#i watched my body contort and twist to fix itself

[starsambrosia]

Ouch oof ouch ouch ow that immortality really do be making being alive literal hell tehe heho

My mind feels like it's splitting open my chest feels like it's shattering and yes folks this is physical ailments haha not even spiritual this time tehe

Gods look at these cutie fishes tho

[entername322]

Imprisoned

Irene(Red Velvet) x Male Reader

Length: 6765 words

Previous part

Irene watched your body slumped down. Immediately her deranged episode stopped leaving some space in her heart for the panic that's about to settle in.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, wake up babe, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up"

The fear is overtaking her, her hand grabbed you by the collar and start shaking your body.

A few moments later she heard your body whimpering breath and a wave of relief washes over her.

"No, you should've told me, you should've told me that A BITCH is in my own peers. I'm sorry babe, I'm sorry"

Tears starts running down her face as she hugged your fragile body.

"I will fix this, you will never cheat again babe, I won't let it happens, you're mine, you're mine and mine alone"

After a few minutes of crying she got up and pull out a handcuff from one of her nightstand.

She locked one of your hand to the bedframe. She ran to the kitchen and grab some water and put it in the table next to you.

"I'll be back babe, just wait here okay, I will fix this"

The gentleness in her voice can only be described as unnerving remembering how she almost kill you earlier.

"You're mine babe, and I won't let anybody take you away from"

Then she ran off the room, leaving you in the empty apartment.

You woke up not long after that, your head is blaring with pain and panic.

As you tried to get up you felt a resistance from your right hand. Opening your eyes you see the handcuff on you.

The fear and terror came rushing in as you remember what happened.

"Fuck"

You feel your body starts to sweat, looking around you didn't find your phone, only yous scattered outfits from the night before.

After dancing around with the devil for awhile you forgot that the devil is a devil for a reason.

Thinking you find a way to tame her. Ha, lay these foolish ambitions to rest.

You were never in control, she have you, she owns you, and if you keep acting up, god knows what she's gonna do to you.

Run, that's the first thing that come to your mind. From the room, from the apartment, from Korea.

Then your logic came in and tell you that she knows where your family live, she knows everything about you, and running, will only make things worst.

You hate your logic.

Despite your fear you still, care for her.

What a twisted love, perharps she is right, you two belong together.

You sat there silently with nothing but your fear and anxiety.

You hear your heartbeat, the clock ticking, the AC, it all made time move so slowly.

Then you heard the front door opened followed by the sounds of footsteps.

You instinctively try to call out for Irene. Yet the sound stuck in your throat, some because your throat felt painful, you can't say anything. Some because you're scared to meet her.

Then the footsteps got close, you feel your body shivering. Every step is a booming roar that made your body want to crumple out in itself.

Then the door opened, and you feel your heart stop.

There she is, Irene, watching over you with worried expression.

For a moment none of you moved, then she ran to you.

"Babe, I'm sorry"

You felt her body crashes on to you.

The weight of her body pushed you down making your hand pull on the cold hard steel of your handcuff.

The pain is severe, but you didn't say anything.

You just sit there, watching her rub her face all over your chest.

"Baby, you're not hurt right? Say something"

You saw her raised her face, her eyes is empty and cold. Her fingers felt like a block of eyes as it touches your skin.

"It's okay baby, I'm here now, nobody else gonna hurt you, nobody will seduce you and take you away from me ever again. Everything will be okay"

Everything will not be okay, your mind races trying to find out what she did while you were out.

"Say something babe"

Her face contorted for a little to show that she will not take your silence any more.

You opened your mouth but then your throat failed to make up words and you just cough.

"Oh my god, I'm sor sorry, here, drink this babe"

She took a glass of water, you think it's water, from the nightstand and try to feed it to you.

Meekly you oepned her mouth as she pour it to your mouth.

"There, better?"

She smiles, her mouth does, her eyes is still empty and cold.

You shake your hand and using your free hand you scratched your neck.

"Oh my god, wait here, I will get some tea for you okay"

Seeing her about to leave again you grabbed her hand.

She looked back at you, you pointed at the handcuff you have.

"No, you need to rest here, and I'm not letting you off again mister, you will stay here as your punishment"

She tried to leave again but you are desperate to get out of the bed.

The eternity of waiting before has made you feel scared of being left off alone there again.

"No, you're being punished, stay"

You flinched hearing her scold you. Yet you grab her wrist and pulled it closer.

You caressed it and point at the handcuff that your other hand rattle.

"What?"

Her eyes look at you with a little more gentleness.

You point at the cuff that's locked to the bedframe before pointing at her hand.

"Awwww, you must've been bored right? Okay you can come with me then"

She took out a key from her pocket before uncuffing the bedframe and cuff you to her hand.

"Mwah, this feels better, we belong together, come on, let's make some tea"

You followed her outside, looking at the clock next to the bed you realized you waited there for almost 3 hour.

You follows her every move as she prepare a honey tea for you.

"It's okay babe, everything gonna be okay"

It's a chant, she keeps chanting it to you trying to make you feel relaxed.

As you wait for the water to boil she sat you down at the dinner table and sit on you.

"I've missed you babe. It must've been very boring there right?"

You just nodded.

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier okay babe? I really do, but you can't hide those things from me, you have to tell me if you think one of your ex is around okay?"

You nod again.

"Good, I love you"

You immediately kissed her. She let out a happy squeal as she made out with you.

Oh boy, you're into her, somehow all the fear you had just washes away. You're happy she's back, and that she's no longer mad.

"I love you babe, come on the water is boiled already"

After she finished pouring the tea the tow of you cuddle up in the couch.

Playing around with her hair you see her empty eyes slowly turned back to normal.

By lunch you two were already back to the physically intimate couple like before.

"Can you speak now?"

"It's a little painful"

"Awwww, I'm sorry okay babe"

"It's, fine"

For some odd reason she doesn't want to go out for lunch with you, it's weird huh.

The takeout was fine, it was meh compared to the food she used to bring you to.

"So, when you were resting earlier, I decided to check out some house for us to get"

There is still some sense of self preservation in your head that screams desperately for you to wake up.

"I, told you yesterday"

She shake her head indignantly.

"That was yesterday, after what you said this morning I'm not taking ANY more chances, no bitch will take you away from me ever again"

"But, I have to pay for it"

"Ssshhhh, if you really want to pay for it then, make me songs. There's this one house that is just perfect for us. It have a gym, a sauna, a pool with a jacuzzi, it even have two bedroom next to eachother that we can turn into a music studio. You'll live it, I already put in my request, I'm sure they will come back to me anytime"

Reluctantly you nod making her let out a happy squeal.

"Shower"

You groaned.

"Heheheh, okay, let's take it together"

There was too much words to convince her not too so you decide to just let it off.

Thankfully she realised that both of you need to take off the handcuff so the restricting feeling in your hand was gone for awhile.

"Hmmm, I love you"

She hugged you before pushing you inside.

The hot water from the shower washes over both of your body.

"Wash my back babe"

Irene turned around to show you her back. An alluring view your weak mind is to vulnerable to.

Running your finger through her spine you see her body shuddered.

"Are you still not tired from last night babe?"

She whimpered, you grabbed her tits from behind while your other hand wrapped around her to her vagina.

"Hmmmm, baby"

Your mouth start to kiss her neck, your right hand is massaging her tits and your left hand is rubbing her pussy.

"Ahhhhh, there baby, do it again"

"Fuck, bite it harder"

"That's it, pinch my nipple agai- aghhhhh"

Your timidness is all gone, leaving nothing but your hunger and lust.

Without hesitation you plunged your cock into her pussy.

"Baby, yeah, fuck me, fuck me harder. Your dick is mine, it belongs to me and only me"

You pushed her to the glass wall as you start pounding her from behind.

"Baby, mark me, fill me up again, use me"

You are so fucked, you can't escape her, she have got you fully wrapped around her fingers.

Since you're still tired for last night you didn't last long before you cum inside her yet again.

Irene is so used to cumming with you that the moment your cock start throbbing her orgasm would follow suit.

"Haaa, Haaa, let's, get cleaned"

Your rough voice seems to be a new link for Irene. You should be careful, she might start choking you out again to bring it out.

"So, I've send the request to transfer you under me okay? Tomorrow we are going to meet my boss and we will tell them about our dating situation"

You honestly don't care about them anymore.

"Hey, are paying attention"

No, but you can't say that without angering her.

"They're not important right? You're not asking for permission, just reporting to them about what you want to do"

The answer pleased her as she kissed your cheek.

"I, want to rest babe, my tank is empty"

The night went by quietly, nothing to note off. It was the calm before the storm.

The storm, was getting ganged up by 4 girls trying to pester you with questions.

"Enough, you're scaring him, and don't touch him"

Thankfully your girlfriend scare her member off by holding on to you tightly.

"Hehehehe, I told you they are dating"

"You only said that because you find out before us"

"Hey I told you that the rumour might be true before I even know about it"

"That's right, unnie was super suspicious when we first do the trainee check up the first time"

"Right? And she went to the bathroom not long after him. Once she got back she was smiling like a kid"

"You didn't take picture of it?"

"I don't have time"

"Come on guys, we need to band up together"

"Right, so, blue?"

The four girls turned to you making you a bit nervous.

"Yeah, blue is fine"

"Right, so who comes on to who?"

You glanced at Irene who's holding your arm like her life depends on it. She's glaring at her member who doesn't seems to mind.

"Well, Noona asked for my number first"

The four of them gasped and turn to Irene.

"Unnie, you're so brazen"

"Yeah, what the hell, you always said you hate exchanging number with stranger"

"You hate men too"

"Do you guys know eachother before that?"

Seulgi turned everyone attention back to you.

"No"

The four of them look at Irene bewildered again.

"Are you..... Who are you?"

Wendy said to Irene who just keep her calm expression.

"Wait what did she say to get your number?"

"Well, she said she's sorry for not giving me any comment earlier. I said it's fine, she asked if it's okay then for her to watch me again to help guide me. I..... Really thought she meant the trainee in general. I say yes, and she asked for my number"

"Unnie has actually a good flirting skill?"

"That's unbelievable, unnie, why did you do it?"

Irene just raised her face without saying anything.

"She took you out to a dinner after that?"

"Not exactly, she forced me to workout early at the company gym. After that she will have breakfast with me, she would just talk about her days from before. It goes for a we-"

Wendy suddenly interrupt you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, unnie tell you about her days?"

You nodded while Irene is hugging you tighter.

"Unnie, who are you"

"He answered your question already, now let us go, we have an appointment to attend"

All four of the blocked the exit making Irene grunt.

"What happened next, when did you start going out?"

You looked at Irene who nodded at you.

"Well, I think it was after a week plus of that new morning schedule. I didn't had money to eat and I also want to focus on practice and skipped lunch. Irene, kinda find out and dragged me out to get lunch"

"Wait, how do you know unnie?"

"I have my ways"

"Noona kinda stalks me really"

"Unnie"

The girls stare at Irene with disbelief while Irene just blush and glared at you.

"Waahhhhh, unnie is stalking someone"

"Unnie always do a background check for all the guy I hook him up with. Of course she's gonna stalk the one she likes"

"I'm not stalking"

"You were a bit of a stalker babe"

"No I'm not"

Irene looked back at you with a blush making her look so cute. She definitely won't try to kill you when she get jealous.

"How did unnie ask you out?"

"Well, I was a bit pissed, I don't like, well I just don't like it when people pay for me. It make me feel pitied. She then asked if that's what I think she's feeling, I said yes because I don't really have much selling points. She said she like me, I was like okay, thanks. Then she clarified that she likes me, romantically.

"I guess my brain just short circuited from there. She said she want me to go out with her, and from now on I'm her boyfriend. I just say yes"

"That's not unnie, you're can't convince me that is unnie's doing"

"Enough, we have to go, let's go babe"

Irene used one hand to hold you while the other is pushing her member away so none of them get to touch me.

Once we escaped the lion's nest we walk to the crocodile den, a meeting with a bunch of higher ups.

You feel, small, and weak. There's 15, that's right, 15 people sitting around a U shaped table making it feel like you were in a trial.

Irene confidently walked in with you in her arm.

"Let's just get this meeting over with, I want him under my wing and I want it now"

"Welcome you two, please have a seat"

You sit, you gaze to nothingness and just sit there while Irene is arguing with the people there.

It took around an hour until they finally relented. Irene happily parade you all the way to the car.

"I'm so happy, we will be together from now on babe"

You're happy too, right?

"Me too babe"

Well you sound kinda forced although it's not entirely clear was it because your throat is still hurting or because you're not as happy as you should've.

"Let me kiss you"

She tried to grab your head but you back away.

"We're in an elevator babe, wait until we got back in the car"

An ugly frown creept up on her face.

"Once get back I'll kiss you however long you want"

She nodded but the frown doesn't leave her face.

At the basement, the elevator door opened. The people who's waiting for it are, Aespa.

You see Aeri there stare at you shocked, you felt your hand almost break from Irene's grip, you feel your heart jumping out of your chest.

"Good mor-"

Karina tried to greet you and Irene but Irene already dragged you away leaving the 4 girls bewildered by her antics.

"Baby calm down"

"Calm down? Did you see how she sees you? She was trying to win you back. That fucking VULTURE SON OF A BITCH"

Thankfully the car is somewhat soundproof so her roars doesn't echoes throughout the basement.

"Baby calm down, don't you trust me? I will never leave you right? Even if she tried I will reject her"

"She will try to put her filthy fucking hands on you and I won't allow that. Oh baby you're mine, every inch of your body is mine, I won't let her touch a single strand of hair from you"

Her eyes turned cold and empty again. You need to fix this quick.

"We won't see her again, we'll be living together from now on right? I won't need to come here so we will never crosspaths again"

It's somewhat working, her anger doesn't subside but at least it doesn't raise.

"We'll be together okay, you want me to never cheat, and I promise you, I will never think about any other girls again. So can you please do the same for me babe?"

Satisfied she nodded and grab your head.

Your make out session doesn't last long as a car drove past yours making the reluctant Irene let you go.

"Should we, check out the house?"

"You know me so well babe"

The house is nice, secluded in a gated community, a very big house with spacious interior and backyard.

The first thing you want to check was the basement, which thankfully doesn't exist. You wouldn't want a stranger living there, or, being chained there by an angry Irene.

"You love it?"

Irene hugged you.

"Yeah, this place is nice"

"Good because they contacted me back, we got the house"

Irene jumped towards you for a hug.

As you two are celebrating you felt your phone buzzed.

"Who's that"

Irene looked at you angrily, cautiously you pulled out your phone and check the caller. Thankfully it was just your mom.

"I need to answer this"

"Put it on speaker, I promise I won't say anything"

Despite her begging frown expression you know it's not really an option to say no.

"Hello mom?"

"What did you do? Your father just got a call that you're dropping off the trainee program"

"Oh yeah, about that mom, I kinda got a better offer"

"I thought you wanted to be an idol"

"No, I mean, yeah, kinda? But a few days ago I got a test, which I performed a song that I made for my girlfirend-"

"You have a girlfriend already? Don't tell me I'm becoming a grandma soon"

"No, not any time soon. Let me just finish my story mom, so I performed it, in front of a bunch of idols. They like it, and they said I have a potential in being a producer. So I'm training to be one, I can still make music, I got paid enough, and I can work from home"

"Hmmmm, are you getting scammed again?"

"What? No"

"Me and your dad is coming to Korea this weekend sweetie so you better give me a through explanation"

"I..... Okay, I'll see you here mom, love you"

"Love you too sweetie, don't lose your money from gambling while you're there"

That's your mom, always so vocal about your weaknesses and stupidity.

"My mom is coming here"

Irene looked panicked, she walked around the room nervously.

"Baby, relax, things will be okay, mom and dad would love to meet you"

"You think so"

Irene mind is filled with countless anxious thoughts.

What if they don't like me? Will they take babe away from my? Will they cause problem? Will babe choose them over me? Is babe gonna be made if I cut them off from his life?

Slowly her anxiety descend into sinister idea.

She can't have your relationship ruined again by other people. She will hold you, and she will never let you go.

Knowing Irene for sometime you know Irene is slowly going insane with her paranoia.

You grabbed her by the shoulder.

Woken up by your touch her crazed eyes look on to yours.

You flinched for a moment before having determination fill your face again.

"They will love okay? Trust me on this, and even if they don't, it won't change a thing. Nothing will change this, us"

The cracking sound of Irene's insanity is almost audible for both of you.

Once again she is reminded of the warmth your body has always gave off.

The warmth she has grown accustomed to somehow become intoxicating once again.

You're right, they won't change a thing between you and Irene. She understands that now.

"Okay baby"

A sense of relief has was washed over you. For now, you finally gain the control of her.

"Come on babe, let's go home. You must be tired from the meeting earlier"

Irene hugged you and ribbed her face all over your chest.

"Yeah, I want to cuddle again"

Saturday has rolled around, you and Irene drive to the airport to pick up your parents.

Due to the nature of an airport you know Irene won't be able to walk around without being spotted.

Much to her dismay you suggested for her to wait in the car.

To gain her permission you let her leave a hickey on your neck, noticeable for anyone with a functioning eyes in a 10 meter radius.

The longer you waits for your parents the more anxious you become. Mostly because you know how anxious Irene would be the longer you waited.

The moment you saw your parent walked out of the customs with their bag you ran to them.

"Sweetie? What are you doing here?"

"I want to pick you up"

"We can get to your place with a taxi sweetie"

"That's the thing, I'm not in my old place, come on, my girlfriend is waiting"

You picked up the suitcase your father is bringing.

"Your girlfriend? Where?"

Your dad looked around.

"She's in the car, it's complicated, you'll understand when you meet her"

Your parent looked at eachother before following you.

"Did you do anything stupid until you got riddles by bitemark from her?"

The blush on your face doesn't match with your green jacket unfortunately.

"She's, a bit aggressive"

"Is she rich?"

"Dad"

"Come on your mom and I is not stupid, did you seduce a sugar mommy and got a job as her personal musician or something?"

If only you inherited your parents intelligence, you might be able to evade Irene.

"It's, I love her okay?"

"Sweetie, as much as we love you, we know you're pretty stupid"

"MOM"

"She's right, you came to Korea just to follow your ex"

"Okay, first if all DO NOT mentioned that to her"

"Okay, but if we don't like her then we're pulling you up"

Prayers, that's all you have in your mind, you pray so that Irene didn't fuck up the dinner.

"There she is"

The moment you walk to the parking lot you see Irene drove to you.

You quickly opened the trunk and drop your parent's suitcase.

They waited till you finish before getting in the car with you.

"Mom, dad, this is Irene, my girlfriend"

Irene grabbed your hand nervously before turning around and greeted your parent.

"Do I know you, your face seems familiar"

"It does, ohhhhh, I know, she's that girl on the poster our son hang around his room"

Irene stupefied expression turns to you.

"You have posters of me?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal"

Your blush crept up to your face again, Irene watched your sudden embarrassment in satisfaction.

"You're right darling, he have like 10 poster of her scattered around his room"

"Dad, go introduce yourself"

Irene was smiling proudly at you.

"Of course, nice to meet you Irene, we're this rascal's parents. We do want to know how this thing came to be"

The ride was silent, Irene constantly grabbing your hand anytime she could.

You can feel your parent is watching her move, and you know she realised that.

Of course Irene doesn't care, she wants you.

Once you all get to Irene's place you went to heat up the food you've prepared from before.

"So Irene, how did you two meet?"

You really want to stay there with Irene as your parent interviewed her.

Unfortunately you have to tend the mash potatoes.

You don't really want to stay there do you?

"Alright, dinners ready"

Bringing out the food you then sir next to Irene before the 4 of you have a nice dinner.

"This is a nice place Irene, you have a good taste"

"Oh, thank you mom"

Seeing your dumbfounded expression your mom laughed at you.

"Come on baby, she's your girlfriend, I don't need formalities with her"

The fear in your heart is slowly being lifted.

Gazing into Irene's loving eyes, you can't help but to crack a smile.

Irene has been elated and joyful after having some talk with your parents.

They are pleasant and seems very supportive of your relationship with her.

The last few nights she has been restless in her sleep and would woke up early crying.

You have to keep reassuring you that your parent would love her.

Of course, you would never expected them to be this...... Accepting?

After finishing out the food Irene bring out a bottle of wine the four of you enjoys.

"So, are you two moving in together?"

"Dad come on"

"Of course, we are preparing his things from his old apartment before moving it"

"Oh this place is such a nice apartment, to live in"

"Thank you mom, but I think we're moving out soon"

"Really?"

"Yeah, we're getting a house"

Irene grabbed your hand triumphantly announcing your future plans.

"Oh, that's great sweetie, you should get married while at it"

"MOM"

"Your mom is right sweetie, might as well at this point"

"Mom, dad, can I talk to you for a second"

Irene is displeased by your actions. However she will act polite for now. Do expect some scolding after your parents go to sleep.

Your parent followed you to the kitchen leaving Irene sipping on her wine alone.

"Alright, what are you two doing?"

"What are we doing? We're just showing our support for you and your girlfirend"

"Come on you never liked any of my girlfriend"

"We like this one"

"Because she's rich"

"Correct"

"Dad!!!"

"What your father means, is that because she's a beautiful rich lady who seems to be very into you"

"And that is enough to get your blessing?"

"She seems nice, and she loves you, and on top of that she's rich. Unlike normal rich people she has a social presence and public image to keep. So if things goes bad with you, nothing bad would happens. She seems smart so she won't ruin her public image just because you two had a fall out"

"Of course sweetie that only stand as long as you're not being an idiot"

Obviously, your parent doesn't know another side of Irene that you're familiar with.

"Okay, so what you want me to marry her and take her money?"

"Do you not love her"

"More than anything in the world so if you want me to marry her so you two can get her money then I will be mad"

"We don't need your girlfriend money sweetie. Your mom and I is old, we are happily living our retirement with your siblings money. We just want what's best for you"

"You really think I can't amount to anything in life beside being a sugar baby?"

"We say you're not getting any easier path in life beside this"

"Come on, working at home, your beautiful rich girlfriend will be taking care of you while you busy making music all day?"

"Fine, but if you ask for any money"

"We won't, in fact, take this"

Your mom pulled out something out of her purse, a little box. Opening it you see, a wedding ring.

"Mom what the fuck"

"Come on you won't have enough money to buy one"

"That's insulting"

"Yet it's true"

"I hate you two"

"Take it sweetie, it's from my mom, now I'm giving it to you"

You stare at it before pocketing it.

"You're just walking around with grandma's wedding ring?"

"No, we had a potential buyer here in Korea"

The whole situation is overwhelming your brain. You massaged your nose bridge while trying to digest it.

"Okay, let's go back, don't say anything about this"

They nodded before walking back with you.

"I'm sorry Irene, we are a little jet lagged, do you mind if we lay down for a moment?"

Your dad immediately excused themselves.

"Of course, follow me"

Irene wrapped one arm around yours and lead your parents to their bedroom while you bring the suitcase.

Then she immediately dragged you to your bedroom.

"I do not appreciate your behaviour today mister"

The anxiety she had from leaving you in the airport is welling up again.

Did he see a beautiful girl while waiting for his parents? He's having second guesses about me didn't he? I know it, I know some bitches gonna seduce him away from me. I shouldn't have-

Her train of thought was interrupted by your kiss.

It calm her down, she can feel your sincerity in it making her let go of her possessiveness.

Once you pulled back she was left with nothing but annoyance.

"That's not an answer"

"You didn't ask anything"

"I'm asking now then, your parents is happy to support us so why aren't you?'

"I am, I am very happy for us, I'm just not happy with their support"

"Why? You said they'll love me"

"Love you, not helplessly in love till they want to offer you their son"

"They're not offering anything, they just want us to thrive together"

"Okay baby, I'm just shocked seeing them so happy about us. They've been very, worry that I might get someone here in Korea and have been lectu-....... Of course I won't do it"

Realising your mistake you immediately grab her again.

"Baby, I swear to god, if you even think about doing that, I will-"

"I know baby, I know, I want to tell you my parent is paranoid usually okay? But you managed to break it"

Unsatisfactory answer, but it's passable for now.

"Fine, now get on the bed, it's cuddling time"

With your parents blessing Irene happily moved in to the house with you the moment she got it.

The first few months was a bit hectic.

Irene is unhappy that she can't stay at home all day because there's contractor around the house renovating the two empty bedroom to a recording studio.

Things got easier after that, Irene would go and do her job, you would stay at home. Cooking, cleaning, writing music.

Your dad is right, being a househusband is very nice.

You would come up with a song here and there and she would blast it around the house.

The, producer in training is such a vague term for your job.

You gave them a full album demo on your first month and then went off communication for 4 then come back with a few more songs.

This, happens because Irene doesn't want anyone to sing the song you made.

Eventually they just relegate you to be the Red Velvet song producer.

You never met any of them more than once a month, but that's enough for them to put trust in you to make albums for their group and solo activities.

Live is good, unknowingly a year past, with no hitch in your relationship.

"Babe, I'm home"

Irene's voice was echoing around the house as you are preparing dinner with her.

"Welcome home back, how's your-"

She rushed after you before you finished your question.

"It was so boring, I had to wait for so long on the photoshoot because another group before us was taking too long......"

The kitchen is filled with the smell of cream soup.

The temperature is chilly since it's winter but the kitchen and Irene's arm is warm enough to make it comfortable for you.

Irene coming home and whining about her day while sniffing and cuddling to you has become a normal occurrence for you.

Yet today, today is different, today, you realised, you're home.

This is your home, and you love it.

"Babe? Are you okay?"

Irene saw you dazing off and immediately check if anything is wrong.

"No, I was just thinking, about my trainee day"

"Why?"

"I don't know, some nostalgia I suppose"

The ring your mom gave you has never leaves your side so that Irene would never found it.

Today, you found the resolution to use it.

"You're free tomorrow right babe?"

You hear Irene purr as you caressed her hair.

"Yeah, we're spending the whole day together"

"Can we go to my training room, my old training room, I want to have some nostalgic trip"

She frowned hearing it.

"I want to cuddle with you the whole day"

"It won't take more than an hour"

"Let's go now"

Shit are you ready to use it now?

"Really?"

"Yes, the place is empty already at this hour and we can check it"

"Do you want to get dinner first?"

"We can do it later"

Your hand can't stop fidgeting during the drive.

Every step you take towards the practice room send flashes of your relationship with Irene.

All her anger, all her paranoia, jealousy, possessiveness, obsession.

Also, all her cute demanour, her caring and loving attitude, her insatiable lust.

It all swirl around your head, yet once you stepped back to your old training room, it all disappeared.

Silence filled the room, you slowly walked to the middle of the room.

You remember when you first got there for your first day.

You remember when your friend dislocated his shoulder while messing around.

You remember the scolding you get for your dance.

You remember the faithful encounter you had with Irene and her member.

You remember the time she dragged you to the lunch.

You remember the performance you had for her.

How the crowded room felt empty.

How everyone just magically disappeared.

How lovely her face was.

How she desperately held her tears from bursting out.

How she desperately stop herself from jumping to your arm.

How you wanted nothing else but do the same thing she wanted.

How prideful and happy you were to surprise her.

The memory blended in with the moment.

Now the room is actually empty.

Now there is no one that would stop you two from embracing eachother.

Now, is the time.

You tried to get closer, you really do, but every step feels so heavy.

Before you get to close your distance with her, she leaped in and do it for you.

"You look so emotional babe, did something happened?"

Her hand caressed your cheek and her voice tickling your ear sending warmth and reassurance, you can do it.

"Remember when we first meet, how nervous I was"

"How could I forget"

"Remember how you were checking me out like a creep that you are"

"I'm sorry, I remember you were checking me out and got caught multiple time by me"

"Oh right, as if you didn't check me out while I'm not watching"

"No evidence so therefore it never happens"

"Remember that time when you dragged me out to take me out on a lunch where you just take me to be your boyfriend?"

"You were do stupid there"

"I'm not, then you remember the last time we were here? When I lied to you and sing you a song I made"

"You were so hot, I would've jumped you and fuck you right there and then"

"I would do it too, because I love you"

"And I love you too babe"

"Now and forever"

"Now and forever"

"Good, because Irene, I could never think about living my life with anybody else but you"

"Babe?"

"And I don't even want to think a life without you in it"

You see Irene picked up your intention.

One of her arm closed her mouth trying to hide her cries as her eyes start tearing up.

"Through all those anger and paranoia that you have, I would still stay with you"

"You with all your perfect imperfection"

"You with all your beauty and elegance"

"You with all your childish needy behaviour"

"You with all your loving and caring attitude"

"You, with all of, you"

"I am just me, a boring uneventful guy who got lucky and get you"

"And I thank the world for letting us happens"

"I thank you, Irene, the most beautiful woman in the world, for accepting me"

Her tears is running down her cheeks looking down to her feet.

She dropped her hand and grabbed yours as you kneeled down on one leg.

Pulling out the ring your mother gave you Irene let out a muffled cries.

You opened the box showing her the ring.

"Irene, will you marry me" "YESSSS"

She screamed almost the exact second you asked the question.

Before you stood up to put on the ring she jumped towards you.

Both of you tumble to the ground.

Cries was echoing around the room as both of you embraced eachother.

For a few minutes none of you want to let go.

Even when the cries subsided you still happily hugged eachother.

Then slowly Irene loosened up her hug and sit up on your lap.

You followed her and bring the ring out.

The smile you've seen everyday looks so tender yet so brilliant with a newfound light.

Slipping in the ring both of you take a moment to admire it.

She dropped her hand, you took the opportunity to grab her by the cheek and get yourself lost in the kiss.

Every cell in Irene body is screaming with joy feeling the cold sensation of the metal around her ring finger.

The cold feeling somehow got amplified a thousand time by the warmth your body and kiss is giving her.

You both were lost in the kiss, drifting off into space, for a moment you are one, your soul intertwined with eachother so much that gods would think it was just one soul, one very big and loving soul.

Then you both were pulled down from nirvana by the desperate scream of your lung.

You both catching your breath while looking down to her finger.

Then your gaze locked and you both start laughing.

""I love you""

Both of you said at the same time before giggling again.

"I like the ring"

"Mom gave it too me"

"It's more beautiful since I wear it from you"

"It's a nice accessory for your face"

The two of you got lost in the moment, in eachother, in the dreams of the future.

"Let's go home"

"Cuddle while eating on the couch?"

"You said you hate cleaning the couch"

"I can clean it tomorrow"

"Then I won't be able to cuddle you the whole day tomorrow"

"Then the day after"

"Okay, let's go home"

This is your life now. You've embrace it, and so does she. You two are inseparable.

Smiles plaster all over you and Irene's face, leaving the practice room one last time, walking towards your future together, forever.

[captain-mj]

Fruit and Cinnamon

Reread it while sober instead of high and fucking hated it, rewrote the whole thing sober, still not that happy with it, but hope you guys like this version better <3

Ghost stalked through silently the bar silently. His footsteps are quiet, but there was the faint sound of tinkling as his weapons bumped against each other. A soft sigh came from his mouth as he looked at all of the dead bodies. 

What a tragedy. 

Their bodies had been shredded. Not a single body had more than two limbs attached. Many looked like simple chunks of meat rather than an actual person. 

He stepped over them and continued on to look around. 

A radio was playing. Some heavy metal that he didn’t recognize. 

Out of the shadows, twisting and turning, body contorting in ways that would drive a human to madness, a woman emerged. She was wrapped in draping fabrics with blood dripping down it. Blood pulled around her. 

“Hello, Ghost.”

“Hello, Farah.” He responded, smiling. “How are you?”

There was a fire in her eyes. Literally. Slowly, it died back down and she looked very human. “You might want to change. Metal armor fell out of place about two hundreds years ago.”

Ghost frowned at her. “Seriously? You not suggesting the fabric you’re wearing…”

“Cotton t-shirt and cargo pants. The military uses them and they have many pockets!” Farah showed Ghost who found them… inadequate. Not the pockets. Pockets were fine. The fabric itself seemed inefficient. 

“What if a human gets stabbed on the battlefield?”

‘Weapons have changed. But we shall discuss it later. Alex plans to follow soon.” She stepped forward, leaving bloody footprints. “Need help?”

“No, I think I’ll stay in my ar-” 

Farah waved her hand and the clothes rippled and rolled into something more like what Farah herself was wearing. Ghost immediately felt displeased as he added a mask to it. “You’re welcome.” She called as she looked back, smiling. 

Ghost scoffed and stepped away from her to continue to investigate the bar. “What did the men do to make you so angry?”

Farah sighed. “The normal sins of human men.”

Ghost wasn’t sure what exactly they did, but he knew enough to know they deserved it. He touched the radio, recognizing the vague functions of it. “This is new.” 

Ghost hummed softly and closed his eyes to continue listening to the sound. It wasn’t his favorite, too chaotic sounding. Reminded him just a little too much of hell. 

He turned it off and looked at all the puddles of blood. Broken and destroyed bodies. 

One of them had a jacket on it with several patches. Ghost quickly ripped it off his body, ignoring when his arms detached and he had to pull them out. His new jacket was lovely. He stretched until his new human form popped and a shiver ran through him. 

Farah watched him as she fixed a drink. “Do you still only drink bourbon?”

“Scotch still tastes like dog piss.” Ghost caught the drink as she slid it over and lifted his mask to drink it. He rolled his shoulders. “Draw much attention to yourself?”

“Not that I could see. You?”

Ghost shook his head. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to be out of Hell.” Farah commented. “Was so tired of the constant torture and the screaming and the blood. I mean it was good fun but the routine gets so boring.”

Ghost nodded in agreement and downed the rest of the shot. “Think I could get another drink?” He tilted his glass to show that it was empty. 

Farah laughed and teased him as she pretended to bartend, wiping the counter. “For my favorite customer? Yeah, sure.” She fixed him another drink. “I’m tired. Planning to find myself a place to sleep for a while. Then blend in. Go out and see things. Dance. Feel the sun. You?”

Ghost swirled his drink before downing it. “Fruit. Specifically a fig.”

“That’s it?” Farah smiled. “What about pleasures of the flesh? I remember you complaining quite a bit a decade ago about how hell doesn’t suit your taste.” There was a hint of teasing there. 

Ghost looked into the empty shot glass. “Nah. First, I’m going to eat a fig. Then a shower. Maybe not even in that order.”

“Simple man of simple pleasures I suppose.” Farah smiled. She sighed. “We should probably leave. We stay in the same place too long, trouble will come.”

“Always does. Alex coming around yet?”

“No. Got caught and sent back to the center. I’m planning on helping him along if I can.”

Ghost grinned. “Convince a cult to summon him. They’re easy to manipulate.”

Farah put all of the glasses away. “Not a bad idea. We’ll see where we end up.” She leaned over and put her hand on Ghost’s shoulder, watching him cringe before forcing himself to relax. His eyes flitted about, not meeting hers. “Keep in touch with me. Don’t get lost.”

Ghost nodded and watched her leave silently. He probably should ask questions. Get more information about this new world he found himself in. Instead, he finished off a bottle of bourbon. 

That was an awful idea. This new body he created didn’t exactly have an alcohol tolerance built up yet. 

As he walked around, he realized more and more that this whole body was… rather sensitive. Cold rain stuck to him instead of sliding off his metal armor like he was used to. The fabric on his body clung to him, only making it worse. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this cold. 

It made the hot water feel that much better. It took him a while to figure out how motels worked and rather than deal with the ordeal of booking one, he just broke in to one and disposed of the inhabitants. He stood in the hot water, luckily he understood how indoor plumbing works thanks to hell taking inspiration. The soap felt nice. The smell… delicious. Some form of vanilla. 

Ghost knew not to stay in one place. His very presence brought danger. Despite that, he still slept. The sheets were too inviting. Softness. Decadence. He couldn’t remember the last time fabric felt so nice against his skin. Hell was made of sherpa and rough rocks. 

When he woke up, he knew he had spent too much time there. Both by the way he fell well rested in a way that one could never properly achieve in hell, but also by his guest. 

A strange little scottish man with funny hair. He reminded him a tiny bit of the Vikings he met back in the day, but they wore braids in their hair and this man did not. 

Little mystery man raised his blade and held it out. “I suggest you leave this mortal plane quickly, demon.” 

Ghost felt a little insulted. Here he was, simply lounging in bed. Unknown to him, Johnny thought the bed looked like it had a bed bug infestation. It also clearly had whatever bedding came cheapest.

Ghost stood up, knowing just how imposing he was. This was not a random vessel that he was wearing, but instead the body he crafted himself to feel more comfortable in. He towered over this little human, going to a good 6’4 so he still looked human. His eyes and hands, the only features able to be seen, were all very carefully human. Yes, his nails were painted but for coolness, not for conspicuity. 

“No. Don’t think I will.”

Soap lifted his blade. 

Gazes met. 

Ghost’s eyes widened. Those eyes. 

He’d know those blue eyes anywhere. 

Soap?

Johnny tried to stab him and Ghost quickly stepped back. In his head, the music played. From the Baroque time period. A memory of a dance. 

They danced around each other. Blows going back and forth. 

Ghost hit him hard, watching him stumble in shock. As if he wasn’t prepared for Ghost to fight back. 

Ghost slashed at him. Viciously. How dare this man wear those eyes. 

Soap bared his teeth, both interlocked. Blow for blow. 

“I hope you rot in hell.”

Ghost lunged for him. “I plan on dragging you down there with me.”

Misstep. 

The blade went through him and Soap glimpsed what was behind the fleshy mask. A monster that wanted to devour him whole. 

He looked afraid. 

As Ghost felt himself tear apart, doomed to go straight back to hell to repeat it, he knew what he’d do. 

He’d find this man again and rip his eyes out. 

[ourlordapollo]

I can't shut up about this. I want to talk about it all the time.

I started struggling with back pain over lockdown bc I couldn't go to the gym, so I wasn't working out or stretching literally ever the lack of activity wrought absolute HAVOC on my lower back. It hurt ALL THE TIME.

I learned about fascia during this time so I tried to fix it with self myofascial release (basically where you sort of push on and massage your muscle knots to encourage blood flow and fluid drainage) and it just didn't really work

I'm really wary of taking OTC medication because it's so easy to OD on and I have a family history of kidney issues so I was just kinda... in low level pain all the time? Even after I started working out again, my back still hurt and was constantly in knots.

During this time, I kept researching fascia bc sports medicine is a passion of mine and we're only just starting to understand this collagen network that runs all over the body. A whole tissue network! That we know practically nothing about!

The principle behind myofacsial release is the idea that this collagen can stick to itself if you hold positions too long— say if you're slumped over at a desk for 8 hours a day, then go home and sit on the couch for an additional 4. This supposedly causes the muscles underneath to contract and stay contracted. The prevading belief was that blood flow to the area would be inhibited, impeding that muscle's ability to get rid of cellular waste. Pressing on the knot is supposed to stimulate blood flow and allow the muscle to relax.

I honestly don't know if that science is still considered sound, but I can say with absolute certainty that pressing didn't work for me.

So I read more articles and watched more videos on fascia and I noticed an idea energizing that you need to take your body through its full range of motion as much as possible. Not just stretching and exercising, but twisting and squirming and doing whatever you can to unstick fascia from itself.

So I got my ass on the floor and writhed.

I twisted in every way I could think of, with special focus on contorting my lower back into whatever pretzel shape I could get into.

I haven't had back pain since.

I'm really excited to see what comes out of fascia research in the future and how it can help people be healthier.

[catt-nuevenor]

Hello 😍 , ros reaction to very sick and in pain mc?( you say there's angst so I want a sample if you don't mind of course 😘).

Okay, this is going to be a heavy one, though I shall try to avoid lingering on the symptoms. I'm sure most of you are here for the angst and fluff, not a crash course in Historical Epidemics.

But do take this as your warning, if you have dealt with severe illness recently, experiencing it as patient, or carer, or bystander, please do consider carefully reading through the react. I want everyone to enjoy their time on this blog, not to unnecessarily relive traumas.

I've selected Sweating Sickness as the malady in question. Mostly due to it's prevalence in rural communities, its rapid onset and culmination (you live or you succumb after typically one day of the onset of symptoms), its questioned transmissibility between humans (some modern theories think it was an exterior infection that could not be passed on through contact alone), and it's lack of grotesque symptoms.

So, context: The MC has come down with Sweating Sickness, the RO has been tasked with attending them through the night by Erda. By this stage the RO and MC are a exclusive couple. The Child is being kept away for their own safety.

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P

MC felt so small in their arms. Quivering like the last leaf on the bough, their hands clutched desperately over P's.

"I'm right here." They soothed, holding their bodies together, rocking them both steadily back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere."

 MC whimpered. "Please... please..."

 Burying the agonised expression of their face in the burning skin of MC's shoulder, P tried as best they could to suppress the sob that threatened them.

 "I'm here." They repeated, their voice wavering as a convulsion made the soul in their arms jerk and writhe.

 They called for them. Their voice so fragile, yet so desperate for comfort it tore into P's soul.

 "I'm here. MC, my darling, I'm right here."

 But their darling couldn't hear them. No matter how often they said it, no matter how they might plead, might beg to be heard through the terrible delirium that brutalised them, MC never seemed to hear a word.

 When they started to weep, P could not stem the tide of their own tears.

 It would be over by the morning. In either the best of ways, or the ways in which P could not bear to think of, this horror would be over by sunrise. Erda had wanted to stay with them, but with another four cases of the same terrible malady spread throughout the town, she was forced to leave them in P's care.

The bitterness of the word made them want to vomit.

 Care.

 What care could they provide in the face of this? Nothing they did seemed in any way to help, nothing alleviated their suffering. Their own helplessness disgusted them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 P clutched their quaking frame as close to their own body as they could. Even if MC could hear them, perhaps they could still feel that they were there.

 "You're not alone." They whispered, kissing the sweat slicked skin with pale lips that shook. "I'm here darling, and I'll stay here... until the end."

  L

 L was the wrong person for this.

 They just were.

 No ifs, no buts.

 Anybody, ANYBODY, would have been better than them.

 "Be with them." The old woman had said. "So long as you are there, they won't have to face the worst of it alone."

 Sure, L groaned silently, pressing their tear stained cheeks into their hands. Easy for the top Cunningwoman in the county to say.

 It had been awful.

 The screams still rang in their ears. MC's screams. Those terrible, torn wails that ripped their sound from them. And what had L done? They hid.

 L hid behind fractured smiles and broken promises that it would all be over soon. Just a little more, just a little longer.

 "Just hold on."

 "You just need to get through tonight."

 "It'll all be better tomorrow, just stay with me, okay?"

 They muffled their cry of frustration as best they could, biting into their own palm to suffocate the emotional torment with the physical sting.

 Just!?

 There was no just about it. This wasn't just a sniffle, or just a bit of bad food. This could kill them.

 Is that what Erda meant when she said 'the worst of it'?

 L was there so MC wouldn't be alone when they died?

 "L?"

 The blankets shifted a little as MC shifted in their fractured sleep, curling closer into the warmth of L's stomach, weakly nuzzling at the spot just above their belly button.

 MC had succumbed to the exhaustion of their body a few hours after the delirium had peaked. Collapsing into L, slumping, boneless, and limp until their heavy head came to rest upon their trembling lap.

 Fresh tears scoured their cheeks as MC whimpered softly, tormented by fevered horrors L couldn't protect them from. Gentling their movements, parting their fingers, they tentatively reached down and traced their fingertips over their partner's burning cheek.

 "Please..." They whispered, heart fluttering as MC turned weakly into their touch. There were so many things they wanted to ask, so many things they would readily beg for.

 But MC couldn't hear them. Anything L could say felt pointless when the one person they wanted to hear, was so out of reach.

 Instead, bending low to lightly touch their foreheads together, L only said a single word.

 "Please."

  A

  It was always going to be bad. A knew this. They knew what Sweating Sickness did to people, they knew how it made the sufferer twist and writhe, how it turned the sensation of their own skin into the prickle of a thousand barbed needles, how it either passed or killed the victim in a day.

 All of this and more he'd learnt from Erda's books, page after page of symptoms and remedies, always underlined with the brutal truth that no amount of craft could cure everyone. They should have been ready for this.

 All the theoretical knowledge in the world could never have prepared them for what it was to see MC like this. Erda had offered to tend to them in their place, they could go and support the other families in town laid low.

 No. As much as it shattered his, to watch them at the mercies of a pestilence without pity, A knew they had to stay with MC.

 The first few hours passed as they knew they would, with confusion, pain, and a deep aching weariness which made MC's limbs lead. They settled on the bed, A's arms cradling their lover's body as the waves of crashing chills rolled over them. The discomfort could be eased, the warmth of their embrace could chase away the worst of the cold, and speaking softly, A could still whisper sweetly into MC's ear, keeping the spectres of delirium away.

 There was no comfort to be given when the true onslaught began. A could only hold them, and try to keep their own desperate sobs from choking them. Nothing could have prepared them for their helplessness.

 It lasted for most of the night, until MC's body collapsed in upon itself and they succumbed to a deep yet fitful sleep.

 A watched the rise and fall of their chest desperately, their pulse leaping every time a breath came too slowly, or sped into breathless wheezing gasps. They counted, every time MC whimpered, every time their features contorted into terror, every time they seemed to blindly reach out for the comfort of A's waiting embrace.

 For every terrible suffering, A would find a way to show MC how much they adored them, once they woke, once they were well again.

 It was an utterly foolish thing to promise. Erda would have scolded them. Or perhaps she would smile in sombre understanding.

 A placed their hand over MC's heart, felt the irregular beat pulsing beneath their fingertips.

 "I won't let you die." They whispered. "I promise, I won't let you die."

  K

  K could understand their protests. They knew nothing of sickness. Had the affliction been one that could be nursed, they may have stepped aside to let Erda or A attend MC. It was not. So, K stayed with their efenhlytta.

 It was strange at first. As they watched MC's sanity began to slip. The odd word as they spoke, an erratic flick of their gaze to the empty air beside them. Then their words faltered, sticking to their tongue thickly as MC's hands began to tremble.

 "Sorry." Their efenhlytta gasped when K moved to embrace them. "It's... I can feel..."

 With sharp jerks they stabbed their fingers into the already sweating skin, moving rapidly in attempt to explain the sensation.

 K had no context for the irritation, but they knew pain. Every living creature knew pain.

 MC's skin began to swelter, the heat rising up from a ravenous flame that seemed devoted to their destruction. Perhaps in this one regard K could help where all others could not.

 On a slow outward breath they let the warmth of their own blood ease away, letting the cool tide return in it's wake. The unnatural chill took the bite from the fever, and though MC still lashed out, driven to fight the demons of the fever, they were not made to suffer their terrible fire.

 "I forbid you to die." K said, while their efenhlytta thrashed once again in their supple embrace.

 It was clear MC couldn't hear them, but K wasn't really talking to the part of them that could listen. What they addressed was deeper, behind the consciousness that fronted MC's being.

 "Do you hear me?" They hissed, fixing their ice blue eyes on a single point in seemingly empty air.

 "I forbid you to die."

Extra material:

Just in case folks were interested in historical context, below I’ve linked my source material for a contempary description of the sickness.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/42686/42686-h/42686-h.htm

pg.241 C.Creighton 1891 "A History of Epidemics in Britain"

Dr Forrestier 1485

"...This sickness cometh with a grete swetyng and stynkyng, with rednesse of the face and of all the body, and a contynual thurst, with a grete hete and hedache because of the fumes and venoms.....pricking the brains,... some appear red and yellow, as we have seen many, and in two grete ladies that we saw, the which were sick in all their bodies and they felt grete pricking in their bodies. And some had black spots, as it appeared in our frere (?) Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!”

Modern English Translation:

"This sickness comes with a great sweating and stinking, with redness of the face and of all the body, and a continual thirst, with a great heat and headache because due to the fumes and venoms... with a prickling sensation seeming to come from inside the skull... some appear red and yellow in pallor, we witnessed such in two noble ladies, both of whom were severely sick and who also felt great pricking in their bodies. Some of the infected had black spots across their skin, as it appeared in our fair Alban, a noble leech on whose soul God have mercy!"

[poptod]

Hi! Can I have an enemies to lovers fic between Ahkmenrah and a Nubian Queen, where their territories are at war with each other (as in a war is literally taking place) 😇😇

notes: man, ive been integrating nubia/kush into my ancient egyptian stories for How long now and i havent thought of doing this? damn. anyway i sort of changed the prompt a little cause i didnt want to get too much into the politics between ancient egypt and nubia cause holy fuck was that a hyperobsession of mine for a bit WC: 1.8k

+

This was... unconventional, to put it lightly. You and a Pharaoh inherited a war from your parents – a longlasting conflict between Nubia and Egypt, and having it end up this way was something no one could have prepared for.

You had directed armies yourself; put yourself in battle, ridden hordes of bulls through encampments and foreign soldiers. It was a purposeful tactic to incite fear in those who opposed you, a lesson in the dramatics handed down to you by your father. He always had an eye for showmanship.

Ahkmenrah conducted undercover operations and covert raids and, at times, led his armies into battle. He was renowned for his work with swords and daggers, often using fire to get his way. By lighting your cities aflame, he weakened the power of Nubia, and destroyed precious resources and lives.

Both of you had earned your share of scars, up and down your arms, puncturing your chest and slashing your skin. You personally fought one another on several occasions – the month-long conflict in Semna, the burning of Buhen, the advance on Aswan. Your officers attested to your hatred of the man, and the people of Egypt were well in the know of the Pharaonic family's distaste for Nubians.

"That bastard cut two of my fingers off," you often recounted, and often (and coincidentally) on the same days the Pharaoh would say, "that little shit ruined my perfect skin."

What he meant by this remained, for a good while, unknown to those who heard it. His officers and advisors had asked him several times, but he never gave a straight answer. He kept it a nice secret till it was inevitably discovered to be long, numerous scars ranging all up his back. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, scars had ruined the once smooth skin, a gift from you to him.

How you gave him these scars was also unknown, and continued to be so forever. He never answered how it happened and you never spoke about it.

However, the answer became clear, though not officially confirmed.

You looked off the side of the bed, listless eyes drifting between the different paintings lining the bedroom's walls. Unlike the grandeur of the court room and dining room, the images were not of the Pharaoh, instead displaying the wealth of a happy garden. It was art you had somehow come to miss in your time away from Egypt.

Kisses landed on the back of your neck before hands travelled to your waist, squeezing the supple skin as the kisses grew lower. You attempted to shake the touch off but he was persistent.

"No," you said, squirming in place but not bothering to leave your spot on the bed. "I came here to settle my debt and I should return to that."

"Lie here with me and your debt is settled," he murmured, lips moving against your skin as he spoke.

"That is not even close to –"

"Shhh," he said softly, and his movements continued without pause, searching the body he had gotten to know uncomfortably well.

Unbeknownst to the populace and to many of your officials, the two of you exchanged letters. Nothing of fantastic importance nor hatred, but instead a communication between two people who had no one else to relate to besides each other. Where else would you find a King or Queen embroiled in conflict?

So you related to one another, and the information you relayed in your letters was always thrice-checked, a tactic to keep Ahkmenrah from using anything against you. He did the same with his own letters, which you expected him to.

Your worst enemy and closest friend continued to kiss you as you lay in his bed, his hand wandering lower till he tugged at the hem of your skirt.

"I'm going to kill you one of these days," you said as you rolled over, facing him head-on. As usual, your words were curt, to the point, and spoken in a nearly monotone voice with complete seriousness. As usual, his eyes were glittering with the excitement you often sparked in him, the most bittersweet of smiles always tainting his lips.

"You've tried six times and you've been unsuccessful thus far," he said in a teasing manner, his grin spreading.

"Well then," you said as he moved to hold himself above you, one hand planted on either side of your head as he sat between your legs, "one more try won't hurt."

"Please don't try to kill me while I'm having sex with you," he groaned.

"I don't want undead dick in me, so I thought I'd do it before or after," you said, something he apparently found amusement in.

"If you weren't the one that destroyed my alliance with Punt, I would marry you so hard," he admitted before diving in to kiss you, aligning perfectly with your lips. You tried two times to reply, but you were entirely muted, and eventually you gave in.

You hated him from the moment you met him. Was that still true, though? Did you still hate him, the man who had taken so much from you, gifting it back in the form of a physical love. His actions in the throes of passion did not suffice as an apology, so you assumed yes––you still hated him.

After all was said and done, you didn't dare to linger. Being absent more than a day from your country never boded well, though the journey back would take up the rest of the day, as the sun had risen a short time ago. You dressed yourself and bid a hasty good-bye to the Pharaoh, who asked you to stay longer.

"If I stay any longer I'm going to suffocate you," you said as you adjusted your belt.

"Have you ever stopped to think maybe I want that?" He asked, and in pure confusion you turned to him, your expression contorted. He explained further, "I've heard choking can be very good during sex."

"Shut the fuck up," you sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your reflection. He just chuckled, flopping back down on the bed.

You paused for a moment––stopped dressing yourself, and instead unwillingly turned your attention to Ahkmenrah's reflection in the mirror, his curls a mess as he stared up at the ceiling. The slow rise and fall of his chest did not match the heavy blush on his cheeks. As he turned to lay on his side, you caught sight of his back, and the numerous scratch marks lining up and down it.

"Do they hurt?" You asked softly, and though you didn't realize it at the time, they were the first soft-spoken words you had shared with him.

"Do what hurt?" He asked in return, rolling back over to face you with a curious smile.

"Those marks on your back," you said, though you didn't turn to face him, instead locking eyes with him in the mirror. "I never mean to give you them."

"You don't?" He asked, quirking one of his brows. "I've always thought of them as a memento. I mean they hurt, but... most things you do hurt me."

For as right as he was, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment for your actions. You had done many things to him and around him, and by both of your accounts, none of the things you'd done had helped him in any way. Except the sex, but neither of you thought of that as your own actions. But he was handsome, and he was kind to his people. Despite the mutual hatred between you he always ensured you were alright with what he was doing in bed. It was two different versions of yourselves––the battlefield, and the home. He was a perfect lover and a ruthless King, and you never bothered to be anything but a spiteful ruler on and off the battlefield.

"Put some lavender oil on it," you said, fixing your collar. "It helps get rid of scars.

"We don't have any lavender oil ever since you cut off our trade network," he said flatly.

"Oh," you paused, "right."

You took one more moment to watch him through his reflection before you took a deep breath.

"I have to leave now. Try not to get into any trouble, or start any, before I get home," you said.

"When will I see you next?" He asked, his cheek squished into the mattress.

"Probably when you wake up at midnight with a knife above your head."

He laughed, but before he could properly respond, you left out the door with your veil concealing your identity. So instead he sighed, turning back to the ceiling as the image of you imprinted itself behind his eyelids. He would miss you no matter how hard he tried not to, and he knew this because every time you left him in his bedroom, emptiness replaced the warmth in his chest. Your warmth.

The moment he passed the threshold of his room, however, he fell back into his natural state––the one he held around his palace officials and citizens. The man who burnt down cities. Very rarely did he ever let this facade fall, and in the following weeks he kept up with it, only breaking it for a split second on a humid evening.

Mail had come into his study, full of letters, plans, and maps all addressed to him. Usually he went through them with his advisors and vizier, but tonight was a holy night, and many of them had asked for the day off, which he of course granted.

The last piece of mail wasn't a scroll or a letter, but instead a small package with a note inside. He frowned as he tore open the sealing, curious to see its' contents. Out fell a sturdy glass bottle, followed by a slip of paper, and the bud of a dried flower.

Get a pretty girl and have her use this on you.

Signed, your friend

He twisted the cork off the bottle. The scent inside was strong enough to reach him without him having to bring it to his nose, and instantly he recognized the source.

Lavender.

He grinned, a grin that only grew larger as he thought of what to say in return. In a flash he grabbed his own papyrus and pen, scribbling down a neat response.

Use it on me yourself, coward.

Signed, your love.

A week later the mail came into your home, and for a good while you sorted through it, though what first caught your attention was the insignia Ahkmenrah planted on each of his covert letters. A lotus. You set that aside––it was not as important as other matters, and it could wait until a little later.

When you did open it, however, you went into such a fluster that a blush coated your face for a good three days.

[seancekitsch]

Forgetting: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader Kinktober fic, Part of the Prize Buck series

warnings: deepthroating, kinda toxic no one has good coping skills, toys, overstimulation, talking about drugs and relapsing but not actually doing it

When Klaus gets home, he finds you on the bed with tears in your eyes, surrounded by papers you shouldn't be reading. Vanya had given him the heads up, that your research team (including your ex-fiance) had published. Not just anything, but your research. With your name carefully left out of the list of authors and contributors. This is what Klaus was rushing home for, to prevent and protect you from ever seeing this, or at the very least to be there and comfort you when you first discovered it. He knows this has to hurt. It's your entire career’s worth of work changing the field you love without bringing you along with it. Bringing the people that abandoned you along for the ride. It's everyone that shunned you flying on the wings of your work. And of course he knows your ex-fiance had a hand in it. The way the guy stared you down at the bar the one time Klaus saw him in person was enough for him to tell what kind of person he could be. That had to be another twist of the knife for you. 

He wants to protect you from it. To be some kind of hero, not like when he was a kid, but a real hero. To save you from the hurt and the pain, though he knows sometimes his protection is futile. He only hopes you know he would shield you from all of this and take the brunt of it if he could.You don't look at him, don't acknowledge his arrival until he begins collecting the nest of papers littered around you. Your eyes are brimmed red with tears and makeup cakes the bags under your eyes, but they're sober eyes. You haven't touched the bottle or the hash in the cabinet, Klaus notices, a decidedly good sign.

“How many years did I work on that?” Holy shit. Your voice is barely over a whisper, sounding not unlike a ghost, and he would know. 

“Don't go there,” he urges, trying to sound as firm as he can while still being gentle with you. Klaus shuffles the papers after they are all collected, straightens them like they are to be organized, then unceremoniously drops them on the floor. They bear nothing on your value and only have harm to contribute, so they don't even deserve the place on the table.

 “How long?” you repeat, looking more through Klaus than at him.

“Jesus, love. Snap out of it!” more emphatically, grabbing your shoulders this time. 

“No,” defiant and destructive, “This is the last thing I had.”

Klaus knows that. The last shreds of who you were before the clinic were gone now. You like your life. The one you have now. You have a little home and a partner that wants what's actually best for you, you have a job that doesn't drive you into the arms of an addiction, you have his family to supplement the one that no longer speaks to you. But the finality of it is like a sword on your neck. Your eyes leave his briefly, darting to the cabinet and back. Anything in there will only make you worse tonight. But instead of moving to get up, you rise to your knees and wrap your hands around his biceps, curling until nails bite crescent moons into his skin.

"Fuck me into the mattress, please I need it,” you beg, and he knows this look. This itch you can't scratch, this fix you can't fix yourself. The look you had when you first met. He knows you need him, and fuck, if you or he have any better options. He concedes, more than willing and happy to be that for you. If he cannot protect you from the things that hurt you, he’ll be the medicine and the treatment that heal you. Another small please dies on your lips as he claims it, swallowing it whole in a kiss. He kisses you further, using the momentum to push your pliant form down onto your back, crawling over you as you go. You're going to let him do whatever he wants to you, you concede. 

You trust him, that's love, you trust him to use you and be the stand in for any drug that could take the hurt and emptiness away from you. A true symbiotic relationship, like those sharks with the fish attached, but maybe you're both the shark and you're both the little fish attached. He suckles at your bottom lip, sure to leave it puffy and sore from kissing, leaning and laying his whole weight upon you in something less than a hug but more than an embrace. You want him to peel you apart, layer by layer, fuck you into nothingness and back again. You want him to use you, your body as an idle plaything for his appetite. A means to an end. Klaus leans himself into you, wanting you to feel yourself pressed into the bed, into him. If he covers you in him, you can't cover yourself in all the metaphysical shit you want to cover yourself in. But he has other plans for you tonight. Something to make your mind wander and put the sadness out of your mind. He strips you bare, piece by piece, hands and tongue racing to cover the newly bare skin. But then he stands up, and you openly and unabashedly whine at the loss of contact. 

But he shoots you a smile, to smooth away the pout, and reaches into one of the drawers. Of course he would go there tonight. Sneaky fucker always has something kinky up his sleeves. He unceremoniously sheds his clothes before returning to your bed, a bright purple, thick vibrator in his hands. The terminator, as you called it. When he returns to the bed he clasps your hands while transferring the terminator to them, placing a kiss on one of your knuckles before withdrawing and circling around to the other side of the bed where your head was. This was different.

“Fuck yourself with it, stuff it against your clit, do it,” he urges, leaning down your body and grabbing your left ankle, then your right. Lifting them into the air, his arms straight out in front of him to keep them parted and away from your body.  You obey, pressing the vibrator to your clit, rubbing it idly on the lowest setting, enough to moan through closed lips and to earn a smile from Klaus above you. 

“That's right, now push it in deep.” you obey again. Pushing the vibrator in as far as it will go, and turning it up to the highest setting. 

Immediately heat floods your body, a shiver wracking your body outright. Its powerful, you find yourself thinking there might be new batteries in the thing, or maybe your nerves are fried from emotional exhaustion. He holds your legs, though you struggle in vain against his hold, your climax rushing already from the sharp vibrations wracking your cunt unmercifully. He stares down at you not unlike a predator stalking its prey, that dark glint in his eye something dangerous and beautiful. He watches as you come undone, shaking and shivering and clenching around the vibrator, almost fascinated by the scene and the way you quietly thank him before sliding the toy out of you.

“Done so soon? I thought you wanted me to make you feel good,” his tone is playful but the intent is anything but. This is less a game, you know he means war. Tonight won’t end until you physically can’t move, and Klaus will make sure of it, you realize. The vibrator slides back into place, and even though you haven’t caught your breath from coming, your moaning and gently rocking your hips as you keep the toy in place.

“Open up for me, lover?” and you turn your head to be met with his hard cock, already leaking for you. Your lips part, welcoming him in as he starts to move, slow shallow thrusts against your lips and ready tongue. Your tongue lavishes his length gently savoring the feel of his soft skin against you as it travels the length within your mouth. Surely, Klaus moans in approval, little hums spurring you on as his thrusts get a little deeper, but staying on the conservative side of your molars. You love to get him off like this. It stirs your second orgasm up, pushing you to the brink with each little moan and thrust he gives as he shows his appreciation for you. When it hits you, the orgasm, the shuddering of your entire body, a moan rips itself from your throat and you moan around him, causing his hips to sputter, head of his cock bouncing against your throat. You turn the vibrator down with shaky hands, feeling the effects start to wear on your body. 

“Shiiiiiit shit oh my god,” he slips his cock from your mouth entirely, and your lips chase after it. “Did I hurt you?”

“Do it again,” your breathy voice, the open waiting mouth, Klaus has no choice to obey, pushing back in and not caring about the gentleness of a shallow thrust. He pushes until you gag a little, letting up only to let you breath, but keeping himself in your mouth as far as possible. 

“No, no sweet thing turn it back up, I wanna feel you moan all the way from the back of your throat,” commanding prophet voice, you recognize, and once again the vibrating onslaught begins. He holds you there, laboring to breathe as the toy wrecks your body, shaking and contorting from the overstimulation. He moans and praises you as his hips thrust, fully fucking your mouth until the tip of his cock bumps at your throat, relishing in the feeling of your warm soft lips wrapped around him and the whimpering, pleading moans from your throat. 

“One more, can you do that?” he checks in, “Can I finish in your mouth tonight?”

The hand not holding the toy in your soaked and aching pussy gives him a thumbs up, and he begins to thrust a little faster, earnestly trying to finish before you do. You almost can't tell where the normal overstimulation ends and your third orgasm begins, but a particularly hard spasm in your leg jerks Klaus’ arm forward, and you think that's probably it. He lets your legs go after that, letting you ease your back and drop the toy on the bed. When he looks down at you, all is lost. 

You look fucking beautiful. A goddess with smeared make up and a cock in your mouth. He’s never kidding when he says he would get people to worship you. If only everyone could see how beautiful you look, but honestly he would never fucking let them. Not after the tent situation. He watches your eyes as he finishes, silent promises and praise as he smiles and watches your throat bob, swallowing every last drop.

 There's an audible pop as he pulls himself from your mouth, your lips chasing to press a last little kiss to the tip before he’s too far away. He runs a hand through your hair, squeezes a breast, and then rounds the other side of the bed to grab the vibrator and put it away so you don’t accidentally lose it in the bed. That’s happened before.

“Remember,” Klaus starts, comforting partner voice, “in every dark cloud there's a purple vibrator.”

“No, that's not the phrase,” you dismiss, but you take his well meaning to heart. He crawls up on the bed, first covering your body with his, then rolling off to the side to snuggle up against you.

“Feeling a little better?” he asks, arms coming around you to squish your form into his bare chest warm and comforting.“How could I not be?” you whisper, kissing his skin and adding a little thank you that he might not even hear.

“Still want me to fuck you into the mattress, you wild thing?” he can feel you shaking from the collective aftershocks, muscles spasming and jolting under his firm hug.

“Save it til the morning, I’ll fall asleep if we try to fuck.”

“That’s not exactly flattering to my sexual prowess, but I’ll make you atone for that in the morning since you’re so tired.”And he kisses your head and you both drift off to sleep, on top of the covers and clinging to one another like life depends on it.

[shini--chan]

Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.  

Yandere Levi Ackerman  

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.” 

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him.  It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet! 

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh. 

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style. 

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.  

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks  so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

[vagabonds-art]

Lost

Summary: This is basically how I see Kebechet (my guardian) reacting to the start of the this season and the emotional fall out of that cutscene. 

A/N: Major spoilers if you haven’t played up until the second cutscene, be warned! Also, I am aware of the Wolftone Draw lore tab but Kebe isn’t. So to her, Saint could be right.

Characters: Mara Sov, Osiris, Savathûn, Kebechet (OC Guardian), Demon (OC Ghost), a bunch of mentions like Saint, Ikora, Lakshmi

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: Canon typical violence (its kinda there) and angst. 

She should have known. From the very moment she found him wondering about the inner Hive structures on the moon, Kebechet should have known. Vaguely, she recalled telling herself that Osiris’s mannerisms and actions were unfamiliar because of his grief. 

He had just lost Sagira. There was no way he could have been thinking clearly, anyone could understand and sympathize with that. More often than not sorrow and anger mixed together in volatile and self-destructive ways. 

That was what she told herself. And now here Kebechet stood regretting it. 

Saint’s screams of anger and sadness still echoed in her ears long after he had left. It’d been long enough that he probably made it back to the tower by now. Back to tell Ikora and Zavala everything that happened while it was fresh in his memory. Not that he would ever be able to forget. 

Kebechet knew she wouldn’t. 

That thing. That frozen construct hovered a few inches off the ground, trapped between two glowing triangle shapes created by Queen Mara was once Osiris. Though inanimate, the posture it had taken before being stopped made Kebechet feel as if it were mocking her. Locked in a position akin to something trying to rip itself free of an outer shell, head tilted upward toward the sky surrounded by wisps of swirling light. A constant reminder of what should have never happened. 

“You may speak to it.”

Mara Sov’s authoritative tone snapped the Hunter out of her thoughts. Hazel eyes finally tore away from the barely open grated door off to the back of the room to meet luminescent blue ones. 

“I’m not sure I want to…”

It was true. Kebechet wanted nothing more than to run and hide, to fall asleep and wake up from this horrible nightmare. If only that was all this was. 

“I’ve told you before, your father still lives.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that? With everything we saw?”

Realizing her tone, Kebechet took a small step back and looked at the helm held in her hands for a moment. A small apology came on the back of a quiet sigh. Mara said nothing in return. Not that she needed to. Based on the subtle shifts of an otherwise stoic face, Kebechet knew she understood. Or at least, led on that she did. 

“It… Can’t hurt me… right?”

“Not in its current state.”

With a small nod, Kebechet put her helm back on and turned, starting to walk toward the chamber that housed the construct. She was sure to give the Techeun in the center of the room a wide berth as she passed. She’d barely rescued the tech witch from the ascendent plane and trust was a little hard to give at the moment.

What was only a minute or two at most felt like hours the closer the Hunter got to the frozen statue. When her footfalls fell silent was when it started speaking to her. 

“I am at your mercy, Guardian.”

Just like before, Savathûn’s voice was nothing like what Kebechet had expected. Not that she really knew what to expect other than low guttural growls or ear-piercing shrieks. Instead the Witch Queen’s vocals were gentle, almost welcoming in tone. 

“This construct protects me, from those who wish me harm. From my worm’s hunger. But it is a prison too. Quite elegant… Don’t you think?”

It took a moment for Kebechet to register the familiar taste of copper on her tongue before a stab of pain pulsed from where she had bitten through her right cheek. From that point on, she focused solely on that as a means of distracting herself. Distracting the growing rage and want to destroy the construct. 

For the most part, it had worked. A little too well. Savathûn was going on about her regrets, being called a liar and having skepticism. Kebechet had missed most of the one-sided conversation until she heard something about interpreting truth.

That was when the Hunter noticed everything around her starting to blur. At first, she thought it was just the visor of her helm acting up until visions of scenes past flashed before her eyes.

Savathûn’s voice acted as a narrator of sorts as she explained who she was and what she had been doing all this time. She claimed to be a friend, acting as a sort of protector when it came to the pyramid ships. The Black Fleet as she called them. When that didn’t work to her liking she took to finding a form that allowed her to gain trust among the Guardians. 

To Kebechet, it all made sense now. 

Osiris was the optimal target. He was the former Vanguard Commander, one of the heroes of the city. The means to Saint-14 being alive today. If those facts alone didn’t win over guardians and citizens alike then surely his ties to Ikora and Kebechet would. And they did. 

The current Warlock Vanguard had no issue trusting her former mentor, especially after the loss of his light. She was only trying to look out for his best interest and keep him safe within the city’s walls. And the Young Wolf? Not only was Kebechet the guardian, she was also the only one Osiris trusted to send back in time and bring Saint back alive. Being his kid must have been an added bonus when the Witch Queen found out.

As if Kebechet needed even more reason to feel absolutely horrible, Savathûn continued. 

She mentioned how it was her who brought Crow to the city for his own redemption. How she was the one to look out for Zavala when Caiatl was a threat. It even seemed as if she was bragging when she stated she was the reason House Light sought out aid from Ikora and the guardians. She was the reason for discovering Lakshmi-2’s betrayal and causing her death. 

“You may disagree with my methods,” Savathûn said with a smile evident in her tone, “but you can’t argue with results.”

Now was when Kebechet really wanted to tear away from the visions. 

Seeing the way the Witch Queen carelessly and effortlessly carried out her plan all while masquerading as Osiris was bad enough. But now the Hunter was being forced to see her father dead on the ground with the lower half of his face rapidly decaying while dozens and dozens of ink colored moths flew out of his mouth. 

“I am no villain,” Savathûn declared as the vision mercifully shifted upward, “and you are no hero.”

The imagery ended with Kebechet looking up at the Traveler being surrounded by clouds that strongly resembled a Worm God. 

“We are paracausal.”

There was a gasp that wanted to jerk out of the Hunter’s chest when her vision finally returned to normal. It took every ounce of restraint not to open fire on the construct with her auto rifle. But she did it, even managed to turn and start walking away.

With a final glance over her shoulder, Kebechet exited the chamber with as much poise as she could muster. 

She’d barely gotten a few feet away from the door before bringing Demon out of his pocket to sit in the palm of her hand. “Please…” she whispered lowly, desperately avoiding Mara’s expectant stare, “get us out of here.”

Gladly, the Ghost did so, transmitting the pair back to the ship they came in on. Once safely inside and settled, Kebechet ripped off her helm and chucked it toward the back of the cockpit. 

Demon could only watch as she fidgeted in her seat, staring at the console as if to decide what the hell to do next. Gathering his own courage, he hesitantly floated in front of her face. 

“I got a couple messages while you were dealing with… that.”

When the Hunter said nothing he continued, “One’s from Saint, the oth--”

“Play it.”

With a twist of his shell, Demon let a ball of light expand from his core. 

“My little bird, do not blame yourself for what has happened today. That thing is known as Queen of Lies for a reason. I do not trust that it ever had Osiris to begin with and neither should you. I will find the real Osiris and bring him home, this I promise you as a Titan and your second Father. Stay strong, Kebechet and remind Ikora of the same.”

The planes of Demon’s shall retracted back to his core as the message ended. His optic was downcast as he spoke, “The other was from Ikora, she just wants to talk.” 

As if realizing what he had said with the fragile nature of his guardian’s current emotions, Demon’s optic shot up to look her in the eye, “Like a Warlock and not a Titan!”

That managed to get a small scoff of a laugh from Kebechet. Already Demon could feel himself relax until she sniffled a moment later. Not even a second after that was when the water works started. 

Her chest jumped with sobs as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“De--Demon… How-- What’re we gonna do? How can we-- Is th--there any… Can we even fi--fix this?”

“I… Kebe, I don’t know…”

Demon knew that wouldn’t help, even saw it when Kebechet’s face contorted with distress. Her head thumped softly against the back of her chair before she started to curl in on herself. The heels of her boots planted firmly on the seat of the chair as she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

Wordlessly, Demon set the flight path back to the Tower before managing to squeeze his way under his guardian’s chin in an attempt to comfort her. When she shifted he worried he’d upset her further. His concern was put to rest when she grabbed the scarf Osiris gifted to her years ago and took it off to wrap around his small drone-like body. Then her whole form shifted. 

Now sitting sideways in her chair, Kebechet tucked Demon between her shoulder and neck. Her hands cocooned around him and the scarf like she was trying to protect one of the few things she had left. 

Because she was. 

[toomuchofabastard]

O Unhappy Dagger

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: T for violence and language

Warnings: Major Character Death, tragedy, violence, mind control, implied suicide, bonus happy ending available in linked post

Word count: 3,711 (+ 760)

Fic Summary: Crowley should have known they’d find some other way to punish him. He’d hoped – naïvely, it seemed – that they didn’t have the creativity, the almost-uniquely human sadism, to think up something like this. To realise the one vulnerability that he’d kept nestled in his heart, hidden from view.

This is my fic for @darkomenszine Vol 1! Vol 2 will be available soon if Good Omens darkfic is your thing 😈

READ ON AO3

___

The sign on the door of the bookshop read ‘closed’, but that didn’t stop Crowley.

Of course, it wouldn’t under normal circumstances, but this time was different. Rather than sauntering up to the threshold with a subtle spring in his step and a ready grin for his angel, Crowley’s heart pounded with terror as he approached the entrance to A. Z. Fell & Co. He felt as though some phantom hand had a grip around his throat, applying a pressure so crushing that he couldn’t speak and could barely breathe. What breaths he could draw were rapid with panic. His footsteps rang out against the flagstones as he strode forward – except that they weren’t his footsteps. Oh, it was his body, drawing closer and closer to the familiar doorway. But Hell’s footsteps. Hell’s oppressive malice invading every corner of his mind, and Hell making him grip the object behind his back so tightly that his knuckles hurt.

He should have known they’d find some other way to punish him. He’d hoped – naïvely, it seemed – that they didn’t have the creativity, the almost-uniquely human sadism, to think up something like this. To realise the one vulnerability that he’d kept nestled in his heart, hidden from view.

Tucked behind him, the flames continued to burn. Gripped in his hand back there was a dagger, a dark, cruel-looking thing, not just viciously sharp on its own, but also wreathed in infernal flame. The billows were gnawing away at his back, leaving his rather expensive jacket charred and ragged – not that Hell would give a blessèd fuck about that. In this moment, he didn’t either. There was only a single, dreadful thought clawing at his brain.

Infernal flame could be meant for only one thing. Aziraphale. The only thing that could kill an angel.

Crowley shuddered inwardly with revulsion at the thought. He could actually feel Hell’s evil intent coursing through him, as he ascended the steps and watched his own hand reach for the door handle. Hell’s control had overtaken him so suddenly that he hadn’t even had a chance to fight back. He kept trying to, struggling with every fibre of his being, but to no avail. He could hardly even feel his own corporation, let alone exert control, and seeing it moving against his will was intensely disturbing – violating, even. It was Hell’s way of proving that they could take whatever they wanted from him, just use him as their puppet and then discard him. It made him want to scream, but he couldn’t even do that. He felt himself push the door handle down.

Crowley stepped through the threshold and into the quiet of the bookshop. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the cosy dimness, but then the mountains and spires of books and papers revealed themselves.

Aziraphale stood in the hollow underneath the eastern archway, facing away from Crowley. He looked completely in his element, humming distractedly to himself as he leafed through some old volume. He turned as he heard Crowley shutting the door behind himself.

“Crowley!”

The angel beamed at him, and suddenly the whole room seemed lit up from within, like the sun itself had appeared in their midst. For a brief second, the panic and revulsion in Crowley’s chest was forgotten as the luminosity of Aziraphale’s smile dazzled him. That smile – especially when meant for him – never failed to take his breath away.

Aziraphale’s gaze drifted downwards as he noticed Crowley’s hand tucked behind his back, and the angel’s eyes twinkled, creases forming at their corners as his smile grew even wider. Crowley’s heart lurched again, and the panic returned. He guessed Aziraphale was probably anticipating another box of chocolates, or a nice bottle of wine for them both to share – the sort of surprise Crowley might often reveal with a sly smile, to be met by a paroxysm of delighted wiggles. He was painfully aware of how unlikely it was that Aziraphale would ever even suspect that what was really hidden there was not a doting treat, but a weapon of evil, meant specifically for him.

At his back, the flames had scorched their way through both layers of his jacket and shirt, and were beginning to lick painlessly against the bare skin along his spine. They didn’t leave any marks. Infernal flame could glance off of his corporation just like beads of water off a duck’s back – the perks of being demonic in nature – but Crowley knew it would be devastating to angelic flesh. That knowledge terrified him.

He felt his body start to slink loosely across the room towards the angel, the disobedient muscles and sinews of his legs dragging him involuntarily closer and closer. Run, angel! He tried to scream at Aziraphale, but the words choked in his throat, only echoing emptily inside his mind. His heart was clenched so tight with dread as he approached that he could swear it was no longer beating. Not that Hell needed it to be. Apparently they could twist and use his unwilling body however they liked now, whether it was still functioning or not.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows creased into a puzzled frown as Crowley moved nearer, the smile freezing slightly on his face. The real Crowley would have said something by now, or revealed the gift, or at least returned a crooked grin, rather than the blank expression he could feel was fixed on his face. He was almost surprised the angel couldn’t smell the burning coming from his clothes, but it seemed Aziraphale had eyes only for him.

“What’s wrong, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked as Crowley drew near to him, a light note of concern in his voice.

Angel, it’s not me, Crowley responded desperately inside his head. He felt himself step close. Please run. Please get away from me. Aziraphale stayed where he was. Why wouldn’t he? His trust in Crowley had always been complete, whether Crowley felt he deserved that or not.

Behind his back, Crowley’s fingers flexed on the grip of the dagger and began to draw it out from its hiding place. No no no, Crowley thought. Don’t make me do this. He fought again to regain control of his own arm, but could only watch as it rose menacingly of its own accord.

“Crowley–?” Aziraphale began, sounding shocked, and he was suddenly cut off as Crowley slashed the blade forwards towards his neck.

The chorus of screams in Crowley’s head crescendoed. No!

Aziraphale stumbled backwards out of range – thank Satan – but Crowley found himself quickly attacking again, this time trying for a low, plunging blow to the angel’s stomach. Aziraphale managed to squirm out of the way and the knife sliced instead through the back of his coat, only missing his skin by a hair’s breadth. The acrid stench of burning filled Crowley’s nose again.

“Crowley! What are you doing?” Aziraphale’s voice was aghast as he tried to retreat from Crowley’s oncoming assault. Panic and confusion contorted his face, and he held his hands up in front of him, as if in surrender. “S–Stop!”

Crowley wanted nothing more, but apparently the powers controlling him weren’t going to take that for an answer. The awful marionette of his body continued its relentless advance, numb to his attempts to reassert control, as he pursued the angel speechlessly around the bookshop. He could barely sense anything except for the throbbing echo of his heart as it hammered inside him, and the all-encompassing reek of fire and burning and smoke. That smell sent him almost blind with fear as his worst associations with it invaded his mind. Burning, burning; everything burning. The bookshop was burning, and Aziraphale was lost forever. The world was ending, the ground shaking itself apart, flames spilling up from the cracks. Plummeting downwards through wings of fire. Visions of what infernal flame could do to flesh, the screaming and the sizzling… His own screams reverberated inside his skull.

Aziraphale continued to back away from him, dodging or shrinking from each attack, but Crowley knew – and Aziraphale must also – that he couldn’t evade forever.

He’d never seen Aziraphale look so afraid of him. It was horrific. Just as much as with terror, the angel’s gleaming eyes were wide with disbelief, desperately searching Crowley’s for understanding as he was backed into a corner, clearly unable to conceive that Crowley could do this to him. Even if he could have got them out, Crowley didn’t have the words to reassure him.

The blade in his hand swung up again and speared downwards towards Aziraphale’s face. This time, Aziraphale was able to grab Crowley’s wrist and stop its path, though the point hovered fearfully close to his tearful eyes. Crowley felt the angel’s considerable strength pushing back against him, but the determination he was being filled with was enough to match him. They grappled for a moment.

“Crowley, stop!” Aziraphale begged, his voice cracking with a sob. “Please, I–I don’t want to hurt you!”

Oh fuck, hurt me, angel, Crowley thought, do whatever, just don’t let me–!

His pleas were interrupted as his traitorous body shoved Aziraphale roughly away, freeing himself from the angel’s grip. Aziraphale staggered backwards, and then tripped on the corner of a stack of books and fell down heavily onto his backside. Crowley advanced. Aziraphale still held his hands up in front of him, the heels of his oxfords scraping vainly against the floorboards as he kept trying to shuffle away. Tears were running like dewdrops down his cheeks.

Crowley lunged down onto him and thrust the knife at his breast. Aziraphale caught it again and they struggled against each other, Crowley pressing his whole weight down as the tip hovered perilously above the angel’s chest. The flames from the blade flowed up Crowley’s straining arms until he could feel them licking monstrously at the edges of his cheekbones. His teeth were gritted together. Then, underneath the flicker of the flames, he began to feel a hum vibrating up through him from where Aziraphale’s hands gripped his wrists. His heart pounded harder as he recognised the feeling of divine power – the angel’s – flowing out from the place where they were connected and fusing into him. It stung, but it wasn’t enough yet to smite him – although if Aziraphale kept pressing, he knew it would be.

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered at him. He stared up, distraught, into Crowley’s eyes. Crowley could feel him holding back the full surge of what he was capable of.

Do it, angel!, he tried to yell. Goddammit, just do it!

I’d rather be dead than spill a drop of your blood anyway.

The knife-point inched dangerously closer to the angel’s chest. Aziraphale let out another sob, but his grip on Crowley’s wrists tightened, and then his watery blue irises slowly vanished as brilliant light began to pour out of his eyes.

Crowley felt the light build inside him; scorching hot and bitingly cold at the same time, blinding white. It hurt – fuck, it hurt – but the immense feeling of relief overwhelmed the pain. Hell’s power was ebbing away, banished back into the darkness and out of his body as the light invaded. It was going to be ok. Well, he was going to die now, or whatever the equivalent process was for demons, but that was ok. Dying at Aziraphale’s hands – and in order to protect him, even if from himself – wasn’t such a bad way to go.

Suddenly, an inhuman snarl cut through his thoughts. It took Crowley a moment to realise that it had come from somewhere inside of him. Aziraphale jolted with surprise at the sound and the light wavered for an instant. It was all Hell needed.

With fiery fury, Hell’s control rushed back into Crowley, throwing him almost into a spasm as it gripped his body again. His blood seemed to ignite as it ripped through him. As his mouth opened in a silent scream, the blade in his hands dropped downwards and pierced through the angel’s breast.

No.

A gurgled cry slipped from Aziraphale’s throat, and his eyes widened in shock, his grip on Crowley’s arm clenching.

No.

As quickly as Hell’s power had overtaken Crowley, it vanished, leaving him empty. Crowley thought he could hear a triumphant laugh echo in his head as it fled.

No.

The blinding light faded away from Aziraphale’s eyes, revealing again his blue irises; full of pain, the only light in them now the glimmer of his tears and the reflection of the cursed flames burning in his chest.

For a few moments, Crowley, petrified with shock, could only return his stare. Then suddenly, his senses rushed back to him and he noticed his hands still gripping the fiery blade which was buried in his angel’s body. He hastily ripped it out – causing Aziraphale to let out another strangled cry – and flung it aside.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, scrambling over to cradle Aziraphale in his arms. The angel jerked away as Crowley lifted him into his lap, though whether from the pain of the movement or from fear of him, Crowley didn’t know. He pulled Aziraphale close and cradled his head to him, one hand in the back of his blonde curls. Aziraphale gazed up at him, his expression heartbroken and disbelieving, as he tried to gasp for breath.

“Angel!” Crowley began, finally able to use his voice again. “Angel, I–I didn’t mean to– it–it wasn’t me, I didn’t–… oh, fuck.” His free hand fumbled aimlessly around the wound in Aziraphale’s chest, as if trying to close it up. Golden blood quickly coated his palm and smeared messily across Aziraphale’s waistcoat, but worse was the infernal glow that smouldered at the edges of the wound, slowly infecting its way into the angel’s being. Deep down, Crowley knew that the damage was already done. God, how could he have done this?

“I’m sorry,” he gasped at Aziraphale. “I’m so sorry. It–it wasn’t me!” He didn’t know how else to explain it. “Hell, they– I– … I’m so sorry, angel.”

Slowly, a flush of understanding dawned in Aziraphale’s eyes, and the horror faded, but then they quickly scrunched closed, his face twisting as another spasm of pain convulsed through him. Crowley could only hold him close until it had passed.

Aziraphale coughed weakly and his eyes opened again. “It–it’s alright,” he stuttered, and then reached a trembling hand up to caress the side of Crowley’s face. Crowley’s heart flipped as the angel’s fingertips brushed lightly against his cheek. “Crowley…” Aziraphale murmured. His voice was already growing distant, the light in his eyes beginning to dim.

“No, sshsssh, don’t… don’t try to talk,” Crowley gulped, absently stroking the angel’s forehead. He clasped Aziraphale’s hand in his and squeezed it tight. “It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok, just– just hold on, yeah?”

Would it? His heart pounding in his chest knew otherwise, and Aziraphale didn’t look fooled either.

The angel was suddenly seized with another fit of agony, and this time a few tiny shining flecks of blood appeared on his lips as he coughed and spluttered. A poorly-stifled groan left his mouth between the wheezing breaths.

Crowley cast his eyes around the room desperately as Aziraphale writhed in his arms, distractedly pressing the angel’s knuckles to his lips and rubbing his fingers with his thumb, as if that would do anything to ease his pain. There was a hole ripped in his chest, burning him up from the inside. Shitshitshit. There had to be something he could do. He could fix this. Somehow. He had to. Come on! He couldn’t lose him like this.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale’s voice drifted weakly up to him again. Crowley looked down and met his watery gaze. Despite the pain, a look of peace seemed to settle on the angel’s face. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth and his eyes, fixed on Crowley, shone with affection, even as they dimmed further.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered tenderly up at him.

“No, angel, don’t say that,” Crowley hissed back. He didn’t like how final that sounded. “H–hold on, come on, you have to stay with me.” He shifted and clutched the angel closer.

Aziraphale blinked up at him like he hadn’t even heard. Then his face darkened as if in thought, his brow creasing briefly into a frown and his concerned gaze scanning Crowley’s face, before he spoke again.

“I forgive you.”

His voice, though shaky, was earnest and meaningful, full of empathy. A single tear overflowed from his eyes and slid down his still-smiling cheek.

Crowley could only shake his head, mouthing wordless no’s at the angel. He faintly felt matching tears streaming down his own face. Damn him. Dying in his arms, and he was still the one trying to offer comfort. Blessed, perceptive bastard. He knows I’ll always blame myself for this.

Even as Aziraphale’s eyes remained fixed on him, Crowley could see the focus in them wavering, dwindling away. The interval between each gasped breath the angel tried to draw in was growing longer. A precious few seconds seemed to pass like an entire lifetime, and then the gasps stopped altogether, and the light inside him finally faded away into nothing. Aziraphale went still.

“No, please,” Crowley begged. “Stay with me, angel.” Aziraphale didn’t respond.

“Come on! Aziraphale!” Crowley yelled, and shook him angrily, panting with the desperation for a response. Aziraphale’s body lolled limply. Crowley stared at the angel’s sightless eyes and something within him seemed to collapse, the anger fleeing as a wave of grief came crashing, tearing through him.

“Don’t go,” he whimpered, clasping at the side of Aziraphale’s face. His voice shook and he felt his lower lip begin to tremble uncontrollably. “Please don’t go.”

It’s too late. Crowley’s face screwed up with pain as the thought broke upon him, and he found himself crumpling, pressing his forehead close to the angel’s as choked sobs began to wrack his body. “Don’t leave me,” he snivelled quietly into him. No.

“Please!” He suddenly jolted upright and screamed up at the sky in anguish. “Don’t–…” He choked again, staring at the ceiling. Then he looked back down at Aziraphale’s body, slumped loosely in his arms, and his voice became terribly small, almost child-like. “Please don’t take him from me.”

Whatever reply he had been hoping for, none came. The bookshop was almost eerily silent around him, no sound but his own breaths echoing throughout the now empty and cold-seeming space. No one was listening to his calls, as ever. He was abandoned, cast out. There was only one person who had ever truly cared for him, and now… They’d made him kill the only person he’d ever… ever…

His eyes ran compulsively up and down the angel’s body and face again. He felt himself trembling and starting to hyperventilate, and a grief like something inside him was shattering, as he finally collapsed into Aziraphale, burying his face in his chest, and howled. He clutched brokenly at him, rocking himself through the pain, and squeezing so tight it was like he was trying to merge the angel into his own being. Wrenching, wretched sobs forced their way out of him, muffled by the angel’s breast, his whole body convulsing with the strain, and along with the cries came whimpered fragments of words; pleases and no’s and angels that tumbled feebly out of him. He had no other words left to say. He just wept – pressing his body against Aziraphale’s, with his hands gripping him close and his face burrowed into the side of his neck – until he could cry no more. And then he stayed that way for a long time.

◥|⧗|◤

Some weeks later, a dove managed to find its way into the bookshop – probably through an open window left forgotten – and flitted about in the upstairs rafters.

The fluttering of wings was enough to stir Crowley from his stupor. His closed eyelids slid sluggishly open, revealing serpentine irises dull with pain. He lay, unmoving, for several minutes on top of Aziraphale’s body. In his mind, he was trying to muster up something to think, but the grief was so crushing that it was as though all conscious thought had just been bled out of him into the dirt. He was nothing but pain.

Eventually, he slowly lifted his head and looked once more at Aziraphale’s face. In the time they’d lain there, a fine layer of dust had settled across the room, coating the angel’s body as well as his own. Aziraphale’s glazed eyes were shrouded underneath its grey film, staring up at the ceiling. It hurt to see.

It was just the husk, Crowley told himself. Only his Earthly corporation. Everything that had been his angel was long gone.

It still hurt.

Achingly, Crowley peeled himself off of Aziraphale and lurched to his knees. Looking down, he noticed the smears of golden blood – now dried to peeling flakes – all across his necktie, jacket and sleeves, mirroring the angel’s chest. His hands itched with it too. There wouldn’t be enough water in the world to wipe the feeling away.

He still had some holy water somewhere.

The thought registered suddenly, without prompting, and without emotion. Oh. Yeah. His ‘exit solution’. A way out… and maybe a way back to him.

Crowley considered that. It could be that there was no life after death for their kind, only emptiness and nothingness, but he realised that he didn’t much care either way anymore. He had a penance to pay. And he was ready to join Aziraphale, in whatever lay beyond. He nodded to himself. Yes. He’d made him wait long enough already.

Still feeling empty inside, he bent down close over Aziraphale.

“I’m coming, angel,” he whispered to him, his voice hoarse. “Wherever you are… I’m coming to you.”

He placed one final, soft-lipped, lingering kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. He paused against him for one final moment, eyes closed, taking shaky but even breaths. Then he straightened, and rose, and then turned and headed off, in search of a tartan thermos.

◥|⧗|◤

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Need a happy ending? No prob, check out the bonus one here [tumblr link]. 💙

[lixie-lovie]

{ Mysterious Stranger | skz }

h.hyunjin x reader

Chapter 3: The Fall

Genre: Dark!au, Thriller-ish, Fantasy!au

Warnings: Some cursing, mentions of bodily mutation?, mention of weapons/blood/demons

((if anything else needs to be tagged/warned about please send me a message..i’ll fix it asap))

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: Okay I am becoming so excited for this story to continue, but I can only hope I am portraying all of the coolness of the idea through my writing ugh the struggle. Is this even a good story oof im unsure. Regardless, hope whoever is reads this enjoys as more should be coming soon! It’s gonna get good ;) Thx for reading and u have a great day <3

Chapter Song: Thunder - VeriVery

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It was at this moment I deemed that time felt as if it was stagnating. The rushing mid-afternoon air was whipping my hair around wildly and hurrying so quickly past my ears during my descent that the only noise I could recognize was a loud whistling and something rumbling faintly below me. I pondered on my possible end, but somehow I wasn’t afraid or screaming. No, in this moment of free fall where all I had to hold onto was faith and inevitability of time between myself and the ground I felt free, serene, alive even.

I felt my lips turning upwards in a small, genuine smile as I let out laughter that bubbled up deep from within my chest. I curled my limbs inward and felt almost childlike in my blissful glee. I kept my eyes closed and focused on feeling every second I had before the ending of this journey came. I counted down the seconds and my face turned further to the sky the higher the numbers would go until suddenly the impact came.

I fell limply down, the impact rough as a dull oof left my lips. Suddenly I realized what predicament I had found myself as I definitely didn’t just land on the hard concrete ground of the alleyway that was below the window I had just launched myself out of. I peeled my tightly shut eyes open one by one letting the bright, afternoon sun blind me for a moment before regaining my sight. As I did, however, I suddenly found myself laughing again.

I was staring into the eyes (or, well, where I thought his eyes were) of a man. A man covered in a black mirrored visor helmet, wearing all sleek, black leather, sitting on top of an equally as black motorcycle. I found myself giggling gleefully as I pressed my hands harshly against this man’s firm chest, laughing at how I marvelously wasn’t dead and also had just been randomly caught by a mysterious stranger (haha I know cheesy right). Because this seemed to be the least surprising thing I had encountered recently, I found myself bubbling out more laughter amidst a few gracious “thank you”s even as the man’s sturdy arms found my hips to lift me off of his obviously expensive bike. He plopped me unceremoniously down on my feet beside him, my back to the building I was in only moments before. 

My laughter slowly died down as I really took the situation in, but a silly smile still graced my features. I am sure now, I looked wild with my hair all over the place, my face covered in sweat and grime, and laughter bubbling out of my chest after falling out of a window. As I allowed myself to take in the man’s appearance properly, not sitting on his lap, I noticed that his build seemed familiar, like someone I had maybe seen in passing, but didn’t decide to ask many questions considering the circumstance. I found myself silent, unable to come up with much to say about the ridiculous situation I had ended up in. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have much chance to say anything before the man made a move to break the awkward tension. 

His large, slender, black leather glove clad hands slowly moved up to remove his helmet. I watched, enraptured at the way this other human was moving before me, as slowly the tan skin of his neck was revealed dawned with silver chains of some kind of series of necklaces tucked into his leather coat. Then, a light blond ponytail could be seen, tied at the base of his neck with some kind of thick, beaded black cord. Soon enough he was shaking his head free of the sticky sweat clad hairs on his forehead before furrowing his brows deeply and looking right into my shock stricken eyes. 

“Do you always get this much of a kick out of jumping out of windows, lady?” He spoke with a voice like honey. Deeper than I had imagined and angrier than I anticipated. I raked my eyes swiftly over him, taking in his honey skin, piercing eyes, and defined features. This man’s appearance was striking in many ways, but I couldn’t help myself from becoming dumbstruck by my own sudden realization. The man who had just saved my life was none other than the blade flipping man at the diner. The same made who had given me the dagger that started this whole ridiculous adventure. I staggered backwards suddenly, both physically and mentally stricken by this revelation. “Well? What’s wrong with your face??” He said, obviously waiting for some kind of response by the angry look dawning on his features and the grating tone of his voice. Man, this guy never looks happy huh?

Before I could come up with something to say from the thousands of thoughts racing through my head as my heart pounded dully in my chest I heard a sudden noise from overhead. The strange man and I turned our chins towards the sky and took in the scene unfolding from the window I had just been persuaded to jump out of. 

Seungmin was there, sweat dripping off of his forehead in beads, his arms littered in cuts and his clothing ripped and covered in red. The creature, now in a much less man-like form, was in front of him, facing away from the glass-void window at it’s back as it tried to pry itself free from his grip. Seungmin’s face contorted into a snarl as he drove the eerily similar to my own dagger into the monsters chest, forcefully tearing it towards the creature’s face, ripping a deep, black hole through the tough, burnt skin and dispersing the inky black blood of the creature all over his sweaty, heaving features. Before the ash began to eat the creature away, however, it got one final move in by reaching forward to grab Seungmin by the collar of his now stained and torn grey sweater, ripping him forward and out of the window, dooming him to fall as I had before, but this time without someone ready to catch him. 

I heard myself scream as I watched them fall. The monster turned to ash quickly during the descent, turning the air into a scene of grey and red specks floating around mixing with the array of glittering broken glass surrounding Seungmin’s bleeding, falling form as if taunting him one final time before his inevitable doom. Just as my scream was dying down I saw a sudden, swift movement from the man beside me. Faster than I could comprehend he had abandoned the bike on it’s side, the sound of the metal scraping against the concrete loud in the otherwise quiet alleyway. His footsteps pounded against the ground in a strong, graceful way before reaching the wall of the building on the far side of the alleyway. He leaped into the air extraordinarily high and began scaling the wall at an inhuman speed that seemed meticulous and practiced. He made his way a few feet up, stopping briefly to calculate, before turning 180 degrees and launching himself backwards, nimbly grasping his strong arms around Seungmin’s lower waist as Seungmin swiftly forced himself stiff and they tumbled down to the ground together. I felt as if I was watching in slow motion as I took in each detail sharply. Their impact was nearly silent in a way that had me gasping for air as they rolled together in an almost playful, dancing course of action and landed safely on their feet, seemingly unharmed from the fall, holding each other’s forearms tightly. 

“Hyunjin!” Seungmin gasped out excitedly, while removing himself from the other man’s embrace to run his eyes over his disheveled appearance. “I didn’t think Chan-hyung would send you of all people!” He said, increasing the volume of his voice with each excited word. “You look like shit.” He finished, matter-of-factually while laughing and tugging on the man’s blonde locks harshly. 

“Good to see you too and you don’t look much better right now, reckless one.” The man, Hyunjin?, grunted out harshly, the pleasant look on his face betraying his harsh tone. 

My mind was racing between the events that had just unfolded from the mysterious man’s actions, to catching my fall and the fight I had endured, to Seungmin’s brutal slaying of his own literal demon. I realized I wasn’t breathing when I was broken out of my stoic stance by the sound of my name being yelled as footsteps grew nearer. 

“Y/n!” My eye’s subtle haze of thoughtfulness melted away allowing me to see Seungmin rushing over towards me with an expression of relief on his face. I felt my brows furrowing and my nose scrunching up at his disgruntled appearance. I tried to form a question out of the many ones wandering through my mind as he grew nearer, but found myself only forming new ones as I took in the blood dripping from his sleeves, unable to tell who it belonged to. I decided to simply keep my mouth tightly shut for fear of the answers I may receive if I did start asking more questions. Seungmin grabbed the sides of my face to twist and turn my body, checking me for any severe injuries. Once he deemed I was okay enough to step away from he turned back to the man, now brushing his clothes off a couple of feet away. They each muttered some words that I was too lost in thought to comprehend. Seungmin then turned back to me with a strict expression I hadn’t seen since we were kids and I had spilled red nail polish all over my mother’s favorite white rug. 

“I know you must have a lot of questions right now, but now isn’t the time for answers. This man is my friend, Hyunjin. He is gonna take you somewhere safe for now okay? I need you to stay by his side and listen to what he tells you to do. I have to stay here, there’s something I have been assigned to do, but I will come find you soon.” He spoke softly, but sternly, in a way that had me holding on to each word. I nodded my head slowly, albeit slightly hesitantly, and he bit back a small smile of relief at my compliance. He grasped the sides of my face softly before planting a quick, loving kiss to my sweaty forehead. The man, now known as Hyunjin, made an overly dramatic noise of disgust from behind Seungmin’s back and I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that fell from my lips. I gave Seungmin a brief hug before looking him over and telling him to stay safe and to find me soon. He smiled softly and nodded before pushing me towards the stranger and running off towards the building he had come out of before. 

I sighed and bit my lip, wringing my hands in nervousness before turning my eyes back to the man. The once soft expression he wore around his friend had slipped from his features and was replaced with lips down-turned and one sly eyebrow raised at my puny, fear-riddled form. He sighed and gave me a once over as he walked slowly over to his side-lying bike before bending over and grunting softly while he straightened it up and assessed the damages. My eyes stayed trained on his every move, whether out of curiosity or distrust I couldn’t determine. 

“I’m sure you’re just dying to ask questions, but I’m not willing to answer any. I am just here to ensure you don’t die before everything unfolds. Now,” He said coolly, swinging his leg nimbly over the bike and grabbing his helmet before turning his head to look at me insensibly, “rules are simple. Shut up, hold on, and listen to what I tell you to do no matter what.” He quickly ducked his head to put the helmet on before turning his now covered eyes back in my direction and nodding his head in a manner I could only interpret as “are you coming or what?”

I shook my head softly, anger slowly coursing through my veins as my previously curious thoughts became clouded with how much of a prick this guy seemed to be. I wanted to ask what he meant by “before everything unfolds,” but realized I probably wouldn’t receive an answer anyways so I quickly bounded over to the bike instead. Hopping on I loosely slid my hands around his sides to form some kind of grip for myself and just as I began to question the legality and safety of getting onto such a dangerous machine with an obviously dangerous man I heard his voice speak loudly over the rumbling of the engine. “You’re gonna want to hold on a little tighter than that, little one.” 

Just as proclaims of needing a helmet of some kind for myself started to leave my lips, his feet lifted off of the ground and the large wheels of the motorcycle began to spin before the vehicle was in motion, much faster than I would have liked to have started out if I am honest. A yelp left my lips as we sped out of the alleyway and I felt my arms unconsciously grip the man’s firm, sturdy waist much tighter as I pressed my cheek to the cool leather covering his back.

My hair whipped around wildly in the wind, making me wish I had tied it up in some way. My eyes were pressed closed tightly from fear as the whistling of rushing air was once again the only thing filling my ears. I tried to make out where we could be headed through the different twists and turns of the ride, but the pure speed at which we were going jumbled my thoughts and left me feeling confused and scared. After one particularly hard turn my grip became stronger as I felt a noise unconsciously slip through my lips. I then felt more than heard the deep chuckle that shook Hyunjin’s shoulders against my now rosy cheek pressed firmly to his shoulder. 

As my thoughts took over and I lost the sense of time around me I suddenly noticed the bright orange hues of the afternoon sun were no longer piercing through my closed eyelids, but instead we were now somewhere dark and enclosed by the sound of the rumbling roar of the engine bouncing off of what seemed to be tunnel walls. Bright, fluorescent white light flashed behind my eyelids periodically leaving me scrunching my eyes closed tighter as the bike began to pick up more speed. I tasted metal and I felt blood begin to pool in my mouth from how hard I had been biting into my lip out of fear and cautious curiosity.

I was quickly drawn from thought as I heard a strange noise and felt Hyunjin’s body move sharply under my arms before the bike was suddenly turning 90 degrees and sliding nearly parallel to the ground. I opened my eyes sharply with a gasp as it seemed like the world had slowed down briefly and took notice of the fact that we were now moving sideways under a large gate with a barely tall enough gap left at the bottom as it was lowering to latch into the ground. The gate, a dark black metal painted with red detailed and embellished with an intricate blood red ‘S,’ that had me gasping for air and quickly ripping my face away from Hyunjin’s jacket to look around frantically at my new surroundings in a panic. My grip became looser as I took in the simple, but elegant look of this white and gold tunnel before the end of the tunnel ahead became bright, blurring my vision. Hyunjin leaned forward jarringly, gaining more speed forcing me to follow suit. 

The bike then slowed suddenly causing my body to lurch forwards as a loud yelp left my lips. I could now hear Hyunjin’s cacophony of laughter as he slowed the bike to a subtle roll before turning it off and hopping off quickly. I waited for a gentlemanly hand of help to get down from the large bike, but soon realized I was being rudely denied of that. Sighing loudly I watched as Hyunjin’s form slowly slinked away towards two large doors attached to a large white stone building I had somehow not noticed until now. 

Quickly after I unceremoniously made my way clumsily off of the tall bike a seemingly young man in all black with a small, sweet smile came rushing up to take the bike away for Hyunjin. He held his white glove clad hand up in greeting before slowly rolling Hyunjin’s bike back the way we had come to a place I wasn’t sure of. I then rushed to catch up to Hyunjin’s retreating form hoping to not get lost around this odd hideout in a part of the city I had never seen before. Once we were within range of the doors, however, I found my pace slowing as I took in their ornate beauty. 

Two large, black doors covered in ornate gold paintings of leaves and other intricacies stood intimidatingly in front of me. The building itself was large and seemingly very old. Upon closer inspection the white stone appeared to be a lightened grey due to years of standing tall in the sun and the intricate details around the windows and seals of each floor held deep cracks from ages of weathering. My neck ached trying to look upwards to see the tall roof above me and my chest felt full at the strange aura this whole place gave off. My instincts were blazing with alarm. Regardless of the intimidating look of the thick, cold stone and black metallic detailing of the building, the atmosphere somehow felt calm, safe even. Something about this place felt powerful, but passive. My pace slowed to a stop a couple of feet behind Hyunjin as we approached the doors. He casually walked forwards towards them before muttering a few words I didn’t quite catch before turning back around to face me with a small, sly smirk on his face. 

Clicks and creaks could be heard before the doors began to crack open allowing my curiosity to peak as I waited anxiously to see what would be inside. As the doors fully opened I gasped taking in the sight of the intricate and modern place. It seemed as though each hallway led to entirely different areas. An entire operation of sorts could be run here, a functioning company of people all working under one strange roof miles away from the bustling, naive city. Although the main ornate entrance area in my sight was empty the sounds of swords clashing and other forms of presumable training could be heard from somewhere deeper in the facility, typing on numerous keyboards sounded from the other direction, and other noises I had yet to figure out were happening in so many directions it made my head spin. 

The whole place was intricate and obviously expensive. My eyes trailed over each detail meticulously, trying to come to some fathomable conclusion about the place, but ending up further intrigued and confused. The interior design of the building was cozy, albeit slightly thrown together, but the color palette of the design seemed to stay consistent throughout all I had seen, blood red. A dark, dull chuckle and a firm hand on the small of my back shocked me out of my still form with a gasp. I hadn’t even noticed the man’s movement in my direction before I was pushed lightly forwards, stumbling into the main room. I whipped my head in Hyunjin’s direction to send a glare his way before sighing and shakily reaching up to brush my hair out of my face. “Where the hell am I right now?” I said as harshly as I could manage through the concern threatening to climb up my chest cavity and choke me.  

“Welcome to Stray Kids base.” He proclaimed with his arms stretched out in a gesture towards the interior of the building. He took a few steps in before doing a small circle only to turn back around and let his arms fall to his sides where he reached into his sleeve and like magic pulled out the blade he had given me starting all of this. I gasped at the sight of it and made a mental note to find a way to ask all of the questions coming to the forefront of my mind later. “Try not to let this out of your sight again, I won’t always be willing to bring it back to you and you’re gonna need it.” He then tossed the blade harshly at me. I caught it without thinking too much about the gesture and let it rest heavy in my sweaty palm.

“Better get used to all of this.. it all starts right here.” He said with a devilish grin, turning on his heel nonchalantly to begin walking down one of the many hallways. The sound of his black leather combat boots padding against the tile flooring pierced through my thoughts dully. I could hear his dark chuckle as my feet began to move of their own accord to follow him. He turned his head so I could only see a shadowed version of his profile before speaking. “So, how about a tour?”

[faerietrolls]

It’s still Murder [Part 2]

I have finally got off my butt and finished part 2. It’s only really a single scene compared to the two of part one but I felt it solid enough for it’s own part. 

And without further ado Part 2 for your reading pleasure under the cut.

Content Warning: Blood mention and Vomiting mention (kinda) And slight Body Horror

[Click here for Part 1]

Svaria was feverish. She stumbled out of bed to the water pitcher on her vanity, shakily pouring herself a glass of water. Trying to calm her nerves, she took a drink and held the cool glass to her cheek. She set the glass down and rubbed at her eyes and face with one hand, leaning on the vanity with the other. 

She looked at herself in the mirror- Only, it wasn’t her eyes that looked back. Pure black eyes and a sickening grin curled across the face in the mirror. She shut her eyes tight, gripping the edge of the vanity and opened them again to her face, as it should be. She was breathing heavily now. 

A knock at the door snapped her out of her own head. She straightened up, fixing her hair. A servant opened the door, entered, and curtsied. They informed her breakfast was ready and quickly left the room, closing the door behind them. They never stayed. It would be a sad thought if she could call any of them by name. They might as well be living dolls to her. More things she inherited from her ancestor.

Svaria put on a robe and went to breakfast in her night clothes. Who did she have to impress? 

A servant stood silently in the corner of the dining room. They pushed her chair in for her as she went to sit. Another poured her tea while the first retrieved her breakfast. Svaria watched them, neither making eye contact with her. She drummed her fingers idly on the table, waiting for them to leave her.

The key…

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked at both of her servants to see if they reacted to the voice. 

Nothing. 

Svaria tried to remain composed until they left. She was getting impatient, her leg starting to bounce along to her tapping fingers. Why wouldn’t they just leave? When they finally did, she stood up and looked around. She frantically circled the dining room, looking in vases, behind the china cabinet, in the decorative tea set. 

Nothing. 

She turned from the cabinet and scanned the room. 

She started a slower walk around the dining room. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention as she passed in front of the mirror, on the wall opposite the cabinet. It was the black eyed version of her waving, with that sickening grin on its face. She froze at the sight of it. She watched as the twisted image of herself tilted its head back and put its hand in its mouth, contorting its arm, reaching down into its own throat. Svaria felt as if something was reaching down into her own throat and into her stomach, feeling around for something. She couldn't breath and started choking, gasping for air that she couldn't take in. The mirror image found what it was searching for and slowly started to pull its hand back out. 

As it did, Svaria fell to her knees, desperate for breath and gagging as she felt something being pulled up through her esophagus. She began coughing up blood and bile. She could feel the object in her throat. The mirror image laughed, chilling and malicious. Finally the object freed itself from her throat and fell to the floor. Svaria collapsed on her side curling up in pain, but able to draw in ragged breaths between coughs. 

She looked over at the object that was pulled out of her. She saw a thin gold chain attached to a jet black key sitting in a pool of her blood. She reached over and grabbed hold of it. The key was impossibly cold to the touch for having just been inside her body. She propped herself up with one arm and looked back at the mirror. Her twisted reflection, blood dripping down it’s own chin, crouched down to her level and spoke. Take the key... Unlock my tome... Learn of it’s secrets... Await your next instructions…

All Svaria could manage was to nod. The image smiled again and dissipated into a black smoke, leaving Svaria alone in the mirror. She started wiping away the blood from her chin. She stood up, bracing herself on a chair behind her. She stumbled her way out of the dining room. 

Svaria lost her appetite. 

[To be continued… in Part 3]

[angstyaches]

okay so here is my request: charlie doesn't go to school and shayne is worried so he goes to check up on charlie and see why he missed school just to find him in bed with a really bad stomach bug? cue shayne going out of his way a little to comfort charlie through rounds and rounds of puking and stomach cramps?

Thank you anon, this was such a fun prompt. I hope you enjoy it, and it’s not too rambly. I had no idea how to finish it off, but one can imagine the sick goes on all night and into the next day. Maybe there’ll be a part 2 if I don’t get any new ideas.

Charlie was dreaming about tiny boats being tossed out on the water, bobbing in and out of his view as he gazed out from the dark. He was dreaming about rocks that were more like daggers, jutting into the flesh of his legs and his hands as tears dropped from his face. His heart felt as empty, as hollow, as that cave, and he couldn’t see anything past this moment, as though his future just didn’t exist. Just like he shouldn’t have –

“Charlie?”

His eyes flicked open to find his room in the Mulberry house in semi-darkness, sensing a figure by his side. He rolled onto his side, wondering how he was able to move while the demon, Charlie Two, was also up and about, until his vision focused a bit and he realised this was no demon.

“Hey,” Charlie mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you weren’t at school.” Shayne frowned and sat at the edge of the bed, next to Charlie’s legs. “So I thought I’d check that you hadn’t gone full demon, murdered your parents, and burned my childhood home to the ground.”

“That’s weirdly specific.” Charlie’s stomach bubbled with what felt like hot lava, burning the back of his throat too. He groaned, wrapping his arms around his belly and burying his face in his pillow. “How – how’d you get in?”

“You unlocked the back door for me, with your telekinesis. Didn’t you?” Shayne frowned, glancing between Charlie’s hands clutching his gut and his face contorting in pain. “You know what? Never mind. Jesus, you look like hell.”

Stomach churning rather noisily, Charlie mumbled a laugh. “Didn’t have time to make myself look cute for you.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely what I meant.”

“Shayne, were you…Worried about me?” Charlie waited, eyes shut, hand over his gut, for Shayne to make a sarcastic or defensive remark.

“Yes?” Shayne said quietly. “Where are your parents? When are they coming back?”

“Sunday.” Charlie’s face contorted with pain. His insides felt like they’d been thrown in a bag and beaten against a wall before being shoved back into him. “They’re on a work kind of thing. Shayne, my – my stomach is killing me.”

As though to make that particular point clear, his belly let out a long, wet-sounding grumble. Charlie jumped a little in surprise when he felt the back of Shayne’s hand glide across his stomach through the sheet.

“It’s definitely not your biggest fan right now.” Shayne frowned. “What’d you do? Pick up a bug or something?”

Charlie gave a sigh, Shayne’s light touches sending cool shivers down through his aching tummy. He had to stifle a yawn. “Yeah, I guess. Hey, that feels really nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…” Charlie peered out over the sheet, hoping that and the dim light would disguise how red his face felt. “Bet you’re tired too, after being at school all day, and worrying about me so much.”

Shayne rolled his eyes slightly. “And? If I was?”

Charlie wriggled forward slightly, freeing up a little more space between his back and the wall. He shut his eyes as Shayne climbed into bed with him, scooping him gently by the waist and dragging his fingertips up under Charlie’s pyjama top. Charlie didn’t stay awake long enough to hear Shayne asking if he was comfortable.

 ---

He woke with a gasp this time, pulled from that phantom cave by a sharp wrenching sensation in his abdomen. It was like an anchor had been dropped down his throat and immediately yanked up again. He shot forward in bed, feeling nausea crawl up his oesophagus, clamping his hands over his mouth.

“Here – go ahead, it’s okay.”

Charlie let liquid vomit gush from his mouth as his belly cramped and heaved. It drew out the most guttural sound and made his eyes water. He almost fell back with the force of it, but someone was holding him up, pushing gently on his back with one hand, holding the big mixing bowl under his chin with the other. 

He grabbed his mouth again as he hiccupped, pain shooting from his belly into his chest. Shayne rubbed Charlie’s back, eliciting another, but not so violent, stream of vomit to crash into the mixing bowl. Stars flashed across Charlie’s eyes, making the entire room spin. He pawed at the mattress as he lay himself back down.

Shayne reached over to put the bowl on the nightstand. He put his free hand gently on Charlie’s belly so that he wouldn’t accidentally press on it. Once he began settling back down next to him, Charlie kept Shayne’s hand pinned to his stomach and rolled onto his side.

“It hurts, Shayne,” Charlie groaned. “I hate this.”

“I know, I know.” Shayne’s voice was shaking. He could feel Charlie’s stomach gurgling away beneath his palm. Heat was pulsing out of him, but Shayne didn’t know the first thing about fixing that besides throwing back the sheets, which he’d already done. “Charlie, are you sure you can’t get your parents to come back early?”

“I’ll be fine. They –” Charlie whimpered as a roll of nausea made his insides whirl. “They’re looking at prop–”

Shayne made a grab for the bowl and held it to the edge of the bed as Charlie puked again, still lying on his side this time and almost toppling off the mattress. His whole body was racked with the force of the convulsions, and he was letting out pained little whines in between gags.

“Properties?” Shayne breathed, not entirely sure he wanted to press poor Charlie in his current state, but unable to stop himself either.

“Mmhmm,” Charlie mumbled, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his pyjama top and slumping back against Shayne.

“You moving away again?”

Charlie looked up into his friend’s brown eyes, hollow and deep in the early evening darkness of the room. Part of him was relieved to see a hint of sadness there, which was a horrible thought to have. Charlie closed his own eyes as tears welled up, though he wasn’t sure if it was the possibility of having to leave, or the twisting, writhing pain in his stomach that had caused them.

“I don’t – I don’t know…”

He reached for the bowl again, pulling it and Shayne’s hand closer to his face.

“Sorry,” Shayne muttered. “Take your time.”

Charlie winced as what felt like the last scrap of his stomach lining tore its way up his throat. A deep choking sound accompanied the final retch, like every droplet of moisture had evaporated from inside him and he was now a rattling bag of dry things.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?” Shayne climbed down towards the end of the bed, walked towards the door, and turned around again. “I mean, unless there’s something – is there something else I should be doing? If I give you food or medicine, you’ll just throw it up, right? You’ll probably throw the water up again, too. Fuck, how do I know when to call an ambulance?”

Charlie sighed weakly against his pillow as Shayne’s silhouette moved back and forth. “Shayne, you’re panicking.”

“What?” Shayne abruptly stopped pacing the room. “No. No, I’m not. Just – don’t die or anything, alright? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Charlie’s head swam as he waited in the dark. Shayne was so quiet downstairs that he almost imagined he was alone in the house. Alone in a dark cave. Alone in a world where he didn’t belong –

You’re not alone, he remembered. We’re not alone.

Charlie opened his eyes to see Shayne kneeling by the bed with a glass of water. He pushed himself up on his elbow slightly as the glass was tilted against his lips, wetting his tongue and cutting through some of the stale taste of vomit.

“Maybe that’s enough for –?” Shayne started to say, but Charlie kept sipping until his belly glugged in protest. The water felt like it hit boiling point the moment it got inside him, but he was so thirsty, he couldn’t make himself stop. Shayne had to pry the glass away, leaving it on the nightstand next to Vincent the teddy bear.

Charlie swallowed, feeling the water slosh against his diaphragm. He slowly sat further forward to find that Shayne already had the bowl in place for him. He’d washed it out when he’d gone downstairs, it seemed. Charlie breathed deeply a couple of times, holding his belly, but nothing escaped up his throat like he’d expected. His stomach groaned as it fought against itself, and Charlie finally let out a sigh from between pursed lips.

“I think I’m good, for – for now.” He lay back down, relieved but not yet fully trusting himself not to puke again. His eyelids fluttered as he watched Shayne put the bowl away again, still kneeling on the floor as he rested his head on the edge of the mattress.

“You have to go,” Charlie whimpered, eyes darting briefly towards the window that he’d once seen smashed in by a giant creature with bat’s wings. A creature he’d seen so many times again, in his nightmares. He felt his eyes start to tear up. “I don’t want you to get – to get in trouble, or hurt again –”

“Charlie, shut up,” Shayne spoke gently over him. “Just tell me what you need. Tell me what to do. Please. I – I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m –”

“Shayne,” Charlie said gently, though his voice felt slightly detached from his thoughts. “Shut up.”

Shayne looked down at the floor for a few seconds before getting up and climbing back onto the bed. Neither of them knew how to bring up the subject of Charlie’s parents buying a new house again, and as he fell into a shallow sleep for the twelfth - and not the last - time that day, Charlie wondered if Shayne was holding him just a bit tighter for it.

[p4lparker]

Lose Myself

I grabbed my books from my locker and shoved them roughly into my bag- this day had been awful! Freaking Harris had been a huge pain in my ass- he constantly called me out to answer his stupid chem. questions; questions I had no idea about, because the numbers in the chemical equation made no sense to me- they were all jumbled as usual, and his constant need to belittle me was seriously infuriating. I think the only way I managed to not concoct a Molotov cocktail and throw it straight into that douche bag’s  face; was the fact that Stiles was sat next to me. The adorable dork drew a picture of an anchor on a piece of paper before sliding it over to me- to remind me, remind us both, we could keep ourselves grounded- we could help each other stay grounded. The next bit of paper that was shoved into my peripheral was a note; My house later, I need to kick your sorry ass at Mortal Combat. The small note made me grin, for a few reasons; the foremost being he was going to try to cheer me up from my shitty day- no matter if he already had crap to do- he’d ditch those plans to help me, the other reason was the fact that he thought he could actually kick my ass.

         My other classes were also pretty terrible, I continued to sulk and slam my possessions around until Stiles slid into view- leaning against the locker next to my own. His grin was plastered on to his innocent face- being all infectious and almost, almost, making an identical grin claim my own sour features.

“Okay, you ready? Or do you want to beat up on your bag and books some more?” Stiles questioned, his voice only mildly unsure; showing that he was slightly scared of my reaction. I just rolled my eyes and slammed my locker door shut, grabbing his arm I led him out to his jeep and waited for him to get the hint. He grinned and unlocked the vehicle allowing us both to slide in and buckle up as bags were thrown haphazardly into the back seat.

Stiles focused his attention on the road, as I focused mine on finding a song to distract me. I settled on some random song, I didn’t recognise and sat back- lounging in the well-worn seat. The drive to the Stillinski residence took little to no time- the unrecognised song I played had quickly changed to yet another song I couldn’t recall the name of; Stiles though was mouthing along to the words quite happily, he tapped the beat out on the steering wheel as he continued to focus on the road. Which was a feat in itself; the weather had decided to take a turn for the worst pelting the windshield with heavy rain- I decided then at that moment that I had completely chosen the wrong outfit. Stiles continued to drive to his home- a drive which upsettingly didn’t last too long at all, in no time at all we were pulling up to the sidewalk; Stiles cut off the engine and looked to the skies as if cursing the sudden weather changes. I sighed as I knew we’d have to eventually leave the safe and dry confines of the jeep. Turning my face towards Stiles, a frown marring my features I held my tongue waiting for him to take charge- his face took on a matching expression.

“Okay- I’ll grab the bags from the back, while you make a mad dash for the door and unlock it, then I’ll run like Gump!” Stiles commanded in a serious tone of voice with a look of sheer determination holding his features now; I smirked at his reference before giving him a mock salute of understanding. I took a long deep breath before unbuckling my confining seat-belt and shoving the door of the jeep open, jumping out and slamming the door shut behind me; I began to run towards the door, ready to unlock it and enter- I came to an abrupt stop in front of the door it wasn’t until I was standing in front of it expectantly that I realised I didn’t in fact have the keys. Growling as I turned on my heel and prepared myself to run back out into the torrential downpour which had become more and more frustrating. I jogged back to the jeep and watched as Stiles ventured to the front carrying all of the bags; my oversized satchel hand-baggy type thing which Lydia insisted I buy as it complimented my new style perfectly, his own back pack and lacrosse bag all balanced precariously upon his arms- which I could see straining in an impressive way, they also seemed to be more muscular than I remembered them being and I struggled to tear my eyes from them.

It was at that precise moment that I realised neither of us were moving. Meaning we were both stood still, getting more and more soaked as the water pouring from above saturated us- I watched in avid fascination as Stiles juggled the bags; his arms continuing to flex and strain, my eyes were fixated as I watched the muscle twitch and writhe as if for my own visual pleasure- it took a few seconds to realise what Stiles was actually trying and failing to achieve. The keys just out of reach of his beautiful and teasingly long fingers, as the aforementioned objects were buried so deeply within the confines of his front jeans pocket. I decided now was as good a time as any to rip my eyes away from their activity of appraising Stiles’ and his physique- I stepped towards him, and took matters into my own hands- literally. Raising my hand to let it rest on his soggy t-shirt clad chest- gaining his attention to tell him to chill, I trailed my hand to the front pocket of his jeans.  I let my eyes flicker up to meet his own chocolaty gaze which was widened. I continued to hold his gaze as I slid my hand into his pocket and began the search for the cool metal which was a tell-tail sign of his keys- it seemed like his eyes widened even more, if that was even possible.

I found the keys easily enough, but I ceased my actions of pulling them free from their entrapment- instead choosing to watch the way Stiles’ face contorted into different expressions. His eyes roaming around my face, focusing on my lips before dropping lower; I felt as his breathing seemed to become slightly hitched and noticed as his jeans seemed to feel slightly more snug around my hand which grasped the solid collection of keys.  I watched as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and began to gnaw on it before clamping down on it hard as I shifted my hand, trying to remove it from his pocket. I watched in interest as his eyes seemed to become darker- as he stared at one fixed point on my person; my chest. I felt my brows furrow in confusion before the answer and realisation hit me full force like a tonne of bricks- it almost felt like I’d run metaphorically into a cinder block wall! Stiles’ unwavering and glazed eyes were focused solely on my sodden and see-through blouse; which due to it’s drenched state was allowing the creamy lacy bra I had on beneath  to be revealed and visually devoured by the man in front of me.  We both stood there, frozen in that moment; ignoring the rain pounding down on us. Ignoring the fact that we were steadily and surely getting more drenched as the seconds passed by. I knew I didn’t want to move my body all that much, as I felt a familiar warmth spread through my body and settle in my lower stomach- beginning to drip it’s way into my core. I dragged my bottom lip into my mouth, biting it sharply as Stiles had his own.

A car zooming past seemed to break us both from our hormone riddled and driven moment. I blinked and shook my head slightly, remembering why I had my hand buried in Stiles’ pocket to begin with; I gripped the keys before extricating them from his person and stepping away quickly as I let the moment crash to a sudden halt. I ran towards the door and successfully unlocked it, turning to beckon Stiles in also. I abruptly met his chest with my face as he was already standing close behind me. I stifled the gasp and stepped back into the home. I waited until Stiles had dropped the bags and closed the door before handing him the keys for him to lock it. I wordlessly walked to the kitchen and grabbed us both a bottle of soda from the well-stocked fridge, throwing one to him quickly and soundlessly- Stiles caught it effortlessly and undid the cap, taking a long swig of the carbonated drink. His gaze never left me as he continued to drink, I looked away first feeling slightly awkward standing in an uncalled for staring competition.

“Is it cool if I grab a shower and stuff?” I asked, breaking the silence which had encompassed us. I didn’t get a verbal confirmation; instead Stiles gave a jerk of his head, I returned his terse nod and wandered upstairs to his room and then to his bathroom. I closed the door behind me before turning to the shower and twisting the lever until the water began a steady flow- the steam slowly but surely filing up to room. I shed my soggy clothes when the water was warm enough and jumped under the flowing water; allowing the soothing water to cascade down my body, I quickly lathered up my body washing away the grime from the day and shampooed my hair. I finished my shower quickly, not wanting to waste any of the water or run up the Stilinski’s water bill. Once I ensured the water was shut off properly I left the confines of the shower cubicle and searched for a nice fluffy towel, the search didn’t last for too long thankfully- and I was able to wrap myself in a soft and deliciously snuggly towel, drying off quickly- and securing the towel around my chest. I ventured out of the small bathroom and entered the main bedroom; upon my re-entry  Stiles’ room, I spotted him sitting at the edge of his bed- staring directly at the door I’d just walked through, and directly at me. I don’t know what it was, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it; but something was different, something felt different.

It was in that brief moment, as I looked at him; really looked at him I could see he was different. Stiles, my Stiles was conflicted and tired; just so damned tired. I knew for a fact that he was barely sleeping; too many nightmares since saving his dad, since sacrificing himself- the terror that plagued his slumber kept him awake and too frightened to close his eyes. Those thoughts and images were taking their toll on him- the only time I’d known him not to wake himself screaming was whenever he napped or accidently fell asleep as we watched a movie. I felt myself worry my bottom lip as I continued to stare at him and his tired eyes seem to focus solely on me. I found it too much; I couldn’t look at him without feeling at fault somehow. I needed to make more time for him; for us to watch movies or something, just time for him to sleep and regain the parts of his personality which were almost missing. It was me who eventually looked elsewhere; my gaze landing on the bowl of too hot popcorn and the pile of movies beside it. Stiles must have noticed my change of focus.

“I thought we were gonna game tonight?” I asked, an eyebrow raised, one hand raised to keep my towel secure around my chest and the other raised to point at the collection of movies and the treats.

“Change of plan. I thought a movie night would be more fun. I’m gonna jump in the shower. You can change, I’m pretty sure you have some clothes left in my closet; pick a movie while I’m in there?” Stiles muttered as he slipped past me- I turned and watched him as he closed the door; his face looked confused and conflicted and there was something else, something I couldn’t name lurking in his eyes.

The door closing with a soft click pushed me to turn and search for some clothes and to pick a movie as requested. I ventured to the closet and searched through it; finding a section of the hanging space cordoned off simply for my; shirts and hoodies, a pair of sweats were neatly folded on the floor in a space cleared from his own bottoms. I don’t know what touched me about that; that image of my clothes sharing the space of his closet, but something did- and it was almost like it should be like that, it felt right to see our clothes hanging together. I shook my head to stop that train of thought before it left the station. I abandoned my task and decided to make a movie selection instead, I perused the titles Stiles had gathered and smiled at the usual suspects; Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Iron Man and American Pie. All of the series Stiles would use as ‘go to’ selections- one’s he’d always hope to watch. I grabbed the Iron Man series; cause I was a sucker for Robert Downey Junior.

I meandered back over to the closet and let my eyes drift over the sheer amount of plaid Stiles actually owned; it was vaguely unsettling to see it all bunched here together like this, I let my fingers graze over the collected softness. My eyes were drawn towards a familiar and particular shirt; it’s bright colour was so fantastically Stiles I struggled to keep the smile from forming on my lips. I let my hand trail to the shirt, feeling almost welcomed by the memorable fabric; I pulled it gently from it’s hanger and held the fabric in my hands, before pulling it onto my dry and cooling body. Fastening most of the buttons, leaving the top two undone; I realised my underwear was currently situated in the bathroom with Stiles- my bra probably still soggy, but hopefully drying and my underwear dry but not on my person. I dropped the towel and placed it in the hamper ready for when I’d do the laundry for them at the weekend. I was just looking over my reflection in the mirror; ensuring that all of the necessities were covered until I could retrieve my missing clothing- when the door opened, Stiles walking out already dry and wearing sweat pants which hung distractingly low on his slim hips.  His chest was bare, and his hair was dripping rivulets of water down his neck, to his shoulders, to his chest and lower. Lower until it dripped into the toned muscle of his stomach and further down; meeting the thin thatch of hair comprising his happy trial. Stiles cleared his throat, causing me to meet his eyes; my own slightly wide as if I was a rabbit in headlights- he’d caught me ogling him like he was a piece of meat!

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Stiles asked quietly; his eyes staring straight at the fabric which was the only thing covering my body from his gaze. I felt the blush cover my cheeks as his gaze lingered, I didn’t trust my voice so instead I just nodded. Stiles’ gaze was still locked on the shirt, he cleared his throat nodding as if he were distracted. I nodded my head as if to end the not-quite conversation, I walked to the bathroom quickly and collected my underwear before yanking it on unceremoniously underneath the shirt.  When I walked back out Stiles had decided put a shirt on, he was sat comfortably on his bed; his back leaning against the wall already watching the millionaire genius work in the movie. The room was silent and sombre; it was as if the terrors Stiles faced in his sleep were now forcing themselves into his waking life.

I decided it was time to change up this funky mood we were both in; leaning against the door frame I smiled at him as he looked in my direction- I returned his smile with a grin. Before lunging forward and throwing myself on to his bed causing him to bounce from his position. The silence was suddenly broken by Stiles’ raucous laughter; it was boisterous, loud and beautiful- like music to my ears. I missed this sound, it warmed my heart so completely. As he continued to laugh he knocked the bowl of pop-corn over and it’s contents went flying all over his navy blue bed-spread and the both of us. It wasn’t long before I had joined in with his humour, our laughter soon drowned out the noise coming from the movie playing in front of us. As our laughter died down a little I did an impression of Stiles bouncing round and knocking the popcorn over; an impression which was incredibly accurate, flailing arms and all- which resulted in a handful of pop-corn being thrown at me. A gasp tore from my throat as my laughter ceased- a grin still on my face, Stiles on the other hand laughed louder and harder- his hands actually grasping his stomach, as if physically holding himself together, attempting to control the mirth he was now slave to.

Sitting up on my knees, I watched as he continued to chortle- deciding enough was enough. I ran my fingers over his neck, smirking as his laughter became more desperate and bordered hysterical, the more I continued to tickle him. His body became uncontrolled and his movements quickly became more jerky as he desperately tried to wriggle free from my tickling torture. I quickly batted one of his jerking legs away from my head as he almost kicked me in his twitchy state. Once his leg was settled back on the bed and away from the general vicinity of my face; I threw my own leg over his waist; settling my weight onto his hips. Throughout this body re-arrangement, Stiles was busy laughing and trying to grab my merciless fingers as they continued their assault.

His laughter was ringing out loud and proud; it was warming my heart, and felt like it was warming my entire being, his hysterical chortles soon turned to scream-like peels of laughter as they ripped from his grinning mouth. My own laughter was still ringing out, mixing with his own and the sounds coming from the movie playing; it created a cacophony of noise, which the neighbours surely heard. I was too distracted by the mass of sounds surrounding me to notice that Stiles had finally managed to grab hold of my tickling fingers- pulling them abruptly from his neck as he swiftly sat up, me still firmly seated in his lap. I noticed all too late that his grinning face was suddenly inches from my own, my laughter silenced as it caught in my throat at suddenly being so close to him. I could see a glint in his mocha coloured eyes, sparkling and shining brightly as he stared at my shocked face- instead of just grinning, his face took on a look of triumph. I gasped, suddenly realising how we were sat; him holding my hands captive as I straddled him to his bed. My legs either side of waist, my weight resting firmly on his hips and lap- my fingers gripped in Stiles’ firm grasp.

I watched- my gaze wide and my lips open as Stiles’ triumphant grin was replaced by a smirk before dropping from his features altogether, as he too began to realise and take note of our current position. I stared as his eyes dropped to somewhere lower on my face- my lips beginning to tingle as if they knew they were his sole focus. My breathing hitched, as his pink tongue darted out to moisten his lips- before quickly closing the miniscule gap between us and pressing them softly against my own. My eyes widened a fraction- before slipping shut. It was a barely there kiss, just his lips gently pressing against my own, a barely there pressure. But it felt like much, much more. It was as if the air suddenly changed around us, becoming charged, like a spark was crackling around us. Then just as I was about to throw caution to the wind- and really kiss him, kiss him like I meant it. I felt him move slightly back from me, my eyes were still closed- so I didn’t see his expression, my lips were still slightly puckered- left wanting more and tingling with anticipation. I opened my eyes to see Stiles staring, waiting and trying to gauge my reaction. He must have struggled to figure me out, because in those few seconds it took for me to figure out; he had indeed kissed me, and that I wanted him to do it some more. Stiles had pushed himself away. A blush and a frown collecting themselves on his face- taking one hand from my wrist, he raised it to rub at the back of his neck nervously, he stopped his nervous tick shortly and took- instead to blinking anxiously.

         I shook my head, still trying to collect my thoughts. Finding it increasingly difficult. My lips were tingling, I tried to bite them to make the sensation cease; though that did nothing but make the feeling worse. I clenched the fingers of my unhindered right hand, before finally deciding ‘To hell with it’. Raising it to grab the back of his neck and yanking his face unceremoniously towards my own, if this were to be witnessed by another; it would seem aggressive, violent and possibly as if I was trying to initiate some sort of facial battle. I realised I wasn’t paying all that much attention to what was actually happening, it wasn’t until I felt Stiles push himself closer to me again did I become invested.

         His lips were soft and inviting, as they pressed against my own- there was much more pressure this time as I was still forcefully gripping his neck and crushing his face to my own. To soon I realised I wanted, no needed more.

More contact.

More pressure.

More Stiles.

I gently turned my head slightly to allow for better access; opening my lips and melding them to his. Moving them perfectly in sync, tasting more of him. I felt him return the favour, his lips parting to allow him more of a hint of me. With my lips already parted, I could dip my tongue out to run across his lips. My request for entrance to his mouth was granted fairly quickly- I slithered my tongue in, seeking more of a taste of him, dipping it inside his mouth and exploring this new territory.

The groan that echoed around the room, also vibrated trough my chest; I had made him groan. I smirked; my body moving of it’s own accord, pushing my lips more forcefully- if that was even possible- against his own, my hand smoothing up his neck until it was thrust deep within the hair at the base of his head. His other hand released my wrist and both secured themselves at my waist; fisting and bunching the fabric of his shirt, all the while tugging me closer. My hips began to roll and rub and grind down on his own. Searching for the friction I needed so desperately. A moan flew from my lips at the sensation and what sounded almost like a growl leaving that of Stiles’.

The kiss progressed, hands wandered and before I knew it; I felt light-headed from the lack of oxygen. I pried my lips from Stiles’, but he needed more contact- his own trailing down my jaw to the sensitive column of my neck. His kisses were sloppy and rough; his teeth nipping and tongue laving over the skin. My own bottom lip was drawn between my teeth, in an attempt to keep my moans and whimpers silent as delicate skin was given such sultry attention. My hands found their way to the hem of his shirt; tugging and pulling impatiently, hoping to give him the hint to remove the offensive fabric now! I needed MORE!

The shirt was yanked over his head quickly; the message received loud and clear. His hands began to tug up my own borrowed shirt; completely ignoring the buttons that was keeping it fastened together. Soon enough it was pulled gently from my frame and thrown haphazardly somewhere behind Stiles. He took this opportunity to let his eyes trail over the newly revealed flesh; my eyes doing the same and devouring the sight before me. His pale skin was smooth and almost hairless, apart from that trail of hair that led to unchartered territories. His dark eyes, now almost black in colour- stared directly at what was hinted to him earlier; his jaw dropping slightly. I could feel my cheeks flame under his scrutiny; so to distract his gaze, I gently placed one of his hands on my bare breast- squeezing it at a pressure which caused a moan to slip past my lips, with my other hand I gently slid it towards his sweatpants. Where an obvious reaction to what was happening was taking place- I slipped my hand over the top of his prominent and possibly painful bulge, palming him through his bottoms- feeling him become impossibly harder.

As he felt the pressure of my hand on his arousal, and his groped my breast he let out an animalistic growl; reminding me of the supernatural creatures we ran with, before diving into my neck and laving it with attention once more. After ensuring a mark would be left, purple and angry yet oh so pleasurable, he began a journey down my chest. Stopping to attend to kissing them passionately, before continuing down my body. He reached my hips, his lips skimming over my stomach and the centre of my panties- where a patch of wetness was extremely visible, allowing him to know I was as turned on and aroused by the events taking place as he was. He looked up towards my face; our eyes locking, his cheeks were slightly pink, his lips glistening and I was assuming my own looked similar.

“C..can I try something? Its something I’ve watched, in porn obviously cause I’m not some creeper who peeps through people bedroom windows- not that the bedroom is the only place you can have sex in.. Not that I’m assuming we’re automatically going to have sex.. But if we are, I’d be totally fine with that.. cause I’m me and you’re.. well you! And gahhh! I wanna taste…” Stiles let out in one big breathe, mumbling towards the end and almost whispering that very last part; as if to scared to acknowledge what was so obviously going to happen between us. He was obviously nervous, as was I; but my need to feel more. My need for him was almost to the point I felt I would explode if I didn’t get more.

More him.

More skin.

More pleasure.

I just smiled and nodded my head, almost too eagerly. Sucking in a breathe as he smirked and winked at me before licking a stripe up the centre of my underwear. His nimble fingers pried my panties from my hips and slid them down my legs, until I was finally left bare before him. His lips found my thigh, before grazing open mouthed kisses towards the area I needed him most; his tongue poking out and tasting the skin underneath, his teeth soon joined the party skimming over the skin also- this only made me grunt and whine at the sensation and tension he causing me. I was about to complain- to tell him to get on with it already, until I felt his tongue licking a strip up my centre instead of my impatient urging leaving my lips a gasp was torn from them first.

I was soon too lost in the tsunami of joy and pleasure he was giving me to actually notice what his tongue was doing to me, it was all on big desire driven blur. Leading to a tightening in my stomach; which was almost unbearable until, suddenly, it wasn’t unbearable anymore as moans so loud left my throat- moans so loud they were embarrassing and sounded rather pornographic to be truthful. I could feel Stiles’ lips wrapping around my clit, dragging me through my orgasm and ensuring it lasted a good while before he chuckled. He sat back on his knees; looking directly at my grinning face before letting out a ‘whoop’ of joy, almost as if he himself was surprised he managed to do that- so smug that he’d managed to make me a moaning mess on his bed.

I breathed out a long breathe; giving him a thumbs up as a sign he did good and I was absolutely fan-fucking-tastic; before wrapping my legs around his waist and throwing my weight, causing us to roll allowing me to situate myself on top of him. I smirked at his gaping mouth; his breaths coming out heavier as my hips moved over his erection, I was in control now, and I could tell he was feeling more turned on by the way his large hands were gripping roughly at my hips- almost guiding my movements and pressing me down harder so our groins met grinding together furiously. I slithered my way down his body; kissing licking and biting, leaving my mark all over his delicious pale skin before tugging his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. Once he was bare in front of me, I found my eyes drawn to the mystery that had been contained in his pants; he was large, larger than I expected- I was almost worried how he’d fit, I was no virgin by any means, but Jesus. Stiles Stillinski- my best friend and soon to be bed mate; was hung as fuck.

I began to lower my face towards it, wanting to repay the favour; to see how large he was and if he would fit inside me in any sense of the word, and I simply wanted to wrap my lips around him and have him squirming and at my mercy. Just as my lips were about to make contact; I felt his hands grip my chin, pulling it up and silently informing me he wanted me. And he wanted me now; just to check, I watched him as he shook his head- continuing to pull me up his body. As one hand lightly gripped my throat in an erotic gesture the other groped clumsily with his bedside table. He let out a frustrated sigh, letting my throat go and pushing me back gently so he could sit up and search for the protection we needed more thoroughly. He continued to sigh, muttering something about “Trying to be sexy” as I let out a small chuckle. I assumed he finally found the condoms as he let out another very Stiles-like whoop- he ripped open the small foil package before slipping it on quickly pumping himself; one, two three times, almost teasing me that I wasn’t able to. Before leaning forwards, wrapping his large hand around my neck again and pulling me into a kiss that was full of teeth and biting.

I continued to move towards him until I was once again situated above him. Gripping him tightly in my hand- smirking as he let out a groan, I guided him towards my entrance and slipped him in partially. Before sinking down on to him quickly; allowing him to fill me and stretch me in the most delicious way as moans and growls were ripped from our throats at the pleasure and sensation rolled over both of us. I began rolling my hips against him when I was comfortable with his sheer size; slowly beginning to move up and down on him allowing him to slip in and out of me at a quicker pace.

I watched as his face morphed into one of sheer joy, his mouth open, eyes clenched shut. He was beautiful. Sweat beginning to bead upon his brow, his arms swiftly wrapping around my waist and twisting until he was hovering over me. One hand still pleasantly wrapped around my throat, holding me in place and allowing me to know who was in control as of that moment. I felt him smirk and thrust into me at a quick pace.

“Fuuuck! Stiles.. Faster..Harder Please!” I groaned out, hoping to find that euphoria which was steadily coming towards me. I felt him respond; his hand tightening slightly as his hips pistoned towards me; fucking directly into the bed. His growls only making this experience all the more pleasurable. I felt my finish coming, I knew it would happen and felt myself clench tightly around Stiles. Who let out a surprised whine and suddenly became still as he too met his end.

“Oh. My. God!. That was incredible, you were incredible. I just whew..” Stiles breathed into my neck, still trying to catch his breathe a couple of minutes later. I grinned, dragging my nails teasingly down his back- he pulled out achingly slow, almost making me wish he was still hard so we could go another round. He disposed of the protection, before wrapping his arms around my body and pulling m under the covers. His head found its way to my chest and his breaths soon matched my own as they became slower and more peaceful as sleep took us.

The last thought I had before I allowed slumber to conquer me, was focused mainly on how Stiles and I would act tomorrow morning once we were awake and facing each other naked and laid.

[junqkook]

— LIONHEART; 01 (m.)

— notes; this is based on the bbc show merlin and arthurian legend, but isn’t the same world (aka not camelot, not england) and is instead its own fantasy world. also, a king’s ward is like an adopted son/daughter to the monarch. listen to the lionheart playlist.

pairing; jungkook/reader/taehyung genre; prince au, magic au, smut words; 11,104 rating; explicit

— synopsis; as a sorcerer, it is of the utmost importance that you keep your magic a secret from everyone. when you become prince jungkook’s servant, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep your identity hidden; especially when you fall in love with him.

contents; prince jungkook, knight taehyung, sorcerer reader, magic use, prejudice and discrimination, depictions of violence, pining, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, rough sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!), creampie, dirty talk, dom taehyung, clothed sex, he fingers you with a glove on, overstimulation, teasing, marking/biting.

— chapters; one. two. three. four. five.

You fell in love with Prince Jungkook when you accidentally saw a moment that you knew was never meant for your eyes.

As a maidservant, you were rushing to grab a candle and some fresh water for your master, the king’s ward. It had been late, the sun already beginning to set, and the day had been tense and rough. There had been an execution of a sorcerer in the square, and the screams as he’d burned seemed to fill the entire kingdom.

The door had been cracked open and you’d seen him as you passed, his head ducked and hand to his face. It was never easy to watch the executions, and there had always been word spread between the servants about the arguments that took place between Jungkook and his father. The staff whispered about how the man accused of witchcraft had been a friend to the prince, and he’d asked his father for clemency but had not received it.

You thought he must be crying.

Without meaning to, your feet had stalled by the crack and your eyes caught on his dark hair, on the shine of his armor that he’d still yet to take off, on the hunched slope of his back betraying his exhaustion. You still didn’t know if you’d made a sound while standing there watching him, but soon after Jungkook had lifted his head from the warmth of his palm and his eyes had briefly met yours.

You scurried away from the door, your heart beating a frenzy in your chest from the sudden contact. The water sloshed over the rim of the cup onto your hand and you made sure to slow your pace, keeping the burning candle away from it so as not to put out the light accidentally and waste another trip.

Jungkook had not been crying.

You mused about the discovery, wondering if he’d even really seen you when he’d looked up. You climbed the steps quickly as you thought, finding your master’s chambers on autopilot and the guards barely even acknowledging you as you walked past and into the room.

“My lord,” you greeted quietly, nodding your head briefly.

Hoseok sat up in his bed and reached out for the water, which you gave him gladly. You set the candle on the table beside his bed and waited patiently as he drank. “Thank you, dear,” he said after making a noise of refreshment. “You’re too good to me, as always.”

“I am honored to serve you, my lord,” you replied easily, not missing a beat. It was always like this after an execution, with the nobleman laying awake in his bed and calling for you to bring him water and sit with him a while. It was nice, really. It was almost as if you were friends.

He hummed and handed you the nearly empty goblet. You took it from his hand and set it down on the table in case he needed another drink later. The king’s ward’s eyes were a little red and you knew from experience that he must have been crying after being forced to stand beside the king and watch the execution in full.

The prince hadn’t cried. How strange, you thought to yourself.

You hadn’t realized it then, but it was at that moment when your heart had been truly captured by the prince, with little defense against him. You hadn’t realized it then, but you had only just begun a fate that the gods had imposed upon the two of you, your paths destined to intertwine from long before you had been born.

Your thoughts were filled with the not-crying prince the entire night, even after an hour of sitting with Hoseok and after you’d gone to bed.

No one knew you had magic. No one knew that you were magic; you hadn’t practiced it simply for fun, hadn’t practiced at all, really. You’d been born with it, could do things no other around you could from the moment you had taken your first breath. Your small village had proved too stifling, too dangerous, and your mother had sent you away, sent you here to this castle for safety, and you knew better than to ever use your magic in the heart of the kingdom.

You’d kept your head down and served your master, finding said job quickly as a way to belong somewhere and keep an eye on what you would need to look out for. You hadn’t used your magic at all in a few months and you could feel it thrumming under your skin, coiling tightly from underuse.

At the moment, you had helped the other servants prepare for the banquet for a Lady that was coming to visit the king. The temptation to use your magic to hurry the process was almost overwhelming. You’d never felt a sizzling in your limbs from your magic similar to this and you couldn’t begin to guess why it was acting up like this. You stood behind one of the noblewomen seated at the large dining table, the noise level reaching obnoxiously loud levels. You blinked your eyes and refilled the wine goblet of the woman in front of you, making sure to keep the tremble from your fingers too noticeable as your magic swirled at the tips of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to wander, to find the dark hair atop the prince’s head, and watch him for but a moment. Even in a room full of nobles, he stood out like a beacon. Your fingers thrummed once more, twitching on the pottery in your hands. The prince did not look over to you, did not notice you, his smile firmly in place on his lips as he sipped from the goblet of wine in his hand.

Strange, you found yourself thinking again. Had you misread the situation in the room that you’d seen days before? You didn’t think so; as a servant and sorcerer, you’d honed your observation skills enough that you knew what you’d seen that day and you knew that you weren’t wrong.

You stepped forward to refill the goblets of the noblewomen once more, and something happened. Your magic seemed too restless under your skin, swirling through your organs as if to warn you of something. Time itself seemed to slow around you, no one noticing as their eyes began to droop and their limbs ceased to move. Before you knew it, everyone had fallen into a deep sleep, the noise abruptly disappearing.

Something sliced through the air and your magic exploded, eyes flashing gold as you stilled time itself, everything moving in slow increments in front of you. A dagger had been thrown from across the hall, at the end of the table. You saw it inching forward through the air and you followed its path with your eyes to the prince, seated with his eyes shut and head lolled to the side.

With a surge of panic you hadn’t known could take root inside of you, your magic burst from within you and undid whatever spell had blanketed the people in the banquet hall. They woke slowly as you moved, your magic already undoing itself as your limbs tired from keeping it held in place. By the time everyone had started to blink, time returning to its normal pace, your hands were fisting into the lapels of the prince and you were tugging him toward your own body.

“What—” he started to exclaim, but you yanked as hard as you could and he toppled half over the chair as you dropped down, the dagger missing him by only a few centimeters and lodging itself in the back of his chair.

All the noise faded away as what had just happened started to register with the nobles. Then, the king stood and pointed down the hall, his face twisting with rage. Your own eyes followed in the direction he gestured, finding the visiting Lady with her arm outstretched, her own face contorted from her failure.

“You!” the king roared. “Filthy sorcerer! How dare you make an attempt on my son’s life? Guards, restrain her!”

The Lady in question struggled against the guards restraining her, shackles closing on her wrists. You knew they had been enchanted to hold any magic locked within them, to render magic-wielders helpless. “You took my son!” she cried out as they dragged her away. “It is only fair! I will take your son so you can feel the grief that I feel! One day you will know what it is to—”

The doors shut as they dragged her away, her voice cut off. You looked up into Jungkook’s face, which was only a breath away from yours. Your hands were still fisted in the fabric of his attire, and his eyes were wide and focused on you. Flushing, you released him and stood straight, fully prepared to return to the shadows and serve the nobles around you.

“You,” the king said before you could move any further away. Your head shot up and you met his eyes. “What is your name?”

“____, Sire,” you replied quietly, ducking your head.

“Well, ____, you have saved my son’s life,” he continued, loudly enough for the entire hall to hear. Your cheeks felt hot and you kept your head dipped to avoid the stares. “I shall reward you greatly for this.”

“Oh, no,” you said, startled. “There is no need, Sire—”

“Nonsense!” the king interrupted, waving his hand to quiet your protests. “You shall be Jungkook’s maidservant from now on.” Before you or the prince could say anything, the king turned to face his guests. “Let us continue our feast!” And the noise resumed, everyone cheerfully eating and talking with one another.

Prince Jungkook fixed his seating position and cleared his throat, not looking at you as he gestured toward his cup. You quickly stepped to his side, making sure to stay a bit behind him, and took the wine from the other servant behind him. You refilled his goblet and stepped back, barely noticing how the thrum of your magic had settled, as if satisfied with the recent events.

You continued to serve him for the rest of the evening, your feet long used to the time you had to stand during feasts and celebrations. You saw Hoseok stand from his seat on the other side of the king and you met his gaze briefly, almost stepping around to leave with him. His mouth was turned down into a frown and he left the hall quickly, telling the king he was retiring for the evening.

Jungkook did not leave until late into the night, and you found yourself increasingly struggling to stay awake, having been long used to leaving and going to bed. By the time Jungkook chose to retire for the evening, many of the guests had already left, as had his father.

You followed the prince quietly, staying a few paces behind him in the empty halls. He stumbled a few times, and you knew it was because of the wine he had consumed, impairing his abilities as he walked toward his rooms. While walking up the steps he nearly missed one, stepping right on the edge, and tumbled back a step. You reached out and steadied him from behind, hands on his warm back as he righted himself.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly.

You said nothing, the air feeling odd and your magic once more swirling at the tips of your fingers, as if it wanted to reach out and touch him. You clasped your hands together tightly to keep back the urge, not knowing what you were meant to do.

When you’d reached his room, you slipped inside after him when he kept the door open instead of shutting it. You idled awkwardly by the door after shutting it, not sure what he meant you to do. Were you to undress him and ready his sleeping clothes? You’d done so for Hoseok for years, but with Jungkook it was different.

Seeming to realize your inner plight, Jungkook met your eyes from where he plopped onto the side of his bed.

“You can go,” he told you kindly. “I’m sure I can manage to dress myself this evening.”

You ducked your head. “Sire.”

“Make sure you are here in the morning,” he continued. “My schedule is much different than Hoseok’s and I’ll have one of the other servants explain to you what your duties will be.”

You nodded your head again. “Yes, my lord.” You heard him sigh and you peeked at him as you turned to leave. “Goodnight,” you said quietly, not sure if he really heard you.

Jungkook did not respond as you left, shutting the door behind you and wishing a good night to the guards outside as well. You moved quickly, going back to your own room, which was in Hoseok’s antechamber. You wondered if the prince would request that you move closer to him tomorrow. As you reached your quarters, you realized he’d known you were Hoseok’s servant. The knowledge that he knew you and who you served startled you, as you’d never thought he would remember any of the servants, let alone you. He was the prince.

You shook your head to rid the thoughts of him, trying to ready yourself for bed without the worry of how much more vigilant you’d need to be in order to keep your magic hidden now.

Hurrying, your feet pounded on the floors of the hall as you rushed past other servants and guards, ducking into passageways to try to get up to the prince’s chambers faster. Your hair was a mess and you couldn’t care less, having realized you’d be late no matter what from the moment your eyes had opened and the memories of the previous night sinking in.

You nearly slammed into the wooden door while trying to open it, stepping inside and shutting it behind you quickly as you caught your breath as quietly as you could. Your eyes fell on the prince, who was already seated at his desk and eating his breakfast, his brow quirked up. You tried to give him a smile, though you weren’t sure that it came out right.

“Late on the first day?” he quipped, tearing off a piece of bread and putting it in his mouth.

“I—I’m sorry, Sire, I—”

He cut you off with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I realize it must have been confusing for you. I’m sure Hoseok doesn’t get up until much later.” You nodded slowly, not sure what you should be doing or saying. Jungkook cleared his throat as he finished his breakfast and stood from his desk. “For now, attend me. I need to go out onto the training field with the knights.”

He rounded the table and you rushed into action, walking over to him to help him dress in proper attire for the day. He had his chainmail on the side and you made note of it as you helped Jungkook slip his sleeping shirt off. Your eyes roamed the expanse of his torso quickly and your cheeks felt hot as you hurriedly grabbed a thicker shirt for him to wear. You held it out for him and he followed your lead quietly, his eyes watching you curiously. Taking note of his gaze, you made sure to stay as professional as you could lest you embarrass yourself in front of the prince.

Once he had his chainmail on, he lifted a hand to stop you when you reached for his sword and helmet. You paused and looked at him expectantly.

“Carry them with you,” Jungkook said. “You’re to come with me to the training session and attend our needs there.”

You nodded your head and it took all you had to keep from twisting your mouth down into a scowl. You hated going to the training sessions; it was always hot, the sun beating down on you, and it meant you had to run around the grass to give haughty knights-in-training whatever they wanted. Hoseok hated it as well, preferring to practice his swordplay on his own or one-on-one with Jungkook, so you typically didn’t have to deal with those chores.

Now, it seemed, you would have to find a way to adapt.

You carried his sword and helmet, along with the other pieces of his armor, in your arms awkwardly whilst following him down to the training field. The training knights, along with other noblemen come to be granted knighthood from the king, were already mulling about the grass with their dulled swords. Jungkook raised a hand in greeting to them and you made sure to stay only a few steps behind him so you could hand him his sword.

When he finally stopped and turned to you, you stretched out your arms to offer his sword and helmet. He took them from you without a word, gesturing over to the wooden tables and racks, other servants standing beside them.

“Take the armor over there,” he told you. “I won’t be needing it today, so you can just polish it and make sure to keep the water full.”

You nodded. “Of course, my lord.” At his quick dismissal, you hurried off the field and over to the other servants, one of whom gave you a short smile. You smiled back at her and set the armor down on the table, sighing as you got to work.

Not able to help yourself, you continuously found your eyes dragging across the field to watch the knights. Many of them were young and attractive, laughs echoing as Jungkook trained them first-hand. Your eyes were drawn especially to the prince himself, who just so happened to be pushing his dark hair away from his face, sweat dripping down his neck. You pursed your lips and grabbed the water, making your way across the field to him when the knights started to take a quick break.

“Sire,” you said, appearing at his side. He turned to you with a startled look, not having realized you’d made your way over. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, taking it from you and placing the cup to his lips. He drank in large gulps, a few droplets escaping down the side of his mouth and to his chin. You followed it with your gaze, heat blossoming in your cheeks. He handed it back to you and you bowed briefly, beginning to move back.

“And who’s this?” a deep voice called, appearing beside Jungkook.

“My new servant,” the prince said easily, pursing his lips.

“She’s quite the beauty,” the knight replied, dark eyes focused on you. You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do; you didn’t like having this attention, it made you anxious. Your magic swirled in your veins like a stark reminder of why you would rather keep your head down.

Jungkook nudged the knight. “Taehyung, stop. Anyway, I hadn’t really noticed. And neither should you, you idiot, get back to training!”

You hated that the words stung; you didn’t want his attention, anyway.

The knight, Taehyung, reached out and placed an ungloved hand on your cheek lightly. Your eyes widened and you snapped your gaze to him, shocked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s prickly,” Taehyung faux-whispered. His thumb trailed lightly across your cheek.

The prince shoved at his arm, dislodging his hand from your face. You stayed rooted in place, unused to this type of situation, and moved your gaze over to Jungkook. “Stop bothering my servant,” he snapped, dark brows furrowed in a way you hated to admit had heat pooling in your belly.

Taehyung chuckled and winked at you, turning and jogging back toward the others.

You and Jungkook met eyes and neither of you spoke for a few beats of tense silence. “Well?” he chided. “Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

That snapped you back into reality and you ducked your head. “O-Of course, Sire. I’ll get back to them immediately.”

“Yes,” he responded harshly. “Yes, you do that.”

You walked briskly back to where the other servants were, choosing to stay there for the rest of the training. Though this time your eyes were equally darting back and forth between the prince and the knight.

“The tournament is tomorrow,” Jungkook informed you, allowing you to help him shed his chainmail and replace it with a suitable jacket. “There will be knights and noblemen from all houses coming to participate.” You fixed his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles as he talked, barely listening. “You will need to take care of any of them who ask for help, as many of them don’t choose to bring their own servants along with them.”

“Understood, my lord,” you replied easily, satisfied with how the jacket looked now. “The king and ward are awaiting you at the banquet hall to dine.”

“Have some of the men already arrived?” he asked.

“Yes. Many of them are getting prepared to dine with the king as we speak.”

“Good, good,” Jungkook said distractedly. He looked you over once, furrowing his brows. “Change into something cleaner and come attend me at the table.” Your eyebrows shot up. Usually you did not attend any of them at the banquet hall unless Hoseok specifically requested you to. When you didn’t answer, Jungkook paused in his stroll toward his door and looked back at you. “Is there some reason you cannot?”

You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Of course not, Sire. I will be there shortly.”

The prince nodded. “Good. Don’t take too long.” He smiled at you oddly, as if the two of you were sharing some secret that only he knew. “We wouldn’t want my goblet to remain empty all night, now, would we?”

You had to hold back an eye roll. “No, my lord, that would be of the utmost offense.”

Jungkook snickered as he left the room, calling back loudly for you to hurry up. You didn’t have to be told twice, almost breaking out into a sprint back to your own chambers and changed into a cleaner dress that didn’t have mud and dirt all over the hem from the training fields.

Sir Yugyeom had been giving you the strangest feeling all evening. Every time you looked at him, something about the way he held himself while dining made the hair at the nape of your neck stand up on end. You tried not to think about him, focusing only on refilling Jungkook’s wine as he instructed you to.

Which he was now ordering you to do. Your eyes snapped away from Yugyeom at the other end of the table and you stepped forward to the table, pouring the wine into Jungkook’s goblet slowly.

Leaning down as far as you could without seeming inappropriate, you lowered your voice so only the prince could hear you. “Sire,” you started slowly. “I think you should watch out with Sir Yugyeom.”

Jungkook turned his face only slightly, to give you an indication that he’d heard you without alerting anyone else that either of you were speaking. “And why is that?” he asked lowly.

You stopped pouring right before the wine began to spill, not wanting to deal with having to clean it if it did. “He just... He seems off. Wrong.”

Jungkook could barely hide his snort, drawing the attention of another nobleman seated beside him. He smiled at the young man beside him and waited until he turned away to turn back towards you.

“And I’m supposed to be suspicious of a knight based on a servant’s feeling?” he asked mockingly. “Just try not to think about whatever silly feeling you have. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You bit your tongue, tightening your grip on the pottery in your hands and nodding your head shortly. Stepping away from the table, you straightened your back and kept your mouth shut for the rest of the dinner, waiting alongside Jungkook to give him whatever he needed. But you didn’t take your eyes off of Yugyeom, his smile seeming too vicious for your nerves to rest.

After a while, Yugyeom excused himself from the table and bid the king and his family a good night and luck in the tournament tomorrow. You watched him carefully as he left and when he turned back briefly, your eyes met.

Something shot through you and it felt suspiciously like death.

You gnawed on your lip and tried to see where he went, but you could no longer follow him with your eyes as the doors shut. You glanced impatiently at Jungkook, but he seemed to be in no mood to leave just yet, laughing and joking with the people seated around him as he ate.

He gestured to you for more wine and you stepped forward, dipping low once more to speak to him.

“Haven’t you had enough wine, Sire?” you pressed. “It will do you no good to be incapacitated tomorrow morning.”

Jungkook whirled to look at you and you backed up only a few centimeters, not expecting him to be so close. He glared at you without malice. “Don’t dare to tell me what I can and cannot handle, ____. I will be perfectly fine for tomorrow.”

“Oh, be easy on her, Jungkook!” the man beside him said, surprising you as he got involved. “She’s just worried for her prince! It’s cute.”

Jungkook grumbled, but said nothing else to you. Glancing at the door, you decided now would be a good a time as any to ask for leave.

“Sire,” you said lightly. “May I retire for the night?”

“What?” he asked loudly, furrowing his brows as he turned to look at you again. “Are you—”

“I’ve much to do tomorrow to prepare, my lord,” you interrupted. “I’m sure the other servants will be more than happy to take over my duties here.”

The same man as before chuckled, patting Jungkook’s shoulder lightly. “Come on, Jungkook, let her go for the night. She is indeed a sight for sore eyes, but she’s probably been running after you all day.”

Jungkook sighed and waved his hand in your direction. “Fine, fine, you may leave. I expect to see you early for your duties tomorrow.”

You bowed briefly and tried to smile at them, not particularly enjoying the way the other man was watching you. “Thank you, Sire,” you said to Jungkook, handing the wine over to another servant and backing away from the table. You hurried over to the servants’ entrance and left the hall, walking as quickly as you could down the corridor.

Once you were out in the halls, it was as if you could sense it. Sense him. You walked slowly, following the tendrils of magic that you could feel in the air, knowing it would lead you where you needed to go. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you found yourself at one of the chambers for the knights, the door cracked shut. You knew the guards would be making their rounds soon and you let your own magic seep out to the door, push it slightly ajar without making a sound, before wrapping it around yourself like a makeshift shield.

You squinted in the dark, shifting slightly to try to catch sight of him. Yugyeom walked over to the bed, tugging his shirt over his head. You held your breath as you watched him, eyes catching on a jewel hanging from his neck. It shone brightly in the dim light from the candle and drew your gaze, as if compelling you to focus on it.

Yugyeom reached over and put on his sleep shirt, hiding the jewel from your gaze. He tucked himself into the bed and reached his hand out toward the candle, snuffing it out from afar. His magic felt—different. You couldn’t explain it, but your own rejected it, as if it were a poison trying to infect you. Barely able to stand it any longer, you brought your hand up and curled your fingers into a fist slowly, shutting the door quietly again; as if you’d never been there.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Yugyeom was going to make an attempt on Jungkook’s life. But you had no proof, besides the bad feeling, and you kept your mouth shut as you made your way to your quarters, an uneasy churning in your gut.

You hadn’t slept well at all, nightmares plaguing you as you lay in your bed. Flashes of visions, of Jungkook being struck down helplessly by Yugyeom, slid into your unconscious and you woke with sweat dampening your face and nearly choking with your magic, stuck in your throat.

You went to wake Jungkook early, preparing his breakfast on the table and getting his attire ready as he trudged over to his desk and ate silently. You could feel his gaze burning into your back while you worked, tidying up his room as he finished his meal and stood.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Jungkook said as he shrugged his shirt off and you handed him another.

You shrugged when you moved to stand in front of him, biting at your lip anxiously. He watched you do so with barely contained annoyance, before sighing loudly while you put his chainmail on him.

“Oh, for the love of—what is it?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s just—” You sighed, not knowing how to phrase it so he would believe you. “I think Sir Yugyeom is going to use magic to kill you,” you finally settled on saying bluntly.

Jungkook blinked at you owlishly before chuckling. “You know he’s a knight, right?” he asked incredulously. “Why would he do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I had a dream last night, and I saw—”

“You had a dream?” Jungkook interrupted. “It’s very kind of you to be dreaming about me, you know, but—” You rolled your eyes and mumbled something about his ego while you fitted his armor on his limbs. “—but I highly doubt a knight would be stupid enough to be using magic in a tournament.”

“Can you please just be careful?” you sighed. “I saw him.”

“You saw him?”

“Yes. I saw him do magic last night, after I left the feast.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you and you handed him his gloves, which he put on slowly. “So you left to go spy on a knight?”

“Sire, please,” you complained, nearly at your limit. “I was getting a—a really bad feeling, so I followed him and I saw him put out a candle from across the room. And he had a jewel that had to have been magical with him.”

Jungkook watched you seriously for a few moments, and then his door opened and Hoseok peered inside. You smiled at the king’s ward, who smiled back at you easily. You inched away from Jungkook, realizing that your distance might not be exactly appropriate after you’d already finished helping him.

“Kook, it’s time to go,” Hoseok said.

“Right, right,” Jungkook replied. “I’ll be right there.” Hoseok nodded and stepped back out, shutting the door again. You faced Jungkook, who was already looking at you without a hint of his usual haughtiness—though,  you had to admit that his haughtiness was charming sometimes. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

You shook your head. “I would never lie to you, Jungkook,” you said quietly. “I know I’m just a servant and Sir Yugyeom is a knight, but I swear I saw him using magic and I fear his intentions are not for your good health.”

Jungkook seemed to deliberate on what you’d told him and nodded his head, sighing deeply. “Alright. I believe you.” He took his dulled sword from you and placed it in its sheath at his hip. “I’ll be careful when I fight Yugyeom.”

You didn’t have to reply as the two of you left, meeting Hoseok in the hall and all three of you making your way down to the tournament. And you knew that you would be watching vigilantly for any sign of magic aimed at Jungkook.

You’d seen Yugyeom’s magic use as the tournament went on, focusing on the way his fingers curled lightly or how his eyes seemed to shine bright for a few seconds, his opponent falling at the most inopportune moment. He didn’t seem to use it at first and you’d started to seriously doubt what you’d seen the night before, but as he advanced in the arena and his opponents became stronger, he had to rely on the magic he was using.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a flurry of strength and striking beauty. When he was in the arena, you couldn’t help but trail your gaze to him and the way he moved, seeming to effortlessly best the other knights and nobles that fought against him. Before long, the prince had advanced to the final round and—to your dismay—so had Yugyeom. Their fight was scheduled to be held in an hour, giving the two men some time to rest and replenish themselves.

You darted around awkwardly until Jungkook came over to his tent, where you followed him inside quickly. He sat down with a thud onto the chair, the lighting of the tent cascading onto him like honey, and you grabbed one of the towels on the table. You handed him some water and started to lightly dab at the sweat on his face and neck while he drank. Your eyes dragged across the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing as he swallowed, but you quickly focused on drying his damp hair as best you could.

“Yugyeom’s an impressive fighter,” Jungkook said, breathing heavily.

You made a face. “I know he’s using magic.”

Jungkook turned to give you a look, sputtering very un-princely when you shoved the towel right into his face to dry him. He batted your hands away lightly and there was a small smile on his face. “And how, exactly, do you know this so matter-of-factly?”

You shrugged one shoulder and tried not to fidget. “I just do.”

Jungkook sighed and raised his eyebrows, shaking his head lightly to himself. “Alright, alright.”

When you asked him if he’d like you to get him something to eat, he refused, saying he’d rather feast after he won. You stood beside him as he relaxed, wiping the sweat from his brow and working on cleaning his armor to keep yourself busy. You peeked your head out of the tent and saw everyone returning to the stands of the arena, you turned back to Jungkook.

“It’s time, Sire,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and stood from his seat. You helped him place his helmet on his head and then handed him his sword, following close behind as he walked to the arena. You stopped by the spectators, giving him a hesitant smile when he pivoted as he walked, knowing he was looking at you.

Your eyes found Yugyeom’s form, his helmet off and standing at the middle waiting for Jungkook. They shook hands briefly and waited for the king to start the final round.

“It is time,” the king announced, standing from his wooden throne in the stands. “You may begin. May the best man win!”

Their swords were up immediately, and you heard the clash of metal before you saw it. They were both moving so quickly that you almost couldn’t see what was happening. You made sure to keep your gaze completely on Yugyeom, not wanting to miss a single moment of his actions, even if it meant you had to tear your eyes away from Jungkook.

Jungkook ducked from a hit, lifting his shield just as Yugyeom’s blade came down on him. The loud clang as Jungkook pushed him back and gained the upper hand had the crowds cheering for their prince. Yugyeom stumbled and fell to the ground and—

There.

You saw his eyes flash gold for a second and Jungkook’s foot caught on a rock on the field, dislodging his balance. Yugyeom brought his sword up faster than you could follow with your eyes, but Jungkook jerked his head back and the tip only knocked his helmet askew. The prince threw down his shield and grabbed his helmet, yanking it off and tossing it aside so that he could see.

Yugyeom got to his feet, swinging his sword down on Jungkook. The prince quickly held his own up, blocking the attack. The audience was cheering loudly, but you stood with baited breath, waiting for the crackling in the air to come full force. You knew it was coming, could sense the jewel on Yugyeom rolling magic out in slow waves, like blood.

Jungkook had gained the advantage again, shoving Yugyeom back and nearly knocking him off his feet a few times. You narrowed your eyes and saw it again, a flash of gold from the knight as he overpowered Jungkook. The prince’s hands seemed to betray him, weakening under Yugyeom’s magic.

You felt your magic build up at your throat, crawling its way up to your mouth. You blew out the air, magic sprinkled along the wind, and darting its way to Jungkook. It wrapped around him like a coiled snake, making its way up his legs and thighs to his torso, slithering to his arms and ending at his wrists. Your magic pushed back against Yugyeom’s, giving Jungkook the strength of ten men as he shoved forward and knocked his opponent to the ground. Jungkook kicked the fallen shield away from the knight and held the tip of his sword at Yugyeom’s neck.

Yugyeom’s hands stayed still on his sides, looking up murderously at the prince. You took in a deep breath, allowing your magic to dispel from Jungkook’s form and dissipate in the air around him.

The king and Hoseok stood from their seats, clapping loudly. “My son, Prince Jungkook, is the champion!” Cheers erupted around you and you smiled widely, catching Jungkook’s gaze as he looked back at you briefly. His smile was soft and intimate, like it was meant for you alone, and you thought you must look silly with the grin on your face. He turned back to the others in the crowds, lifting his sword up into the air to signal his victory. After a few turns to everyone, he turned back and offered a hand to Yugyeom, who took it reluctantly and allowed the prince to help him to his feet. Jungkook brought the knight in close and said something to him quietly, something no one could hear, and the knight jerked back in surprise, eyes wide.

Even after they both left the arena and Jungkook gestured for you to follow him back to his tent so you could attend him, you wondered what he’d said to Yugyeom.

“You were great out there,” you said, grabbing the water and handing it to him. He drank in large gulps as you unbuckled the clasps of his armor and slid them off his limbs. You set them aside and fluttered around him, grabbing a clean towel and cleaning the sweat as much as you could.

Jungkook handed the water back to you and raised an eyebrow as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Just ‘great?’” he asked teasingly. “I would’ve thought you’d say something much more suited for your prince.”

You rolled your eyes when you turned away from him to set the towel down. “I’m sure the cheering crowds inflated that ego of yours much more than I ever could, Sire,” you replied lightly. Jungkook laughed heartily and you turned back slightly in surprise, staring at his expression unabashedly. His face was so young, so open and happy, and you suddenly wanted to do something silly, like press kisses to every inch of skin you could reach.

Clasping your hands tightly together so you wouldn’t, you cleared your throat and grabbed the chainmail, tugging it off of him.

“What did you say to Sir Yugyeom?” you asked lightly, trying to be inconspicuous.

Jungkook sighed and pushed his hair back away from his face. “Nothing you need to worry about.” You took the dismissal at its value, knowing that there was a very slim chance he’d tell you what he’d said. “Now, will you go ahead and get me some clean clothes? I still have to speak to the people outside and I’d much rather do so without stinking of sweat.”

You grinned at him. “I think the stink adds character,” you told him, barely able to hold in your laugh. He made a sputtering sound and looked around for something light to grab, settling on one of his gloves, making you yelp and laugh as you hurried to leave. “Of course, Sire, I’ll get going!” you shrieked, the giggles still tumbling from your lips as you ducked out of the tent.

“Yes, you best do that!” he called after you, and you could still hear his grumbling as you jogged away from the tent to go get him some clean clothes to change into.

And as you went, you’d heard that Sir Yugyeom would not be joining the festivities after, having told the king that he was needed back at his home immediately.

Jungkook groaned as you helped him shed the chainmail and his thick jacket underneath that he’d slipped back on when he went to greet the crowds and speak to the other knights and nobles that had stayed. He had fought the men hard and pushed himself harder during the fight with Yugyeom, and you were sure that his muscles must be sore. You didn’t dare allow your hands to caress his skin where it was exposed at the neck of his shirt.

“Would you like me to get some ointment?” you asked quietly, setting his chainmail aside.

“No, it’s fine,” he replied, stretching out his arms and stepping away from you. “Has my father dined yet?”

“Yes, my lord,” you informed him. “The king chose to dine with Sir Hoseok early, as your duties ran later than usual.”

Jungkook sighed. “Bring me something from the kitchens, will you?” he asked, going to his desk to read through the papers on them.

You nodded. “Yes, of course.” You grabbed the chainmail and carried it with you as you left, dropping it off in the armory before you went to the kitchen. You snuck a piece of bread and an apple for yourself while the kitchen staff prepared the prince’s meal quickly. You thanked them before you left, used to carrying Hoseok’s meals—he often ate in his own chambers, since he had many disagreements with the king.

You reached Jungkook’s room quickly, setting the tray with his meal on it down in front of him, and away from the documents. He thanked you quietly and began to eat. You bit your bottom lip as you moved around to the other side, placing yourself directly behind him. Jungkook’s eyes stayed focused on the document in front of him while he ate, and you slipped the ointment you’d grabbed from the armory out of your pocket. Dipping half of the contents into your palm, you rubbed your hands together and then placed them on the prince’s shoulders.

“What are you—” he shouted, startled, attempting to shift to face you.

You pressed down harder, squeezing his shoulders and working your hands on his skin. “Let me help you relax, Sire.” He sputtered for a few more moments, but you continued to work your hands on his shoulders until he finally relaxed, no longer tense under your fingers. You allowed your hands to slip under the neckline of his shift, working down his back. Jungkook stilled under your ministrations, his breathing deepening and evening out as you moved. 

When you couldn’t reach any farther and felt you had massaged enough, you slipped your hands out of his shirt and brought them back to your sides.

Jungkook turned to look at you, mouth open and eyes glazed over. He looked open and vulnerable, and you saw a flash of the man through the crack of the door, the man grieving for a friend who received no mercy from his father, the man who saw past sorcerer to friend.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you whispered. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

Jungkook’s face betrayed his shock for only the briefest of moments before it pinched up and then remained carefully blank. The look was so brief, in fact, that you thought you must have imagined it.

“Get out,” he snarled at you.

Your mouth opened and you couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “But—have I offended you—”

Jungkook stood from his chair, scraping it across the floor. You stepped back to avoid being knocked by the chair’s edge, wide eyes trained on the furious prince. Your magic licked at your insides, as if reacting to the force of his anger.

“Do not dare to assume you know me,” he spit out at you. “That sorcerer was a traitor—he was not my friend.” You did not move, fingers trembling so badly that you had to clasp your hands together to quell the shaking. “I said get out.”

“Sire, I’m—I’m so sorry, I did not mean to—” you started shakily, heart beating hard in your chest.

“Get out!” he yelled, slamming his fist down on the table.

You lowered your head, too afraid to hold his gaze, and fled the room, not stopping your run until you were safely back in your own quarters. You shut the door as quietly as you could with quivering fingers, your breath coming out in shaky pants, and turned to press your back to the wood.

You met Taehyung’s eyes and yelped, nearly shooting up five feet into the air.

“What’s got you so startled?” the knight joked, standing from where he was seated on your bed. You blinked a few times, trying to understand both what had just happened and what he was doing in your room. “I asked around and found out you were staying here,” he said in way of explanation. “How did you manage to become Jungkook’s servant when you were already Hoseok’s?”

“I saved Prince Jungkook’s life at the banquet,” you said numbly.

Taehyung’s brows shot up. “A servant against a sorcerer out for revenge?” he asked. “How noble of you.”

You’d known. You’d known she was a sorcerer; having him say it out loud made you want to hurl what you’d eaten right back up. You were a traitor to your own kind, a traitor that would be condemned by both sides of this on-going war.

You were not noble.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung said gently, coming close enough to bring his hands up to your face. He held your gaze and your cheeks, not allowing you to look away from him and not allowing you a place to escape, your back against the door. “You look sick; are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, just as quietly. “I’m just not used to running around so much. Sir Hoseok is much less active than the prince.”

Taehyung chuckled and released you, stepping back. “I’m sure that’s perfectly true.” He watched you a few more moments, as if he didn’t quite believe you but thought better of pressing the issue.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him, when the silence became too much, reminding you of how you had condemned that sorcerer to death by stopping her, when she had only been grieving for her son—her son, who had been the prince’s friend, who had been a sorcerer himself and hidden it, betrayed—

“It’s quite embarrassing, actually,” the knight said, clearing his throat and looking away from you. “I came to—inquire if you would—well, if you would—”

“Warm your bed?” you interrupted, amused.

In the dim light, you could see his cheeks darken and he coughed into his gloved fist. “You put it so crudely!” he complained. “But, well, yes, if we’re going to be completely honest about it. I find you quite the beauty and would be honored to be intimate with you.”

“But you’re a knight, and I’m a servant,” you explained for him. “So it cannot be a courtship.”

“You misunderstand,” he said, holding out a hand to stop you. “I do not regard titles as a way to lift myself higher than others. I simply thought this the best option for any relationship between us at the moment.” He paused and looked at you shyly. “That does not mean it could not lead to a courtship later.”

You hummed. “And if I do not desire a courtship with you?”

Taehyung looked startled for only a quick moment, schooling his features back into a sly smile. “I highly doubt that to be the case, my lady, but I will never do anything you do not wish me to do.” His smile fell from his face and his eyes bore into yours, the atmosphere becoming much more serious than it had been just a few seconds ago. “That applies to sharing my bed, as well. If you do not want it, feel free to tell me so and I shall not hold it against you.”

You bit your bottom lip and then stepped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He watched you hungrily, his hands firmly at his sides as you retracted. “And if I wish to share your bed?” you whispered, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes.

“Then I shall ravish you completely and leave you wanting no other but me,” he whispered back, leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. His hands came to grope at your hips, turning you how he desired and nudging you back until you were at the foot of your bed, dropping you back onto the mattress and following suit.

Taehyung straddled your thighs and dipped down to kiss you again, his tongue swiping at your lip. You parted your lips readily, allowing him to greedily lick into your mouth like a man starved. His hands moved to grab at your skirts, shifting himself to place his knees between your legs while you spread them for him, aiding him in lifting your dress.

The knight moved down your body, lifting his hands to undo your flimsy corset as he went, ripping it open and pressing his open mouth to the swell of your breasts. You threw your head back and let out a shaky breath, bringing your hands up to cradle his head and tangle your fingers in his hair. You couldn’t help the rocking of your hips up into his when he sucked harshly on your skin, biting down gently and continuing.

One of his hands lowered between your thighs, his gloved fingers finding your undergarments easily. Your breath hitched when he pressed two of his fingers against you, rubbing them up and down. The fabric clung to your folds, already soaked and ruined.

“Wet already?” Taehyung purred. “I haven’t even begun.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him as coyly as you could with your harsh breaths and heaving chest. “Then begin,” you commanded.

“As my lady wishes,” he growled, leaning close to your lips and nipping at your bottom one. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your lips, a squeal tearing out from your throat when he dipped two gloved fingers into your undergarments and pressed the pads to your folds. He rubbed them over your slit deliciously, the rough exterior of the glove making you shudder, more arousal pooling onto them. He simply raised a brow and then slid one of them inside all the way, curling it when it was in to the knuckle.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan, your back arching. You clenched around the finger, the unfamiliar texture only adding to the pleasure starting to spike at your abdomen. He pressed a second finger inside and rubbed them along your walls, as if searching for something. You tightened your grasp on his hair and grit your teeth to stay quiet, allowing your hips to rock slowly into his hand. Taehyung’s thumb found your clit and he rubbed it roughly, still working his fingers inside of you.

“Please,” you whimpered, your movements erratic. “Please, I need more—”

“You need more?” he cooed, tone mocking as he moved his fingers inside of you, thumb still rubbing rough circles against your clit and making sweat bead at your temples. “What more do you need, sweetheart?” he whispered, shifting his head down toward your belly.

“Your mouth,” you panted. “Please, I need your mouth—”

“Oh, you need my mouth?” he interrupted, smiling wickedly at you. “I’m sure you could get off with just my fingers, my lady,” he continued.

You whined and he shoved his fingers in harder, your noise straining at the movement. Your back arched off the bed and you felt too hot, your dress almost completely constricting around your body. His fingers found the rough patch of nerves inside you and your moan came out loud and broken, and you clenched around his fingers. Noticing, he pressed up as hard as he could on that spot, not letting up any pressure, and his thumb pressed harder onto your clit until the pleasure was almost too much for you to handle.

Your release snapped over you, the pressure unleashing and you gasped for air at the intensity of it. You rode out your high on his fingers, moving your hips slowly as you started to come down.

Taehyung pulled his fingers out of you and dragged your undergarment halfway down your thighs. You were clenching sporadically around nothing, the sudden emptiness jarring, and he brought his mouth down onto you, pressing his tongue to your folds and swiping up your slit.

One of your hands found his hair again and gripped tightly, squeezing around nothing. The knight moved his lips on your folds, tongue darting out to lick up your arousal and the lewd slurping noises paired with his groans had another bout of heat pooling in your belly. You moaned and pushed yourself closer to his face, wanting nothing but his tongue.

Your hips rolled erratically and Taehyung brought his hands up to your thighs, gripping them tightly and shoving them open farther. He held them down to the bed while he pressed the flat of his tongue to your clit and allowed you to move as you pleased. One of his hands was sticky and wet where it touched your bare skin and you shuddered, your movements gaining in speed.

A second orgasm rushed over you, pleasure spiking through your veins like static. It was so close to the first that a tendril of pain rushed in with the ecstasy. You could feel your magic build up within you and your throat clogged up, your breaths strained and broken with your attempt to hold it in place. You knew your eyes must be giving your struggle away and you shut them, riding out your release with Taehyung’s tongue pressed to your folds, and attempting to focus on containing the excited burst of magic trying to escape you.

When the pleasure faded and you were still choked up, eyes clenched tightly, Taehyung licked lightly at the mess you must have made, the obscene noises traveling to your ears. Your magic was burning inside you, making everything feel too intense and every brush of the knight’s tongue on you had you shivering and wanting to pull away but simultaneously push against him harder.

With a last shuddering breath, you allowed yourself to open your eyes and the magic inside you quelled, swirling inside your limbs unhappily. You blinked blearily at Taehyung, who was bringing his head up from between your thighs with a messy smile on his face.

“Are you going to fuck me or what?” you asked breathlessly, giving him your own wicked smile.

He chuckled and crawled up your body, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth before sitting up. Taehyung undid his belt, shoving his pants down his thighs along with his undergarments. Your eyes trailed down to his cock, hard and erect and much larger than you thought it would be. You licked your lips and couldn’t help but allow your thighs to spread wider, as if beckoning him to come closer.

Taehyung groaned and knocked his knuckles lightly into your knee. “Don’t do that,” he chided. “You’re going to make me lose my mind, you know that?”

“I’d rather you be losing something else, and preferably inside me,” you purred, pushing yourself up to help him take his shirt off, greedily wanting your hands all over his toned chest.

“You’re a dirty girl, for a royal maidservant,” he joked lightly, leaning down once his shirt was completely off. You grabbed his gloves and tugged them both off, tossing them over the side of your bed to the floor. One of his now-bare hands came to brush your cheek lightly while the other moved down to pump himself a few times. He looked down between your bodies and brought the head to press against your slit, rubbing it tantalizingly slowly up and down. Pulling back after a few times, he used your slick to spread up and down his cock and you bit the inside of your cheek when you could feel arousal dripping down yourself and surely ruining your sheets.

Taehyung finally took mercy on you and brought the head back to your folds, pressing harder than before and sliding into you slowly. You shuddered and clenched around his cock as he pushed deeper inside. The burn from the stretch of his cock was sending small tendrils of pleasure through you, tangling with your magic in the most pleasant way.

When he was completely buried inside of you, you let out a low moan, clenching around his cock tightly. Taehyung groaned from above you and lowered himself to his elbows, which were right beside your head. The action brought his face closer to yours and he gave you a charming smile while he panted, holding himself still inside you while you adjusted. You leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, pecking it lightly and then laying back down.

“You really are a beauty,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “The prince is lucky to have the privilege to look upon you so often.”

The thought of Jungkook had different feelings coming up inside of your chest. The memory of how defeated he’d looked, the memory of his skin under your hands, the memory of him shouting at you—

“Fuck me,” you pleaded. “Fuck me until I can’t breathe, Taehyung.”

He peered into your face questioningly for but a moment before he tilted his head to the side with a sly smile, as if he’d realized something. “I am at your disposal, my lady,” he purred, pulling his cock almost all the way out of you.

Then he shoved back in and started a brutal pace, knocking his hips into yours punishingly. You wrapped your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin and met every thrust with your own. Taehyung lowered his mouth to your neck and bit hard, sucking at the flesh until it hurt and you squeezed around his cock like a vice.

Your eyes fluttered open as he rolled his hips into you harder, his mouth working up and down your neck and his hands fisted in the sheets beside your head. The ceiling looked back at you and your magic swirled at your fingertips, begging to be released. You tried to hold it back, but a candle by the door flickered to life and you moaned, the trickle of magic seeping down to your abdomen as Taehyung’s cock dragged against your walls.

His heavy grunts filled your ears along with the slapping of his skin against yours and you rocked into him harder, faster, selfishly chasing your release. His fingers dragged roughly down your dress until he reached your hip, and then he pressed them into your bare skin hard enough that you were sure he’d leave bruises. Gasping, you arched your back and threw your head back, pleasure swimming through your veins and making you almost careless.

Taehyung’s fingers finally moved to your clit and he rubbed it a few times before sliding his hand down to your folds, dragging up and down them around his cock which was pistoning in and out of you harshly. You keened and he brought his fingers back to your clit, now slippery with your arousal. He was relentless in his movements, and then he shifted his hips slightly upward and the head dragged against your sweet spot.

“Oh, fuck—right there, Taehyung, right—”

“Yeah?” he groaned, chuckling as he aimed for the same spot, rubbing the head of his cock against it repeatedly. “You like that?” You nodded your head, but he slammed in harder and held himself still. You swore you could see stars with his cock pressed into you like that. “Is your cunt hungry for my cock?”

“Yes, yes—gods, please, I—”

Taehyung was grinding his hips against yours, keeping himself buried completely inside your walls. You clenched once and then shut your eyes as your release washed over you again, spikes of pleasure and tingles running through your abdomen to the rest of you. You tried to hide your face as best you could, unable to hold back from your magic lashing out of you this time.

You grabbed Taehyung quickly and brought his face down to yours, kissing him hungrily. He made a noise of surprise and then kissed you back, starting to move once more. You gasped into his mouth as the overstimulation took hold, but the pleasure soon started to build once more as his cock moved in and out of you. You allowed your eyes to open and your magic darted from your fingertips immediately, shaking you to your core. You could see all the candles lighting up around you, basking Taehyung’s tan skin in a dim golden light that somehow made him more beautiful. You were just thankful that the kiss had distracted him enough to close his own dark eyes, unable to see the gold swirling in yours as your magic released around the two of you.

After another few dozen strokes, Taehyung slowed his pace and pulled away from your mouth to breathe heavily, his cock twitching inside you. He shoved his cock as deep as he could into you and then emptied himself inside, spurts of his come filling you. You shut your eyes at the feeling of his release warming your walls, another weaker orgasm hitting you like a wave.

Groaning, you brought his face down to your neck, shuddering from his kisses as he rocked gently inside of you while you both rode out your highs. You kept your eyes open and swallowed as you tried to tame back the magic running freely, the fire from the candles growing higher and higher as Taehyung panted against your skin. He started to lift himself up and you held him tighter, wrapping your legs around his hips to keep him inside. As quickly as you could, you let your magic reign freely once more, snuffing out the candles in the room except for the one by the door, and then dragged it back inside. Once you were sure there would be no more golden hue to your eyes, you relaxed your grip on the knight and allowed him to sit up.

He pulled his softening cock out of you, his seed mixed with your arousal and release dripping out of your spent pussy. You were breathing as heavily as he was and he simply looked at you, smiling gently.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Something tugged at your insides and you allowed yourself to smile back, though you weren’t sure how it appeared to him. “You’re just saying that because I’m fucked full of you,” you teased.

Taehyung grunted and brought a hand closer to your forehead, flicking you lightly and laughing at your offended yelp. “Don’t say that, you’ll get me rearing and ready to go again.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “And who ever said that wasn’t what I was hoping for?”

The knight laughed heartily and dropped beside you on the bed, laying down completely. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you snugly to his chest. “Let’s sleep a bit, first, and then we can see about another go at it. What do you think of that?”

You made no mention of how he had invited himself to your bed for the night and simply allowed him to keep hold of you. “Goodnight, then, Sir Knight,” you joked, though a bit of something genuine slipped through your words.

There was a huff of breath against the back of your neck and you assumed it was a light chuckle from his end. “Goodnight, my lady,” he murmured, and somehow you knew he had heard you perfectly.

You woke to a banging on your door and then it was being thrown open. You sat up in your bed, surprised at the sudden intrusion. Taehyung’s arm slipped away from your waist and he was sitting up beside you, already half off the bed.

You met Hoseok’s wide eyes, the light from the hall brightening your room and leaving nothing to hide from his view.

“The knights,” Hoseok said, eyes darting between you and Taehyung, who was busying himself getting dressed. “The knights have fallen ill.”

You fixed your dress as much as you could and stood from your bed, running a hand down the cloth. Taehyung, having finished getting dressed, grabbed his sword and belt and walked over to Hoseok quickly.

“The cause?” he asked, fixing his belt and looking completely unbothered while you stood nervously fidgeting, heat blossoming in your cheeks at being caught by Hoseok.

“Magic,” Hoseok said solemnly. “It’s magic, and we don’t know how it’s spreading.”

Your heart dropped and you watched the two of them leave, fixing your dress as best you could before running after them, realizing the king would be holding an audience to discuss what had happened.

A feeling of dread slipped into your belly and wrapped its claws around your heart, trying to drag it down.

all rights reserved © junqkook | 16 FEB 2019 | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is strictly not allowed.

[nijiirorhyme]

NaruMitsu/WrightWorth Fic: Lights, Camera, Action!

Fandom: Ace Attorney

Ship: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Warnings: None

Tags:Alternate Universe - Actors, Other Additional Tags to be Added, More characters to be added

Description: Rookie actor Phoenix Wright can not believe his luck as he scores his first major acting role in one of the most anticipated movies of the year. But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with famous actor Miles Edgeworth.

A Wrightworth acting au where two dorks (eventually) fall in love!  

Chapter 1/?

Alternatively, it can be read here!

Text underneath cut!

Act 1 Scene 1

 October 5th, 11:00pm

 Phoenix’s Apartment

Phoenix COULD NOT believe his luck. It was as if lady luck herself were watching over him specifically, feeling so sorry for him that she had to throw him a bone. He could not thank her enough. It seemed as if his life were doing a complete turnabout. Up until now and ever since he had graduated from some third rate university’s performing arts program, he never had the pleasure of striking a role anywhere near being a part of the main cast, but this, this was different. Sure, he had made small cameos as extras in movies, but none of those were enough to give him the boost he needed to put his name on the map. This was the real deal. He would have lines to say, scenes to act, parts where he’d be the one in the limelight. He was just offered the biggest acting gig in his entire life.

‘Lady luck, I know I asked you for help last night,’ he thought to himself, ‘but you didn’t have to go this far for me!’

But, what was better than starring in one of the most anticipated films of the year? Starring in one of the most anticipated films of this year with someone who was currently the world's most famous actor. Miles Edgeworth, a man who the world knew nothing about personally, but that his acting was absolutely phenomenal. Everyone— even their mothers and grandmothers— knew of him, but, it wasn’t until Pearls dragged the man to see one of her cheesy, sappy romance movies starring the mysterious man himself that he finally saw what justified the hype around him.

Romance movies weren’t really Phoenix’s thing as he tended to sleep through most of them. What he could recall of the movie, however, was that the plot was pretty standard; the main female protagonist living her life in poverty while her male counterpart was born into a wealthy family. After the two miraculously begin to date, the couple struggles to find acceptance from the man’s family as they already had a fiance picked out for him. This was all quite cliche in Phoenix’s book, but there was one scene in particular that stuck out to him.

Failing to gain acceptance from the man’s family, the man and the woman impulsively run away together during an explosive argument that erupted between the four. Well, more-so drove away, but that was besides the point. The rain pelted down upon their car as they drove down the winding road as fast as they could, but that had been the man’s fatal mistake. As they came upon their final turn, the man lost control of the steering wheel and the speed they had garnered caused the car to topple over several times before it finally came to a stop. Somehow (though Phoenix thought this defied all odds), the man was fortunate enough to only receive injury to his right arm and was able to wiggle himself free from the car, however, his girlfriend was more than misfortunate. The adrenaline pumped through his blood as he ignored his arm’s cry in pain as he tried to wretch her free from the car. His hands were covered in her blood as he laid her on his lap, knowing the inevitable that she would succumb to her injuries before they were even able to call for help.

His eyes looked into hers, a mix of pain and regret swirling around in his dark orbs. He drove too fast, he should have taken his time, he was about to lose the love of his life— Her voice was enough to snap him out of his thoughts, the booming sound of the thunder almost deafening. She gave him her final words, and just like that, the final bit of life evident in her eyes finally fades and her body goes limp in his arms. The man looked up to the overclouded sky, the rain beating upon his face as he gave  the heavens one last dramatic scream of her name before the movie faded away into a pitch black.

Throughout the entire scene, all Phoenix could do was stare at the big screen. There was something mesmerizing about the way Miles Edgeworth acted. He analyzed the actor’s every move, even the subtle ones that would be invisible to those who didn’t graduate from a third-rate performance arts program, yet contributed an overarching mood to the entire scene. The way his face contorted and twisted and scrunched up in pain as he was filled with regret from his actions, the way his eyes looked into hers in desperation that this was all just a dream— that he wasn’t just about to lose the one he fought so hard alongside, it left a heavy feeling in Phoenix’s chest that almost burst forth from it in the form of tears. Miles Edgeworth brought life to a character from a movie genre Phoenix hated, and not only made him sympathize with the corny character, but almost made him tear up, which to this day he still could not believe.

Phoenix was never a fan of romance movies, especially the ones that Pearls picked out (though he never voiced his complaints aloud) because he thought he could feel his teeth rotting away in his mouth from the sheer sappiness and disgusting sweetness of them, but this one was the only one he approved of.

… Even though it was at the expense of his own friend’s enjoyment.

Phoenix sighed at the memory of what happened afterwards. Pearl was the type of hardcore romance fan who only gravitated towards romance movies where the couple lived happily ever after at the end. Why she chose this movie was beyond Phoenix. Perhaps she glossed over the summary of the story after selectively reading the part where the female protagonist goes from “rags-to-riches” and thought it was something along the lines of Cinderella, completely missing the “this tragic story of her attempt to go from rags-to-riches”... or something. She was so depressed that even Phoenix offering to watch her favourite lovey-dovey romance movie for the gazillionth time wouldn’t cheer her up.

From that point on, Miles Edgeworth swept up the nation’s awards that year for his acting in that movie, including the “Best Male Lead Actor of the Year” award at the Movie of Movies Grand Prix— and to Phoenix, rightfully so. The man’s performance was amazing, yet he couldn’t help wanting to pick a bone with the panel of judges who thought that it deserved “Best Movie of the Year”. He totally thought that the Steel Samurai movie deserved to win (not like he had a bias or anything because his friend Austin Powers starred in it); just because one actor’s acting was remarkable, did not mean that the rest of the movie lived up to such a word.

This was the man that Phoenix had the pleasure of working with and although a part of him was excited, an immense sense of pressure ruined it. Miles Edgeworth was a man who had years of experience under his belt in comparison to himself. That fact in itself was enough to make the butterflies in his stomach awake from their slumber; he hadn’t felt this nervous in ages.

Phoenix glanced at the thick booklet of papers in his hand titled "No Time for Turnabouts: Script”, its thick blocky text staring back at him. With an unsteady sigh, he flipped it open to the first page. If Phoenix wanted to impress Miles Edgeworth at tomorrow’s pre-production meeting, there was only one thing he could do. If he couldn’t rely on his acting skills to impress him, the least he could do was come prepared to what he was about to walk into.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios: Dressing Room

“For the last time, must I act with such an incompetent rookie?” Miles looked at his manager, eyes narrowed fiercely in an attempt to assert his dissatisfaction at the current situation. “He’s not had any starring roles within the span of his career,” is what a quick IMDb search of the other’s peculiar name told the man. “In fact, I’ve never heard of him before.”

The girl sitting adjacent from him brought a dainty teacup to her lips, taking a sip of her tea before placing it back on its saucer with a cold clink, the cunningness of her eyes colliding with his own, “And like I have told you when you foolishly asked several foolish times before this, it is not within my control,” she shrugged, her mouth curling into a shit-eating grin, “You’ll just have to suck it up, little brother.”

Miles scoffed, but she had a point. It wasn’t his manager, Franziska Von Karma, hiring the cast for this movie, it was the director. This director was someone who he had worked with in the past and every single time, Miles had loved every single creative direction he had taken with the movie; as did the audience, each movie of his being met with positive reviews from viewers and film critics alike. Miles did not doubt his abilities and because of his positive reputation within the film industry, if he wanted to hire a rookie whose career only consisted of being an extra for a few scenes in a few big movies, all he could do was put his faith in him. However, just because he put his faith in him did not mean he approved.

He took a sip of his own tea, before he glanced at the expensive watch adorning his wrist. Today was their first proofreading of the script. There, Miles could finally see who this Phoenix Wright man was.

“Come now, you fool, or we’ll be late.” Franziska was already rolling up her whip in a neat circle and heading towards the door.

Miles put his tea cup down on the glass coffee table, moving his hands to fix his jabot as he stood up. Miles Edgeworth was a man with high standards, and whoever this Phoenix Wright was, Miles hoped he could meet his expectations.

 October 6th, 10:00am

Global Studios

Phoenix’s days couldn’t have been getting any better. The rookie actor was known for never being on time for anything—often receiving a scolding from Maya as a result—but just this once, he had managed to be punctual— if not a little early— for the one thing that mattered the most. He thanked god that he had the foresight to check whether or not he had set his alarm for A.M instead of P.M before he went to bed last night. Phoenix checked himself in the mirror once before he left the house; donning a plain white dress shirt and navy blue slacks. He adjusted the tie around his neck, the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad impression. Giving himself one final hurrah, encouraging himself in the mirror with “you can do this”, and “you got this”, he left his small flat with his head held high.

However, at this point in time, the closer he got to the time of the pre-production meeting, the more nervous he felt. He stood outside the meeting room, checking his wristwatch as he shifted in place from the heels of his feet to the balls of them.

“Nick!” Behind him, a set of hands placed themselves on his shoulder as a familiar energetic voice spooked him out of his nervousness, causing him almost to jump out of his skin. “Are you nervous?”

Phoenix peered over his left shoulder, unsurprised at who it was. It was Maya, who decided to meet him at the studio. If Phoenix had to go in there alone when his agent was perfectly capable of accompanying him, he would curse her to hell and back.

He clutched his chest, heart beating rapidly in his ears. Then, he relaxed and exhaled an exasperated sigh as if this has happened one too many times, “You scared me, Maya!” He exclaimed. “How many times are you going to do this?”

Even if he used the fingers on both of his hands to count all of the times Maya has done this to him before an audition or anytime he was nervous for that matter, he couldn’t. Mainly because for one, he had been to several auditions in the past few years; and two, he didn’t keep track of how many times she did. He stopped counting after the fifth time when he knew it would become a regular occurence.

“Would it be bad if I said never?” Maya giggled.

Phoenix sighed again, “I figured as much…”

“I’m sorry, Nick! It’s just so funny every single time. Remember that time before that one audition when I scared you so bad you spilled your cup of water all over yourself and it looked like you peed your pants-“

Before Maya could say anymore, Phoenix covered her mouth with his hand, wrenching it back in disgust after he felt something wet against his palm. Maya stuck out her tongue and grinned  childishly as Phoenix furiously wiped his hand against his pant leg. He exhaled, “If I asked you to let that go, I’d get the same answer as before, wouldn’t I?” At this point, defeat would be the only option to settle for.

She put her hands together like she always did and with a big smile on her face, she nodded, “You know me so well.”

The two of them continued their friendly banter, most of which consisted of bringing up terribly embarrassing events that had happened to them in the past in an attempt to embarrass the other. This calmed Phoenix’s nerves immensely; Maya always knew how to calm him down despite always scaring him half out of his wits.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, shifting the topic of conversation to something more relevant than reminiscing on their past embarrassments.

The question was like a reality slap, reawakening the butterflies he had thought he thoroughly rid himself of. “Of course, this is my first time ever getting something better than being an extra. A lot is riding on this, Maya.”

“It’s okay Nick!” She jabbed him lightly in the shoulder… Whatever her definition of “lightly” was. Phoenix rubbed his shoulder. That was definitely going to bruise over. “Just remember this, this is your big chance! Your break-through! Your primer!”

“I think you mean ‘premiere’...”

“All eyes will be on you! If you do great, then you’ll get more work!” She encouraged him, jumping to stand in front of him. She closed one of her eyes while she formed her fingers into a rectangular shape as if she were filming him. Even though it wasn’t a real camera, he still felt a little embarrassed, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. While he appreciated the sentiment, he knew where this was going.

“But…” He added on for her.

“But, if you mess up in your usual ‘Phoenix Wright Fashion’, then you can kiss your non-existent acting career goodbye!” She said in a type of pure adolescent innocence, putting her hands on her hips.

Phoenix shoved his face into his palm, “Thanks Maya…”  

“Any time.” She beamed at him, genuinely convinced that her words were words of encouragement instead of ones that felt like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Suddenly, as if something had caught in the corner of her eye, she looked down the hallway. “Psst, Nick!! Nick!!” She ecstatically whispered in a half-whisper-half-regular tone. “Is that Miles Edgeworth?!”

Phoenix followed her line of vision to the figure emerging from one of the many rooms down the hall. He knew that burgundy suit from anywhere, the feature that many people recognized him for. There was no one else in the world who could wear a suit that colour and could successfully pull it off, in Phoenix’s humble opinion.

The tall man stalked down the hallway accompanied by a shorter woman which Phoenix assumed to be his agent, Franziska von Karma. Although they weren’t close yet, he could feel the immense pressure in the air from the dignified aura that the two created. There was something intimidating about their aura, an elitist air that clearly separated the two individuals who were experienced in their field from the two weren’t-- almost as if it screamed ‘don’t talk to us’. Was that how it was around every famous actor?

“T-They’re coming closer to us! What do we do, Nick? Do we introduce ourselves?” Maya panicked, the words flying from her mouth at a mile per minute.

“Well, we are standing in front of the meeting room and from today on, he is our co-worker,” Phoenix whispered back to her, his tone more hushed than hers. “I think… I think we should greet them.” He suggested.

The two nodded as if they had come to an understanding by looking into each other’s eyes. Then, on the mental count of three that perfectly aligned with their arrival, Phoenix stiffly began, “Hi! I see we’ll be working together, Mr. Edgeworth. In that case, i-it’s nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand, hoping the man would outstretch his own to shake it.

The man came to a stop and instead of getting a comforting smile and the handshake he desired, all Phoenix got was a piercing glare full of annoyance. “Mr. Wright,” he scoffed. “I would ask that you keep your interactions with me at a minimum and you do not waste my time by trying to talk to me.” With that, Edgeworth strode past him into the now open meeting room, his agent following behind him, smirking at Phoenix as she entered.

After recovering from the utter shock known as his first impression of the famous actor he had only seen on the big screen thus far, Phoenix turned to Maya, hoping that she would confirm that what just happened was just his mind’s cruel idea of a joke. Unfortunately, Maya nodded at him, confirming that what just happened was in fact not a figment of his imagination. For some reason, the famous Miles Edgeworth disliked the unknown rookie, Phoenix Wright.

‘What…’ Phoenix gulped. ‘What did I do..?!’