#i am swimming in my tears as i indulge in my desire to write father and son relationship

[meadowsofmay]

i don't think i have the energy to write anything more than a plotbunny, but about legolas and his dad and hair braiding...

i can imagine thranduil braiding his son's hair before he heads off to rivendell for the council of elrond. while i think this is made supremely more awkward or emotionally difficult if we keep with the movies-verse idea of legolas having essentially not seen his dad since the battle of five armies (the whole "go find a man named strider" thing thranduil says to him), i think it's a powerful image regardless of if legolas stayed in mirkwood.

im imagining them sitting in silence for most of it. thranduil is incredibly meticulous and starts weaving small beads of amber into his sons hair, and slowly, it startles legolas. he looks up at himself in the mirror. the way thranduil's weaving them is how royalty wears their hair into battle. dont you think lord elrond will think something bad about silvans, about them being barbarous, if i wear this style to a council? legolas asks, trying to lighten the mood. his father doesn't respond, but he does meet legolas' eye in the mirror long enough to transmit the silent message: you and i both know that is not why i am doing this. they both recognize it's an action of love more than an action of fear... or perhaps exactly as much.

later, when the fellowship first bathes after they set out from rivendell, legolas spends an hour figuring out how all of the braids and beads go back in. when he comes back to mirkwood (now greenwood) after the war, he's wearing the same style he set out with, inlaid with beads from gondor.

thranduil wanting to have his son back, or at least try, and using braiding his hair to spent time with legolas before the council and show that he is still here for him...

INLAID WITH BEADS FROM GONDOR — LE GHASP FDTVOROBI OH PLEASE aragorn gifting legolas new set of beads and accessories (because legolas landed him his own for the battle of the black gate, yes, he did, i won't accept anything else) and legolas spending a good couple of hours, figuring out how to braid everything right and proper and exactly the way his father did is so heart-wrenching please hE IS HIS PAPA'S BOY he wants to make things right between them no matter the quarrels and misunderstandings that happened. and he comes back to greenwood and thranduil tries to be serious at first but sees his sons hair — the last and only moment between them after so much time that they spent apart — and he tears up (legolas for a second stopped breathing, timid smile on his lips as he tries to read his father's reaction). thranduil almost cries and you can't tell me he doesn't because legolas let him braid his hair before the council of elrond — he accepted thranduil's step forward then and now, he did his own.

elves are not touchy (as i learned) but thranduil hugs his son so tight legolas laughs, a distant echo of the past when father and son used to spend fun time together and legolas never stopped giggling...

they are going to be alright.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ sea castles ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!woozi x reader, subtle jeonghan x reader

genre&warnings; merman!au, yandere!woozi, character death, dom!woozi/possessive!woozi, virgin!reader, overstimulation, oral(fem receiving), cheating, drugs/poisoning, kidnapping.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; Welcome to the first installation to Monster Mash, where we explore the strange and unusual with our monster fucker anonymous club! 👻 🎃 Let’s get spooky, bitches! As always, I just want to take the time to thank you all for the interest in Monster Mash! 😳 I was not expecting it tbh so thank you all so much!💕 also if the writing style of this seems weird just know that I wrote half of this in 2018 so some parts read different from my usual write style, in my opinion at least 😭 hehe~ anyway, enjoy this first chapter and I will see you all in the next! 😌✨

word count; ~5100

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

baby, why don't you see, see my sea?

make slow, get inside and pull on my sea

get inside and build your castle into me 

Jihoon’s head breaks through the surface of water, sea foam momentarily blinding him as he frantically searches beyond the jagged rocks for any sign of his human companion. His fragile hands move slowly over the rocks. She’s late again, He thinks. Nothing new. 

A sigh escapes his lips as he rests his head on one of the rocks, closing his eyes as he waits, a soft hum on his lips when he drifts out of consciousness.

When he wakes, he isn’t even aware he’s fallen asleep but the frantic thoughts that someone’s found him sends him into overdrive as his pale grey eyes sweep over the shore once again; eyes landing on a figure sitting not too far away.

“Jihoon you’ve fallen asleep on me again.” You chide. A blush forms on Jihoon’s cheeks as he ducks under the water momentarily, hoping the slight chill of the water will keep the heat from spreading to his face. “You’re late again”, he starts, “We agreed to meet here when the tower bell chimes for sun down every other nightfall, didn’t we?” There’s a moment of hesitation on his end but he wades through the water, carefully making his way towards you. 

“I’m really sorry about being late, it was Jeonghan, I--” 

Jihoon’s eyes flash a pale pink, tuning you out at the sound of his name. Jeonghan; the prince and your soon to be husband. Jihoon doesn’t like him, not one bit. “It’s fine! I’m just glad you could make it…” A pout on his lips as he picks a rock near your legs, propping his arms up onto it as he stares up at you and rests his chin on his folded arms.

“What were you up to today, Jihoonie?” You ask. Your fingers curl around the hem of your dress as you pull it further up your legs, not wanting it to get wet from the rising tide. He hums in thought, his eyes falling onto your bare legs.

“Um, well, Seungcheol-hyung and I went and checked out that sunken ship I told you about last week… There was still some stuff left inside so we brought it back to the castle!”

A smile graces your lips as you watch him talk animatedly; there was always something so calming about being around Jihoon. You fondly remembered the first time you’d met him. Scared and curious about the man peering at you from beyond the rocks, not knowing that he felt the exact same way that you did.

That had been a few months ago now and the two of you had become good friends, meeting every other night for a chat before anyone in the castle knew you were missing. He was handsome, kind and most of all, friendly.

“Hey, are you listening?” Jihoon pouts up at you, lips curling into a teasing smile when a blush forms on your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, I was zoning out thinking about how we met. Why don’t you start again, from the beginning?”

“You’re late.”

Jeonghan’s already a third of a way through dinner before you enter through the double doors. “Forgive me, I’ve--I’ve lost track of time.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he picks at his food; this was quite routine of you. “Isn’t that what you always say?” You take a seat across Jeonghan, grimacing when the wet hem of your dress touches your bare legs. “I like taking my time on my walks. It helps me clear my head.”

Jeonghan takes a sip of his wine, standing from the grandiose table as he makes his way down the length of it, to your side.

“You should be careful on those walks of yours. I’ve heard there’s dangerous creatures lurking around the edges of town. You wouldn’t want to get caught up in the crossfire, would you?”

“No, Jeonghan, I--I wouldn’t.”

“Jihoon-hyung!!”

Seungkwan swims over to Jihoon; a bright smile on his face when he reaches the older male. “Hey, are you alright? You seem upset.”

Jihoon’s pale grey eyes blink sadly, “I’m… okay. I’m just…”

“It’s that human again, isn’t it?”

It always is, Jihoon thinks. He was always glad for your friendship and your kindness, but he always craved for more. Even if the current circumstances didn’t allow it. “Well, yes. It’s just that... I wish there was a way I could get her to see me and not my… well, you know.” He chuckles sadly, watching the way Seungkwan mimics his sadness.

Jihoon liked Seungkwan. 

Out of all of his brothers, he was always the most empathetic.

“She’s going to be married, hyung. To the prince, no less. She’ll be queen eventually once the king passes and Prince Jeonghan takes his place. Need I remind you she’s human and you’re not? You should be thankful she hasn’t exposed you yet.”

The older male grimaces at the thought alone. She’d never do that to me.

“I know, I know. It’s just going to take some time, that’s all. She’s not like the other royals on land… She’s a good person.”

Seungkwan wraps an arm around Jihoon’s shoulder; lips pursed in a tight smile. “You’re in line for the throne here as well, you know? The other hyungs don’t seem to care for the throne, but you, hyung, suit it well. You’ll find someone. I promise.”

The next morning, you wake up with a sigh on your lips.

I hate it here.

The only reason why you were to be wed to Prince Jeonghan was solely because both of your respective parents wanted to have a joint rulership of the western lands and needed successors down the line, should the time come. Neither you nor Jeonghan were necessarily happy with the idea, but Jeonghan had quickly taken a certain possessiveness over you that confused you greatly. 

On most days, he seemed uncaring, even standoffish. But there were a few times since the announcement of your marriage where he seemed to have quickly taken the role of overbearing husband.

A knock at your door brings you out of your thoughts; a small ‘come in’ muttered just loud enough as an older handmaid pokes her head in.

“Miss, we should get you ready for the day. Prince Jeonghan would like your company for tea in the garden.”

That’s new.

“I’m telling you that Wonwoo is dangerous, Vernon! You need to be careful!”

Jihoon swims up to Seungcheol and Vernon in the heat of their conversation, brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated sigh in return, “It’s that Wonwoo…”

Jihoon’s lips purse into a firm line. Not all mercreatures were gifted with magical abilities, but Wonwoo was one of the few that were. He granted anyone of their desires, whether the intentions were good or bad. As long as you paid the right price for it. Wonwoo lingered on the southern side of the underwater kingdom, tucked away within the giant kelp and crystal caves where most mercreatures knew to stay away from.

Although, the younger ones were always riddled with temptation.

“Vernon, what were you even doing over there?” Jihoon asks. The youngest exhales harshly, avoiding his hyungs’ piercing stares.

“I just---I was curious. That’s all.”

This time it’s Seungcheol who inquires, “About what, exactly?”

“Don’t you ever wonder what you would have to trade to be able to go on land, at least once?”

Jihoon clenches his jaw. He knew better.

He knew better.

Jeonghan waits patiently and never raises his voice.

Quite frankly, he’s not very good at it, he’ll admit.

However, what he does expect from you is your obedience and absolute loyalty to him, especially with your wedding just around the corner.

The last thing he wanted were the townspeople talking about a king with a disloyal and disobedient wife.

“You wanted to see me for tea?” Jeonghan looks up from his lap, noting you standing a few feet away with Mingyu, one of his guards.

“Yes, have a seat. Mingyu, you can go.” The taller male nods, pulling out the garden chair for you before he leaves. Jeonghan pours you a cup of warm tea, sliding the tea cup across the small table. “I spoke to my father earlier this morning before he left.” His eyes flit to you, already noticing the way the colour drains from your face at the simple mention.

“They want us to move the wedding closer. Next week, if possible.”

“I--wh--why exactly, may I ask?”

Jeonghan can hear the shakiness in your voice as he reaches for his own tea cup. “First of all, it’s not my choice. My father just requested as such and I expect you to fall in line as well. These nightly walks along the edges of town need to stop, immediately. I can’t have rumours flying around town about us. Am I clear?”

Your hands ball up into fists in your lap; tomorrow might be the last time you’d be able to speak to Jihoon.

“I--yes, I understand.”

When the tower bell chimes for sundown the next evening, you’re already waiting by the water’s edge.

You had to make it back in time before Jeonghan noticed you’d already snuck out.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His half-hearted smile is enough to alert you that he hasn’t been having the best of days either. But you find yourself getting choked up as your vision blurs with each second; unshed tears making it hard for you to speak.

“I--I’m sorry, but---but I c-can’t come back here…” You whisper out. Jihoon’s eyes flash a pale pink as he leans up onto a rock closer to you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jihoon, I’m---I’m getting married next w-week.”

Jihoon begs for forgiveness in his head.

Asks to be spared for the sin he’s about to commit.

He fumbles through the giant kelp; tail getting caught with each second he goes further and further into the murky depths until he comes across the crystal caves.

It would be just one time. He promises.

He finds the small opening in the cave, making sure nobody sees him when he swims in.

“Oh? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wonwoo’s voice is deep and matches the alluring smirk painted across his features when he spots Jihoon at the entrance. “Can’t say I’ve seen someone look so hesitant in a long while.”

Jihoon feels a sense of dread wash over him when he gets closer to the male, gulping down his second guesses as he opens his mouth to speak.

“T-to go on land. What… what would I need to--to trade.”

Wonwoo laughs loud enough for it to bounce off of the cave walls, head thrown back in absolute bliss.

“My, my. You sound more serious than the last one who came to ask.” He pauses, swimming down closer to Jihoon who backs away by nature. “You know, people offer me all sorts of things. Riches, jewels, even parts of themselves. All cliché when you think about it. And all things replaceable in theory.”

The twinkle in Wonwoo’s eyes lets Jihoon know he’s going to be in more trouble than he anticipated.

“No… what I want is something irreplaceable. Something that lets me know you really want this.”

Vernon will be missed.

But it was his fault for being so curious, they’ll all say.

He shouldn’t have asked Wonwoo.

He should’ve known better.

Just like Jihoon.

A few days have passed since the last time you see Jihoon and being castle-bound is eating away at you.

The wedding is in five more nightfalls and with each day, you find yourself more and more miserable.

“Miss, please turn to your left. We need to finish your wedding dress before the day is over.” Sighing, you do as told, facing the large mirror where you see the sadness in your eyes.

A sharp knock brings everyone’s attention to the door as one of your hand maids rushes to answer it.

This time it’s Seokmin, one of Jeonghan’s other guards and best friend, at the door. “I’m so sorry to disturb, however we have a guest. A Prince from… the east. Prince Jeonghan would like your company in the grand hall, immediately.”

Confusion crosses your features, but you nod, shooing Seokmin away as you already make efforts to get the heavy fabric off of you. It takes a good few minutes before you’re completely free and redressed in more casual attire and you all but rush down the hall, curious to see who the newcomer is.

The first thing you see is Jeonghan speaking to a slightly shorter male; a tight lipped smile on his face.

He catches you from around the corner, gesturing you forward.

“Ah, here she is. My wife, to-be.” The unknown male turns to face you and you feel your breath caught in your throat.

Jihoon? No… 

He shoots you a knowing smile, reaching for your hand as he kisses the back of it. “It’s my pleasure. I’m Prince Jihoon. Of the East.” Your fingers feel clammy in his hold, confusion on your features even when you introduce yourself back to him in a low whisper.

“I can’t say I remember there being a Prince Jihoon from the east. Interesting.” Jeonghan comments. Jihoon chuckles lightly, releasing your hand as he turns to face Jeonghan once more.

“Yes, I’m quite sorry for my sudden arrival. You see, I never really was one for the throne or anything of the sort. No, I’m more into studies and books. However, there’s been a bit of a change in interests lately so I figured I’d come… and see what the world has to offer.” He shoots Jeonghan a smile, eyes forming crescents.

“I also do apologize, but would it be alright if I stayed here a few nights? Just before I head back to my own. I don’t have anywhere to stay and, well, I seem a little under-packed for my journey.”

Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek, “I… suppose. Actually, our wedding is in five more days. Why don’t you stay until then. See how the town celebrates.”

Jihoon turns to you; a smirk on his lips as his eyes flash a pale pink.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jihoon stays in the bedroom across the hall from you, just a couple doors down. 

You tell Jeonghan you’re not feeling too well and that you’ll be in your bedroom until you finally feel better; but the reality is that you slink off to Jihoon’s room when the coast is clear and the halls are free of Jeonghan’s guards.

You softly knock at his door, whispering his name until he opens the door for you; a giddy smile on his lips.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the princess. To what do I owe this honour?”

“Please, don’t---don’t play this game with me right now. What in heaven’s name is--how are you even here!?” You whisper harshly. Jihoon tugs you into his room, locking the door behind you as he presses you against it.

“I just… wanted to try something, that’s all. I thought you’d be happy to see me.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice and you can’t hold back the sigh that floats out past your lips.

“Please, Jihoon, I’m so incredibly happy to see you. It’s just, I---this is a big shock and with the wedding, it’s---and your legs, how---”

Jihoon cuts you off with a kiss, fingertips under your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his.

You immediately melt into the kiss, fingertips tangling into his soft hair.

Were you always attracted to Jihoon like this?

He eats up all of your soft and quiet moans as he presses you harder into the door, slotting a leg between yours just you finally find your senses.

“W--wait, I--no, we--we can’t, Jihoon…” You push him away as gently as you can; a soft pink coating your cheeks. “It’s just that Jeonghan--”

“Please, can we not speak about him.” Jihoon grumbles, stepping away from you as he makes his way towards the bed. “No offense, but it’s quite obvious that neither of you want to be in this marriage anyway. I don’t understand why you keep trying to defend him.”

You stand by the door, eyes fixated on the way Jihoon leans back on the bed. Mental images of you in his lap, naked and in absolute bliss flit through your mind in a split second. 

“It’s---it’s not that, it’s just that... “ You’re unsure of what to say next; Jihoon was right in the fact that neither of you were too keen on the marriage but the two of you were also just following orders for the betterment of the kingdoms.

“I’m sorry, I should go, You should rest up, Jihoon. Dinner will be in a few hours.”

You turn to leave, body warm with thoughts you knew you shouldn’t have been having.

Jihoon can sense it too. The way your body craves his.

“I’ll see you later, princess.”

Dinner goes on without any issues, which you’re thankful for and Jeonghan and Jihoon seem to be on alright terms despite Jeonghan’s initial concerns and suspicions.

You retreat back to your room after a walk around the grounds to clear your head, hand on the doorknob of your bedroom when Jihoon comes barreling into your back.

“J--Jihoon, what--”

“Inside, now, sweetheart.”

You shuffle into the bedroom, turning to face Jihoon who turns the lock. “What are you doing?!”

“What we both want.”

A blush coats your cheeks as he walks you back towards the bed; his hands immediately finding purchase on your waist as he sits you down onto it. “Do you think I’m oblivious to what you want?” His voice drops an octave and you feel the arousal starting to pool in your lower half. “I--I---”

“You what, princess? Tell me what you want, what’s going on in that mind of yours.”

You know you shouldn’t, you know you should fall in line with Jeonghan and what your parents say.

But the other part of you just wants to be freed of all your responsibilities and expectations.

So you make a decision, gulping when you wrap a hand around Jihoon’s forearm.

“I want y-you.”

A soft moan floats through the air just as Jihoon sinks the first finger into your warmth, your fingers locking into his hair as his tongue flicks at your clit.

Jihoon knew more than you anticipated.

He smiles against your skin as he leans in closer, flattening his tongue against you as you bite your lip to hold in your noises when he drags the flat of his tongue through your folds.

“Such a shame, princess. I’d love to hear my name rolling off those pretty lips of yours.” He teases; curling his finger into you just right until it grazes against your sweet spot. Your legs clamp tighter around his head instead as Jihoon laughs.

“We’ll have to save it for another time. When we have more privacy, hmm?”

Another time?

Jihoon sucks your clit into his mouth as your hips cant up to meet his movements. He gently adds another fingers after a few more pumps; noting the way your walls tighten around them instinctively. You can feel the pressure building up when he starts to scissor and curl them just right, a shaky cry on your lips.

“Ji--Jihoon, ah, something’s---”

“S’okay, let it happen.” Mumbling, he doubles his effort, tongue flicking at your clit harshly as he works to throw you over the edge.

A choked sob gets caught in your throat when you cum on his fingers and tongue and he works you through it with patience and adoration. He slows down his fingers as you continue to ride your high, tongue still lapping at your clit in slower strokes until your fingers loosen their grip on his hair.

“Everything okay?” Jihoon murmurs, pulling his fingers from inside of you as he pulls away.

“Mm… Mmhmm…”

Jihoon sits up, wrapping his wet digits around his cock as he pumps himself. He smears the precum down his shaft; a soft groan on his lips.

“Do you still want me, princess?”

You nod shakily, watching as he scoots in closer. He runs the head of his cock through your soaking folds as you mewl quietly at the sensitivity your body feels. “If it hurts, just let me know, okay?”

Jihoon’s soft voice is enough for you to relax under his touch and he uses his free hand to wrap your leg around his waist before he positions himself at your entrance. His eyes dance up your torso until they land on your flushed face, grey eyes searching for any sort of hesitance.

“This is your last chance, princess. You can stop me here and we can forget this.”

Your heart pangs in sudden guilt over Jeonghan, but you quickly push it out of your head. There was nothing wrong about this; You wanted him.

“I want you, J-Jihoon…”

He nods at your response, taking a deep breath before he starts to sink his cock into your wet cunt.

There’s a subtle stinging you feel, a whimper on your lips when he only just gets the head of his cock in. “Okay?” He asks, fingertips massaging the skin of your thighs. The momentary pause is enough for some of the stinging to subside so you nod, clammy hands digging into the sheets.

Jihoon lets out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he bottoms out after a few tense seconds. “Oh, god, you---you feel so good, princess…”

He leans over you, kissing you on the forehead before he leans in to kiss you on the lips; swallowing up your mewls and whimpers as you get used to the feeling of Jihoon’s cock snug between your warm walls.

“Jihoon, please---please move…” Your words are muffled against his lips as he smiles, nodding when he pulls away from you.

Jihoon starts a slow pace at first; skillful hips pistoning into you. He watches you bite your lip when he angles his thrusts in a particular way, smirking when he knows he’s gotten your sweet spot.

“Look at you… So pretty underneath me, where you belong.” He licks his lips, pupils blown wide. “You know I’d do anything for you, right, princess? Just say the word and I’ll give it to you.” His grip on you gets tighter as his fingernails dig into the skin of your thighs.

“Ngh… Ji--Jihoon…” You whimper quietly as your hips cant up to meet his thrusts. “Please, m-more…”

The head of his cock grazes against your g-spot with each thrust and you can’t help the moans that bubble past your lips at the feeling. 

Jeonghan momentarily flits through your mind again and Jihoon can sense the way you seem to tense up. He bites the inside of his cheek at this, pulling his cock out of you as confusion crosses your features.

“Jihoon, wh--”

“I want you on your hands and knees for me.” He murmurs; using his strength to flip you onto your stomach.

It takes a second for you to catch your bearings, hands planted on the bed sheets as he tugs your ass closer to himself. He repositions his cock at your entrance, bottoming out in a single thrust as he starts a much quicker pace this time.

In this position, he can fuck you deeper, hips slamming into your ass as you slowly slump down against the sheets.

A sharp knock at the door a few minutes later has you gasping as you reach behind you to try and push Jihoon off. He doesn’t budge, instead, smirks at the way your pussy clenches harder around his cock.

“Princess? It’s me.”

Jeonghan.

Jihoon leans over your back, kissing your shoulder once before whispering in your ear. “You should answer him. Before he gets suspicious.” You clear your throat to the best of your ability, brows furrowed when Jihoon reaches a hand around, fingertips on your clit rubbing soft circles.

“Y-yes, Jeonghan?”

“May I come in? I’d like to speak with you.” Your heart pangs in a way you don’t expect, teeth clenched hard when you feel the pleasure starting to peak again.

“I’m, a-ah, so---so sorry, Jeonghan, I’ve already, hah, d-dressed for bed. M--maybe tomorrow? O--over tea, perhaps?” You shakily offer; hoping that he doesn’t barge his way in.

“Right. Of course, my mistake. It’s quite late. I’ll see you for tea tomorrow then. Sleep well.”

You hear his footsteps just as your second orgasm hits you; body seizing up under Jihoon as he continues to fuck you through it.

“Such a naughty little princess, aren’t you? Laying with someone else while your husband-to-be is on the other side of that door. And not only that, but taking your pleasure from someone else inside of you too? My, my.” He teases, eyes flashing the same pale pink in warning.

He pinches your clit between his fingertips, loving the way your body jolts under his touch. “Ngh… Jihoon I---I can’t…” You whine. Your body feels extremely sensitive now that you’d cum twice, but Jihoon laughs lightly as he pulls out from you yet again.

“You’ve taken your pleasure twice now, princess. But what about me?”

Jihoon flips you over yet again; a sheen of sweat on your body and his.

An idea pops into his head, smiling down at you before he, himself, rests against the pillows next to you. “Get on my lap, princess.”

You shakily get up, swinging a leg over him as you situate yourself on his thighs. He helps guide you, hands on your waist until you’re hovering right above his cock. “Stay like this.” Mumbling, he uses a free hand to guide his cock until it’s right at your entrance again. “Now sink down onto my cock, princess.”

Not really knowing how slow or fast to go, you sink down onto his cock in a single motion; the air knocked out of Jihoon and your lungs when you’re finally completely seated on his cock.

You let out a choked cry at the feeling; oversensitivity biting into you already when he places his hands on your waist again. “Mmh, okay, princess, you’re---you’re gonna raise yourself up and down, okay?” Nodding, you brace your hands on his torso, lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down onto his cock.

The two of you share a moan as you fall into a rhythm; Jihoon planting his feet down flat onto the sheets as his hips cant up to meet your movements. You alternate bouncing on his lap and swiveling your hips, testing different ways and seeing how he reacts.

Jihoon feels his abdomen tightening as he finally feels his orgasm coming, a soft growl on his lips.

“P--princess, I’m---I’m so close.” He whispers harshly, eyes slamming shut as he chases his high. “Touch yourself for me. I want you to feel good with me one more time.”

“J--Jihoon I---I c-can’t…”

“Oh but you can, sweetheart. I can feel you already close again too.” He teases.

Jihoon takes one of your hands from his chest, bringing it to your clit as you blush. “Right here. Make yourself feel good too.” His voice is soft yet alluring and enough for you to slowly rub circles around your swollen clit. You immediately let out a cry, letting Jihoon take the reins again as he fucks up into you.

“Together, princess, with me.”

This time when you cum a few perfectly angled thrusts later, Jihoon does too; hips stuttering and a sultry moan on his lips. Your vision is blurry, tears wetting your eyelashes as you slump over into Jihoon’s chest.

Your entire body shakes; fingertips numb as you let out soft cries against his warm skin. “Jihoon…”

The two of you stay in that position for a while longer and his heartbeat is enough to lull you into a soft slumber, eyes finally welcoming sleep as your tired body lays on top of him.

“That’s right, princess. Go to sleep. You’re tired, aren’t you?” You nod gently, unaware of the way Jihoon smirks down at your head.

“I’ll get you cleaned up and make sure nobody sees you like this.”

You smile gently, warm and sated as you let the sleep take over.

When you wake, the warm sun filters through the curtains.

A smile graces your lips as you blink your sleepy eyes open and something immediately feels off.

This… isn’t my bed?

Your brows furrow in confusion as your vision focuses, taking in your surroundings as you sit up. “Where---where am I?” Mumbling softly, you move to take the covers off of you, noticing immediately that your left leg is bound to the bedpost.

Panic floods your senses; a cold sweat down your temple as you tug on it harshly. “Jihoon!? Jeonghan!? Hello!?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn’t yell so loudly if I were you. You’ll only hurt your throat.”

Jihoon enters the room with a small tray in hand, placing it on a nearby table as he sits by you on the bed. He shoots you a warm smile; grey eyes permanently a soft pinkish hue.

“Jihoon, where----where is this? Where are we?”

“Oh, that Wonwoo. You know, I traded a great deal to be here with you. But he’s just so selfish.” There’s a soft chuckle on his lips as he shakes his head in thought. “I traded him a life for a week on land. But it’s not enough, you know? He wanted more so I gladly let him have two more for a little bit more time. A month! Can you believe it?”

“J--Jihoon, pl--please, this---why---”

“But don’t worry. I couldn’t kill the Prince. No, no, no even I am not that cruel. But those bodyguards of his… Tsk, such a handful those two. They saw me leaving with you and, my, well… Wonwoo does like a good trade.”

His soft laugh is sweeter than a siren’s call; genuine happiness lacing each second.

“But---but what if they c-come looking f--for me? And---And you know they w-will, Jihoon...”

Jihoon smiles, eyes hollow as he stares out of the window.

He’d already thought of every escape plan in the book.

“Oh my, well… Wonwoo will just have to keep giving me more time with the amount of bodies that will pile up outside of our castle, princess. Don’t you worry your little head.”

“Hey, did you hear about what happened at the castle this morning?”

“Not at all. Do tell!”

“They said they found Prince Jeonghan poisoned! And his bodyguards were found dead in the grand hall!”

“Dead!?”

“Yes! Dead! They’re unsure whether or not the prince will wake… As of right now there’s no suspects or even any hint of who could’ve done it! But the poor princess…”

“What happened to her? Is she alright?”

“Nobody knows. She seems to have been taken, the poor soul. Not a single trace of her existence was left at the castle. It’s like she never existed.”

[hedwigstalons]

WIP tag game

I got tagged by @tsarisfanfiction.  I’m now feeling a little bit glared at by my WIPs of which it turns out there are a few.  I originally set out to be a ‘task and finish’ writer.  No overlapping projects.  See things through to completion.  It turns out that hasn’t happened and I have a few things open at the moment.  Only one of which has been aired to the world though so I’m sort of managing to not leave people hanging.

Sorry if you have already been tagged elsewhere; I’ve tried not to do duplicates but it’s difficult to keep up.  I’d like to see what projects @godsliltippy @the-lady-razorsharp and @sonatanotwo have in progress.

So here it is; my unfinished pile.

1) Untitled - Virgil whump

This is the only WIP that I’ve published bits of.  I don't even know if it’s a WIP or if it will stay as a random attempt at whump practice.  Basically I chucked Virgil down an old open cast gold mine in a pod.  This is where I left it.

“Brains is gonna kill me.”

 “Not this time.  We’re all still glad to have you with us.  You won’t be flying for a while though.”

 The fact that he was still in hospital was a fairly good indicator of that and Virgil would have rolled his eyes if he had the energy.

 “And it’s not just flying you won’t be doing for a while. You got pretty beat up out there. You broke both your collar bones, dislocated a shoulder and got a bad case of whiplash among other things.”

 Virgil let the implications of this wash over him.  He was no stranger to physical injury; none of them were.  But injuries that would keep him from his art were the most painful to bear.  He would pick a broken leg over a broken arm any day. At least then he could paint through his recovery.  

 The tears that graced his eyelashes now were nothing to do with the overhead lighting.  

2) Untitled - something with Selene for #irrelief

I’ve taken on the challenge of using someone else's OC.  I’ve been following the various exploits of Selene (created by @willow-salix) so I’m hoping I’ve captured her character and can do her justice.  Here is how this one starts.

The radio was on, the autopilot was doing its thing and Thunderbird Witch was eating up the miles towards home.  Ok, she had been majorly sceptical of the upgrades to her little car to begin with but after a few long haul trips to the island she could see the benefits of being able to fly.  It certainly made visiting clients easier.  In just ten minutes she should be back on the outskirts of London ready to finish her journey on the more conventional four wheels.  She considered calling out for pizza; she should be home before the delivery ready to gorge herself on the cheesy goodness.  Her stomach rumbled at the prospect.

 Her stomach wasn’t the only thing making ominous noises.

 The engine coughed and spluttered; a disconcerting thing to happen at 15,000 feet.

 Selene urged her precious car onwards, invoking prayers to every deity imaginable not to let her plunge to her death in a twisted heap of mangled metal and glass.  The car continued to do its best impression of a tractor and jolts could be felt running though its body as the engine misfired.  

 The looming tide of dread threatened to tip the scales into full blown panic as the engine gave its largest hiccup yet.  It was time to contact the other omnipresent being in her life.

 “John, sweetie.  Are you busy?”

3) High Expectations

This tells the story of young Gordon and his relationship with Jeff and the rest of the family.  So far it starts in high school and should continue into WASP.

This is a long term project and should turn into a longer and more involved piece.  While it is multi-chaptered I probably won’t actually publish anything until I’ve got the whole thing written.  It’s a challenging writing style for me and I struggle with extended plot.  It’s also being written hideously put of order with various backfilling as scenes grab me.  It’s a bit angsty and a bit emotionally whumpy.

Here is a little snippet from somewhere in the middle.

“And what if it’s not what I want?  Sometimes it feels like I don’t have any say in my life. Dad wants me to stop swimming.  Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

 Truth be told, Virgil didn’t.  He had only ever met encouragement for his plans.  He had been supported and his passions had been indulged.  Music lessons and art classes had co-existed with school, ensuring he had a therapeutic release from his more traditional studies.  His desire to study engineering had been greeted with enthusiasm and a generous allowance.

 “I’m sure Dad only wants what’s best for you.”

 “Yeah, it always comes down to what Dad wants.” There was a snort of derision. “But news flash Virgil, I’m not like the rest of you.  I’m never going to get into Harvard or Yale or anywhere else Dad would approve of. And I don’t want to.  I have one thing I’m good at and now that’s being taken away.”

4) Scott’s Situation

I had a random thought a while back about the boys being too busy for relationships and family.  But there was a time before International Rescue and I speculated the Scott was probably a bit of a player at college.  This is something I started back in November and haven’t touched since.  I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it.  I’ve stepped away for too long and my writing and ideas have moved on.  I also don’t have an end point in mind which doesn’t help.  This bit is from somewhere near the beginning.

Grandma Tracy looked around at the sound of the door; normally she was left well alone when the urge to bake took hold.  She took in Scott’s pale face in a single glance and took off her oven mitts.

 “Grandma.  I have….a situation”.

 Feeling it better if she read the detail herself Scott passed her the tablet with the email still open on the screen.

 Dear Mr Tracy,

 I regret to inform you of the passing of Mary Ellen Williams following a short battle with cancer. As the executor of her will I am charged with carrying out her final wishes.  Miss Williams’ estate is left in trust to her son, Sam Williams.  I am entrusted to administer this trust until Sam reaches the age of 18.  However, Miss Williams requested that custody of Sam falls to you, as his sole surviving family, in your capacity as father.

 The email continued, giving details of a solicitors office in England, and further instructions regarding taking custody of Sam.  To Scott it felt like an eternity watching his Grandma read the full email in silence.

 Grandma Tracy put down the tablet and surveyed her grandson.  When she spoke her questions was blunt and to the point.

 “Is this true?” she asked.

 “I don’t know”, Scott ran his fingers through his hair, looking agitated.

 “It’s certainly got you rattled.  Start at the beginning” she instructed.

So there you go.  The current stack of unfinished work glaring at me.  If you see anything you like, let me know and it might get bumped to the top of pile.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Tasha! You have been accepted for the role of Zig Lehmann (FC: Jack Lowden). In writing Zig I was a little unsure how he’d be received. He could certainly be interpreted as a frat boy type gone bad... or the actual, Patrick Bateman-esque level that he is. With your application I didn’t have to worry. You captured his voice so well - in fact, I think you understand him better than me. Thank you for such an enriched and thoughtful application. We particularly liked the details of Devil’s Knot that you included, like Zig’s role as a lawyer, and how that related to the Goode family. This is a great start and we can’t wait to see where you take him! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Tasha Age: 21 Pronouns: She/her. Timezone:EST. Activity estimation: My work schedule fluctuates so I won’t have a set time of when I’d be doing replies each week, but I usually have most nights off and am pretty good with getting them done, because it’s basically my way to wind down at the end of the night! Triggers: None.

IN CHARACTER: BASICS

Full name:Siegfried ‘Zig’ Lehmann. Age (DD/MM/YYY):Thirty-one. 09/08/1965. Leo sun, Capricorn moon. Gender: Cis male. Pronouns: He/him. Sexuality: Bisexual biromantic. Occupation: Community lawyer. Connection to Victim: How did he know the Goode family? He doesn’t. In fact, the first time he even caught a glimpse of Linda was when she was seated across from a police officer, recounting the moments before her boy disappeared. She was dishevelled and snivelling but he walked past the glass paned expanse without a second glance. Teary-eyed folk were often a burden that he had no desire to represent on the occasions that he did such work. It’s always harder to make a case when clarity is stifled by hiccuping drivel. And, when he found out who she was, sympathy rode on the coattails of immediate rationality. If anyone were to lose a kid, it would only make sense that it be the fresh-faced newcomer, mother of, well he’s not sure how many, but he remembers that the Goode’s arrival had made headlines with the gaggle of elderly that dominate the cafe at the crack of dawn. Where’s her husband? Surely, it had to be the question of everyone’s mind even if no one had the guts to say it. Alibi:He was in the precinct at the time of Brian’s disappearance. He’d been called in for more of a favour than anything else. Seriously, they owe him one. His legal presence was required, or rather, demanded from a regular drunkard, an emphatic day-drinker. One that had gotten too rowdy at the bar and been taken in as soon as he’d gotten a bit too handsy. His undeserving client had apparently been screaming his head off about the right to counsel, citing the amendment and clawing against the bars as if his lame existence were being oppressed. To put it simply, he was called to calm a petulant child, a child that by the time he’d arrived had passed out against the cold concrete slabbed floor of the small cell. Faceclaim: Jack Lowden.

WRITING SAMPLE

The tether that connects child and kin is a fraying split-end, but they say that hair is stronger than a strand of steel and anyways, it would be unwise to bring shears to a relationship that needn’t be cut. The ailing floorboards of his parent’s porch, his childhood home, creak under the heel of his polished brogues. The screen-door hangs ajar, and he brings a balled fist up to knock before remembering that they don’t possess the foresight to lock their front door. He’s never mentioned it because he does possess the foresight to know that he’d like to avoid the punishment of a lecture that revolves around how trust should be instinctual, an argument supported by an unnecessarily proud citation of a couple of unheard of pseudo-intellectuals. This visit comes as the result of a phone call from his mother, the night that Brian Goode disappeared. She uses it as an excuse to invite him over, and he’s learned how to be diligent. There’s a common misconception that to appease anyone is to cast yourself as a pushover, but it takes perception to know which feathers are worth ruffling. Besides, he loves his parents. How could he not as they each pull him into a hug that lasts too long for comfort, the gaudy bead bracelets sliding down his mother’s wrists as she reaches to caress his face in her hands? Deep-set dimples embellish his smile, he loves them even if sometimes he doesn’t quite understand them, even if that sometimes makes him dislike them. Fleetwood Mac blares from a boombox misplaced above the fireplace mantle. It’s bookended by his old swimming and cross country trophies, relics to himself but the metallic shine makes them look like souvenirs from the future against the handmade quilts that haphazardly line the couches and the coffee rings against hardwood that have been left long enough to stain. It makes his eyes hurt so it’s his utmost privilege to return to a portrait far more pleasant. He takes his mother’s hands in his own, if only to relieve clammy palms from his cheeks and does a little two-step jig to the rhythm that makes his mother beam with delight. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his father open a bottle of wine. His presence is always seemingly cause for celebration. Is that what parenthood does to a person? Under a magnifying glass, the edges of his lips relent, flickering slightly with a distaste for the overbearing. But a breath and he’s back, “You never show the B-side any love. C’mon, Oh Diane? A classic.”

At the dinner table, he tops up his parent’s glasses, and mulls over whether he should bring it up. He decides, between a filler smile and half-assed cheers that he’d rather be the one steering the conversation. “It’s…” He shakes his head, as if to vocalize the incident would be to inflict a torture upon himself. Green hues hold until his lips part to speak once more.  “Well, it’s just heartbreaking isn’t it?” Perfectly timed, but acknowledging the fact’s a failure in itself. One day it will be natural, instinctive, for tears to well in the face of tragedy, for brows to furrow with concern over the most trivial affairs. His father notions to the possibility of the 1984 case being somehow correlated to Brian’s disappearance - he waves his fork like he’s onto something, an amateur musician conducting an orchestra of equally amateur theories. “Poor taste don’t you think? The kid’s been missing less than thirty-six hours.” A conversation clipped out of disinterest, his parents shirk from the bared teeth that accompany an uncanny levity in his smile of disbelief. He wonders whether they were always so meek or if it’s something that Zig had inspired in them. Though his casual cruelty has been tamed since adolescence, he no longer indulges in crass sentiments about abducted kids, even if they hold more truth than pursed lips and pitying looks. He excuses himself before dessert is served, but can’t avoid the twinge of disappointment his mother does her best to hide. It makes his jaw clench. He tells them about the ongoing search parties, but resigned to a life of passivity they ensure that their old legs would only slow the search down. When he leaves, he finds his teeth still gritted, but he loves his parents. With all his heart.

ANYTHING ELSE?

PINTEREST ( it’s not as fully fleshed out as i’d like it to be but ! ) / also thank you so much for taking the time to read over my app, i’ve been poring over this rp for days now and think it is truly, the bee’s knees.

So what’s the deal with you and your parents? There’s no deal. Does it bother you that some people just have healthy relationships with their parents? When his parents bring up his German heritage, it often feels like they’re grasping for straws. His ancestors immigrated to the United States in the early 19th century. His parents have no trace of that ancestry, perhaps apart from their last name and penchant for German academics. It’s always bothered him, that they forge ties between themselves and their homeland, from recounting Germanic myths as bedtimes stories (and that’s where your name comes from) to bookshelves lined with everyone from Marx to Kracauer. He hasn’t read any of them. Perhaps if they were full-fledged academics, perhaps if they had something, anything to their name, he’d understand this…Passion. Yet their intellectualism remains a hobby, uncapitalized, thrown into the mess of his childhood home right beside scribbled down recipes and rugs that bare the footprints of their two dogs. He wouldn’t be like them, rife with aspirations that sit like unblown fireworks until they withered away. It’s a one-sided distaste, something he barely catalogues but can’t seem to let go of fully. If anything, they’re a good example of the path in life he’d choose not to follow. Keep in touch. Think of it like a pilgrimage, pops. Home is home.

He always knew he going to return to Devil’s Knot, the town had always treated him with the utmost adoration and there was no reason to try and fix something that wasn’t broken. Unlike other teenagers with stars in their eyes, yearning for endless freedom and possibilities that could only be found in big city life, he had no desire to be someone in New York, but rather, and more realistically, he saw that he could be the one in Devil’s Knot. He studies law on scholarship at a university in Chicago. He enjoys being witness to the hedonistic conquests each students partakes in, throwing back beers as though their bodies are merely a vacuum, the mantra of more, more, more playing like white noise. He gets it, he wants it all too, he’s just smarter as to how he goes about it. Though, it doesn’t stop him from participating in drinking one too many, a habit picked up from high school that makes college a cinch to fit in. He becomes something of a god himself, drunk on life and still pristine by morning, even with a shirtless man softly snoring by his side. He’s confidently bisexual with a strong preference towards women. Though he’s never and most likely never will have a longstanding relationship with a man, gender would not distract from the fact that he’s fiercely private about his relationships, preferring to skip the topic altogether when he’s out with the boys. After he graduates, he returns to Devil’s Knot with a newfound sense of validation that this is where he’s meant to be. Piece of cake? Yeah…Please. Thanks. His urge to take in everything around him goes hand in hand with the practice of control. Everything isn’t an impossibility, but it cannot be done all at once. He mediates everything he consumes, after all, he doesn’t want to burst or worse, burn out. Long are the days since high school parties, drunk and trundling into Roberta’s just before close to order a burger and fries that could easily be rectified by an early morning swim the next day (he has an aptitude for pushing through even the gnarliest of hangovers). Now, he does his best to maintain an extremely healthy diet when in the comfort of his own home. Plus, Jenny’s never the one to object against a home-cooked meal. It’s barely enough to raise a brow, but it leaves him content to, for lack of a better word, pig out, when the situation calls for it: whether it’s one of the many community barbecues or bake sales the town holds, or a pint of beer with the boys at the end of a long day. He still runs every morning and makes it a point to go for a swim every so often. Sometimes there’s a temptation to unravel, but it’s easily suppressed with a brief thought that flits toward Elvis and his untimely death on the toilet, or his dear old classmate Perry who took off just because life got a bit too heavy. Coward. It was completely inappropriate. You really shouldn’t let those types of things bother you. Most of Zig’s relationships have been futile, but that’s not for the lack of trying. Or maybe, it’s precisely that. He puts effort into what’s worth it, and why should he be vilified for it? He doesn’t blame his partners when they eventually become complacent or needy, but he has no intention of sticking around when they do. Maybe it’s an inherent belief that people are stronger as individuals, but relationships aren’t like organ donations. He didn’t sign up to let someone else cradle his heart, he’s not here to build people up, even if he’s the one that tore them down. At it’s core, it’s a romantic notion, really, to let love do all the work, compromise barely mentioned in the Lehmann guide to relationships. He can’t tell if Jenny’s different, whether their arguments come from genuine care or his penchant for what he’d deem as emotionally-charged debates. And if so, he hasn’t tired of winning them yet. Face it, you peaked in high school. Still sore you never got asked to senior prom? To most, Zig grew up to be a fine, young man. A firm head on his shoulders and kind too, a man of the community first and foremost. He wants to be revered, he wants crowds at his funeral and enough tears to make flowers bloom. And though he’d like to believe it’s not a persona, it does take effort. And for a small handful of people in his graduating high school class, it’s transparent. While it should bring frustration, a mark of failure indicating that his crafted presentation of self is not infallible, it instead brings a trickle of relief. Around these people, Joe and Mike, Perry, hell even Mandy, there’s a certain liberation to say what’s on his mind, even if it’s blunt, even if it hurts. He skips the pleasantries with this lot, but is secretly grateful for the rapport he has with all of them. He’s also a pretty stark atheist, and they’re the only people who have the privilege of hearing how God’s nothing more than a weak coping mechanism. To everyone else, he stays silent on the matter but thank god for baby blue eyes that make him look like he’s interested in attending a Sunday sermon on loving thy neighbour without every having to say so.