he muttered, pointing at the food.

“Was he successful?”

“Only in playing Dr. Bloom. It’s sad to see a brilliant psychiatrist fall for such hoary old chestnuts,” Chilton said simply.

“She wants to believe him. I do, too.” Chilton looked disappointed at that and looked down at his plate, then back at Hannibal.

“Will’s girlfriend paid me a visit earlier. She seems like a piece of work. I understand why they go so well together.” Hannibal shrugged. Chilton could tell he was acting as though he were indifferent despite clearly having a side. He just wasn't sure which side that was.

“She’s stubborn but rightly so,” Hannibal said.

“What, you think I should let her see him? I agreed to once a week but I’m still on the fence.” Chilton chewed on a bite.

“I don’t see how it could hurt. In fact, if you plan to utilize the cameras and audio you might get something out of it,” Hannibal suggested. He was very aware that Chilton wanted nothing to do with something he couldn’t get a thing out of.

Chilton thought this over.

“Perhaps I could give her a few extra minutes. If you think that would be wise.” Hannibal shrugged.

“Maybe I could think about it.”

Hannibal sat in the car with you outside of the hospital.

“Will has made accusations against me. Very serious ones,” Hannibal said.

“Again, I’ll make up my mind about those when I talk with him.” You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. It was just Will. You weren’t scared of Will or anything. Perhaps it was the anticipation.

“But bear in mind who you know me to be,” he said. You nodded and thought really hard about what you knew Hannibal to be.

“You hid the fact that Abigail killed someone,” you muttered. “Who says you weren’t the murderer after all?”

“You and Will also hid that. Perhaps you’re the murderer.”

“If I was the murderer Jack Crawford would be sprawled very neatly across a particular place,” you muttered bitterly.

“I don’t doubt that,” Hannibal said chuckling. You turned to him and he held your hand, squeezing it once. “Best of luck.”

You got out of the car.

The walk to the cell was a long one. It was odd, the anticipation of knowing Will was so close. When he came into view his eyes were closed. At the sound of your footsteps they opened.

He turned to you slowly and you smiled subtly.

“Where were you?”

“Fishing,” he whispered.

“Sorry I interrupted.” He shook his head.

“I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.” You walked up to the bars and put your hands on them. He did the same, your hands touching. He was warm but not boiling as he had been when he had that nasty fever.

“I only have like, 30 minutes.” He nodded.

“Step back to the white line ma’am!” the guard at the end of the hall called. You turned around but didn’t move an inch.

“No!” you called back. Will laughed dryly.

“You’re supposed to be scared of me,” he whispered. You shook your head.

“Ma’am!” The guards walked over to you and you shook your head angrily, stepping back to the line, so far away from Will. But you didn’t want to be kicked out.

“I’m not scared of him,” you said to the guard.

“Doesn’t matter. The white line,” he said to you. You nodded stiffly and he walked away. The distance felt greater than it really was. When the guard closed the door at the end of the hall you stepped back to the bars.

“You’ve never followed any rules have you?” he asked, laughing.

“Not once. Now go on.”

“I resurfaced a memory.” You nodded, gesturing for him to go on. “Chilton can hear us.”

“That was the memory?”

“No,” he said and laughed a bit. “Just telling you we need to be quiet.” You nodded. “Hannibal shoved that ear down my throat.”

“Abigails?”

“No the other one.” You nodded, accepting your ignorance.

“And you think he did all this?”

“I know that they already looked at him and Beverly looked over everything but I know he did this. When i remember what happened to me I can tell you more.” You looked at the ground.

“Did he do stuff to you while I was in the other room?” Will shook his head.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“I do. I blame myself for letting this happen and if Hannibal, no matter how much I like him, did this to you than how can I ever-”

“Just don’t trust him.”

“He’s all I have out there. Him and Alana. And the dogs.”

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Winston misses you. Sometimes he thinks he misses you more than I do,” you whispered.

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“Neither do you. But I like not cutting the hair,” you muttered and messed with his curls. He gripped your hand tighter around the bar. “I wish you could come home.”

“Me too. Honestly.”

“Soon,” you promised. “Alana has some things she wants to look into.”

“And I keep firing lawyers.”

“FBI lawyers,” you corrected. “I would too.” You looked at your watch and he glanced over to it as well.

“20 more minutes,” he whispered. His eyes caught yours and he gestured for you to sit down. You both did. “Tell me about your day.”

2x02

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

215 notes · View notes

httphonsool · 4 years

Text

unpleasantly peasant

synopsis; in which king agust d is a backstabbing brother, and he just wants a wife he can control, but min yoongi doesn’t think he likes either of those ideas very much.

word count; 8.4k

time taken; too bloody long

warnings; cutting, blood, people die, heartbreak, angst, sexual activity is mentioned a few times, reader curses out a servant, yeah i think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anything else

notes; this was supposed to be out much earlier, a few months earlier actually, I’ve spent too long on this and I still feel that I could have done better, however I will be writing more often now, my serenity series is on hold for now, I’m writing a spy!jungkook au which I think you guys may be interested in ! Anyway I hope you guys like this, let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see me write.

Seven years ago…

“You’re a bloody bastard, I swear on God,” Min Yoongi spits.

“And you are not the king.”

“But I should be…you were illegitimate, your mother left you at the feet of the throne, she was not married to our father yet you were still born, you have no fucking right!” Yoongi cries, pain evident, sliding his sword out of its sheath and slicing a cut down his brother’s eye.

And all he gets in return is a laugh, right in his face; just before two guards come take hold of Min Yoongi’s arms

“I told you. You are not the king. I make the decisions.”

“The fuck is wrong with you!? I took you in, took care of you, and loved you when no one else did! Even our father rejected you and I still loved you! You were my brother!” Min Yoongi bawls while he struggles to get out of the guards’ grips.

“And that’s why he’s dead. And you’ll be dead soon too. So I’d run if I were you, you’re being given the chance.”

“I hope the woman you wish to marry is the one that stabs you in the back the hardest. Though, I’d be surprised if you are still alive by the time that happens,” and that’s the last thing Min Yoongi is able to spit at his brother before he’s thrown out of his own home.

He doesn’t know when, or how, but he will seek out his revenge.

But right now his name was forgotten in a series of memories a woman would seek to delve in and retain many years later.

Seven years later…

Agust sits on his throne, lazing around, immersing himself in the golden, intoxicating paradise he unrightfully owns, one ear listening to the names of women whom he could marry, the other ear listening to his greed, smiling at the treasure around him.

“Kim Eunha, she…your majesty?” his advisor asks.

“No, tell me something else. I do not want hear about women, why marry one when I can be unmarried and have them all?” Agust chuckles, chuckles turning into full blown laughter. Oh, how obscene King Agust is.

Silence is marred by the filthy sound of footsteps and heavy panting

Loud footsteps carry across the throne room, a breathless man’s voice echoing and bouncing off of the walls.

“My lord, dear, there is a kingdom, in the far off land, they need our troops. They are willing to…” A small, pudgy man curled on the floor forces out, “they are willing to send you their daughter, her hand in marriage,”

“How far is this kingdom?” Agust asks.

“Twenty-one days, sir, we can make it in nineteen if we lessen breaks in between,” the man pants out.

“How old is this daughter of theirs?”

“Just turned twenty.” Ah, the poor girl is four years younger, so innocent, so pure, what a shame her purity will now be tainted.

It’s a shame she is having to give her freedom away this quick, but then again, not everyone is as lucky as to be as free as King Agust.

Not everyone is that obscene either.

And exactly nineteen days later Agust is circling around a fair maiden, examining closely her beauty, every inch of her skin.

And God this kingdom did not disappoint with their women, especially this princess.

Not a speck marking her skin, no flaws, she was perfect in every sense, in every glance, and that is what made the decision. Agust would provide the kingdom support, and power, in return, he would be gifted the kingdom’s first, and only, princess.

Agust doesn’t care about how the woman (barely a woman) feels- for him her beauty is enough to capture his attention more than any other woman has or ever will.

It’s like someone has hit him with a rock: he’s in shock with the pure, unmarred sight of her, his inside coiling in pleasure at the thought of marrying her.

Who cares if Agust didn’t want to marry? He does now.

Maybe it’s the way she looks, maybe it’s her posture, the pure innocence she radiates, but he, the King, truly, really, wants her, more than he has ever wanted anything ever before.

How sweet, how pure, is love at first sight?

In most cases, it does not get sweeter than the bliss you feel in a peaceful spring afternoon, for others it does not become bitterer than your relative’s final words.

But he does not care for the bitterness nor the sweetness; he cares for his future queen.

It’s a shame his love was bittersweet and toxic to the core.

19th July, twelve weeks before your wedding...

A man once told you that when you face times of trouble, you must stand your ground and work the situation through single-handedly, but you have never been strong enough to do so, or to exercise this practice. The only way you knew to defend yourself was through your words and your sword, in some cases the words became your sword.

But what do you do when you cannot use either?

You’ve never thought you’d end up walking around a palace that isn’t yours late at night trying to find an escape route, yet here you are, running around, the soles of your feet pressing against the floor with the cold marble being the only thing your sensitive feet can feel, it was not usually this cold at night back in your kingdom.

When you were first told the only way to save your country from being thundered by your enemy was to be gifted to a King, you accepted, you already knew your people came before you, but dear God did you make a mistake.

Yet now you’re to be wed to him. You’ve also been made into a mere dancer, someone that would be given no respect in your Kingdom, the anklet full of bells constantly ringing was the consistent reminder of your status. It’s almost like you’re a concubine. You have no power, and whereas you used to have enough energy to defend yourself, you know that if you try anything now you would end up in a position much worse than how you are right now, all because you gave yourself away.

And it was on your own accords.

You’ve never looked so pathetic, scurrying around, messing up your skirt and almost stabbing yourself with a sword strapped loosely with string (taken from the loose threads of your clothing) to the waist of your embroidered clothing, just to find an escape route.

The main doors aren’t a possibility since they’re guarded. You cannot leave through a window, there are guards surrounding the whole place, you’ll be caught and given a fate which is worse than death…so maybe-

A shuffling sound. It’s almost like leaves rustling.

You whip out your sword, cut yourself on the arm in the process, and slash it around only to be met with the hard, shattering clang sound of metal. You can’t think properly, you’ve never had to actually fight, especially not against a foreigner for God’s sake

Your body goes numb, your mind goes blank and all you can think is intruder, intruder, intruder, intruder. For all you know this could be your last breath.

And all of a sudden you’re pressed up against the wall with a blade against your throat, your own sword now on the floor and prayers flowing out of your mouth whilst you stare into the eyes of your attacker, a face so familiar but a feeling so different.

He looked almost exactly like your fiancé. He just has shorter hair, black, and from what you could tell in the faint glow of the moonlight, he has the same scar, but it looks prettier than his lookalike’s, there was a certain beauty about him, but you can tell he could not care any less than he does about being caught by you.

“Who are you? You’re not from around here.” Neither is he, he looks like he belongs with the peasants from the way he’s dressed.

“Neither are you.” You spit.

“Where are you from? Are you that bastard’s whore?” The boy leans in closer, pressing the blade of sword even harder against you until you have no more space left to move.

“I could kill you,” He tells you when you refuse to answer him; your vision goes blurry with tears threatening to spill. It’s not normal for you to shed tears; you’re used to holding it in because you have to set an example for the younger girls back home.

“You wouldn’t kill a princess,” You whimper, it’s like something clicks in his eyes immediately, grip loosening against his sword and swinging it back into place to rest at his hip.

“So you’re a princess? You’re useful,” a small smirk plants itself on the man’s face.

You shouldn’t trust him, but you cannot help it, he is the most normal person you’ve met in this place so far, in fact he is the only other person you’ve met and have talked to, so maybe you are just desperate, or maybe you are trusting your instincts too much, but you are already in a difficult position, it cannot get worse than this, than being stuck in a foreign land and having to marry a king who couldn’t give a shit less about you and your feelings, just his desire.

But something about him is comfortable; it tastes sweet, sweet like a summer’s day spent in the forest near your home feasting on the most extravagant delicacies your homeland could offer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why the hell are you so pathetically quiet? I thought you were a princess not a slave.” He spits. Oh, if only he knew. “And what were you doing? What were you doing in the middle of the night? Trying to leave? If there was a way out, you would have left by now.”

How does he know?

“Who are you? I’ll call the king, I’ll call his guards! Don’t even think about touching me.” Ah, you’ve finally regained some sort of brain. Though you are lying, you would not call the king, not when this man is your only hope so far.

“Shut your dumb mouth. I don’t want to touch you. Not when you are quite clearly his property,” he pauses, looking you up and down, a smirk etched onto his face, one you didn’t even mind, “though, you are a pretty sight.”

“No, I’m not his property, I am a princess, and I’d appreciate it if you could treat me with the same respect which you would treat your king with. Especially assuming that I am about to become his wife,” you step forward towards him, faking absolute confidence.

“Mm, but I don’t respect this king you talk about. I don’t respect manipulative fucks who use me to get what they want,” what is he on about?

“What?” You ask, confusion taking over your sense.

“You want to go back home?”

“Well obviously, isn’t this what we’re discussing?”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“I’ll spoil it for you now: no. No, you can’t go back, you do not belong to your country anymore. I mean they basically sold you didn’t they? You no longer have any worth even there, let alone here.” He laughs, “so pathetic, really, but, if you really wanted to get out of here…” so this was what it was, this was what he wanted out of you.

And you are so pathetic, so stupid you’re actually giving him what he wants.

“Please. Tell me.”

“Hmm, help me rip his life apart. You’re a warrior princess. I know where you come from, what they teach you. Help me kill him.” Him? Who is him?

“Him?”

“Your beloved fiancé, my dearest, bastard brother,” He chuckled, “who else? You really think I look like him for no reason?”

Oh, in God’s name what will you do?

You are not one for battles and murder; you have trouble even lifting your sword before someone else does.

What are you going to do? Kill him in his sleep? Rip his throat from his body? Please, that’s absolutely ridiculous; you barely have the power let alone the strength.

Who even is this man, besides having the role of being the King’s brother? How come you have not seen him before?

“Who are you?”

“Are you that stupid? Are you that dumb?”

“I asked a question,” you step forward once more, regaining your confidence.

“So did I,” He spits, “I’m his brother, he threw me out of here, now I’m back, look, do you want to leave? Or do you want be stuck in a marriage that promises you nothing but pain?”

“Why are you telling me? I could tell my fiancé.” He steps into you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he pushes you back into the wall with a hand wrapped around your neck.

“You don’t really want to marry him, do you? Look me in the eyes and tell me,” he whispers. You falter, he’s right, you were just looking for an escape route, he caught you, and of course you will not speak to his brother.

“I want out,” a tear makes its way down your cheek, “I’ll do whatever,”

“Don’t worry for it, it’ll be handled, princess…” his hand makes its way to your face, gently tracing the outline.

And this, this is how you know you are with the right man in the moment, the sense of comfort felt was unspeakable, it almost felt like…

You were supposed to marry a man who treated you like a whore, but now you are not sure whether you will be marrying someone at all.

And maybe this was the perfect way out.

You meet him a few times more, discussing the plan and strategy; these meetings being in the safety of your dimly lit chambers, a little bit more up close and personal, and honestly you enjoy this closeness.

And it’s unfortunate really, but you seem to have taken a liking for the bastard king’s brother, it’s almost pathetic that you’re discussing your escape plan.

“Have you eaten? Has he hurt you today at all?”

“No, he ignored me today,” truth be told, you’re not sure why King Agust is ignoring you as such, it makes you wonder is he maybe that you met his brother? Or maybe he was sick of you and sick of your voice, your dancing, everything, maybe he would finally let you go? Unlikely, but you still wished for it.

“He must have smelt me.” Truth be told, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised to hear this either.

“What?”

“He must have smelt another man’s scent on you, we need to be careful, don’t come close to me.” But you like being close to him, you haven’t felt so comfortable being close to someone in such a long time.

“But I like this, I like you.” You thought maybe this would fluster him, but his face remained void of any emotion at all.

“I don’t have time to be friendly, I’m here to keep you company simply so that you trust me. And we’re going to the market place tomorrow, I’ll sneak you out, don’t worry, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” His hand comes up and cups your soft cheek, stroking your cheekbone, “stay safe, princess.”

And then he’s up and gone.

What does he even do here? You wonder as you stroll around the market place linked hand in hand with the man who had promise to save you from an unwanted marriage, and as much of a dick he can be, he’s still so pretty to look at.

And you know deep down he is so much nicer than he’ll ever show to you in a public place.

You’ll never tell him but he’s ten times better looking than his brother, because at least he does not force you to do things solely for his pleasure, and at least he’s gentle, and at least he cares; at least he isn’t an idiot.

Or maybe he is forcing you into things...but you’re gaining from this too.

And besides, for some fucked up reason you feel way too much affection for him.

“You know...you never really tell me how you are, it’s a little scary,” you don’t tell him how you are either, but you know it’s only because he doesn’t care.

“I’m fine. And you?” You don’t understand why, but hearing him talk so straightforward, so politely, well...politer than he’s ever been before to you anyway, but it makes you laugh, a pure chuckle. “What? What is it now?”

“No, nothing, you were just...being polite, it seemed too sweet,” you giggle uncontrollably to the point the people around you start staring too.

“Sweet? I don’t do sweet, it sounds disgusting, I think what you mean is that I’m playing nice, and in that case, if it’s such an issue, I can go back to being a dick, if you would like, so you can dislike me all you want, I don’t care,” that’s a lot of talk for someone who doesn’t care, it only just makes you giggle more, until it finally settles in your head what he’s just said, you stop him from leading you further down the market, linking your other hand in his as well.

“I hope you realise that I never disliked you, Min Yoongi, not even in the beginning,” and that’s when the giggles erupt again, just at the sound of his name. You like that. You like his name, even if it’d been corrupted by a man who should not even have the right to say it.

Yoongi jerks his hand out of yours.

“God, the only reason I even held your hand was so that I wouldn’t lose you, not so that you can get all sickly sweet and sentimental, please keep that between us in private.”

And that only makes you giggle even more.

Dear God, this is going to be a long day, Yoongi thinks, he almost wants to drown himself right now with the way you just can’t stop giggling.

But at the same time it’s kind of endearing.

And maybe he loves it…just a little bit.

“You know, I have never visited a marketplace. Not once.” You tell Yoongi, he doesn’t actually care, he probably isn’t even listening.

“And you’re telling me....why?” Yoongi asks.

“Because I want to tell you, so listen, or God forbid I’ll have my people stake you,” you jokingly threaten him.

“Okay, princess, tell me, or ask me, whatever you want,” well you didn’t expect that one, but you’ll accept it either way.

“You said he threw you out...tell me what happened,” it’s not even a question, more of a demand, and you know he’ll tell you. Min Yoongi pauses, his muscles tensing underneath your fingers from where you gripped onto his arm.

“he killed my father, that greedy bastard killed my mother too, then he told me to leave or he’d have me killed so I can join my parents, and well I guess he didn’t have the heart to kill me, we were always close growing up, I always took care of him like he was my younger brother...because well he was, but then he killed my father, and my mother, just because he wanted the throne, because he was tired of being ‘second best’, I miss it, I miss him, but after what he’s done to the people, and me, someone has to dispose of him.”

“The people?”

“Well, look around you, does anyone seem happy?” You stop in the middle of the market, taking a full three-sixty-degree turn and looking at people’s faces, full of sorrowful expressions, sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks.

“They look so downcast, so unhealthy.”

“They are, he can’t take care of a kingdom, he was never trained for it, and he was just greedy for power and...Women and money, he takes so much money from us that we’re left not being able to buy food to feed our families, or whoever we live with.”

“If this is where you live, why were you in the palace that night?”

“Let’s say I’m lucky I lived there my whole life. I know a woman that I grew up with, she lets me in when I want to see her. I don’t think I could live without her.”

Oh. There’s a woman.

And he can’t live without her.

Then why does he act so affectionate in private?

“Anyway, you told me you wanted to introduce me to someone in the market place?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there, there’s several places I needed to take you,” Yoongi drags you all the way to a butcher’s stand.

“___, this is my friend, he’s a butcher….he also um, executes in his spare time,”

“Oh.” You state, a sense of confusion settling in your brain.

“I think you know why you’re here, ___,” Yoongi whispers your ear.

“You need a favour from me, son? A favour just like last time?” The butcher asks, despite his overall gruff look, his voice is much smoother and silkier than you would have imagined.

You don’t know what favour Yoongi asked, and you don’t want to know either.

“When’s the next execution?” Yoongi’s voice lowers, almost as if he’s asking a secret.

“Day before the King’s wedding, why? You need me to sneak you in?” The butcher asks, an untamed brow being raised.

“Me and my…” Yoongi stares at you, eyes softening, “…accomplice, will be hopefully running away.”

“Ain’t that a crime?”

“Exactly. We’ll be caught; I’ll make sure of it.”

“Son, why are you telling me all of this?”

“When we’re presented in front of you to be executed-” Yoongi, eyes him.

“He won’t execute ‘er, he’ll fuck ‘er, chain ‘er up, but he won’t kill her…heard he’s been too whipped for this soon to be bitch of his to be able to do something of the sort,” you gasp at the vulgar language the butcher uses, raising your hand almost as if to slap him.

“How dare you? How dare you use such vulgar-” Yoongi places a hand on your shoulder, your anger suddenly disappearing and transforming into nerves, Jesus Christ, why does he do that?

“I apologise, she’s not used to such areas-”

“My God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’ve both been meeting each other behind the King’s back with the way you’ve been looking at each other,” The butcher chuckled loudly, a hard blush covering both yours and Yoongi’s cheeks.

Was it truly that obvious how you were towards each other?

“Imagine if he knew my whole plan,” Yoongi mutters to himself, “he isn’t a quiet lad, he’ll go around telling everyone.” He places his head in his hands, sighing.

“Hmm, the way you look at me…” you tease, rolling over in your bed and squishing his cheeks.

“Oh, God.”

“How do you look at me…I know you weren’t too fond of me that first night…” you dreamily place your hands around his neck, he calmly grabs your hands from around his neck, and places them back by your sides.

The sting of rejection injected in you had never stung worse.

“I mean at least I don’t hate you. It could be worse. I could be like him; at least I’m not going to beat you because I get mad at you at times, at least I treat you as I should.”

Oh.

“Oh.” You state, tears welling up, it’s pathetic really, and why are you crying?

“I’m sorry.” Is he? Is he really?

“You act so strange sometimes, it’s like one minute you’ll caress me, and make sure I’m okay and the next you’re ashamed of me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

“I’m sorry, princess.”

You don’t reply after.

You don’t meet with him that night either, and he doesn’t bother showing up.

It’s midnight, and you’ve never been in worse pain…not after how you’ve been treated. On this day especially, the cut you accidentally made on yourself the night when you met the emotionally unavailable brother of your soon-to-be husband had finally made itself aware. The beating you got for accidentally marking up your skin was nothing compared to the deep cut he sliced on your shoulder blade in order to shame you for the stench of another man being found on you.

His proclamations of love meant nothing when he did this to you. He wasn’t a king he was a coward.

“Why are you not asleep?” You know who it is. He’s your only hope in this country, and with less than a week until you are to be wedded to his brother, you can’t afford to disobey him, not when you owe your life to him for saving you earlier.

His brother. His brother…a man that had absolutely no right to be on the throne, a man that treats you like exactly how a dancer would have been treated in your kingdom. He knows it too, what being a dancer for the king means in your culture; just the sound of bells wrapped tightly around your ankles was enough to strip you of your dignity, making you dance was just another way to ridicule you. All in all, nothing could prepare you for the slice his sword left just next to your left shoulder blade; nothing prepared you to be treated like a bitch on heat left to bleed to death later.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” you state, don’t let him know your weakness; don’t let him know your weakness, you’re stronger than that, are you not?

“Oh, really?” he doesn’t seem sympathetic at all, you can hear his footsteps nearing you, can see his face in the dim light of the burning lanterns scattered across your chambers as he sits in front of you, closer than ever before, and that is right when he draws his dagger out, using it to uncover the white netted shawl from back home that’s draped across your body, your mother gave it to you before she died.

What is he doing?

He moves his dagger into the burning candle wick, heating the blade. You are not quite sure what this man is doing, he could be about to kill you, he could be about to slit your throat, let you bleed out. Like what they did to the meat back home.

“I saw you dancing.” He states, sighing, the flame of the candle reflected in his pitch black eyes, “You dance well.” Now this man whom you trusted is just mocking you, does he not know how degrading it feels to be a dancer? To be stripped of your status, your name, and your home, your family only to be made a dancer for pleasure? For no other than the man who gave your father support in exchange for your hand in marriage?

“I’m a princess, not a dancer, I certainly shouldn’t be-” he presses his scorching hot dagger to the wound on your shoulder blade, pressing your head into his chest, allowing you to cry.

As much as the pain made you suffer, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief at the heat, tears escaping the seams of your eyes, and at the very least your wound will not be infected now. A small tickle, right inside of your ear, “You are not a princess, you are not royalty. You are a mere slave; if you had any noble status over here…you wouldn’t be dancing for that sick bastard of a brother. And if you knew what was best for you, you would run when I let you go.”

“Besides, I think your dancing is beautiful. Not for pleasurable purposes, I swear, princess, it takes skill to be as talented as you, you shouldn’t be mocked for it. I don’t see why it’s such tradition to be mocked for something as intricate as dance.”

It hurts the most because he is right; your status of being a princess means nothing to those in this kingdom, you’ll only be important once you are married to the poor excuse of a king yet you know that in this king’s eyes, you’ll only ever be his whore. But not if Min Yoongi steals the throne, then you could be free, even if it only leads to you wanting to go straight back to him, because over the past week, you’ve learnt how much you need him.

Yoongi presses the dagger harder against your shoulder blade, more tears escaping from your eyes, full sobs running out of your mouth, and all of a sudden the heat is gone, and so is the comfortable warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. You are unable to tell which one is more hated- you want him back either way.

Two dark orbs meet yours, and even in the dim light you admire his scar, only adding fire to his delicate, beautiful features, one that both brothers marked each other with-

For vengeance.

And it looks like Min Yoongi finally will claim his vengeance.

“Give me your hand, princess,” you are far too weak to give him your hand, so he takes your left hand himself, knowing that it is only adding to the pain in your left shoulder blade.

“I thought I wasn’t a princess? I am a slave…no?”

Yoongi plainly ignores your comment, placing his dagger in your hand.

A wave of shock passes through you. A man giving a woman his dagger back in your Kingdom meant much more than just a gift. It meant he was infatuated with you.

But Min Yoongi couldn’t.

“You may not be a princess to him, my brother may not respect your status but I will, and I always will, even after I’ve overthrown that son of a bitch, and even if you decide to leave me,” his fingers trace the outlines of your eyes, your nose, your jaw and finally, your lips. Contrary to his appearance, his touch is much softer than that of the linen used in the clothing your father used to have custom-made for you, his touch was softer than the soft hue of blue that painted the sky, and more comfortable than gossamer touching your skin. In return, you lift your left arm up, fingers extended, bearing the pain because infatuation is not delivered without at least some, and gently trace your finger over the beautiful scar left vertical across his eye. You are lost in the map of his undeniable beauty, so much so that you almost forget that you owe him for stopping an infection from forming in your wound.

“Take,” you pause, a searing pain bursting through your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand immediately comes to rub circles on your back, as you raise a fist clenched with your shawl, the same one your mother gave you, “this is a sign of my gratitude, for helping me, sell it I’m sure you’ll get money for resources or something, you can leave now if you must,” he blinks, facial features void of any expressions or feelings. And then it happens, rapidly, sharper than a blade, he swipes the dagger out of your hand and carves the lightest scratch beneath your collar bone which causes two more tears to trickle down your throat, the scratch is light, but still more than visible and you know you will be receiving a heck of a round of shame tomorrow when you see the king, he does not appreciate you being marked even further.

“How can I leave an untended wound? Isn’t that immoral?” He asks, “You realise, you still owe me one thing,” he trails off, and you can practically see the cynical smirk on his face.

“Me. I’ll gift you myself. I don’t want to marry him, so you take me instead.” You tell him, not a single second of hesitation, Min Yoongi stares at you dead in the eyes, all evidence of mischief and emotion drained from his face, taking your shawl and wrapping you in it, “Sleep, princess, it’ll be easier this time round,” clearly, Yoongi had no care for the way you felt.

“Don’t leave, please, I’d never leave you even if you let me go.”

But you didn’t expect the sting of rejection in your heart when he left. He didn’t want you. You misunderstood.

You are not wanted by Yoongi. And here you thought maybe someone really wanted all of you, but no, he just needs you for his damned plan.

Hand-holding seems like such a sweet, affectionate thing to do, but when you’re holding the hand of a man who clearly doesn’t care for you, it feels like more of a trap, especially when you have to announce a marriage to the people of his kingdom.

And it hurts worse when the man you’re seemingly in love with is standing behind a curtain, slightly visible only to you, staring at you with both admiration and pain evident in his eyes.

“…And to celebrate…grand execution…to rid our homeland of those who take it for granted…” you’re too focussed on your Yoongi, who’s staring ever-so cutely at you, emotions, for the first time in the period you’ve known him, showing.

It’s strange afterwards to say the least, there’s a slight look of betrayal on Yoongi’s face, and a sad sort of happiness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What for?” You ask him

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why?” you ask again.

“I’m sorry,” anger fills his face, tears drip down from his eyes, he pulls you into your chambers, gripping your face and squeezing it lightly.

“You better not change your mind about wanting to leave because if you do, God help me I will never let you leave,” he tells you, grabbing your forearm and squeezing your wrist.

“And what will you do? If I leave, what will you do?” You ask, tears rushing down your face, because maybe you were right. Maybe he did want all of you.

“I’ll find you, I’ll chase you-” he pauses, slipping the dagger hidden in your skirt out, dragging the tip of the dagger over the outlines of your face, and finally down to the surface of your throat, “-I’ll kill myself, and I’ll kill you too, and then maybe we would finally be at peace with each other, far off and away from Earth, with no one but each other.” a sad smile covers his face. If anyone were to be watching the scene they would have thought you both were psychotic, but you understood, he would never really kill you, but he’d never let you be someone else’s either.

You’re not sure where the sudden affection has appeared from as two nights before he completely ignored your statement about your love for him.

“…I’d let you kill me.” You let out a soft chuckle as he places a soft kiss against your forehead, taking his hands back and placing them on your waist.

“Even if I end up marrying him anyway, I’ll still spend the consummation with you.”

Yet, still, he doesn’t kiss you.

That night when Yoongi is ten minutes later than usual for the meeting in your chambers, something is off, something is different, smells different, there’s something wrong.

And all comes crashing down when he brings in a woman with him, neck bruised with her love bites, body stinking with the stench of his woman’s perfume. And you resented it.

Why would he do this?

“Princess, meet Jihyo, you may recognise her.”

“I do not.”

“Princess, I serve you breakfast each morning how could you not remember me?”

“I don’t care for you, I don’t care for him either, I don’t even care for myself.” You’re miserable, and you want him to see it, to see if he really cares.

But things were fine this morning? Had he not made it clear how he felt towards you? Why did he have to break you now?

“Jihyo will be helping you go the morning you run away, I’ve changed plans so that you won’t have to get hurt by him, I wouldn’t want to muck up on the day of the execution and have you executed, so I’ll be sneaking you out the morning of the execution, he’ll be busy so he won’t come seeking for you.”

“What the absolute fuck, Min Yoongi?”

“Princess-”

“Do you have no shame? I’ve confessed my never-ending love for you several times now, I’ve made it clear I won’t be leaving even if you want me to, so how dare you come in here with this whore of yours covered in marks she made and covered in her stench. You disgust me. You’re no different from your brother.”

Even Jihyo had nothing more to say.

“I knew you’d hate me in the end. But I’ll tell you anyways, my love, you’d be better off with someone in your own kingdom, and so you need to move on, and I, too, need to get you off of my mind before I make a decision I regret.” Yoongi says, refusing to make eye contact with you.

“No.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? To see me marked by a servant, doesn’t it disgust you that my standards are lower? Doesn’t it make you want to leave?”

“It does, it truly does,” you weep, tears spilling, your heart heavy with pain.

You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Jihyo rushes out of your chambers.

“I won’t be coming to see you again, my love.”

And you won’t be trying to find him either.

Jihyo throws your minimal belongings into a weakly knit rucksack while you watch, staring intently, unwilling to move.

“Princess, he won’t change his mind, he wants you gone and far away…and safe.”

“I won’t leave.”

“But he wants you to, don’t you want him to be happy.” It’s sickening to think that this entire time he just wanted you for the crown, he didn’t feel anything towards you, and he just wanted his crown back.

“Princess, he doesn’t love you. Don’t you see what I did to him?”

“I hate both of you.” You get up and grab the rucksack from Jihyo, storming out, finding your way through the halls to the courtyard, where you know the execution is taking place, you may as well bid your King farewell.

You really don’t understand what you’re trying to do, you shouldn’t be doing this because it’ll ruin Yoongi’s plan completely…but there’s a fire inside of you that’s encouraging you to keep going, and you won’t stop yourself.

But maybe you should have because it hurts even more than rejection when you see Yoongi on his knees blindfolded, with his hands bound by rope behind his back and a blade swinging towards his neck. You’re frozen; this wasn’t a part of his plan, was it? He was supposed to have escaped the ropes by now, why is he still there? And he’s not even bothering to move?

And neither can you, your body’s unwilling to move; knowing that if you do you’ll regret it, it’ll pain you terribly.

But you end up doing it anyway.

“No, stop!” All heads turn to you as you swing yourself at your king, sobbing uncontrollably, lungs gasping for air, “Yoongi,” you breathe, slipping his blindfold off.

“Why are you here, you should have left when you had the chance-” the bruises on his neck were long gone now, and he no longer smelt like Jihyo’s wretched perfume, just how you preferred it.

“I should have known,” the king scoffed, “you bloody slut,” Agust drags you away from Yoongi using your hands, cuts and scrapes make their way onto your knees, drawing crimson liquid, “I should have known when I first smelt someone else’s scent on you. You’ve been having an affair behind my back haven’t you?” Gasps pass around the courtyard; you forgot you had an audience for a moment.

“N-no.” He slaps you, grabbing your neck and choking you.

“Don’t lie to me, whore.” The king presses his nails so hard they cut into your skin, “How long since you’ve been seeing him,”

“A couple of months, when I first came,” You cry, struggling in his grip.

“My brother of all people, seriously, you could have-” the both of you can hear the movement behind you; it’s a rustling noise, heavy breathing and it takes you back to the night you first met Yoongi. The king and you both turn your heads slowly to see Yoongi trying to free himself out of the rope. The king scoffs and bellows with laughter, ripping his hand off of your neck and pulling Yoongi towards him, dragging him by his shirt.

“Yoongi?” You call, knowing it could get you in trouble.

He never listens anyway.

You can hear the grunts and shoves, and the yelps of pain coming from both of their mouths, but you don’t watch.

You don’t watch as the love of your life gets beaten by his brother.

You don’t watch as you hear them struggle to kill, hear the punches and grunts and the violent matter being dealt with, because you’ve never been able to handle the mere sight of blood.

There’s a long silence before you hear the sheer sound of metal slicing someone’s neck open and you look up to see your king holding a bloody sword.

You knew what that meant.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your ex fiancé’s body lying dead and cold on the floor.

The weeks go on by with a new king in place, the rightful king in his place. You haven’t talked to Yoongi since that day, scared to open your mouth in case he’d offer to send you back home, and you don’t want to go, you want to stay here, stay with Yoongi, so you’ll sit here quietly and play in this intense game of fear. He still invites you to eat with him though, tries to make small talk and smiles at you, but nonetheless, you remain ignoring him, barely eating and avoiding eye contact at all times.

There are times where you’ll be tempted to say something though, and tonight happens to be one of those nights.

“Is your room comfortable, I can have them give you a more comfortable room?” the bed makes my back ache.

“If you don’t like the food I can have them prepare something else for you?” the food’s fine, why won’t you just let me be.

“My king,” you hear a new voice, “we have some…enquiries shall we call it?”

“Yes?” Yoongi responds, placing down his cutlery.

“The previous king never married, the country’s been missing a queen for a long time now, it would be in your best interest to marry, don’t you think?”

“Mm, very well, who do you have in mind?” Yoongi responds. Is he fucking joking right now?

“There are many suitors who are interested…how about Miss Areum, she is your acquaintance since childhood, no?” Unwillingly you growl, extremely un-ladylike but you couldn’t help yourself.

The king can’t help but chuckle, a handsome chuckle at that, too.

“I think Princess ___ would make quite a perfect queen don’t you think? If only she would talk to me, then we could discuss it further.”

“Really?”

“Ah, so she does have a voice? I thought my queen-to-be lost her voice for a while.” Yoongi laughs and it’s a pure, joyous laugh, not cynical or evil like your late fiancé’s.

“I’m sorry, I was scared you’d be reminded of how you wanted to send me back if I spoke.”

“I only wanted that for your safety, princess, but the threat is gone now.”

And for the first time since the death of your fiancé, you laugh and you eat a full meal.

The days go on by yet again, winter approaches with heavy thunder and not a word has been spoken about your lover’s subtle marriage proposal, you wonder if he meant it at all.

So far you’ve spent your days scurrying around helping servants, making yourself useful, running around the market place and sewing. Yoongi doesn’t approve of you mixing with people in the market place, scared you’d get hurt or make a scene due to your uneasiness in the country; you ignored him per usual.

But yesterday whilst helping the servants with their tasks you saw Jihyo, and you couldn’t help but feel for her; you cursed out her name when she was really just doing her job, it’s not like she wanted to take part in hurting you, but she did anyways. So you talked to her, though you wished you hadn’t; you wished you hadn’t seen the hollow look in her eyes and the sallow skin on her cheeks: she was suffering, starving probably, and you wonder why Yoongi doesn’t do anything about it since he claimed he was so much better than his brother.

“Jihyo?”

“Oh, Princess!” She smiled, bowing her head slowly, weakly, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jihyo, I wanted to apologise for cursing you.”

“Don’t worry about it!” why she was being so positive when quite clearly your words had cut through her, you had no idea, but you knew she was hurting as much as the other servants were, but she looked worse than all of them.

“Jihyo, you need to eat.”

“I have, I ate bread for lunch, Princess,” she sighed.

“Ah, my queen, I wondered when you’d come see me, I’ve been missing you, you know? Today I realised I still haven’t even kissed you.” Yoongi claims, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other he swung around your thighs getting ready to lift you, but you stop him.

“Yoongi you’re king now.”

“Yes.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You need to raise the servants’ wage.” You state. He stays silent, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I was so wrapped up in our stupid little plan to kill my own brother, I didn’t even think about what I would do if I were king.”

“Then figure it out, and then you can kiss me, and marry me too, if you wish.”

You wish Yoongi had figured this all out before so you could be happy together now, but unfortunately for him you won’t be marrying someone who hasn’t even thought of the people of his kingdom, you won’t let him be selfish like his brother.

As time goes on and as summer solstice passes you notice the changes, the cheerful workers and servants that pass you, and you can tell Yoongi’s stuck to his word, and this time when you see Jihyo, you’re not worried for the sake of her health, she looks healthy, and she has a ring around her fourth finger.

“Jihyo, is that really you?”

“Princess! You seem much more mature since the last time I’ve seen you.” Jihyo giggles.

“I’m sure I do…is that a ring? Who from? Are you married now?” A sick feeling rises in your stomach, though you knew Yoongi loved you, or had some sort of feelings for you since he still hadn’t properly confessed his love for you, you still couldn’t shake off the fact that Jihyo had marked him at one point, and while it may have been to convince you to leave, the image of it still bothers you.

“Not quite yet, but I’ll be married off by the end of this month to some rich family in the south, I’ll be gone,” a sigh of relief passes through your lips, “though, I will miss you, princess.” Blood rushes to your cheeks, painting them a flowery pink colour.

“I’ll miss you too, I hope your husband treats you well, Jihyo.” You smile at her, knowing that this was Yoongi’s doing, if he hadn’t raised their wages maybe Jihyo would still be looking as sickly and as weak as she was before.

“It is the king’s doing, you know? So maybe you should go see your lover, princess, maybe you’ll be married off by the end of this month, too.”

And maybe you will go see this lover of yours.

“My king? I’ve missed you.” You drag out your words to tease Yoongi, watching as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

“Can I finally kiss you now? Are you happy with what I’ve done?” He slowly reaches his hands forward and rests them around your waist.

“I saw Jihyo today, she’s getting married off did you know that?” You ask him.

“I didn’t, I haven’t talked to her since…the time in your chambers…” his voices drifts off, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. Yoongi places his fingers under your chin, kissing your forehead, “I’ve never doubted your love for me, I suggest you don’t doubt mine for you either.”

“That’s easy for you, I’ve laid my heart bare for you to see, yet you took advantage of that and played with mine this whole time.”

“I’m sorry for that, my dear, but you know I’m not amazing with women.”

“You were pretty amazing with Jihyo.” You shouldn’t have said that.

“Don’t do that, don’t bring her into this, you know why I did what I did.”

“I don’t want to be played with; your brother did that well to me.”

“If I was my brother I wouldn’t have listened to you. But I did listen and look how happy everyone is.” He’s right, you know he is.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questions, brushing stray hair strands out of your hair.

“Okay,” you laugh, pushing yourself onto your tippy toes.

Yoongi gently grabs your face, pulling you towards him, and the moment your lips touch; you fall weak at the knees, all that wait was finally worth it as you both fell to the floor stripping off your clothes as you do so, and when Yoongi picks you up to carry you bridal style to his bed, he pauses, muscles tense.

“What’s wrong? If you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask you if you wanted to marry me.”

Needless to say you said yes.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #bts fanfic #x reader #min yoongi #bts angst #bts imagines #angst #daechwita #royalty #jimin #jungkook #taehyung x reader #taehyung #oneshot #imagine

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charmsandtealeaves · 1 year

Note

Come play the WIP Word Search!! I know you have a LOT of unreleased content, so I'm giving you 5 : D

Shout

Squeeze

Disappointment

Grin

Bed

Not me having been avoiding reblogging that post because anxiety lol. But as its you so okay I'll cave. I do have a lot of unreleased content.... 1. Shout. This is from Evans Guide To Quidditch (and Seducing James Potter) - which fingers crossed I should post sometime in June.

Lily felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She’d never considered that, she’d gone up the boy's stairs to shout at Potter and his mates numerous times. How was she supposed to know the school’s magic prevented him from being able to do the same? “I don’t make a habit of inviting boys into my bedroom, Potter. Fine, wait here, I’ll be two seconds.”

2. Squeeze. Wake Me Up (When September Ends) which I don't have a current posting timeline for yet other than soon.

Hopefully they could squeeze an extra couple of hours shut eye in before they needed to be up for breakfast. He tried to be as quiet as possible entering the heads common room so as not to disturb Lily whom he was sure would still be sleeping upstairs. However, as James gingerly opened the door to his bedroom he discovered that was not the case. While Lily was indeed still asleep she was in his bed, not her own. What the bloody hell was she doing in here?

3. Disappointment. This is from Revenge Tastes Sweeter - which should be coming out in October for Jilytober Fest.

James stepped forward and bent down to kiss Lily gently on the lips. Her lips were soft and melded nicely with his, though only briefly, before he pulled away. She looked up at him slightly disappointed. “What are you doing with your hands Potter?” She gestured to the fact he had kept his hands shoved deep in his cloak pockets.

4. Grin. This is from an as yet untitled WIP.

Sirius offered him a smug grin. "You happen to google the studio beforehand by any chance?" "No, it's just a dance class, why would I?"

5. Bed. This is from Wake Me Up (When September Ends)

James begrudgingly got out of bed, still in his boxers and swung open the bedroom door to see Sirius, already fresh faced and dressed, leaning against the sink with an empty mug waiting for the electric kettle to boil. It had become one of the quirks James had accepted over the course of their trip. Despite being fully capable of using magic as they were both of age, Sirius would always opt to use a muggle appliance if the opportunity presented itself.

#charms wip snippets #jily fic #james potter #lily evans

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nct-jihee · 3 years

Text

— RELATIONSHIP WITH 127

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

┆#𝔗𝔞𝔢𝔧𝔦

➥ moon taeil & um jihee

⸻Her older brother, there's no other way to describe their relationship. He has taken that role ever since Minhyuk, her real older brother, went to study in Australia and made his life there.

Taeil was one of the first members to approach her and take care of her, especially because from the moment he saw her he felt like he needed to protect her because... well, she was going to be the only girl in the group. At first their friendship was kind of one sided, at least it seemed that way because she was very formal, like he took care of Jihee and she appreciated it but she never really talked to him more than a few minutes.

Now, they take great care of each other and enjoy being together a lot, Jihee is always looking at him with admiring eyes— Yes, he is her favorite member. No, she's not afraid to say it.

While he's definitely the member with whom she acts the sweetest in front of cameras, sadly they're not the most popular ship.

┆#𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫𝔢𝔢

➥ johnny suh & um jihee

⸻Tom and Jerry. At first their friendship was more like an overprotective older brother and his annoyed little sister, but as Jihee began to treat him the same way they eventually became some kind of love-hate aka friends who actually love each other but they only show it in that way.

She talks, he laughs. She tells something, he annoys her. She gets very competitive in a game, he absolutely makes fun of her. Their relationship is a constant "you're so stupid but ily stupid."

But don't be fooled by them, Johnny really cares too much for her and protects her, although he sometimes tries to hide it with humor, depending on how serious the thing is. Jihee loves him quite a lot too, especially since he was the second person to speak to her and make her feel comfortable at SM Entertainment.

Being one of the Tom and Jerry ships, their popularity is quite high because fans are always hungry for their fun interactions.

┆#𝔗𝔞𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔢

➥ lee taeyong & um jihee

⸻Mother and son. As the leader and her being the only girl, Taeyong constantly worries about Jihee, her mental health, and how she is doing. However, and much to the surprise of many, she acts the same way with him, taking care of him and worrying that he sleeps and eats well, always trying to give him some peace in all the chaos that is life as the leader of NCT.

Because of the way she takes care of him, he sometimes tends to act sweeter and younger with her, because he likes to be taken care of that way and everyone can see that, which is why they are usually called mom and son duo by fans.

Being roommates, inevitably they know each other perfectly; their flaws, their strengths, what makes them cry and laugh, what they hate, what they like, and more. They think they're so close that they could almost be family by now — and trust me, that's not too far from the truth because his family loves her and her family loves him.

This ship is top 3 of the most popular.

┆#𝔜𝔲𝔧𝔦

➥ yuta nakamoto & um jihee

⸻Each other's safe place. Yuta and Jihee's relationship is often described by the members as the most real, because although they didn't start out as the best friends they are now, their friendship had a lot of development and they went through various stages: from strangers to trainees to acquaintance to enemies for a time to bandmates to friends to frenemies for a time to friends again to best friends.

They have such a strong bond and trust each other a lot, their relationship is based on trust and giving everything for them and each other. Usually when one of them is not feeling well, has concerns or just wants company they go with the other.

These two always sit together in interviews and laugh all the time, especially when it's stupid questions directed at her. Off camera they are always hugging and being close, and even though that doesn't happen when the camera is on, fans can still see how close they are by the way they act, speak and look at each other — and because the members are always saying how close they are.

Definitely the most popular ship.

┆#𝔍𝔦𝔡𝔬

➥ kim doyoung & um jihee

⸻Each other's protector. Doyoung and Jihee are more alike than they appear, especially when it comes to their competitiveness and the bullying they receive from their biggest enemies: Haechan and Johnny. That is why they both reached an agreement, to take care of each other always. Every time the maknae messes with Doyoung and beats him, she always comes out to defend him and gets revenge, beating Haechan in every single game. And every time the second oldest messes with Jihee, Doyoung... Well, he tries to defend her.

But aside from that kind of protection their friendship is about protecting each other's mental health, feelings, from haters, and from anything that might hurt them. They also talk about their worries and make it clear when they feel that the other person is getting hurt, trying too hard and receiving little.

Their interactions on camera are fun because somehow she always jumps up to defend him or stops him when he starts to get stressed.

This ship is very healing for fans, that's why they're loved, however they're not the most popular.

┆#𝔍𝔦𝔧𝔞𝔢

➥ jung jaehyun & um jihee

⸻97 line. They might as well be twins, so much that they joke about it. These two became close as soon as they met, being both from '97 and with the same tastes. Everyone knows that they are best friends, and that type of best friends who bully each other: at first the friendship was pink color but as time passed, and being surrounded by pure boys, Jihee got used to being the same way with him, soon that loving friendship turned into shoving and teasing.

Of course they also have their moments when they are sweet, but most of the time they treat each other like siblings who love each other but at the same time hate each other.

She does a lot of covers, lives and has a lot of moments in concerts with Jaehyun so they're often shipped romantically but that's why they always have to remind fans that they are like siblings.

The second most popular ship.

┆#𝔍𝔦𝔴𝔬𝔬

➥ kim jungwoo & um jihee

⸻His baby. It doesn't make a lot of sense because she's the oldest, but somehow Jihee became Jungwoo's baby. No matter how embarrassed she is, he will always be there to cup her cheeks and tell her how precious she is — Yes, even in front of people they've just met. He truly thinks that she is the cutest person to ever walk on this earth and he constantly feels the need to hold her and tell her how much he loves her.

Jihee really finds him cute when he is like that but sometimes it becomes a bit too much, however she doesn't say anything to him and just hugs him. She always supports Jungwoo, really, no matter what it is, she also protects him and tells him how much he deserves, even if he didn't believe it before.

Their friendship is very sincere and beautiful ever since he became a member of NCT, because she was the first to make him feel safe and was always with him, perhaps that is why they immediately began to have a great affection for each other.

The ship is loved, specially because Jungwoo always tries to "promote" it more.

┆#𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔥𝔢𝔢

➥ mark lee & um jihee

⸻Her son. Now that's her baby and no one can deny that. When she first saw him she swore that he was the cutest boy alive and inmediately felt the need to take care of him, something she has done for almost 8 years now. Jihee likes his noble heart and the sincerity that he carries, she loves that wherever he goes, he is loved.

For Mark, she is his older sister whom he loves very much and will always protect. He admires her a lot in every way and always asks for her help when he has questions about anything, not only in dance but also in personal matters.

Normally in their interactions she's treating him with so much love, they are always laughing together and joking. Fans love this ship because they take care of each other and are always looking at each other fondly.

┆#𝔍𝔦𝔥𝔶𝔲𝔠𝔨

➥ lee donghyuck & um jihee

⸻Frenemies. They either love or hate each other, there's no in between. These two are so similar that sometimes their personalities can clash and then they go from being best friends to being like cats and dogs, especially when they are playing games and get too competitive. Living in the same apartment definitely doesn't help them, but members take that to their advantage and make fun of them because finally they know what we feel.

Haechan swears it's the Gemini and ENFP in them, but Jihee disagrees — and then another fight starts.

But don't be fooled, these two can be such a duo and when they're being lovey dovey then they officially become a nightmare for 127. Jihee becomes an aegyo queen when she is with Haechan and then have competitions, they also hug a lot and vocalize all the time. They will never say it out loud but they really could not live without the other.

#nct addition #nct female addition #nct 24th member #nct 127 added member #nct 127 addition #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop female addition #kpop female idol #kpop female member #kpop oc #nct 22nd member #nct 19th member #nct oc #nct au #nct added member #nct female oc

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 5

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Revenge is sweet but a well-timed dick joke is sweeter. xoxo gossip girl. Please supervise one Bucky Barnes on the internet. Questionable music taste. Detention is the price we pay for justice. Bruce Banner is too precious for this world, too pure.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! 🎶🎵I love you biiitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you biiitch 🎵🎶

"Initiate phase one," I added a growly undertone to my whisper, holding my phone inconspicuously, as if I was making a simple phone call. There was no answer but I didn't expect one: I was testing the voice recorder app that I had downloaded for the sole purpose of documenting and relaying the inevitable fall of one Flash Thompson.

Making my way through the crowd of students during the busiest time of the day, I made the most intrigued and outraged facial expression I possibly could. Spying my targets, I leaned against a nearby wall, putting a hand over my mouth in fake outrage, keeping my eyes wide and trained on the opposite wall. Just as I had predicted, the two sophomore girls started giving me side-eye by minute two of my staring and finally approached me as I contemplated the wall for whole five minutes.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" The brunette asked, her blonde friend hanging a step back.

"Yeah, totally," I mumbled. "I'm, like, shook beyond imagination, but nothing, like, bad."

The girls traded a curious look, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. The greedy gleam in their eyes had me internally cheering. "What happened?" The blonde one asked, coming closer.

"I'm not sure if I should tell that to anyone," I stammered, watching them bodily move forward. "Well, okay, I can't keep quiet. But you must never, ever speak of it or I'll get expelled or something," I said nervously. They both nodded so rapidly it reminded me of Funko Pop figurines. "You know the senior guy, Flash? Brown hair, kinda hot?" Again, they both nodded, conspicuously grinning. "I think I just saw him in the closed girls bathroom on the third floor with, like, some brunette from Ms. Johnson's History class," They both gasped. Predictable. "But that's not the worst! They were like, y'know," I made an obscene gesture with my hand and they instantly covered their own mouths with their palms in shock. "And the chick was like 'is it in yet?' and he was like 'yah' and I just closed the door and ran, oh my god I hope they didn't hear me," I squealed at the end, playing the part of a mortified teenager.

All three of us giggled uncomfortably for a moment. The blonde girl stared at me suspiciously. "And what were you doing there?"

I faked a nervous stammer, looking around briefly and showing them my lighter for a moment. They both gasped and nodded in recognition. "Don't tell anybody or my mom is going to have kittens," I pleaded. Both of them nodded solemnly, noticing their own group of friends approach. I used the brief moment to get lost in the river of pupils and by the time they turned around to introduce me, I was already at the opposite part of the hallway.

For the time being, everything seemed peaceful. There were a few giggles and side-eyes directed towards Flash Thompson but nothing out of the ordinary. He was disliked by most of the student population even if nobody dared to admit it outright. I took care to walk around without my earbuds for the day and pulled out my phone to record the most interesting conversations around me whenever I caught the tell tale signs of a gossip mill beginning to run its course around the school.

"Oh my god, I heard about this girl that was caught fucking Flash in the girls bathroom and she literally said 'is it in yet', can you imagine the shock, jeez!"

"Some chick literally just rejected Flash because his dick was too small."

"Rebecca from AP chemistry told me someone saw Flash's micropenis. Poor guy!"

"I wonder if his girlfriend dumped him because he can't do shit, I mean, he doesn't look like the type to eat the kitty."

Those were just the highlights of the Friday afternoon. Come the weekend and the news of Flash's unfortunate condition will make the rounds through every single group chat that the school has and by the time Monday rolls around, nobody will have a clue who started the rumour in the first place. I had to carefully select the girls who were to distribute the rumour and I was happy with the outcome: Marissa and Layla with their squad of chatty, bored rich girls were the perfect choice. I thought they would jump at any opportunity to cause drama and I was right.

It was sufficient to say I was bristling with pride as I cut and compiled the audio track from today's school day before sending it to the group chat.

Clint, Peter and Natasha appeared online as soon as the message delivered and I was delighted at their response. Romanoff's kind words, specifically, made me all warm and mushy inside. I didn't resist the feeling, basked in it even as I did a happy dance around my room. Peter's nonsensical string of emojis was another point of laughter for me.

It wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about killing Thompson's reputation... Alas, simplicity is the way to success when it comes to large crowds of teenagers. That tiny little vindictive part of me was very much looking forward to the weekend and the results of the inevitable distortion of the rumour I had started. Who knew, maybe by Monday Flash Thompson would not only have a micropenis but horns and hooves as well.

Near bedtime, I had all the avengers send me their regards and thumbs up. I answered the flurry of texts as quickly as I could but there was no point in keeping up with ten or so people constantly streaming their questions, opinions and comments.

I settled on a single easiest response: pulling my dad's old uni sweatshirt over my tiny lacy pajamas to preserve some modesty, I settled in front of my mirror, turning on my Bluetooth speaker to play "Boss Ass Bitch". In true gen-z fashion, I put on my best resting witch face and solemnly lip-synced to the song's eponymous chorus. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut paper and my prismatic highlighter glittered enigmatically in the cold light of my blue lava lamp.

The response was, once again, delightful and I genuinely belly-laughed at the adults' attempts to meme after Peter. His blushy face emoji started a whole nother conversation that I didn't participate in but watched from the sidelines with glee, snorting every time his friends and mentors gently teased him about the very obvious crush he harboured on me.

Seeing Peter starting to go absolutely nuts, I interjected with an offer (more like a dare) of a lip sync battle. He jumped on the bandwagon, immediately going offline to undoubtedly film an epic video of what I thought would be dorky-dancing to some hipster song. I was pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be a pre-recorded tik tok video of him and Ned fighting with lightsabers while mouthing the words to Fergalicious that played over the Imperial March.

Weirdos. I still followed him on the app, though, it was pretty funny.

Bucky interjected with a very well executed rendition of "Bring Me to Life": he was wearing his full Winter Soldier get-up, complete with an AK-47, dramatically serenading Steve who looked seventeen shades of done with his partner's antics. Wanda's following twenty second voice message consisted of nothing but pure hysterical laughter, summing up everyone's reaction to the video. Bucky was going to go viral one of these days...

Obviously, I had good competition and nobody else seemed to want to participate so I rearranged my surroundings a little bit and stood up at my full height and swapped the old sweatshirt for a cute crop-top hoodie. My thigh-highs were on display and with my make-up, I looked like a proper internet e-girl. I leaned against the mirror as I mouthed along to the song with my best interpretation of the famous Lucifer smirk, seasoned with a tiny bit of angelic innocence: "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of loving you..."

Needless to say, I won the competition. Eventually Wanda joined in, looking menacing and ominous with her dark clothes and Natasha's red hair flashing somewhere in the background; even Tony did a round (AC/DC as his soundtrack of course) with one of his Iron Man suits but nothing beat my stunt and the reaction that it caused.

I had accidentally called out Bruce with the choice of my song and his teammates gave both of us a lot of cheeky comments about it. We relented and flirted with each other a bit as the conversation flowed into more mundane discussion; I said my good nights somewhere between Tony's bitching about the hobbies of my generation and my nightly skincare routine. The little green heart that I'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks greeted me just as I was about to lock my phone.

Bruce was really too precious for this world. My crush on him was different than the one on Tony, it mellowed out in comparison. I wanted him to hold me, to stroke my hair, to call me his darling and wrap me up in one of those dorky button-ups that he insisted on wearing in spite of Tony's unwanted, however very valid, fashion advice.

For all that's worth, the scientist probably knew or at least suspected and had the good grace to play along just enough to satisfy my deep need for attention... Without crossing any actual lines. It was frustrating, it was disappointing but I had virtually nothing to complain about. Besides, I didn't want to lose the quirky friendship that we had. Banner was, probably, the least judgemental person I knew and I wasn't about to trade that for an awkwardly stolen kiss.

Monday and Tuesday passed in a flurry of giggling and snorting every time Flash walked by. His girlfriend broke up with him, very publicly, accusing him of cheating and he didn't even deny it - just insulted her and stormed off, leaving even his friends looking lost and clueless. I started dragging Peter and his two pet nerds along with me just about everywhere I went in case Thompson decided to do something stupid again. If judging only by the looks he was throwing our little company, he was on his way to figuring out who began nibbling at his reputation.

The week was coming to an end and the rumour began dying off, slowly. That just didn't sit with me, I wanted the fucker gone. Due to the obvious time constraints, I approached MJ regarding Peter - after a brief argument, we came to an agreement regarding Peter's safety should I need to leave him alone in the hallways or at lunch.

I needed to do this alone so if I got caught, I won't drag them down with me. Granted, I would probably get something like a suspension and the school will attempt to call my mother (she never picks up) but that's about it. That's where her reputation comes in handy-people consciously avoid dealing with her, she can be that unbearable.

But first, I needed to get a teacher that's on my side. After carefully considering the candidates, I settled on my Social Studies professor - he taught the college-level classes and was overall a very chill, nice dude. And he disliked bullies with a flaming passion. So it didn't take me long to work him into a righteous fury - just a quick chat over a cup of tea in his homeroom and a few pictures of Peter's bruised face, complete with my own pleading puppy eyes. We agreed Mr Davies would "accidentally" leave the teacher's lounge unlocked during third period and I would sneak in. The plan wasn't foolproof but if it worked, not only Flash, but also his whole misogynistic, bigoted family would go down.

As I was leaving, Mr Davies looked up at me with a bright smile: "Give them Hell, alright?" And I suddenly noticed he was, in fact, very attractive. The smile brought out the fine wrinkles around his mouth, the crow's feet around his eyes - he smiled a lot. Silver strands mixed in with the wooden brown of his hair.

I let my eyes slide over him briefly before baring my teeth in return. "I owe you one," I don't know what possessed me to say that. My mouth really had a mind of its own sometimes. The room suddenly became hot.

"Sure," He replied, totally oblivious.

On Friday, I made myself a small nest in the empty classroom opposite the teacher's lounge and sat waiting for the signal from Mr Davies - he'd tap on the door once and I'd quietly go inside the teacher's lounge, retrieve Thompson's file and make my way back to the empty classroom to grab my backpack and carry the file to my locker for further examination.

The first part went successfully and I managed to snag Thompson's file. It was heavy and hefty, all the evidence of his rowdiness compiled into one flimsy plastic folder. There were A LOT of pink slips and I rejoiced internally: at least there was a paper trail of his exploits. The principal didn't do anything about it which was... If not against the rules then at least frowned upon; the plan was to take copies and anonymously submit them to the school board prompting at least an investigation into the blatant disregard for Flash's immoral and illegal behaviour.

On my way back I stumbled upon the principal herself which got me not only a stern talking to, but a whole detention for skipping class. Whatever, I was too elated from potentially ruining the life of a dumb fuck who ruined my friend's face.

Surprise came in the face of Mr Davies, who, having heard the commotion in the hallway, stepped out of his class and saw me being lectured by the principal.

"I'll take her for the detention," I heard the familiar voice behind me. The principal nodded solemnly and I had no choice but to sigh in resignation. "Three thirty, be here," He nodded to me, walking back, looking way too smug for his own good. So I wasn't the only one excited about the successful completion of stage two of my nefarious plan. Cue evil laughter.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #bun writes #party favours #author doesn't advocate for small dick jokes but tbh the abusive fucker deserves it

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slasherholic · 5 years

Text

synopsis: one stolen kiss leads to another.

Once in a Blue Moon | Michael Myers x Reader

It is after midnight but not quite dawn, when the world exists in shades of muted grey and all is still and silent. You lie on your side with the covers pulled up to your chest and listen to an early-morning breeze whistling through the trees outside, watching it blow in through the window above your headboard to ripple like water through the curtains.

Michael lies on his back and he doesn’t make a movement. Not a sound. But he’s not asleep; you can tell. He holds a subtle tension in his jaw and his breaths are far too controlled. You absently caress a lock of his dark hair, just behind his ear, rubbing it slowly between your thumb and fingers.

Michael is aware of your touch. And yet he allows it.

You aren’t surprised. Michael is living proof that even the most vicious of predators will tolerate a gentle petting; so long as it’s in the right spot.

You bite back a yawn as you wind the fleecy curl around your index finger. Sleep hangs heavy over your head and every blink is a battle and still you fight it off with tooth and claw. This moment is far too precious to let slip away. Sleep can wait. Mornings bring with them uncertainty, the possibility of pain, of worse; but in the here and now you are safe. In the here and now, he will not hurt you.

And in the here and now, you want nothing more in the world than to touch Michael for just a little while longer.

The moon and stars outside your window shift in the sky. Dawn draws nearer. You think you can tell the point when Michael falls asleep; when the subtle tension in his jaw slackens and his head dips slightly toward his chest and his breaths come and go as steadily as a tide, sweeping in, filling out his powerful frame, retreating again. You look at his hands where they lay at his sides and for a moment the are not murderer’s hands but just human hands instead, hands with long fingers and broad knuckles and strong, distinct tendons. Capable hands. Beautiful hands.

And then you look again. And you see the dark viscera caked beneath the blunt fingernails. The faint rusty discoloration staining the long fingers.

And even in sleep, Michael’s body radiates all of his murderous potential. A resting tiger still has its claws.

But for now the threat is placated, dormant; and so long as you are careful, very careful, it is safe to admire Michael’s body in ways that he would never consciously allow.

You lean in and press your mouth to his burning neck. It is an utterly forbidden place and it only makes the stolen kiss sweeter. You can feel the thump of his pulse against your mouth, slow and unhurried; you imagine the hot blood pumping through his thick arteries, feeding his body and his brain, and you imagine the strong heart in his chest, and imagine it beating harder as he hunts some faceless victim and strikes and spills their blood, and the thought is both terrible and beautiful somehow, and by having thought it you make yourself shudder.

You don’t linger at Michael’s neck for long. You know not to push your luck with him. In a matter of seconds you are pulling back again, looking up to study his restful, moonlit face.

You quickly draw in breath.

Michael’s eyes are open. He’s not asleep.

He stares at the ceiling and not at you, but still you know that he is watching you, considering you, unreadable.

“Sorry...” you breathe, your voice the faintest whisper. You doubt he even heard it. And it doesn’t matter. It was a hopeless gesture to begin with.

Michael turns his head and looks at you. His eyes are pale and steely in the muddled darkness and their gaze freezes you like a deer caught in the headlights and so you lay there dumbly, struggling to blink, to draw breath, to do anything but wait for the moment those violent thoughts and familiar urges flood his brain, urges he will act on without hesitation.

He turns on his side and props up on his elbow. You flinch like you’ve been shot. He reaches with that dangerous hand out toward your head and you shut your eyes, petrified, and when his strong fingers lock in your hair you quiver like a leaf in a storm, bracing habitually for hurt;

hurt that never arrives.

The hand in your hair does not yank harshly upwards, does not wrench your head back, does not harm you in any way; and maybe if your heart were not a runaway train in your chest, if your breathing weren’t so shallow and your lips not so trembling, you could understand that the hand is not there to hurt you, but to secure you, to hold you in your place against the pillow, to make sure you can’t wiggle away from what happens next.

You feel the space between you vanish as Michael leans in close. His hair tickles when it brushes over your cheek and oh, he’s going to kiss you, and it’s probably going to hurt.

Michael’s lips are remarkably soft. Soft and warm, and as they press against your own their warmth and softness almost brings down your walls in one fell swoop, almost has you melting eagerly into the kiss, almost has you kissing him back. Almost.

And that’s just what he wants, screams a frantic thought through your frantic mind, and so instead of walking headlong into a trap you go as stiff and still as a corpse and let Michael have his way.

This kiss is different from all the other times Michael has kissed you, which isn’t many at all. He takes your bottom lip between his front teeth, nibbling, pulling at the tender flesh, and in return you whimper, grabbing the sheets beneath you, dreading that inevitable moment when he bites down hard and makes you hurt again, squirm again, bleed again.

But the moment you are dreading never arrives; Michael’s teeth retreat. And now his hot tongue is prodding at your lips, insistent, and when you open up for him he slips it lazily inside, exploring your taste, your heat.

The gentleness of it all is shocking, baffling. Although Michael’s gentleness is not entirely foreign you know that there is always a catch to it. Always.

And here it comes, you think, as Michael switches the hand in your hair from his left to his right, his freed one slipping down now to snake around your waist and squash what little space lies between your bodies, anchoring you against his powerful chest so tightly that you have no hope of wiggling free from his arms, not if your life depended on it—and it very well might.

Michael’s breath beats steadily down on your nape. He tugs at your hair—adamant, yet with a gentleness that leaves you whimpering in a different way—and you obey him mindlessly as he tugs and tugs and tilts your head back until you’re looking straight up, neck cleanly exposed to him.

The tender brush of his lips makes your breath hitch in your throat. He drags them up your skin, his mouth burning where it makes contact, stopping just below your ear; your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you realize that oh, it’s the very spot where you had kissed him.

You wait for him to bare his teeth. To take his revenge.

And Michael does nothing. He rests his lips on that spot and his breath curls against your skin and he doesn’t move a muscle.

Your heart beats faster. Every second Michael does nothing it beats faster. Faster, faster, until the anticipation of it all is suffocating, choking, and you are sure that Michael’s hesitance is a deliberate act, sure he knows you are so frightened of him that he can do nothing at all, nothing but touch you, softly, as gentle as a lover, and still you quake and quiver beneath his hands and lips and do all except beg him not to hurt you.

You think he likes the way it feels; you think his complete and total ownership of your mind and your body is an endless source of twisted entertainment for him; as easy and accessible as turning on a favored television channel.

You think he likes the way it makes you feel, too; utterly powerless. Powerless and frightened and small, small, small.

Finally, finally, Michael’s lips part over your skin. He captures you in his mouth and starts sucking leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world and then some, and you can feel his everything on you, his teeth, his tongue, the hand in your hair, the arm around your waist, and he sucks and sucks and sucks away at the spot until you are sore, aching even, but not in a bad way, not even remotely.

There comes a brief moment where he pulls away. And you think it is over.

Instead, his mouth shifts an inch down your neck. And he starts all over again. And a twisting feeling in your gut tells you that every square inch of your throat is getting covered in his ugly red hickies.

You try to remain indifferent at first before deciding that indifference is a terrible idea; if it is a reaction Michael is looking for then you would be wise to give him one. Before he resorts to other measures.

So when the moans begin to dribble like thick syrup past your lips you do absolutely nothing to stifle them.

Sometime later, when your neck glistens wetly beneath the pale light seeping between your fluttering curtains, Michael’s mouth retreats, along with the hand in your hair; and they do not come back. You feel him settle in against your pillow and you wonder if that is the end of it.

You stop wondering as soon as his fingers wrap around your throat.

Oh, you think, amidst the rising wave of panic flooding your brain. The whole thing really was a trap, then. Of course it was. And now you’ve stumbled headlong into it like all the rest. It’s no small wonder that Michael has so much fun with you; you practically serve yourself up to him on a silver platter.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight and pray that if he renders you unconscious now you’ll still wake up again in the morning.

Quickly, you discover that the hot hand around your neck is not there to strangle you. The fingers fan out—the thumb settling beneath your jaw—and they contract around your neck with just enough pressure to make your heartbeat thump against them, and no more.

Michael isn’t hurting you. He’s just observing you. Just listening to the motions of your body.

You breathe deeply beneath Michael’s fingers and try to soothe your rapid pulse; a frantic heart might excite his urges, might make him decide that no, you know what, he actually is going to terrorize you tonight.

But before long, the hand around your neck loosens. The fingers go slack. The warm chest pressing up against your back contracts steadily in time with the breaths on your nape, which even out, growing loose and rhythmic. And sleep has finally claimed Michael.

You fight the pull of your own sleep for awhile longer because even now, this could still be a trap. You could wake up to him choking you or molesting you or doing any number of cruel things to your vulnerable body.

So you wait. And you wait. And wait.

Maybe he was too tired to finish the job. Maybe scaring you half to death was enough. Maybe he’s going to make you hurt twice as bad in the morning.

You ponder these things as you reach carefully up to your neck, mindful not to graze the fingers still resting there, and inspect the tender markings Michael left behind.

All because of a stolen kiss. How reckless of you. How stupid.

It is much closer now to dawn than midnight. You wait for just a minute longer. Just to be safe. Just to be certain.

But all is quiet. Nothing stirs. Nothing more happens.

And for once,

for once,

despite if he meant it and despite if he didn’t,

a kiss is just a kiss.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #Slashers #Halloween #writing

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mandospace · 3 years

Text

May the 4th Be With You // Revenge of the 5th Drabble Night!

Hello, everyone! I’ve been wanting to host a drabble night (or drabble weekend!) for quite some time now, and what better day to do one than May 4th?!

So, in honor of May the 4th Be With You and Revenge of the 5th, I am hosting this blog’s first ever Drabble Night! I will be writing for Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) and Boba Fett!

To send in a request, just send in an ask with the character and the prompt number! For example: Din Djarin with A 37, please!

The prompt list can be found below. I hope you all send in some requests, and I look forward to writing a little drabble for you while watching some Star Wars :)

The Prompts (under the cut):

(creds to @dresupi!)

A. ANGST:

“I think we should break up.”

“You aren’t who I thought you were.”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

“Why can’t you look at me?”

“What’s wrong?”

“You want to be with him/her/them, don’t you?”

“You promised you’d change!”

“Am I not enough for you?”

“What is so wrong with me?”

“I’m sick of trying.”

“I don’t want to be just friends.”

“I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I can’t even look at you.”

“Your problem isn’t me, your problem is _______” (Fill in the blank)

“I’m always wrong, aren’t I?”

“You said this time it’d be different.”

“Please give me a chance.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“We can’t keep this up forever.”

“You make me feel so small.”

“Don’t leave me like this!”

“Don’t ever call me again.”

“Talk to me, please.”

“Don’t push me away.”

“This is your son/daughter.”

“I think I need a break from you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“It’s better this way.”

“The baby… it’s yours.”

“After all this time, and you still can’t look me in the eye?”

“I can only blame myself.”

“I was only pretending.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“This is all because of you!”

“I don’t feel the same way.”

“Just go!”

“Please stay.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Don’t tell me to keep calm!”

“I’m keeping the baby, with or without you.”

“I need to be alone.”

“Stop calling me.”

“I can’t remember why I ever loved you.”

“Don’t apologize; I know you don’t mean it.”

“I can’t believe what you’ve done.”

“I don’t need you, I’m fine on my own.”

B. FLUFF:

“Quit stealing all the pillows!”

“You want a bite?”

“Give me a second and I’ll show you.”

“You’ll play this game with me, won’t you?”

“What should we name him/her?”

“Have you ever played in the rain?”

“Is it hot in here or is that just you?”

“Why are your feet so cold?”

“Ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

“There’s room for two/three!”

“Stop that, I’m ticklish!”

“Put your finger here while I go get the tape.”

“Here’s my number!”

“You want chocolate or vanilla?”

“Your hands are so warm!

“Are you sure you’re not tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

“You’re sweeter than candy.”

“You smell really nice.”

“Your hair’s so soft…”

“You’re my new pillow.”

“Can I rub your back?”

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?”

“I think I love you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hold my hand.”

“It’s not morning yet.”

“Stay for a little longer…”

“Of course I’m happy! How far along are you?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

“You are my love.”

“You were right here all along.”

“Do you want my coat? It’s really cold out here.”

“You don’t need keys to drive me crazy.”

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?”

“Call me whenever… no really.”

“You’ve got flour on your cheek.”

“Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

“You don’t have to leave so soon.”

“You could put your feet in my lap, you know.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“We’re pregnant!”

“Are you science? Because I’ve got my ion you.”

“We could try cuddling.”

“Stop being so cute.”

“Are you okay?”

“Our relationship is the most important thing in my life.”

“You can sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

C. HURT/COMFORT

“I came as soon as I heard!”

“Get back in bed, you’re not healed yet!”

“I’m not leaving your side.”

“I don’t care, I’m not staying in bed!”

“You can put your cold feet on me.”

“Want me to hold your hand?”

“Move as little as possible.”

“Hey… you’re awake!”

“Stay close, please?”

“Don’t look at me… I’m sick!”

“I think I’m going to puke…”

“I’ve never felt worse.”

“Does it hurt badly?”

“Don’t move, I’ll get help!”

“I’m so tired I can barely move.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Can you see me?”

“I’m coming for you, don’t move!”

“Want some tea?”

“Can you please stop eating that? The smell is making me nauseous.”

“Where are you? Tell me where you are.”

“Morning sickness isn’t always in the morning.”

“Eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“I want more noodles… that’s just broth and you know it.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, I’m taking care of them. They’re coming home with me.”

“Do you want me to get more blankets?”

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

“Just breathe. Breath with me.”

“Where did all those bruises come from?”

“Talk to me. You can’t take on all of this alone.”

“I think I have a band-aid in my purse…”

“I’ll need something stronger than this.”

“Stop telling me you’re okay.”

“The sight of blood makes me pass out.”

“I’m in the hospital.”

“Just keep pressure on it.”

“You should probably eat something.”

“Oh hey… you’re here.”

“Oh, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.”

“You don’t have to sleep here just because I got admitted.”

“You’re burning up.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Hey, hey… it’s just me.”

“Calm down…”

“Because I care about you!”

“I don’t know where I am!”

“How drunk was I?”

D. SMUT

“I love it when you moan my name.”

“You got started without me.”

“Just a little harder…”

“Gimme a taste…”

“Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

“Grab the headboard for me, will ya?”

“No panties?”

“I want you now.”

“Use your tongue.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“Do you like that?”

“Let’s put that mouth to good use…”

“Let me help you forget that jerk…”

“You can get louder, can’t you?”

“Look what you do to me.”

“I want to taste you.”

“That feels so good.”

“Don’t cum yet…”

“Take off your clothes.”

“I could use a hand…”

“Take off your clothes. Slowly.”

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

“Shhhh…”

“You sound as if you like my teasing?”

“Watch me until I say you can join in…”

“There’s only one rule. You can’t use your hands.”

“Look deep into my eyes, sweetheart.”

“I want you to leave marks.”

“I want to watch you fall apart.”

“I dreamed of you all night.”

“Face down on the bed. Now.”

“Don’t apologize about your morning wood.”

“Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Spank me.”

“Take me now.”

“Tell me how you like it.”

“I just want to please you.”

“Tell me I’m a good boy/girl/lover.”

“Let me watch you touch yourself.”

“Each of my thoughts about you are improper.”

“Use your teeth.”

“I love it when you kiss my neck.”

“Don’t be gentle.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before.”

“You’re not going out dressed like that.”

“Make me.”

“All mine.”

“Please make it rough.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I’ll let you do anything if you’ll just touch me now.”

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robertdowneyhiddlesbatch · 4 years

Text

The Lonely Dragon

Synopsis: Smaug is ready for a mate, but his ONE must be of legendary status, of course!Myrena of Arindale is on her own, a shadowy protector of innocent women. When her own innocence is put at risk, something unexpected comes to her rescue.

Pairing: shifter!Smaug x oc

Work rating: mature

Triggers: non-con. Rape. Dragon/human sex

Chapter rating: T

Chapter 1:

Men. Money. Marriage.

These were the three Ms that fueled Myrena's expedition. Her father was a horrid excuse of a man with horrible morals, unfortunate traits that he passed down to his sons. When father had asked mama's hand in marriage, he'd demanded a heavy dowery and gotten right down to business the very first night.

Myrena was conceived one month into the marriage and father was as elated as he was disappointed when she was born a girl. Her first brother was born a month before her first birthday, and he got the lion's share of nurturing. Mama loved her, though. Myrena was her first child, and the only girl in her soon to be brood. When mama was finally free of her duties to the boy child, she would spend her time with the infant Myrena, crying forgiveness for bringing a girl into a world of men.

The third child was lost in the womb, but the next two were boys. As they grew and aged, the boys were well taken care of, but Myrena was raised on the bare minimum and expected to help raise the boys as she was oldest after all. All the nurturing and the attention went to their heads and the three boys took after their father. Ungrateful, narcissistic assholes. Myrena was 9 when the last was born... an intersex. The father and the sons rejected it, but mama threatened to poison the boys if any harm came to her baby Quince.

Their story continued so for ten years more, during which mama passed before father did, leaving the family in the care of the first born son. He married the only child of their only uncle, making her the woman of the house even though she was younger than Myrena. Their cousin was tutored by her father, and she in turn controlled her husband, making him more sinister than father.

Meanwhile, Myrena taught herself the art of war, watching her brothers' lessons in secret, and she could slaughter them three should anyone give her the opportunity, but none ever came. Her only friend in the family was Quincy, who's life was endangered with mother gone. Quincy essentially became Myrena's will to live; she couldn't imagine what the boys would do to him with her gone. So, with the rest of the family oblivious Neanderthals, Myrena practiced and trained and planned. She was almost one step out when the metaphoric door pushed open over her foot and uncle danced in with a suitor.

The man was a lord; old, fat, and rich. Her sister in law forbade her from coming out while her brothers merrily sold her for gold and glory. After all was settled, the lord promised a feast in honor of their engagement, the first chance Myrena would get to see her betrothed. Myrena held in her disgust as the lord's house ladies dolled and dressed her up tight in a corset she couldn't run in. Meanwhile, her own house lady threatened her into a courteous smile, least any harm come to Quincy.

At the ball, the hideous lord introduced her as his fiancée and led her into the first dance of the night. Myrena took the opportunity to whisper to him, asking him to meet her on the terrace once everyone else was distracted. She got her opportunity later in the evening, and coyly catching her fiancé's attention, walked out to the terrace.

Myrena gazed over the balcony as the lord caught up to her. He dared to touch her but she averted him by diving straight into the conversation.

"Am I to be your lady, or will you have my brothers?"

The lord snorted a laugh at her question.

"Even if I were.... your brothers pale in your shadow."

"Good. So my wedding will happen under my wishes."

This stunned the older man sober.

"I cannot go back on the trade settled between your brothers and I."

"I couldn't give a rat's ass about your trade with them. As you said, I am to be your bride. And I shall be so, only if you entertain my demands."

The man faked a smile and spread his hands in concession.

"I am all ears,"

Myrena snorted, the irony.

"Quincy, my youngest sibling. I can and most certainly will kill should any harm come to him. You'll assure he is safely placed with the monks. Not you, nor anyone, can touch him."

"Done." Silly girl.

"That's to happen before we are wed. After we are, you'll have nothing to do with my so called family."

Astonished again.

"I have already promised them wealth."

Myrena rolled her eyes.

"Give them what you will, but after the wedding, they're nobody. I disown them, you owe them nothing! You don't host them, you do not sponsor them, you do not even acknowledge them! They don't exist. Saves you money in the long run. After all, it's only me you want."

The man smiled pleased at her, but underneath, grew wary of her spirit.

"You become mine, they're as good as gone."

"Good. Get my brother safe, and I'll see you at the wedding." Myrena forced herself to kiss his cheek, drawing away his suspicions before she left.

The family was in excitement for the next while, celebrating their trade with the lord. The brothers discussed how to do manage the wealth, while the women planned the wedding. It was during these days that Myrena managed to skip out, using the guise of wedding shopping, while in reality she managed her brother's escape. She met with the local coven of monks, and convinced them of her plan. They were to set up a decoy location for the lord to meet them, then they would take Quincy away to their actual landings behind the knowledge of the lord. Because, after the consequences of her own escape, should it be successful, Myrena expected revenge from her husband.

The planned upon night came, and the lord came to collect Quincy and Myrena. The other three were shocked to find he even knew of Quincy, but the lord convinced them he would only be taking him from their hands. The others were blissfully relieved of the matter, and let Quincy and Myrena go. He took them in his carriage; Quincy was much in awe of the outside world while the lord's only interest was bothering Myrena. She entertained him the best she could without gagging, but thank the Valar for the novelties in the carriage with which she could interrupt him.

They arrived at the chosen location, the pretend landings of the monks. The lord lead the procession, and Myrena, the lady, had to walk in his shadow. His men brought forth Quincy to give over to the monks, and the two siblings shared a solemn goodbye. Quincy thanked his sister for protecting him, and Myrena begged forgiveness that she could not be sure of what would happen in the future.

As expected, the lord in secret ordered some men to keep an eye on the monks for a while, least they be betraying him. But the coven, expecting such, spent the next days keeping up the pretense, convincing the men enough to leave. Meanwhile the wedding drew closer, and for every morning spent training to be a lady and fittings for the dress, Myrena spent each night preparing for her own escape.

Unfortunately, it couldn't come before the wedding. The day of celebration came and Myrena mourned while everyone else merrily enjoyed. As she thought extensively of her mother, it was as if she heard her cries and helped her out. Myrena suddenly remembered mama's threats to poison the food, and there were only so many plants that would do.

Myrena begged her sister in law to let her out to the forest to gather herself a bouquet. She was only allowed to do so under the supervision of one of the village ladies who'd come to help with the wedding. As fate would have it, Myrena found a patch of opium plant growing by, and snuck a flower into her pocket away from the chaperon's eyes. Myrena spent 5 minutes more gathering flowers to the woman's satisfaction and the two went back.

The bride deposited the collected flowers to some other ladies who would bind them into a bouquet while she was finally grabbed and dragged to get into the dress. Her sister in law, already dressed to the prim, supervised Myrena's decoration, making sure she looked like a doll for the old man. Dressed to their satisfaction, they left Myrena alone till the ring exchange, during which time she strapped weapons to her leg and prepared the opium powder in a pouch.

The ceremony came and Myrena feigned the best joy she could muster, and her new husband promised this to be the last night he would acknowledge the rest of her clan. Eventually, the abysmal evening gave way to the dreaded night: the consummation. By Valar, she would not give her innocence to this unruly old man. So, she came up with a plan of her escape.

Before her old husband came, Myrena set a romantic setting to seduce him. Fur pelts on the floor to sit on, illuminated by candle light. When the lord finally came to the room, he was amused to see the sight before him.

"Eager, are we?" He asked smirking as he took off his thick coat.

"Not so much to forgo some foreplay. Come, have some wine, my king." Myrena patted the space beside her, keeping the vomit inside.

"There is but one goblet." He pointed as he sat.

"Would you and I ever need two?" Myrena seductively laughed as she offered him the cup.

He pushed it away with a finger. "You first."

"Of course," she said as she drank, never taking eyes off him.

Convinced of its innocence, the lord grabbed the cup and sipped from it, looking at her over the rim.

They swapped twice more before Myrena pretended drunk, and poured some wine in the cup of her palm.

"Drink from me." She seductively breathed, and the lord grabbed her hand gently and drank from her.

"It tastes sweeter." He said, in truth it was.

Myrena had covered her hand in opium powder and the lord drank from it. With enough of it in him, he began to become groggy and quickly fell unconscious. Myrena thanked the heavens in relief and pushed the disgusting creature off her.

Her first order of business was to break the window, and then got a cloth tied rope out of her bunk and tossed it over. Next, with a big breath, she dug a blade in her thigh, causing a pool of blood to spill. With enough to her satisfaction, she closed herself up and wrapped a gauge around it, then proceeded to cry for help.

A guard came running in, and stunned by his master's condition and the spilled blood, immediately looked out the window. As he did so, Myrena hit him hard on the head, making him pass out as well. She tied the unconscious guard up and stole his weapons, tossing them into her makeshift bag and finally climbed down the window.

She had gotten close to the lord's castle gates before the sirens screamed. Any guard that recognized her to be running away, Myrena slaughtered easily with a sway of her sword. Stealing a horse from one of the dead guards, the lady finally escaped.

She was free.

#the lonely dragon #shifter smaug #smaug #benedict cumberbatch #smaug x human oc #middle earth #rdhb

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attackonmyself · 4 years

Text

Every Step You Take--TW Victor Oneshot

Originally inspired by the Day 20 Kinktober Prompt: dubcon. Turned into noncon but not kinky.

TW: Explicit description of nonconsensual sex. Character being drugged. Nothing violent, but tread with caution.

Tonight was the night. The night he would have her, once and for all.

He knew everything about her. Her morning routine. The stores she visited to buy her lemon scented shampoo. Her scheduled hours of work, and how often she stayed in the office late into the night, working tirelessly to advance her career. He had eyes on her every second of the day; he knew every move she made the moment she made it. And she had no idea he was watching.

He looked in the mirror in front of him, combing a rogue tuft of hair. Everything had to be perfect, everything would be perfect--

The chandelier, glittering above him in the low light of the room.

He gritted his teeth, looking down at his shaking hand. Now was not the time to be nervous. One wrong move, and all his hard work would be for nothing.

He moved to the closet, picking out a tie to complement the three piece suit he had made just for this occasion. He ran his fingers over the various patterns, giving each a cursory glance until it hit the one he was looking for--

The synthetic taste of fabric softener as he swallowed.

He shook his head, deciding maybe not that one after all. Better to stick with a patternless one. He wouldn’t want to give the wrong impression, after all, and even the smallest details mattered tonight.

He slipped into the suit, fastening buttons, zippers, and the like. A black belt would match best, he determined, and fastened it quickly--

The clinking of his belt buckle below his line of sight.

“Snap out of it,” he commanded. Tonight was about her, not him. Being out of the spotlight was a key part of the plan. He was simply a guest, blending in with all of the other investors and interested parties. He could not stand out in any way. She shouldn’t notice him until the precise second he planned for her to.

He left the bedroom, and calmly descended the stairs to the garage. A click of a button, and the car door opened automatically. He got in, the door shutting behind him. Time to put things in motion for the main event.

The streets moved past in a blur, and soon he arrived at his destination. Goldman was already waiting for him, anxiously looking up from his watch as he trailed behind his boss. “Sir, what took you so long? You were almost late!”

“None of your business,” Victor replied coolly, signing in at the registration kiosk. They entered the building, where many of Loveland’s high society were mingling.

“A drink, sir?” Asked one of the waitstaff, circling around the venue.

An offered drink, manicured nails encircling the base of the glass.

“No, thank you,” he replied, waving her away. Being in full control of his faculties tonight would make the experience even sweeter, and despite his high tolerance, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

He scanned the room, looking for an inconspicuous spot in which he could mingle while the guests waited for the presentation to begin. A few acquaintances were nestled in a corner, so he joined them and engaged in idle chatter about golfing trips, the new mayor, and business ventures.

Finally, the lights dimmed off and on, and everyone made their way to the auditorium. He, of course, had chosen a box seat; centrally located, with a soon to be perfect view of her.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had waited for this moment for such a long time, and now his waiting would finally be over. Anticipation overtook any residual nervousness, excitement coursing through his veins. He’d finally caught her. She was at his mercy, and he could not wait to see the look on her face when she realized what was about to happen.

The audience applauded as she entered the room. She accepted the recognition with a nod and a wave, then made her way towards the podium. The sound of her heels hitting the stage echoed through the auditorium, and she deftly grabbed the microphone.

“Welcome, everyone!”

She flashed the audience a wide, familiar smile, and that was all it took for the memories to fully pull him under, into the past.

It was a business event, back when he was young and naïve. He was well on his way to becoming the successful powerhouse who now ruled the markets, but still green enough to not recognize that her attention was not of the business kind. He could feel her eyes on him from across the room, but had ignored her in favor of familiar associates. He could no longer avoid her, however, when she came right up to him and offered him a drink. He accepted it, and they exchanged pleasantries, her intense and observant stare present even while face to face making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She was a powerful connection to have, so he pushed down any uneasiness and continued idle chatter until he suddenly started to feel weak and dizzy. He excused himself into a side room, and was splashing his face with water when he saw her slip into the room in the mirror, locking the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” He asked sluggishly.

In the blink of an eye, she approached him, pushed him back onto the couch, and ripped off his tie. He tried to fight back, but whatever was in the drink she gave him left him completely powerless in her hands, too weak and confused to shove her away.

She smiled widely as she shoved his tie into his mouth. “Just relax, and try to enjoy yourself. You’re mine now.”

A chill ran down his spine at her words. This couldn’t be real. It had to be some sort of prank.

Straddling him roughly, her hands expertly shed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. She leaned over him, putting her hands on his shoulders, looking him directly in the eye. “Don’t get any ideas about making a scene, ok? No one would believe you. And besides, you have your reputation to think about.” She sat back up, and he heard the soft thud of her skirt hitting the floor. “No one would take you seriously if you made this a big deal. Or tried to, anyways.”

Reality started to kick in. This was happening. A sudden surge of nausea hit him as she began to grind her hips against his. There had to be some way he could get himself out of this. He tried to look around for anything he could use, but he couldn’t muster the energy to turn his head, so the only thing he could see was the chandelier, glittering above him in the low light of the room.

A jolt of pain made him jump slightly; she nipped at his collarbone before tracing the vein in his neck with her lips. He swallowed around the fabric in his mouth, the bitter taste of fabric softener lingering for days after. Her moist breath at his pulse point made him shudder in repulsion. She ran her hands up and down his torso, making him tense up wherever she touched him. He tried to summon up the strength to push her to the ground and gain the advantage, waiting for the right moment to act.

“You’re going to try to give me trouble, aren’t you,” she said, as if reading his mind. “We can’t have that, so just in case…” He heard the rustling of fabric, then felt her lift his arms and bind his wrists together with what felt like the sleeves of his jacket.

As he struggled to make his muscles move against the fabric, he heard the clink of his belt buckle from beneath his line of sight. It was too late; there was nothing he could do to stop this from happening. As her hands slipped beneath the band of his pants, he could feel his body begin to shut down, mind freezing up and paralysis overtaking his limbs. As her hands wrapped around him and his body betrayed him, his only thought was how he was going to make her pay for this.

She let out a blissful sigh as she slid down to the base, and he flinched internally as she caressed his cheek. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said as she began her assault.

He was determined to stay alert and aware; excruciating as it was, he needed to internalize every painful moment to fuel his desire for revenge. He looked her dead in the eyes, trying to convey through a withering look what he could not through his words: he would not let her get away with this. He would make her curse the day she met him if it was the last thing he ever--

“Sir!” A harsh whisper pulled him back into the present. “Sir, are you alright? You look rather sick. Should we leave?” Goldman’s worried expression faded back into view.

He shook his head, schooling his expression back into a stoic front. He could not control the rapid beating of his heart, however; convinced the danger was still present. He closed his eyes and pressed the tips of his fingers into his palms. “No. I’m fine. This is an important presentation, one I cannot miss.” Goldman sat back into his seat with a final concerned glance. Victor refocused his attention on her, waiting for his plan to play out.

“And with that, let’s look at the data.” She pressed a button on the remote in her hand, and the slides switched.

The lights shut off with a click and the projector went black. Victor sat up in his seat; the moment had finally come. Lines of code flashed across the screen and hushed whispers circled throughout the auditorium as an automated voice began to speak.

Good evening, ladies and gentleman. I know I am quite an unexpected guest, but believe me when I say I am a necessary one. The woman standing before you is not who you believe her to be. She is a liar, and a menace to society. And I, Key, am here to bring you proof.

Shock spread across the auditorium. Victor looked at the stage, where she was frantically trying to regain control over the presentation. It was futile; she was now at his mercy.

While many medical trials successfully distort their data and get away with it, few minds are clever enough to be able to hack the system and change the numbers completely, especially over a period of close to ten years. But that’s exactly what she has done. It’s hard to trace when done correctly, but there are ways to tell. I took the liberty of personally checking all of her studies for the top selling drugs she has created over the past decade, and every single one had their clinical trial results tampered with. I won’t bore you with the technical details, but you can see for yourself on the live site link displayed on the screen exactly what she did and how she did it.

The projector clicked back on, and began displaying a muted live walkthrough on how to tamper with data at that level, a url displayed at the top. Security was beginning to move towards the stage.

But that’s not the worst crime. No, that would be her deleted side effects data. Not only did she tamper with her results, making her trials more successful than they were in reality, she also hid the data displaying the grossly negative side effects her drugs caused in the early stages of testing. She fixed this by adding painkillers and sedatives to the drugs to stave off some of them--which, by the way, went unreported--but that was only after the death of some of the initial trial subjects, marked down as sudden heart failure or stroke.

The hacker’s voice became lost in the pandemonium erupting in the room. Security had made it to the stage, and had her on her knees, arms behind her back. One of the guards pulled her hanging head up, and Victor managed to lock eyes with her for a split second. Her dull eyes widened in recognition, a hint of fury creeping into them. He let a satisfied smirk play across his lips. While some skeptics wouldn’t believe Key’s words until they had been fact checked by the proper authorities, everything would come back verified, just as the mysterious vigilante had said. Her reputation was ruined; everything she had worked hard for discredited. She would be known as a disgrace in the community. Despite the exposure being credited to Key, the two of them knew who was really behind it all. He had outsmarted her at her own game.

He left the auditorium with the rest of the perplexed guests, his performance not over until he was alone. Goldman bid him a good night at the door to the venue, and he returned to his car, the door closing with a satisfying click. As he sat there, stunned with how thoroughly according to plan everything had gone, a laugh of relief broke through. He had finally won. There would be no more awaking from a flashback induced nightmare and trembling from the knowledge that she was still out there and could get to him again at any moment. He would no longer have to be looking over his shoulder at every fundraiser. He was free. As he turned the key in the ignition, he continued laughing. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in the five years he spent planning for this night. He felt like he could do anything, having accomplished this so perfectly.

As he stepped through the door of his apartment, he decided it was time to celebrate. He poured himself a glass of brandy, and reclined on the couch looking out at the picturesque skyline. He took a full sip--

The bitter taste of the drug infused champagne.

He spat it out, the brown liquid staining the white couch. He watched it seep into the surrounding fabric, heart racing.

“I’m fine, I’m merely imagining things,” he reassured himself. He prepared the drink himself, from an unopened bottle. There was literally no reason to worry.

He stared at the glass for another long minute, before deciding that perhaps it was too late for a drink tonight. He had work in the morning, and it was already past the typical time he went to bed. He was tired; he needed sleep after the exciting events of the evening. He went through his bedtime routine, and fell asleep soon after his head hit the pillow.

In his dream that night, she was on top of him once more, this time strangling him for what he had done.

#mlqc #mlqc writing #my writing #mlqc victor

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staytheb · 3 years

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Moonlight Melody - chapter 4

Word Count: 5,557 previous chapter, next chapter

Moonlight Melody masterlist.

semi-proofread. anyways, the fourth chapter allows Joohyun to begin her revenge of sorts and meets her new boss, Jinyoung. happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

The next day Joohyun awoke feeling refreshed, energized, and strangely anew. She felt like she had slept the most peaceful of sleeps she had ever had in a long time. It was if the Joohyun she once knew had been re-awakened to what the world and whatever it had in store for her. There was a spring to her step as she got ready this morning and was even humming a soothing tune. When Joohyun entered the kitchen she was surprised by the meal that her mother had prepared which were all of her favorites.

"Ma, what's the special occasion? Why did you make my favorite foods?"

Joohyun commented with a laugh as she sat down with her mother placing a small bowl of rice porridge in front of her.

"And aren't you in an energized mood today? What gives?"

"Today is the day you start your new job, dear. It's to celebrate the start of a new journey for you."

Jiwoo stated with a smile as she too had a spring in her step before sitting across from her daughter. Joohyun was at first puzzled as she ate a spoonful of the rice porridge. The confusion disappeared once she savored the taste of the hot soup before reminding her mother that she didn't have a new job.

"What new job, Ma? I still work at the bank. I've been there for the last seven years if you don't recall."

"Oh, silly girl, not anymore. Don't you remember?"

"Remember what, Ma?"

"Honey, you quit that job a week ago and a new one right away."

Jiwoo stood to fetch something from out of one of the kitchen's drawers, came back with a letter and some other kind of paper in hand, and placed them on the table for her daughter to read it herself.

"I don't know how you forgot about that when you were excited when these came in."

Her mother went back to eating as Joohyun stopped eating while reaching out to read the letter and the other contents that came with it. She scanned the slightly familiar name of the company and that today was indeed the first day she would be starting. She grew confused as she clearly remembered that just yesterday she was still working for a bank. Her brows furrowed as she recalled Ukulele's words about the tiny wishes that came with the gemstones. Next the image of the unknown man from yesterday also flashed across her mind along with how she pulled the string of the doll last night. Her mother looked at her in concern.

"Joohyun, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Ma, I'm fine."

She answered with a smile to show her mom that she was fine. She glanced down at the paper again with a quirked brow.

"How do I even pronounce this? Mole-Deer? Maul-Dur?"

~~~~~~~~~

Joohyun realized that her new job was the same company as her ex-boyfriend when she stood in front the familiar building. She didn't understand how she couldn't have connected it, but she remembered that she never really paid any attention to the name or the company itself. Joohyun was more concerned with Bogum to have paid any attention to other things. The last time she was here was when she came to speak with her ex-boyfriend, but ended up doing a product photoshoot instead. Anyways, Joohyun exhaled as she gave herself a once over at her casual outfit consisting of white Adidas shoes, black skinny jeans, a thin black and white striped shirt, and a light blue jean jacket over it.

"I'm so under-dressed for a classy place like this."

She shook the thought away as she psyched herself up. She was already here and would have to deal with the outfit and her ex-boyfriend later. For now she needed to report to her attendance and not make a bad first impression. Before Joohyun could actually walk inside she noticed a car pulling up as Bogum got out of the car and almost walked right by his ex-girlfriend when he actually turned to glance her way and stopped in his tracks. He lowered his sunglasses to make sure what he was seeing was for sure before making his way towards the female while taking off his shades.

"Are you going to cause a scene here, too?"

Bogum accused as Joohyun frown.

"Why would I do that?"

"Never mind. Why are you actually here?"

"I work here now."

Bogum laughed before commenting.

"You really are trying aren't you? Wow, that's a good one."

"I'm not."

She slightly huffed.

"Today's really my first day here."

Joohyun held up her work badge for Bogum to see, but he barely glanced at it.

"Yeah, right. I'm sure it's a fake. I can't believe this is happening. I knew I shouldn't have dated you."

He signed while pinching the bridge of his nose. Joohyun's facial expression immediately dimmed upon hearing those words.

"Look, just go away."

Bogum did a shooing motion.

"I don't need any trouble here. President Kim is going to be arriving soon and I don't want the likes of you around when he shows up."

"The likes of me?" She asked in shock before shaking her head.

"People like me are the ones that make this world function for the people who are like you."

"What? Say that again."

"I said what I said."

Bogum scowled.

"You need to leave now or I'll call the police."

Joohyun's eyes widened and before she could counter she was interrupted by another person.

"Mr. Park."

Bogum turned his attention to the person and realized that it was his boss, Kim Jaejoong.

"Ah, President Kim. I apologized for not coming sooner. I had an alt-"

Jaejoong held up a hand for him to ceased speaking while turning his attention onto Joohyun.

"And you are?".

"Bae Joohyun, sir. I'm a new hire and I start today, sir."

Joohyun shot him a pleasant smile and hoped that she wouldn't be fired already while holding her badge in front of her like a shield.

"Ah, Ms. Bae. Lovely. Glad to have you a part of the MOLDIR team. I'm Kim Jaejoong."

"Really? I mean. Thank you so much, President Kim. Bogum here thought it was a fake."

Jaejoong turned his attention onto a nervous Bogum.

"Why would you ever think that? Those that are hire for MOLDIR always go through a very thorough screening test."

Joohyun finally learned how MOLDIR was pronounced and repeated it in her head slowly. Mall-Deer. While she was doing that Bogum was stumbling over his own words of how to tell Jaejoong that it wasn't like that.

"Enough."

Jaejoong let out in a cold voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose before focusing his eyes on Joohyun.

"Please report to Wendy at the front desk. She'll notify a Park Jinyoung of your arrival. You'll be working under him."

"Yes, sir!" Joohyun complied with a small salute.

She dropped her hand a second later. Jaejoong chuckled before glancing over at Bogum.

"Let's get going, Mr. Park. We're running behind schedule."

"Ah, yes, sir."

Bogum stumbled ahead towards the car he drove up in as he opened the door for Jaejoong to enter before getting behind the wheel and driving off. Joohyun smiled as a warm-fuzzy feeling settled in her chest. It made the revenge just a little sweeter knowing that her ex-boyfriend was just scolded just now by his own boss. She faced the building and headed inside wondering how the rest of her day was going to go. She freaked a little when she found out that the person named Jinyoung Park was the handsome man she had seen driving in the car yesterday. Luckily, she didn't have to spend her first day with him. She was required to learn the policy, the product line, and other aspects of the company first. It was a very long day, but not as stressful as working for a bank.

~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of two weeks Joohyun worked diligently under Jinyoung's supervision. He was patient and led her well in understanding how everything worked at MOLDIR. Of course when he wasn't around and attending to other work, Bogum found time to bother her. He blamed her for Jaejoong's indirectly demoting him to errand boy. Bogum made it his business to annoy Joohyun so that she would quit. Joohyun didn't give in and wasn't going to let him walk all over her like he did once before. Now that she's been with the company for less than a month now, Joohyun was checking the products currently in stock to log for MOLDIR SHOWROOM's shop hours that was happening in less than three weeks when she felt someone gripped her elbow harshly and pulled her around. She came face to face with a panicked looking Bogum.

"Are you seriously asking for trouble?" Bogum asked her as Joohyun cast him a confused look.

"I don't know what you mean, Bogum."

"There are two police officers that want to speak to you."

"Why?"

"That's what I would like to know."

He let out a harsh breath.

"In all the years I've worked here, there has been no police force involvement in this environment until now."

"Okay, but what makes you think I did something?"

"Because they want to talk with you. Are you dumb or what?"

"I'm not dumb."

"Right."

Joohyun shook his grip off of her.

"Look, Bogum," She started as she took a few steps back away from him, "You're the one that ended things between us and I'm just minding my own bus-"

She was interrupted when Bogum noticed the sweatshirt she was wearing.

"Is that last year's Fall Jeco Animation sweatshirt that you're wearing?"

Joohyun paused in mid-sentence while glancing down at her pink sweatshirt.

"I guess so."

"What do you mean you guess so? How did you even get it? Those are limited items."

"I received it as a gift and was not aware that it was a limited item."

"From who because clearly I didn't gift it to you."

Joohyun frowned at her ex-boyfriend's behavior. Sure his words hurt, but she couldn't help but realized that Bogum was clearly not the perfect boyfriend she had believed him to be. She wondered what she had ever seen in him.

"Clearly it wasn't you, but someone else. Also, I don't have to discuss my private life with you."

The sweatshirt was a gift from Tiffany and as an incentive for her to join in as a side model if needed or wanted to make some extra cash. Joohyun had received three other sweatshirts along with the Jeco Animation, but she didn't really think much of it at the time. Still, she happened to wear the sweatshirt despite her usual wear for today.

"Look, Bogum," Joohyun said his name with a slight sigh to keep herself calm, "I'm just here to do my job. So Mr. Park, per President Kim, expects me to input all of the information by the end of the day to see if more products need to be order or assigned for the showroom next month and I won't let you interfer with that."

Bogum gritted his teeth while trying to keep calm as well, but knew that what Jaejoong wanted is what he'll received. Despite his reluctance to work with his ex-girlfriend who seemed to be getting the better end of the stick.

"Fine, but make it quick. They're in Room B and don't do anything that'll tarnish the brand. Understand?"

~~~~~~~~~

Joohyun stayed silent after politely greeting the two police officers and unaware that Jinyoung would be sitting in on the questioning due to the fact that he had quite a few meetings to attend today. She felt slightly intimidated about what they wanted to talk about, but oddly with her lead supervisor's present she was feeling weirdly calm.

"Good morning, Ms. Bae. I'm Special Agent Yang Hongseok," The male policeman introduced him while motioning at the woman beside him, "And this is my partner, Special Agent Lee Siyeon. We're both with the Seoul Metropolitan Police Department."

Joohyun nodded in acknowledgement.

"Thank you for taking your time out of your work to speak with us." Hongseok said in a calm tone.

"We'll make this as quick as possible for you to go back to what you need to do."

Joohyun just nodded in response once again.

"Alright, we just wanted to ask you a few questions about your old colleague, Jung Eunji. What could you tell us about Mrs. Jung?"

Joohyun frowned upon hearing the familiar name. She hadn't heard Eunji's name used since her death a few weeks ago and her ex-colleagues just went on like she had never existed when the funeral happened. Of course Joohyun didn't keep in touch with her family as she didn't want to disturb them in their time of mourning and simply went on with her own life. Joohyun wasn't sure what she wanted to say about her colleague as they were only friends at work and never hung outside of it. Still, nothing but fond memories invaded her mind and she spoke of those.

"Eunji was such a mom and even treated me like I was one of her children."

Siyeon and Hongseok picked up on the way that Joohyun spoke of Eunji with a fond tone.

"I remember this one time I got a paper-cut and the bank just ran out of band-aids and she gave me one that had a Pikachu on it since her kids liked it. It was quite cute and it made me feel better."

Joohyun recalled more things about Eunji from making a character lunch box for her one day or sewing a costume for her kids' school play to deciding what she wanted to get her husband for his birthday until Joohyun realized that she was kind of babbling.

"Ah, sorry."

Unconsciously she glanced at Jinyoung and he cast her a small smile which calmed her before facing the two police officers again.

"Why the sudden interest in Eunji?"

Siyeon open her mouth to respond, but closed it to let Hongseok handle it instead.

"Well, there's been a new discovery in the case and we're just re-touching bases." Hongseok replied.

"We wanted to know how Mrs. Jung was like before and after her hospitalization."

"I see. Well, Eunji was happy working at the bank and speaking with the clients, but because of her illness no one knew when she would return to work, and then she suddenly passed. I do remember during her stay at the hospital that she wasn't able to do a lot of things except pass the days calmly."

"Honestly, Ms. Bae, we're a little more interested if you could you tell us anything about if Mrs. Jung was unhappy or unsatisfied with her stay at the hospital or with the hospital staff, per se?" Siyeon asked wanting to get to the point of the conversation.

"Anything that you can recall?"

Joohyun tilted her head pondering if anything like that happened with Eunji.

"Not really. Eunji was always sweet and spoke ill of no one." She answered before recalling something.

"But I do remember there were times she told me that she felt out of it and just wanted to go home. She did keep this little ranger figurine with her as her kids gave it to her as a sort of good luck charm to ward off the bad guys. Bunhong and Woonggom were very well behave, sweet and calm throughout the whole thing despite not understanding what was going on with their mother."

Siyeon asked another question as Hongseok side-eyed his partner quietly.

"What did you think of Dr. Kim Sungkyu?"

"Dr. Kim?"

Joohyun said the name before remembering the doctor.

"He seemed quite professional and well kept. I don't remember much as I hardly saw him whenever I visited Eunji."

"I see."

"Do you by chance know a person name Hyun Seunghee?"

"I don't recall the name. No, I do not."

"I see."

Joohyun thought that was it until Siyeon brought up her old job.

"Why did you leave your previous job for this one?"

"Siyeon."

Hongseok firmly whispered her name, but Siyeon didn't care. The female officer just stared at Joohyun waiting for an answer. Joohyun wasn't sure how to respond as she couldn't just blurt out the truth. She glanced at Jinyoung once again as he cast her another small smile. Joohyun faced the two special agents and went with a partial lie that fitted with her situation.

"It was just a change of pace. Since my mother's getting older and hospital visits aren't cheap and MOLDIR was the best route."

"I see. Well, thank you so much for your cooperation, Ms. Bae, and for giving us your time to further investigate Mrs. Jung's case."

Siyeon thanked her while standing up. The others follow suit.

"Yes, thank you, Ms. Bae for your time."

Hongseok also thanked her.

"Ah, you're very welcome and I hope I was helpful." Joohyun replied with a polite smile.

"You were."

Siyeon assured with a curt smile. Soon enough the two officers thanked Jinyoung for his time and Joohyun completely forgot that he was here as well. Anyways, Jinyoung and Joohyun led the two police officers back down to the lobby to see them on out. After that did Jinyoung asked her about the situation and she vaguely explained which was good enough for him as he dismissed her to return to her work and that he would check up on her some time later. Joohyun returned to cataloguing the merchandises and didn't realize that Bogum was no where in sight.

~~~~~~~~~

Joohyun returned home, had dinner with her mother, did her nightly routine, and spent a few minutes on her balcony. Joohyun heard a faint melody playing in the distance as she looked around her. Nothing was out of the norm until she gazed up at the moon and just for a quick second she thought she saw a jade-colored rabbit hopping around while playing a flute-like instrument. She blinked a few times and focused her attention onto the moon again, but there no music playing rabbit hopping about. She sighed while rubbing her face. She asked what was going on with her and if her mind was messing with her.

Joohyun returned inside and settled into bed with another deep sigh. She stared up at the ceiling thinking it would ease her mind, but it didn't. The light traffic outside in the distance soon calmed her nerves as she slowly breathed in and out. She wasn't sure if this is what she should be feeling or if it was still so surreal for her to comprehend. It was as if she was questioning if she had made the right choice to believe in the grim reaper or as if she would wake up any time soon and go back to the reality that this was all made up. Joohyun sighed again as she closed her eyes. She opened them again when she heard Grim Reaper Jessica's voice.

"Good evening."

Joohyun slowly sat up in bed as she noticed that the grim reaper was in the same position as when they had first met.

"Hello." She greeted back.

The grim reaper shot her a small smile.

"How's it going?"

Joohyun smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes when she replied.

"It's going very well."

Soon enough Eclare and Blanc appeared with Blanc lying on his belly upon Joohyun's bed while resting his chin on his paws.

"Tell me everything." The while feline purred.

"I wanna know all the juicy details."

"Are the hellhounds going to be joining us?" Joohyun answered causing Blanc to make a face.

"They're busy. Aren't I enough?"

"I'm not a cat person. I prefer dogs."

"Wow."

Blanc blew a raspberry before disappearing in a puff of a white smoke.

"Don't mind him." Grim Reaper Jessica explained before Joohyun could apologize.

The grim reaper let out a laugh as she petted the black feline in her arms.

"He's just moody because Eclare beat him in a game of checkers earlier."

"Yeah. I got a King Me this many!"

Blanc announced while holding up his paws to show Joohyun as she giggled at how cute he was and the black cat giggled along with her.

"Anyways," Grim Reaper Jessica interjected, "Is there something you wanted?"

"Huh?"

Joohyun tilted her head in confusion. Grim Reaper Jessica decided to explain it to her.

"You were unconsciously thinking of things that led you to unconsciously call out to me telepathically."

"Did I?"

"Yeah." Eclare answered instead with a nod.

"We get these invisible sound waves when those who want to seek out the other side and we come on over."

"Well," Joohyun spoke slowly," It's more like an answer."

"Then what is your question?"

"Is it normal to feel like this after the revenge is going so well?"

"Depends. What are you feeling?"

Joohyun thought about it before answering.

"Honestly, I'm happy that it's going well, but I feel like it's missing something. Like, I'm not sure, but there’s a void of some sort."

She looked at the grim reaper before continuing.

"I, well, I'm not sure how to explain, but I feel like I'm still incomplete."

"Oh, do you need a massage?" Elcare asked with a smile as he fluttered on over to Joohyun.

"Or maybe you want a slice of strawberry cake? I'm going to get you a slice an-"

The grim reaper whooshed the black feline away and he disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

"Sorry about him. He just loves anything strawberry related."

Grim Reaper Jessica apologized as she now sat cross-legged in mid-air while a black file appeared out of thin air and she read its contents.

"You got a new job that pays well to care for your mother without stressing like before. You have also become a stronger person than before as well. Even your new big boss picks on your ex-boyfriend."

The grim reaper looked over at her charge expectantly.

"What makes you feel incomplete, Bae Joohyun?"

Joohyun couldn't formulate an answer as she herself couldn't figured out the reason why she felt incomplete and simply shrugged.

"Hmm, let me ask you a few things then."

The grim reaper closed the file to which she had opened before it disappeared soon afterwards.

"Why did you date Park Bogum, even though you yourself believed that you were too average for him?"

"Because he made me feel special about myself from the first time we met and had first interacted." Joohyun answered without hesitation before an afterthought came out.

"Or so I had thought I was."

"When did the feeling begin to fade as you continue to lie to yourself that you were still special to him over the course of your relationship?"

Joohyun opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her expression became thoughtful and curious as she tried to remember when she had felt out of place with her relationship with Bogum. She honestly couldn't remember when she had first started to feel like that. It may have started several months after their relationship, but she wasn't sure.

"Have I really been that blind when I was with him?" Joohyun asked, but it was more to herself than to the grim reaper.

"Did I really disregard the situation so that I wouldn't feel lonely not having someone by my side or that I was just a safety net for him?"

Joohyun looked up at Grim Reaper Jessica.

"Did I get attached just so I can be attached?"

"Only you can answer those questions yourself." Grim Reaper Jessica told her with a calm tone.

"I'm just here to aid you as best as I can."

"I'm sure that you can aid in an answer or two, right? It's basically the same thing as I'm sure it is."

Joohyun reasoned as the grim reaper smiled at the woman's attempt to receive an actual response to her questions.

"You're weird, but no, I can't."

Joohyun sighed while lying back onto her bed.

"I've always been weird."

"And there's nothing wrong with that either."

The grim reaper floated down to stand on her own feet while walking to the side of Joohyun's bed instead of being at the end of it so that she could be in her charge's line of sight as the woman had turned her head off to the side.

"If you listen well, then there is something that I can do to help you find your answers quicker though."

Grim Reaper Jessica told her as she snapped her right fingers together and suddenly Flesh appeared at her feet. Joohyun's eyes sparkled upon seeing the hellhound with red eyes appear. She instantly sat up and beckoned for the canine to come to her to which Flesh immediately leapt on to the bed and snuggled himself against her.

"That is, if you're interested."

Grim Reaper Jessica casually spoke which Joohyun's attention went back to the grim reaper.

"Yes, I am." Joohyunn answered quickly.

"You have a free day tomorrow, right?" The grim reaper asked to confirm.

"I do."

Joohyun answered despite a majority of her attention was on the canine.

"Take care of Flesh for the time being and go out for a walk at the Golden Star Park tomorrow." Grim Reaper Jessica instructed as a dark red leash suddenly appeared beside Joohyun.

"Flesh will know when to let you know when he wants a walk and after that he'll take care of the rest."

"But what if my mom notices him?"

Joohyun's question wasn't answered as she turned her attention onto the grim reaper, but Grim Reaper Jessica had disappeared leaving her alone with the red-eyed mutt.

"Don't worry, Ms. Watermelon. Your mom won't noticed I'm here unless I reveal myself to her."

Flesh assured her as Joohyun glanced at him with an unsure look not minding the familiar nickname she was called by the felines a week ago.

"But how does taking you for a walk tomorrow going to answer my questions?"

Flesh snuggled closer to her without answering. Joohyun sighed as she continued to pet the canine while settling back into bed herself.

~~~~~~~~~

Joohyun wore black on white Adidas shoes with white skinny jeans along with a white long sleeve loose top with a thin black and white plaid cardigan over it. Her hair was in a long ponytail as she wasn't sure how hot it would be outside as well as if it would ran unexpectedly either due to it being monsoon seas. With one hand she held a small umbrella while the other hand she held onto the end of the dark red leash as Flesh led her along one of Golden Star Park's path ways like any normal canine would. The pup was happily trotting along on its little legs to which Joohyun couldn't help but smiled. Her mother hadn't noticed the canine's presence despite Flesh scurrying around all over the place.

Of course Joohyun really wanted to questioned what was the plan for today as she had no clue except to give the hellhound a doggie walk like any kind of dog would happily love to engage in. Still though, she didn't want to appear like more of a weirdo with her talking to Flesh as if he could respond back if one of the pedestrians happened to overhear her. So Joohyun just enjoyed the casual walk underneath the partially cloudy blue-gray sky until she felt the leash yanked hard in her grip and Flesh dashed off all of a sudden.

"Flesh?!" Joohyun called out to the hellhound while being pulled by the mutt.

This was totally not what she had expected when the grim reaper told her to take the red-eyed hellhound out for a walk. She was even more puzzled with the fact that the canine led her to recognized her lead supervisor and one of her female colleagues, Jisoo, standing underneath a pine tree. She heard Flesh growling at the young woman who seemed shaken up by its presence. Joohyun wasn't sure what was going on, but felt an unsettling feeling once Jisoo slightly turned and she noticed something shiny to the side of her colleague's waist.

"Call off your dog, Joohyun." Jisoo ordered.

Joohyun's mind blanked out as she had no idea what was going on.

"I said call off your dog right now. Do you hear me, Bae Joohyun? Call off your damn dog."

Jisoo repeated as she motioned with her hand that held something which Joohyun realized was a pocket knife.

"Call off your damn dog and no one gets hurt!"

"Ms. Kim, please calm down. No one has to get hurt."

Jinyoung spoke in a calm tone to de-escalate the situation.

"Put down the knife and we can talk it over. Please."

Jisoo pointed the knife at him again.

"Yeah, right. Why do you think I want to hurt you? I'm just letting you know how I feel about, Park Jinyoung."

Jisoo faced Joohyun once more, but still held the knife at Jinyoung.

"Call off your mutt, Bae Joohyun."

Joohyun opened her mouth, but no sound came. She instead try to click her tongue for Flesh to back off and come to her side, but the dog continued to growl at the young woman. Jinyoung cast a gaze towards Joohyun just as Jisoo barked at him to focus on her to which he did.

"Jisoo, let's calmly talk about this."

"I am calm, but you won't look or speak to me at work. You even threw away my love letter for you."

"I apologize. That was careless of me. But, please, put down the knife."

Make an anonymous call to the police about a fire in the park.

Joohyun heard Flesh's voice inside her mind as her eye widened.

A Fire?

She questioned in her own mind.

You'll learn later, but just do it without letting them know. Hurry!

Joohyun immediately did as Flesh informed her to do without catching the attention of the other two. Then Joohyun watched Flesh run at the pair just as Jisoo who in turn panicked and stabbed Jinyoung's stomach. She immediately let go of the knife in fear of what she had just done just as Flesh tackled her along with the injured Jinyoung to the ground knocking both of them out. Joohyun gasped at the scene before her. She didn't think that this was what the grim reaper had in mind when she meant that Flesh would take care of the rest if she brought him to the park. Luckily there weren't other people in their area of the park.

"What should I do? Call the police? Wait. I just did that. Then an ambulance? Oh my gosh."

Calm down. They're fine. The police is enough.

Came Flesh's voice inside her mind again. Flesh sniffed the two bodies before trotting over to Joohyun.

"Bite into a ruby gem until it dissolves into liquid form combined with your saliva."

She suddenly heard Flesh's voice ordered her snapping her out of her panicked state.

"First used a tiny bit to smear across the female's forehead, and then spit the rest onto the male's injuries."

Joohyun was about to do that, but shot Flesh a disgusted look.

"You want me to do what?"

"Eat the gem, smear some on the female's forehead, and then spit the rest on the male's stomach."

"No that's gross. What happens if-"

"Just do it."

Flesh ordered and something within Joohyun complied. She reached for one of the rubies, popped it into her mouth, waited until it liquefied, and then did what Flesh had instructed her to do. She brought her thumb to her lips and spread some juice onto it to smeared on Jisoo's forehead afterwards. Then with the rest of it she spit onto the stab wound with the knife still intact on her lead supervisor. Soon enough the knife melted away as the wound healed. There was no trace of the injury or that Joohyun had spit on Jinyoung. She glanced at Jisoo's forehead and saw that the residue wasn't there either. Joohyun glanced behind her over at Flesh who sat patiently.

"Now what?"

"Use another gem stone like a lipstick and kiss the male."

Flesh ordered nonchalantly as Joohyun looked taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just kidding."

Flesh laughed just as the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance. The mixed breed dog quickly ran off to a different pine tree away from the unconsious pair while Joohyun witnessed fire coming out of the canine's mouth spreading onto the pine tree.

"This is what you meant by the fire, Flesh?"

"Yeah. Now c'mon. Let's go!"

"But how does this answer anything?"

"You'll find out later."

"Bu-"

"Trust me, Ms. Watermelon. C'mon, let's get a move on before we're discovered and those two wake up."

Flesh picked up his own leash and handed it to Joohyun before pulling her along. He assured her as they headed on back home. Still, Joohyun wonder if what transpired just now was a good thing or a bad thing. She sighed. She just had to trust in the grim reaper and the red-eyed mutt.

#staytheb #jessica jung scenarios #red velvet scenarios #got7 scenarios

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