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oracle-of-dream · 9 months ago

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Never Really Alone, Pt. 2

Minors DNI

Summary: A continuation of Never Really Alone, go read that first! You've woken up after being knocked out. You don't know where you are...

Warnings: Male reader, Anal Sex, Blowjob, Cum swallowing/eating, Scratching, Several Pet names, Cum on body, Overstimulation, Passing out after sex, Chained to the bed, Stalking, Kidnapping, Virgin reader

Wordcount: 3k

Your eyes slowly opened, squinting from the harsh light above you. There wasn't any rain thumping on your window, and you felt a breeze in the room. Maybe from a fan. You sat up, you're whole body stiff. Your neck ached from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. But you don't remember going to bed...

You tried to think back... The power had gone out, Xiaojun came to help you, left to get something, and then...

Your body felt a rush of electricity as you remembered fully. You started taking in the surroundings. You weren't in your room–it was some sort of a room with glass walls and fancy furniture all over. Your clothes were changed too. You had white shorts, knee-high socks, a long white cardigan, and a red T-shirt. Even your underwear was different from the ones you remember wearing earlier. In the room; Bookcases were filled with different colored books. The furniture was clean leather with a wine-red color. The glass was extremely thick. Outside the glass something like a garden with a large curtain that could cover the entire box you found yourself in.

You stood from the bed and heard the sound of metal sliding against the floor. You'd been chained to the bed. The chain pooled on the floor and led into a hole in the wall.

"Finally awake?" A familiar voice sounded from the other side of the bed. Xiaojun sat in a high-backed chair, looking at you. He looked refreshed, like he'd finally slept, and his clothes changed from his usual sweater. He had a black cardigan, black pants, and a white shirt.

"Xiaojun? What's going on?" You looked at him, examining his calm demeanor. That's when you realized he wasn't chained at all. "Y-You're free!? Help me!"

"My poor sweet bird." Xiaojun moved and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him. Reluctantly, you sat next to him. "You must be so confused after hitting your head."

"What happened?"

"You had a pretty bad tumble, so I had to bring you here to get you patched up," He explained softly, pointing at your head. You hadn't even noticed you had a bandage around your head. "I had to take care of you. There was so much blood..."

"B-Blood?" You tried to remember falling but you couldn't remember anything like that. "Well, I'm okay now! So we can leave, right?"

"No! It's not safe out there. You have to stay safe, stay where I can see you. Remember telling me you felt safe with me? It made me so happy..." Xiaojun's smile was deranged. "You basically begged me to save you."

"I don't think I understand what's happening." The room felt like it was spinning. Your head started hurting, throbbing.

"Let's not get too worked up now. You'll hurt yourself." Xiaojun tried to touch you but you reeled away from him.

"Are you doing this to me?"

"I'm saving you!" Xiaojun pressed a button on a remote, making the chain in the wall get shorter. You fell to the ground as your feet were pulled out from underneath you, colliding with the cold hardwood floor. Xiaojun knelt down next to you. "You'll see it. I'm helping you..."

"How–"

Xiaojun pulled on your hair, making your head hurt even more. "Don't be rude! I've been kind, so the least you can do is show gratitude!" His voice rang in your ears as he raised it. You felt small, reduced to nothing, as he towered over you.

You shrank into yourself. "T-Thank you..."

Xiaojun leaned closer. "Louder."

"Thank you," Your voice trembled as you said the words.

He looked you in your eyes, watching how they teared up. "I just can't stay mad at you–but you shouldn't push me like that. I get angry sometimes..." Xiaojun held you in a tight hug, pressing your body against his as you didn't have the strength to lift your arms.

"Xiaojun?"

He looked down at you. "Yes, beautiful?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

Xiaojun gasped. "No! Never. I'd never do something like that–but that's not an excuse to test my patience. If you get into trouble, you'll get punished." Xiaojun scooped you into his arms, lifting you onto the bed. "Now get more sleep. We can play later." Your captor tucked you into bed, fluffed your pillow, and smiled lovingly as he left you alone with your new reality. You cried yourself to sleep, hopeless and powerless...

You dreamed of home. Your parents. Your job. It all made you cry, even in a dream. You felt your chest tighten, your breathing cut off as you choked on something. Torn from your dream, Xiaojun had his hands around your neck, squeezing as he ground against you. You struggled and thrashed until he let you go, letting you breathe.

You choked and coughed. Xiaojun kissed your inner thigh. "I'm sorry, baby. You just looked so sexy sleeping so soundly, I couldn't stop myself." You collected yourself on the opposite side of the bed, trying to calm down. "Baby, look at me."

You looked at him, crying again.

"You already respond to your new name so well. And you look so fucking hot crying. I could just bite you." Xiaojun crawled toward you as you recoiled away from him. "Shh, don't be scared of me. Come here," He called to you with a hand stretched out.

"When do I get to leave?"

"You're not leaving!? I–" Xiaojun took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't get angry. If you really want, we can go outside when you show me you can handle it. So I know you won't run away."

You nodded quickly. "How can I do that?" You were desperate, if there was even a 1% chance you could get away from him once you were outside then you'd take it. No matter the cost.

"You need to show me you love me. Body and Mind. Soul too. I fell for you the moment I saw you when we first met." Xiaojun grabbed your chain and pulled you closer, "come here."

You moved closer.

"Wait. Crawl to me. You look so cute like that." Xiaojun's smile was soft but the words that came from his mouth were inhuman. You moved back and crawled to him. "Slower, don't rush," Xiaojun commanded as he rubbed his cock in his pants. You slowed your crawl, swinging your hips as you looked at him in the eye with the sweetest look you could muster. He moaned with delight. "That's what I want. Come sit here."

You sat next to him.

"Good boy," Xiaojung praised you. "First, we need to get your pills."

"Pills?"

"Yes. Medicine for your head, remember?" Xiaojun produced two small pills from his pocket.

"I don't want pills!" You cried, but Xiaojun ignored you as he popped them into his mouth and kissed you. He forced the pill into your mouth, holding you together until you swallowed them.

"I wouldn't have to be so rough if you listened." He looked at the way you stared at him. "What is it?"

"I-I've never kissed anyone..." You confessed.

"I was your first!? I'm so sorry, baby! I should've made this better for you–more special. I was planning so many things! Daddy's so dirty..." You shivered at the title he'd given himself. Would you have to call him that too? Xiaojun jumped off the bed, pressing a few buttons on a pad on the wall which opened a door in the wall. He disappeared before returning with flower petals and the lights moved to a dim lighting. He spread the petals all over the bed.

"What's this for?"

Xiaojun patted your head. "Just wait, don't be impatient."

You eyed the keypad on the wall. You'll need to learn the numbers to find a way out...

"Okay, done. Lay down, beauty." You looked back at the bed, covered in petals. Clumsily, you climbed into the bed as the chain made it hard to lift your foot. Xiaojun stripped off his shirt. "I'm going to make this night perfect for you. I want our first time to be magical."

"Is this not your first time?"

Xiaojun smirked. "Are you getting possessive?"

"No, I was just curious..."

"Don't worry about me, tonight's about you."

"Xiaojun, I don't know–"

"When it's an intimate time, you call me, Daddy. Got it, birdie?"

"Birdie?"

"That's your name, silly." Xiaojun pinched you gently. "My perfect little birdie. I've caught you and put you in an even prettier cage."

Your throat tightened. "Does that–"

"More questions!?" Xiaojun's eyebrows furrowed. "We can do questions later, right now I'm trying to be romantic." You had more to stay, for your safety, you didn't ask anything else. You just had to put up with it until you could find a moment to break free–You needed to feed into his delusion, no matter how much he scared you. The moment you gave up, you'd lose to him. Undisturbed, Xiaojun crawled between your legs and laid your head on the pillow, putting a pillow underneath your hips as well.

You focused on calming your heart as Xiaojung's hungry eyes met with your fearful ones. You wouldn't die here.

"Just take it slow, baby," Xiaojun cooed before gently pressing his lips to yours. The first kiss was soft, gentle, and controlled. His lips were so soft and tasted like pineapple juice. You separated for a moment before Xiaojun pushed you back in for more. The second kiss was more passionate, his lips sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and biting you softly. His tongue slithered in between your lips, earning a small whimper from you, as he prodded deeper into your mouth. Your tongues met and Xiaojun moaned happily, his hands moved along your body. His hips pressed against yours in gentle thrusts as he played with your nipples.

You broke the kiss first. "T-That tickles!"

"They're sensitive? Good to know." He pushed up your shirt as he kissed down your neck and torso stopping at both nipples to give them an even amount of attention. "So tasty. So fucking delicious," He whispered, his breath warm hitting your skin. He moved your hips, showing you how to grind against him to press your cocks against each other. "Come on, baby. Use me. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

You decided to shoot your shot. "This is too tight. Can we take this off?" You shook your left leg, making the chain shake.

"Ask for something else. Anything else."

You didn't know what else to ask for. He wouldn't let you go so easily. You needed him even more relaxed... "Can I see it?"

"See what?" You looked down, letting your hand explain as it drifted to his waistband. Xiaojun's eyes widened, "Of course you can!" He lifted himself off you and rushed to unbutton his pants to unveil his cock to you. Even though you were putting on an act, his cock was big and you felt your cock getting harder as you looked at it.

"Be a good boy for me, birdie." His cock twitched as it pointed at you. you took the sign and crawled to him, just like before. "Be easy with it. No biting, either," Xiaojun warned as he pushed his cock toward you. You opened your mouth, still on all fours, allowing Xiaojun to slide his cock into your mouth. "Holy fuck," Xiaojun muttered as his nails dug into your shoulder. It was hard to fit in your mouth with how girthy it was, your jaw struggled to open. "That's it, keep going!" You choked slightly as you felt his cock slide further down his throat. You moved back but Xiaojun caught you by the hair. "Don't run away, keep pushing. You got it." Your body twitched and burned as you resisted the urge to pull away from him, forcing yourself to accept the intrusion in your throat. "I'm so close! Hold your breath and get ready to swallow." You listened and braced yourself. As soon as your eyes shit, you feel your mouth fill with cum as his cock swells from his orgasm.

When Xiaojung pulls away, your mouth is full of the surprisingly sweet substance. "Swallow it. It tastes okay, right?" You nodded, mouth still full. "Is it too much?" You nodded again. "Alright, lay back and kiss me. I'll drink some, and you have the rest." You could've swallowed it all, but you didn't want to. But you didn't expect Xiaojun to be so compromising. He climbed on top of you and lowered himself to kiss you, drinking his cum out of your mouth as your lips moved with his. "Wow, it is sweet," He mumbled between kisses. He drank a little before you swallowed the rest with an audible gulp. "Good job, sweet boy. You did it!" He cheered.

Xiaojun pulled you to sit up, chest to chest. "Do you think you can keep going?"

Your skin tingled. "Y-Yes..."

"Good. Because I don't know if I can stop myself." Xiaojun bit at your neck as he lifted you, shifting his legs so you were completely in his lap. He tugged at your shorts. "Lose them," He ordered.

You wiggled out of your shorts, embarrassed to find out that you weren't wearing underwear like you'd thought.

"Your cock is so cute, the way it shakes." Xiaojun grabbed your shaft and stroked you, earning unstable moans. "This really is your first time, isn't it?"

"Please don't keep asking–"

"Don't be embarrassed about it. That's what makes you so beautiful. And, honestly, it's even hotter than I'm the one who gets to have you first and forever."

He lifted your hips, making his head meet your stomach as your knees were on his sides–he sat between your legs as his fingers played with your hole. You felt them enter you. Three at once, but you didn't feel as much pain.

"You're taking the medicine really well, baby."

"What were those pills?"

"They were muscle relaxers so you won't feel any tension in your head anymore. There's a side effect about other muscles being relaxed, but we should work with that." Xiaojun smiled playfully as he lowered you, his cock poking at your hole. You realized he was telling the truth when you struggled to lift yourself or move your legs. They barely shifted, no matter how much effort you put into moving. Xiaojun loved watching you panic the face you made was so cute, but he was getting impatient. He lowered you the rest of the way, stretching you as his cock slipped into you. Even with the "medicine", he could still feel his cock inside you. Your virginity was stolen from you in an instant. And you were helpless to stop it.

"Still so tight, you're perfect," Xiaojun moaned into your chest as he moved you on his cock. Your head fell on his shoulder as you tried to keep your voice inside. "Why won't you sing for me, birdie? Am I not fucking you good enough?" Xiaojun leaned forward, pinning you on your back under his weight, the soft mattress catching you. "I guess I'll have to try harder to hear you."

The pace was slow at first. Xiaojun loved watching his cock slide out of you and seeing how your eyes rolled back when thrust into you at full force. Ten hits, back to back, as you kept your mouth shut–your brain barely keeping your sanity.

"You're taking me so nicely, so easy, aren't you?" Xiaojun kissed your cheek. "I've gotta fuck you so well you'll scream for me. Either that or until you pass out. Let's see which happens first," He said with an evil smirk. He started picking up the pace, somehow finding the strength to fuck you even harder. So hard that your body moved forward on the bed with each thrust, so Xiaojun would have to pull you by your hips onto his cock again. The sound of skin slapping together and his grunts filled the room as tears rolled down your face. Your hands clawed at his back, making him moan and shake. "Oh, dirty boy, aren't you? Keep going!" His thrusts never lost tempo as he pushed you closer to your orgasm. You tightened around him but still bit your cheek to stay quiet. "You're close, aren't you? You're squeezing even tighter. Maybe you'll sing if I make you cum?"

Xiaojun lifted your hips, fucking into you with only the strength of his arms. Lifting you into each thrust rather than moving his hips, he was able to go even faster. You felt your orgasm around the corner, tears streamed, and you lost focus for just a moment when he hit your spot. A small squeak passed through your lips.

"I heard you. It's too late for you now! I'm gonna fill you with so much cum," Xiaojun growled as he stared into your eyes.

"I'm cumming–" You whispered.

"Yes, that's it! Talk to me," Xiaojun cheered. "Just cum, go ahead and let it out!"

You follow his orders and let it go. A moan ripped from your chest as your whole body tensed, cum shooting from your cock and your hole twitching from the nonstop sensation overload. Xiaojun fucked you through the entire thing and continued after it ended.

“Wait–stop!” You sobbed.

Xiaojun leaned down and licked a tear off your cheek. “You’re so cute when you cry, do it more! Cry for me to stop, please.” Xiaojun let go of your hips and pulled on your wrists, plunging him deeper, he leaned back and continued moving his hips. The new angle was hitting your spot every time, overloading your head. You struggled against him but he was so strong, you could feel bruises already forming where he grabbed you… The last ounce of strength of mind you had faded away, leaving nothing but Xiaojun and his cock. Your voice finally revealed itself, you moaned and squealed with every thrust. “Your noises-so cute! I can’t hold it!” Xiaojun dropped your arms and pulled out of you, cumming all over your torso. Thick ropes covered your white clothes, making them darker where the fabric was wet.

Xiaojun sighed in relief. “My god, you’re amazing. Such a good boy for me.” He stroked your hair, listening to the sound of your breathing. “How about a bath now, since Daddy got you dirty.” Xiaojun studied your face, your eyes were closed and your breathing was steady.

You’d actually passed out…

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #kpop male reader #x reader #wayv xiaojun #wayv smut #wayv #xiaojun

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soapybutt17 · 8 months ago

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Go Easy On Me

Summary:John Price was the most horrible and obnoxious man you had the misfortune of ever meeting in your life, but somehow that was what made you love the man too much for your own good sometimes.. Character: John Price x F!Reader (Call Sign "Sapde") Word Count: 1,663 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Near-Death Experience. Slight Angst. Mention of injuries Mention of Gunshot Wounds. Slight Angst. Happy End. Slight Fluff. Ideas:

Oh, by the way, don't be late for dinner

You're Important to me

You can't get rid of me that easily.

Masterlist | Request are Open || Join My Taglist || 500 Followers Celebration

You laid on the dirt-strewn floor of an abandoned factory, your cheek pressed against the cold concrete. The smell of rust and gunpowder filled the air and the hint of your own blood against your nostril. Each breath a struggle as the pain shot through your shoulder and stomach. You could hear the distant echoes of your team running towards the extraction point, their boots pounding against the ground, fading against the night. You had made sure they got out. That was the only thing keep you grounded in the pain you were feeling.

A dark pool spread beneath you, warm and thick. You tried to move your fingers, but even the simple motion sent a jagged spike of pain through you. You gritted your teeth, closing your eyes to the blinding flickering lights in the rafters above. There was a part of you that wished the gunfire had ended it quickly for you—like ripping off a Band-Aid. But no, it had to be this pathetic slow bleed out, the drawn-out finality on your situation.

Each shallow breath was a reminder of what you haven’t yet done. There were missions you’d planned, the threats you haven’t tracked down, the promises you’d made to your team. A future you might never see. It wasn’t supposed to end like this—not here, not now. You were the one who made the tough calls, who stood strong when others faltered. Now all you could do was listen to the distant sounds of combat and wait for the final moments to come.

Your vision blurred as you looked towards the door where your team had disappeared. You wondered if they made it. If they understood why you forced them to leave you behind. Would they see it as the ultimate act of sacrifice, or would they ever feel guilty for abandoning you? You hoped for the former. It had to be. You couldn’t let your last act be something that haunted any of them.

A faint smile tugged at your lips, the best you could manage. In the midst of the searing pain, there was a flicker of pride—the pride in your team, pride in your career. You led them through impossible situations, inspired them to be their very best. They’d remember you for that, right?

The light overhead flickered again, the bulb straining to stay lit. Your eyes grew heavier, your breathing more labored. Your fingers curled into the concrete, desperate to hold on, to fight back against the inevitable darkness. But the world was slowly slipping away, the sound growing softer, the pain dulling to a numbing ache.

In your final moments, you found yourself thinking about the people you’d never get to see again, the friends and family you’d leave behind. The annoying Co-captain you were forced to work with for this mission was also someone you knew you would miss. Try as you might, you grew found of the man even as he tried his best to get on your nerves every chance he got. The things you’d wanted to say to him but never did. Regret mingled with acceptance as your body grew colder, the life draining from you with each passing second.

The door creaked open, and a faint light spilled into the room. Your eyes fluttered open one last time, your gaze drifting towards the familiar silhouette in the doorway. Price.

“John.” You whispered.

“There you are, Darling.” He began approaching you. His hand holding onto the wound in your stomach, stopping from the blood seeping out. “Let’s get you patch up.”

He tried to maneuver you even with every movement you made was painful all over again. It ended with you being carried Bridal style in his arms.

“Why did you come back?” You questioned him, with him now in your presence, you tried your best to keep your eyes open. You looked at the man, the man that radiated confidence and often times, arrogance. But you saw none of it from where you laid in his arms.

You saw fear and worry.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He answered walking a bit faster knowing the urgency of your injuries. “You’re important to me and I would never allow anything to happen to you.”

At those words, the full meaning of his words you found yourself drowning into the darkness as the images of a life you can still have was now filled with waking up in the arms of the man you had thought was worse human being you had the misfortune of ever meeting in your life.

Your consciousness was in and out, glimpses of screaming and crying was ingrained in your unconscious state. Some were from your team, some were from the Captain but the next thing you heard was the rhythm of your breaths. Slow and shallow. The beeping of medical equipment became more consistent as you regained your sense of self, your awareness fighting against the haze of painkillers and the show from your injuries. You felt like you were underwater, everything blurred and muted.

The first thing you noticed was the sterile smell of the hospital room and the warmth of a soft blanket draped over you. You slowly blinked your eyes open, your gaze focusing on the ceiling’s bland whiteness. Your shoulders throbbed with dull pain, your stomach ached, but you were alive. The realization was both a relief and a shock, your memory flashing back to the gunfight, the blood, the desperate choice to stay behind.

There was movement in your left. You turned your head, grimacing at the stiffness in your neck, and saw Captain John Price sitting beside your bed. His face etched with concern, his cap resting on his knee, his weathered eyes fixed on you. The lines in his face seemed deeper, as if the worry for you aged him overnight.

“Welcome back, Spades.” He said, his voice low and steady. It was the kind of voice that had pulled many through the darkness of times, you had becoming a believer of it when he came back for you that night.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and tight. Instead, you gave him a faint nod, a weak smile playing at the corner of your lips. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see how much pain you were in.

"You scared the hell out of us," Price continued, leaning forward slightly. "Thought we lost you back there." He glanced down at his cap, turning it in his hands. "But you held on. Tough as nails, just like always."

Your memories came back in fragmented pieces—Price’s voice in your earpiece, the gunfire, the shouting, and the last thing you remembered before everything went dark: his arrival and his confession. He told you how important you were to him, just as you slipped away. It had been so sudden, so unexpected, and you didn’t have the strength to respond.

Your eyes locked with his, searching for the same emotion he’d shown back in that factory. You saw it there, a mix of relief and something deeper, something more personal. Price seemed to realize what you were thinking, and he sighed looking down at this cap again.

“Look, Spade,” He sighed, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. This was not the same Captain that thrived in arguing with you constantly. “I meant was I said before you…you know.” He gestured in the air vaguely, his hand indicating the medical equipment surrounding your bed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d heard me, but I couldn’t let you go without saying it. I know it’s not the best time or place, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You swallowed, the words finally coming to you. “I heard you, John.” You said, your voice. I just couldn’t respond.” You took a shaky breath, gathering your strength. “I—” Your voice faltered, but you managed to steady it. “I don’t know what to say but you’re important to me too, Price.”

Price nodded, his expression softening with relief now. “It’s okay. We don’t have rush into anything. You just focus on getting better, and we’ll figure out the rest.” He gave you a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re back with us.”

It took months before you were medically cleared and even allowed back in base. You were welcomed with the sight of your team, wrapping you in their arms, tears falling in each and every single one of them when you returned back better than ever.

“Welcome back, Spade.” It was Price that had interrupted the mini reunion with the rest of your team.

“Captain.” You smiled, for once you weren’t here to argue about him with what had transpired in the mission that left you injured and almost at the brink of death.

“I think there are some paperworks that need your attention at the moment.” He announced ruining your reunion.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the man. Typical for him at this point.

“Oh, by the way, don’t be late for dinner.”

You raised your brows at his last statement before he left you at the hands of your team, each and every single one of them wondering what has transpired during the mission and your recovery.

“What does he mean by dinner, Cap?” One of your Sergeants turned her attention towards you.

“Since when have you been buddy buddy with the worst man you had the misfortune of meeting, Spade?” Your lieutenant added.

“Go easy on me.” You sighed knowing so much has changed between you and the Captain, but it was a good change.

Who would have ever thought it would take a near death experience for you and one Captain John Price to be on good terms and eventually start a relationship that most of your team as well as his own have guess to eventually happen between the two of you.

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suugarbabe · 1 year ago

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[Chapter 3]

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

You grasped at the object your arm was slung around, expecting the warmth and hardness of Mattheo’s chest. Instead you grasped onto the silk of a pillowcase. Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your mind trying to organize your thoughts and figure out if last night really happened or not.

Laying your head on the pillow in your grasp, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Mattheo. The mix of sandalwood and amber mixed with fire whiskey and smoke flooded your senses. You tried to remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off into your first peaceful sleep in months, but all you could remember was the light ghosting of his fingertips on your skin.

You sat up in bed, taking in the room around you again. Beyond his scent on your pillow, there was no trace of Mattheo in your room whatsoever. Climbing down from the bed you walked over to your barren closet, choosing something simple for the day before you decided to explore the manor. Grabbing your tea from Gimball from the nightstand, you slid your feet into your slippers and headed towards the door. You’d have to ask Gimball for his tea recipe, it was perfect.

Stepping in to the hall you take notice of how much more elegant the hall looks with the sunlight peeking in. You stared at the double doors next to yours, wondering if Mattheo was inside, wondering what time he left you alone in your bed. Did he wait until you were just asleep? Did he stay there and hold you for hours before finally retreating to his own room, or did he leave in the morning just before you woke? Your hand hovered above the door knob, contemplating the risks and rewards of trying to enter Mattheo’s room.

“He’s not here,” Pansy’s voice cut through your internal thoughts, making you whip around and grab your mug with both hands. “Oh, erm, yeah, that’s fine. I was just, ehm, where is he, do you know?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, walking towards you with her arms crossed, “He and Enzo left pretty early this morning on…business.” You sipped your tea, responding with a short hum, “Mattheo said you would give me a tour of the manor today?”

Pansy nodded, turning towards the stairs, “Yes, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so do try and keep up.” She started quickly down the stairs, you hustling behind her. Pansy led you down the stair case and through a set of double doors, “This is the kitchen, I don’t really know why you’d need to come down here as Gimball will bring you anything and everything you need with just a simple call and ask.” You nodded, setting your mug in the sink as you passed by.

Passing through the same doors Pansy turned down a new hall, similarly looking to the one upstairs with all of the bedrooms, “Down this hall is the security room, if you’re ever looking for Blaise or Theo they’ll likely be holed up in here doing work. This door is Draco’s office, don’t go in there unless you want a fight,” Pansy eyed you over her shoulder, “which you might want, but just be careful. Remember he’s on the team for a reason, not just because he and Mattheo are family.”

Pansy stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall, “These doors-” You cut her off, finishing her sentence, “lead to Mattheo’s office. The man really loves french doors, doesn’t he?” Pansy shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say, the man loves a grand entrance.” You laughed, easily agreeing with the statement.

You were led further to the outside of the house, presented with a larger in ground pool the size of a tennis court. Beyond the pool Pansy showed you the vineyard, thanks to Theo’s family, and the large and expansive garden. She led you to the front entrance of the garden, telling you of all the different flowers and plants that were growing inside, “We basically have the garden enchanted like a greenhouse, allowing us access to essentially any ingredients we would need for any potion we would need. Would you believe me if I told you the one we make the most are healing concoctions.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, “Surprisingly yes, I do believe that.” You walked side by side back towards the manor, you gnawing at your lip deciding if you should ask the question that was beating at your brain. You couldn’t see it but Pansy was smirking, “Ask your question, I can tell you’re dying to.” You let out a huff, “Am I that easy to read? Mattheo certainly won’t like that.”

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure he likes you just fine.” You opened your mouth to protest when she cut you off, “Question, Birdie, what was it?” You frowned slightly, “Everyone just going to call me Birdie now instead of my real name? You know what, whatever. Right, so this morning you said Mattheo and Enzo left on business.” Pansy nodded, confirming she was on track with you so far, “I was just wondering…what exactly is the business. Unless they’re doing club business early in the morning.”

The smirk on Pansy’s face was telling, but you weren’t exactly sure what it was telling you. “You’re a smart witch, I’m sure you’ve gathered that there’s more than just the club when it comes to business with these boys.” You nodded, following Pansy back into the manner and towards the foyer. “Grab my arm, Birdie.” You did as told, then were instantly transported to what looked like a muggle artillery room.

“Wha-Where are we?” Pansy simply smirked, walking towards the glass door in front of you, “Believe it or not were right below the foyer. Only way to get here is through apparition and only the six of us- well I guess seven now - have the ability to do so. Theo looks daft but he’s actually fantastic at protection spells.”

Reaching her hand as far as it would go, then dragging her finger all the way down the glass. As she did so, you noticed a series of different light charges shift within the door frame before hearing a clicking sound, signifying an unlocking. “This,” Pansy opened the door, signaling for you to follow her, “is your first glimpse into the business.”

You marveled at the room around you, never seeing muggle weapons in person. They were shinier than you expected, in an array of grays, silvers and blacks. You were surprised at all the different shapes and sizes they seemed to come in, confused further why a band of wizards would see a purpose in them. “Muggle weapons are the business? That doesn’t make any sense, Pans.”

The black haired girl simply shook her head, “Weapons are the way in to the bigger picture, Birdie.” You walked up to a wall fingers dancing over what looked like a long black gun with an attached barrel to the end, “Which is what?” Pansy walked up behind you, “Power. Mattheo is building an empire, love. Not just in the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. If there’s ever another war, he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes that his father did.”

The last sentence gave you the little bit of detail to connect the dots that you needed to better understand Mattheo and his ways, his demeanor. You felt stupid for not making the connection earlier, but you blamed Mattheo and his charm for distracting you from thinking clearly. “Mattheo is Voldemort’s son,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Pansy nodded, “I wouldn’t bring it up, though. He’s got quite a distaste for his father. But you can’t blame him. Not after how he grew up, everything he had to deal with.”

You turned to Pansy, “How does no one know that Voldemort had a son?” Pansy held out her arm, you took it without hesitation. In a whirl you were back in the foyer, following Pansy to the sitting room watching as she collapsed on one of the couches by the fireplace. You gave her an incredulous look. She huffed, sitting up straighter and rolling her eyes, “If you sit, Birdie, I’ll tell you, but not everything. That’s for Mattheo to do. If he wants to.”

You sat on the couch across from her, not being able to help but sink into the plush cushions and relaxing slightly. Pansy let out a long sigh before starting, “Mattheo hides his past very well, better than you even and you seem like almost an expert at it. Mattheo didn’t attend school with the rest of us, his mother choosing to homeschool him, teaching him what she thought was important and what he would need to be a real leader. Guess she was right about that part.”

“How are he and Draco related? I know that the Malfoy’s were loyal death eaters but I didn’t think they were related to the Dark Lord himself.” Pansy shook her head, “You’re right there, they’re not related through him. Their mother’s are sisters, Draco’s actually almost a year older than Mattheo but you couldn’t tell by how timid and scared he acts around him.” You both laughed at this, even in the few days you had been around the group you recognize everyone cowering away from Mattheo if his voice was raised even slightly.

A popping sound signaled the arrival of someone near the foyer. “Must be the boys,” Pansy stood from the sofa, you following quickly behind her. You gasped at the sight before you. Mattheo’s white dress shirt was ripped like someone has pressed him against a shredder, cuts and new bruising evident behind the tears. He had blood splattered across his cheek, though it did not seem to be of his own. His knuckles were dripping, from what you were sure was a mix of his own blood and whoever he had seemed to beat.

Enzo was leaning most of his weight on his slightly shorter friend, eyes fluttering between awareness and close to losing consciousness. His arm that was not slung over Mattheo’s shoulders was pressed against his side where he was bleeding…badly. The gash in his side did not seem to be from anything muggle or an object, but from magic as you could see the black rim of the edges of his skin. “What the fuck happened?” You voice was the first to break the silence beyond Enzo’s moaning.

“Pansy grab the others, and some healing potions,” Matteo barked the order out like he’d said it a hundred times, which at his calmness of this situation made you think he had. You quickly conjured a table and helped Mattheo place Enzo on it. You looked over Enzo completely, seeing a few more cuts on his legs, the gash on his stomach, going up further he had a few defensive wounds on his forearms and a couple of cuts on his face.

When your face was level with Enzo’s eyesight, he smiled slightly, “Well, hey there, Angel.” You ran your thumb along his cheek bone, “Hey, Enzie. I’m gonna fix you up, but it’s gonna hurt. Try not to move, and try not to be mad at me after, okay?” Enzo did his best to nod before his eyes fluttered closed again. You grabbed your wand from your pocket, knowing where you’d have to start first when Mattheo seized your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help now if you would just let…go of me,” Mattheo’s grip only tightened as you tried to pull away. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Princess? You don’t even know what happened or what he was hit with. Pansy’s getting the healing potions, I don’t need you fucking up my best defense.”

You scoffed at his skepticism, “Well by the discoloration around his wound I can tell you he was hit with dark magic. And those healing potions, I looked at them today when Pansy gave me my little grand tour, it’ll take your best defense a week to heal with those, while if you would just let me get to work he’ll be mostly healed by the morning. Now, if you excuse me,” you yanked your wrist again, harder this time. You know the only reason you were able to was because Mattheo let go, but you got straight to work anyway.

Placing your wand between your teeth briefly you used both hands to rip Enzo’s shirt open, fully exposing the depths of what you were dealing with. The open wound went diagonally from his right hip to almost the center of his abdomen. You waved your wand over the length of his body, mending all of the small cuts quickly. Mattheo watched as you worked, standing across from you in a worried stance, one hand over his mouth while his elbow rested on the arm over his chest.

Pansy and the others came barreling down the hall, several different healing potions in hand, “What does she think she’s doing?” Malfoy shouted, your previous impression still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Leave her, cousin, we’re going to see how truly valuable she is to us.” Mattheo’s instruction left everyone standing, watching as you worked.

You mumbled an incantation under your breath, beginning to pull the darkness from around the edges of Enzo’s wound. But the pain was too much for him, his eyes shooting open and back immediately arching off the table, “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” Your frown deepened, “I know, Enz, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to stay still.” He shook his head, “C-can’t…can’t do it, hurts t-to much, Angel.”

You looked at Mattheo, eyes pleading. He understood what you were thinking immediately, turning towards the others, eyebrows raised. You turned back towards Enzo, leaning close to his face, “The boys are gonna help, okay? They’re gonna hold you down. I need to get it out of you before you can heal properly, okay, Enz? It’s gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay still. Just try, the boys will help.”

You made eye contact with Mattheo, nodding. He glanced over at the rest of the boys, who each grabbed hold of a limb on Enzo. “I’m so sorry, Enz,” you whispered before hovering your hands over the gash. “Just do it Angel, m’bout to pass out, I can feel it.” You nodded, circling your wand and mumbling the same incantation from before. Your twirled the tip of your wand, pulling up slowly as what looked like shimmering black liquid began to lift from Enzo’s wound.

“What the fuck is that…” Theo gasped as he watched as the string got thicker and longer. When the tail end of the black liquid flicked out you grabbed hold of it with your free hand, holding your wand high above your head to keep as much distance between Enzo and the liquid as you could. “Pansy, a vial, please,” you looked over at her. Pansy stood frozen, eyes stuck on the struggling presence in your hand. “PANSY!” Mattheo’s booming voice snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

Pansy rushed to your side, empty vial in hand as you guided the contents of your wand and palm inside. As she clogged the top Theo tried to get someone to pay attention to him again, “Is no one going to tell me what that fucking thing was that she just pulled out of Enzo? Was that his fucking soul?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “You’re a fucking moron, Nott, you know that?” You elbowed Blaise in the side, causing a low groan to emit from the man, “It was dark magic. It gets attached to you when you’re hit with certain spells. It makes it harder for you to heal and is extremely difficult to remove. But once you do you can usually heal the person like normal.”

You held your wand hand over Enzo’s abdomen again, mumbling another healing spell and watching as ribbons of white began connecting the opposite edges of his wound. “Do you have any gauze?” You looked up at Mattheo. He flipped his hand around, summoning a first aid kid and digging around until he found what you had asked for. You wrapped the gauze around Enzo’s middle, the rest of the boys helping lift him in order to wrap it all the way around and secure it properly.

When you were finished, you let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the night, but he should be basically back to his old self by morning, maybe a little sore but nothing like if he’d only taken the potion. You could probably give him that as well, help with the pain.” You looked over at Blaise and Theo, “You can take him to his room, just dont push on his side. Have Gimball give him something to drink in an hour, I’d watch him for the next three just to make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

The two boys nodded, hauling Enzo up under his shoulders and walking up the stairs. You shoved your wand back in your pocket with intentions of heading back toward the sitting room when you felt a strong grip on your arm. You turned to see Mattheo, expression unreadable. Before you could protest he was dragging you down the hall, “Mattheo, what the fuck? Let go!” Mattheo said nothing in response and he dragged you further down the hall until you were standing in front of his office doors.

He mumbled reverse protection spells before opening the doors and throwing you inside. You luckily had the wherewithal to catch yourself on his large desk before turning around to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You were practically screaming in his face yet he stood stoic. Except for his eyes. When you looked into his eyes they were darker than you’d ever seen them, like you were staring into an abyss and you were about to be sucked in. You wanted to challenge him, push him into showing you some emotion. You took a step closer, your chest nearly flush to his while you shoved a finger against one of his pecs, “Are you gonna answer me, boss?”

“Are you finished?” Mattheo peered down at you. You scowled at him, taking a step back and leaning against his desk, crossing your arms, “For now.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “I knew you were going to be difficult but I didn’t expect you to be a brat.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He grabbed hold of your chin, fingers squeezing your face, “Just like that. You gonna tell me how you pulled that little stunt in the foyer just now? How you managed to pull that shite from Berkshire?”

You pushed his hand from your face, “My mother taught me. I never had to use it growing up. But after the war I got more practice.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the mention of his father’s previous doings. “He’s going to be fine, you know,” your voice was soft, assuming Mattheo was worried about Enzo. Mattheo shook his head, “I know,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I just can’t believe how much I underestimated how useful you would be to us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?” Mattheo opened his eyes, a low laugh emitting from his throat, “Oh, Princess.” He reached out, cupping your cheek, “I knew you were special that first time you walked into my office. I know Pansy told you what we do, what I’m working towards.” You nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching yours, “Then you know it can get dangerous, hell today was a perfect example.”

“Mattheo I still don’t unders-” Mattheo pressed his thumb to your lips, “You’re mine now, Princess.” Your heart was thundering in your chest, it felt like he had a hold of it and was squeezing. You were sure he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting against your ear as he whispered, “And you’re never going to leave.”

#protego series #mafia!slytherin boys #mafia!mattheo riddle #Mattheo riddle x reader #Mattheo riddle x you

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littlefireball · 3 months ago

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ᴊʜ|ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ (ᴀ/ᴍ)

White Queen Reader x Red King Jongho

Fairy tale series: Yunho

⚠️Trigger!! Please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with it ⚠️

Word count: 6K

a/n: this story is Alice in Wonderland but Alice is not the main character here. I was inspired by the movies Alice in Wonderland (2010) and Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016), the story between the White Queen and The Queen of heart. I adopted the story and the settings, using them as the main characters.

Prompt: write a story where the hero is a also a villain and the villain is also a hero

Summary: Jongho stands as your savior, the one who pulled you from the depths of despair during your childhood. Yet, to the outside world, he wears the mask of a villain—born of both demons and humans, his blood tainted, his temperament fierce and wild. Society has cast him into the abyss, but you refuse to accept this fate. You are determined to rescue him, no matter the toll it takes on your own reputation or even your very existence.

"Help!Someone save me!" You barely paused to think, your gaze fixed straight ahead as you sprinted away in a frenzy. The branches and leaves whipped past you, creating a symphony of rustling sounds. As a teenager, you had a penchant for wandering through the forests on the outskirts, near the ominous realm known as The Red, the devil's domain. Your mischievous spirit often led you astray, ignoring warnings, and ultimately, you found yourself in the sights of a lurking monster.

A distant noise jolted you from your thoughts, and you grabbed a nearby branch, bracing for danger. Suddenly, a monstrous figure lunged from the underbrush, its maw dripping with blood. You swung the branch, but it splintered on impact, sending you tumbling to the ground.

The beast advanced, its teeth glinting as it growled. Panic surged as you tried to retreat, leaving a trail of blood from your wounded foot. The metallic scent ignited the creature's instincts, and it prepared to strike again. Fear paralyzed you as you realized you might meet your end beneath its savage jaws.

"Clang..." A chilling light sliced through the heavens as the beast plummeted to the earth. Blood oozed from its gaping wounds, pooling beneath it like a gruesome crimson rug. The man in front of you remained motionless, his gaze fixed on you, ensuring your safety before confirming the creature's demise.

"Are you okay?" He extended his hand to you, his voice was gentle.

"Yah…yah…" He pulled you up effortlessly as you held his hand. "Thanks…" Your gaze traveled to his face and attire, and it dawned on you that he was one of The Red. In that moment, he recognized you as the princess of the White.

"It's not safe for you to stay here, princess." The term 'princess' sent a jolt through your heart. Was he really going to end your life? The rivalry between the White and the Red was fierce; there was no chance for harmony.

"Do you know who I am?" you inquired softly, your voice barely rising above a murmur.

"Your gown," he said, gesturing toward your white dress, adorned with a design exclusive to the White.

"So… you plan to kill me?" Your words drew a light laugh from him. Honestly, he looked quite charming when he smiled.

"Then why would I bother saving you?" He folded his arms, leaning closer to meet your eyes. "If I'm going to kill you, I won't waste my breath. Just return to your land, and we'll pretend this never happened."

With a playful grin, he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" You called out to him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

"Jongho."

"Thank you, Jongho." With a smirk, he nodded and continued on his way.

This isn't merely a fleeting encounter; you find yourself drawn to the forest time and again, searching for Jongho. The moment he rescued you, he transformed into your hero, casting light into the dark corners of your existence and bringing joy to your days. In a household devoid of affection, he became the source of the feelings you had longed for.

The tender shoots of love began to emerge, flourish, and ultimately blossom into vibrant blooms within your hearts. Your connection grew stronger, and you discovered comfort in clandestine rendezvous at a hidden wooden cabin.

"Jongho, you're too big…" "It's not your first time to know it." Laughter dances between your kisses, your eyes sparkling with affection. The intensity of your kisses deepens once more. His lips crave to wander over every inch of you; starting at your earlobes, then gradually trailing down, sinking into your neck, leaving behind tender marks accompanied by soft, lingering sounds.

As your fingers intertwined, he released a soft whimper with each thrust. You gasped for air, your breaths coming in quick, uneven moans. The two of you were driving each other wild; the way his firm tip struck your sweet spot made you writhe, your toes curling as your walls eagerly embraced his shaft, beckoning for more pleasure.

"Wanna go rough?" he panted, his cheeks flushed. "Yes, please." In an instant, he withdrew and flipped you over, lifting you with ease. Wrapping your arms and legs around his shoulder and waist respectively, he walked to the wall and pressed you back against it. He released the grip on your thighs, sliding his arms underneath your inner knees. Without waiting for your response, he bumped into your warmth harshly. You screamed out of pleasure but immediately covered your mouth after realizing your moaning may be heard by people who were passing by.

"No one's here." Jongho whispered against your ear, his warm breath landing on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Who knows?" You giggled but the laugh soon died out as he gave you a really hard crash.

You and Jongho were entangled in a clandestine romance, a love that society deemed forbidden. You were the embodiment of purity, draped in the white of innocence, while Jongho was marked by the crimson of darkness and malice. This was the narrative spun by the inhabitants of Wonderland, yet your heart told a different story.

Thoughts of running away together danced in your mind, but the harsh truth loomed large; if a princess and a prince vanished simultaneously, it would raise alarms, especially given the enmity between your realms. You could never bear to let your love turn the people of your two kingdoms into casualties of your desire.

A loud sound of skin hitting skin bounced off the wall, combined with your moaning and his breathing, everything was just like a beautiful sinphony rang in your two ears. Pulling him closer, your nails dug into his nape, drawing some blood. The pain and the pleasure crashed together in Jongho's body and all the heat gathered in his tip, he was at his limit.

Picking up the pace, he rolled his hip quick enough to ruin you. He suddenly turned you around, throwing you to the bed as if you're nothing. He knew you loved that. "Jjong…" Before you could let out a whine because of the sudden emptiness in your cunt, his massive cock latched back on a quick, harsh motion. Your head landed on the bed sheets, making your high-pitched moan muffled as he bumped and hit your sweet spot dead on.

He pulled your pelvis to the air, crossing and pinning your arms on your back as a support, so that he could fuck you while standing on the bed. Everything was overwhelming but perfectly balanced, the pleasure made you sink deep in this love making, even forget the cruel reality for a moment. "Jongho…I'm so close." "Cum, good girl." "Fuck…shit…" A series of swearing flew from Jongho's lips and you responded with a long moaning and soft whimper. Finally, you reached the peak before his hot seed creamed your cunt.

"Goodness…" He pulled out painfully slowly to ensure you feel every vein of his cock. Watching your hole dripped with his cum was the most satisfying sight in the world. His hand reached down to collect the white seed, bringing them back to your hole and pushing in his long finger.

"Jongho…" You whined at the overstimulation, making him chuckle at your cuteness. Wrapping his arm around your waist to turn you over, he cradled you in his embrace while drawing you into a tender, slow kiss. As the kiss deepened, your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin mingling in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating.

Eventually, the kiss broke, but the connection remained. You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces flushed with the aftermath of your intimacy.

"I wish this moment could stretch into forever," he breathed, his fingers tenderly tracing your cheek. "I want to claim you as mine, as my wife, my eternal love."

"I'm completely yours, Jjong," you replied, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips. "Even if we can't..."

"Don't say that." Jongho pressed a soft kiss to your palm, resting it against his cheek. "I will make it happen. I promise." You nodded, enveloping him in a warm embrace as tears cascaded down your face.

His words were not empty; he became the King after his father died. He tried his best to improve the relationship between the two countries. Commerce, diplomacy, and even military support can all seem to be progressing smoothly. Just when you believe everything is on the right track, reality delivers a staggering jolt.

"The Red would eliminate us if we don't take action!"A White official asserted that the kingdom of Jongho, known as The Red, had grown in strength. There were whispers that The Red had allied with these dark forces, siphoning their power to bolster their own might. Yet, you were well aware that this was a falsehood. Their true strength stemmed from hard-earned experience, not from any infernal assistance. Even though the inhabitants of the Red were hybrids of demons and humans, they were not malevolent; their battles against the demons were driven by a sense of justice rather than wickedness.

The real malevolence laid with the White; no matter the efforts of the Red, acceptance would always elude them. The White were convinced that the Red sought to dominate them under the guise of collaboration, rather than genuinely aiding their development.

You were fed up with their deceitful words, so you confronted them head-on. Your menacing presence left him momentarily speechless, but he quickly found his footing again.

"Your Highness, conflict is unavoidable. It's either my life or his. Our nations are fated to clash." You scowled, your fists clenching the armrests, your nails digging into your skin.

"We are a pure nation, and negotiation with them is out of the question."

"So you're willing to let their blood taint our land, is that it?"

"That's called purification, Your Highness. We just spread our purity."

"Ridiculous." Your voice barely above a whisper. No matter how absurd their statements may seem, you found yourself unable to challenge them. Your parents were right beside you, their disdain for The Red palpable. If you dare to voice your disagreement now, it will surely raise eyebrows and jeopardize your bond with Jongho.

"Allow me to continue, Your Highness." You shifted your gaze, trying to suppress the anger within you. But of course, you couldn't show it.

"We intend to strike when they next engage a demon." Those officials were convinced that once they vanquished demons, The Red would consume their souls for its own gain. Seizing this moment, The White could launch a surprise assault. This strategy has garnered support from many, including your parents.

Your heart races with anxiety. You attempt to steady yourself, determined to stop their conspiracy.

"The White's strategy is steeped in fear and misunderstanding," you countered, your voice steady despite the turmoil within. "To attack the Red while they battle demons is not only morally wrong, but it also betrays the very principles we claim to uphold. We cannot allow ourselves to be governed by paranoia and prejudice."

The official's eyes narrowed, a hint of contempt flickering across his face. "Your Highness, you are too naive. The Red have long been a threat to our stability. Their very existence is a blight upon the land, a reminder of the darkness that once consumed us all. We must eradicate them before they can spread their corruption further."

"But that's not what they are," you insisted, your voice rising with passion. "They are warriors, fighting against the very demons that once threatened our own kingdom. They are not our enemies; they are our allies in this endless struggle against evil."

Your parents exchanged a worried glance, their disapproval evident. "You are too close to this, my child," your mother said softly. "You must see the bigger picture. The Red cannot be trusted."

"I understand your concerns," you replied, striving for calm. "But trust is earned, not assumed. We have never given them a chance to prove their loyalty. How can we judge them solely based on rumors and hearsay?"

The official snorted derisively. "Prove their loyalty? They are hybrids, a twisted blend of humanity and demonic influence. They cannot be trusted, no matter what they do."

"But that's─"

"Enough!Y/N!" Your father cut you off, his voice laced with fury. "How dare you defend those monsters?"

"I'm not defending them, Father."

His eyes narrowed, skepticism etched across his face. You could feel your hands shaking and your breath quickening, yet you fought to steady yourself.

"I'm only considering the welfare of our people."

"That better be the case." He circled you like a predator, hands clasped behind his back, then bellowed to the crowd: "This bill will be enacted! The day we obliterate The Red is nearly upon us!"

You spun around in disbelief, a shiver racing down your spine as you witnessed the crowd erupting in fervent chants. The faces you once knew morphed into a sea of menacing figures, each one a chilling embodiment of the very demons you feared.

Your words fell on deaf ears, and it seemed they would never hear your voice. If that's the reality, then it's time to explore a different path.

Under the cover of night, you slipped into your father's study. The desk was cluttered with battle maps and troop deployment charts. You carefully transcribed the details and tucked them away in a secret spot, ensuring they would remain hidden. When you finally encounter Jongho, you'll hand over the crucial information.

"Jongho!!" The moment you spotted him in the wooden house, you dashed into his arms, a fleeting moment that felt like a precious treasure.

"Y/N…" His voice was a gentle whisper as he pulled you closer, his hands firmly around your waist.

"I'm so sorry I can't stop this…" You kept murmuring, guilt washing over you for not being able to halt the war and shield your beloved.

"It's not your fault; why do you keep saying that?" He brushed his fingers against your tear-streaked cheeks, tenderly wiping away your own tears. "You never wanted this; you've done nothing wrong."

You shook your head, said "I refuse to let them tear us apart…" With determination, you retrieved a folded plan from your pocket, revealing the strategy of your army.

"You…"

"Even if I can't stop them, I can make them lose." You held Jongho's face gently, your words a soft murmur. "They are the true villains, not the heroes."

He enveloped you in his arms, resting his chin on your head. "When that day arrives, everything will change. The war will cease, the animosity will vanish, and we will be united."

"I'll wait for you, Jongho." You both stared into each other's eyes, a profound sorrow mirrored in their depths. Slowly, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender, mournful, and final kiss.

Yet, plans often crumble.

The Red's defense fell apart like a house of cards. They had positioned their forces based on the strategic map you provided, but an unexpected assault caught them off guard. Thirty thousand enemy soldiers executed a deceptive strike, drawing the Red's troops northward, while the east and west flanks were mercilessly bombarded by a staggering one hundred thousand foes each. The Red's forces lacked the strength to withstand such overwhelming might, and The White's relentless pressure left them no room to fight back.

"No...no...how could this happen..." You clenched your jaw as you listened to the generals report one victory after another. Each announcement felt like a dagger to your heart. This was unimaginable. With Jongho's exceptional skills, this conflict should not have unfolded this way. What had gone so terribly wrong?

"Inform the king that we have seized The Red's general, Jongho." As soon as his name reached your ears, a wave of sorrow crashed over you. Your eyes brimmed with tears, and you fought valiantly to keep them at bay. The father beside you noticed your distress and, with a playful flourish, gestured toward you, as if to taunt your pain.

"C'mon, Y/N. Take a look at our prize."

"Yes, father…"

As you reluctantly stepped forward, each footfall felt like lead, dragging you towards a fate you were not ready to face. The tent's entrance loomed ahead, the flap swaying slightly in the wind, a harbinger of uncertainty and heartbreak. With a deep breath, you pushed past the curtain and entered a chamber filled with the stench of defeat and despair.

Jongho was bound, his noble features marred by bruises and bloodied lips. His eyes met yours across the room, and in that instant, a thousand words were exchanged. They spoke of love, betrayal, and the cruel realities of war. You struggled to maintain your composure, but your heart was breaking within you.

"Y/N..." His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of longing and sorrow.

You wanted to approach him, wanted to touch his bruised cheek, only to have your hand stopped by the cold iron of his chains and your father.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "I failed you."

The king, who had been observing your exchange with a smug satisfaction, cleared his throat loudly. "You're doing well, my daughter. You bring victory to our kingdom."

Jongho's expression turned steely as he stared at you, disbelief etched across his features before his eyes flicked to your father. "What are you saying?"

"If it weren't for you, this war wouldn't be thriving," your father declared, his usual stern demeanor melting away into a grotesque grin that churned your stomach.

"Y/N…" Jongho whispered, his gaze devoid of affection, replaced instead by a simmering hatred.

"No…" A torrent of words lodged in his throat, unable to form a coherent thought. You shook your head, desperate to reject the harsh truth before you, but the reality was undeniable: Jongho's animosity toward you was palpable. He had once trusted your words, but they had led to ruin for his forces. How could he ever believe you again?

"Finish him, Y/N." Your father thrust a knife into your hands, compelling you to take Jongho's life.

You stumbled upon the blade, its cold edge a cruel reminder of your choices, and began to approach the lover standing before you, each step heavy with regret. With every footfall, your heart shattered further, the weight of your actions pressing down on you. He bore the marks of pain, his once-bright eyes now dimmed by your treachery.

"I never meant to betray you. Do you trust me?" you murmured, your voice thick with emotion, nearly drowning out your own plea.

"How?"

Jongho's gaze shifted from yours to the knife in your trembling hand, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was a flicker of hope in his eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by the harsh realization of your father's ultimatum.

"Trust you?" he repeated, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "After everything? How could I ever trust the one who sent me here, to this fate?"

Your heart twisted at his words, but you pressed on, desperate to make him understand. "I had no choice, Jongho. My father...he's twisted everything. He's used me to achieve his own ends. I never wanted this to happen."

"But it did," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And now you're standing here, with a weapon in your hand, ready to strike me down. How can you say you never meant to betray me?"

You hesitated, the knife hovering between you and Jongho. You knew there were no easy answers, no words could erase the pain and mistrust between you.

"So I never deserve your forgiveness." You said, your voice breaking. Without a second thought, you thrust the knife into him.

"You…!" Every inch of his body radiated agony, his lips quivered as waves of pain crashed over him relentlessly. He sprawled on the ground, a crimson pool spreading beneath him, his gaze fixed in despair as you strolled back to your father's side, a fake smile on your face.

"Why?" were the final words that escaped his lips before the shadows enveloped him.

Your father's eyes widened with satisfaction as he watched you stand victorious over Jongho's fallen form. "Well done, my dear. Your loyalty to the kingdom is unmatched."

"It's gonna be over," you whispered to yourself, your eyes locked on Jongho's lifeless body. "I promise."

Your father, oblivious to your internal turmoil, turned to address his generals. "With Jongho's forces defeated, our victory is assured. Prepare the celebrations. We shall feast next week in honor of our daughter's bravery."

The generals bowed in obedience, and you let out a smile, "Yes, father."

—---

The war concluded with The White emerging victorious. The world hailed The White as a champion, while The Red, the instigator of the conflict, was branded a villain. And you stood as the greatest hero of them all.

The castle hall buzzed with the jubilant gathering of soldiers and the royal family, all reveling in the triumph. Their cheers rang out, a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt inside.

You stood there, devoid of joy or sorrow, like a marionette stripped of its strings. No one seemed to notice your detachment; they were too engrossed in their celebration. Just then, your mother approached, accompanied by a man.

"Come, Y/N, meet your fiancé. This is His Highness Adam." You offered a curt bow, your face a mask of indifference. If you had known they were arranging a political marriage for you, you would have protested vehemently. But now, you felt nothing, your mind fixated on a singular thought.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness Y/N. Rumors do not do justice to your beauty," he complimented, his words smooth but lacking sincerity.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Adam." As you and he engaged in conversation, your mother discreetly stepped away, granting you both a moment of privacy.

"I heard you outsmarted the Red Prince and emerged victorious in the war," he began, his voice brimming with admiration. "And you even took his life! How incredible you are!"

"Do you despise the Reds?"

"Absolutely! They're nothing but demons—cruel and hideous. They deserve to vanish from this world."

"But I carry the blood of demons; do I not deserve to perish as well?"

"No, no! You are a hero, Y/N. Even with their blood on your hands, your nobility shines through." Your once gentle gaze darkened, transforming into something sinister as you turned away, striding toward the empty throne, your fingers gliding over the armrests. "So, is there a chance for my redemption?"

"You did nothing─ *cough*" In an instant, a wave of violent coughing swept through the hall. Guests clutched their throats, desperately trying to stifle the crimson torrents spilling from their lips, but their efforts were futile.

"Is the wine to your liking?" you inquired, your gaze fixed on his glass, provoking a sinister grin. You had laced every dish with poison before the feast even began. It was no surprise that everyone was now afflicted.

"What have you done?" your father growled, struggling to maintain his balance against the onslaught of agony.

"Just what you did to me once. Father." You moved back and forth with a chilling calmness. "You altered the plan after I stole it, leading Jongho to misunderstand me, ultimately costing him his life. You forced my betrayal, and now I return the favor."

"How dare you…!"

"I took the life of my beloved, and there's nothing I won't do. Father."

"You love that demon…?!" Adam gasped, his voice strained. "What a…" Before he could finish, you drew a knife and plunged it into him with brutal force.

"He is not the demon; you all are. In the name of your so-called purification, you slaughter the innocent without remorse, using their lives to fortify your nation. It's nothing short of disgraceful!"

You withdrew the blade, and he crumpled to the earth. Seated upon the throne, a sea of lifeless bodies sprawled before you.

"That's so-called purify, Father." A smile crept across your face, a flicker of relief washing over you as you contemplated your fate. You knew Jongho would come back for you. That day, you chose not to pierce his heart. Instead, you allowed him to stage his demise and slip away unnoticed. Deep down, you understood that with his nature, vengeance was inevitable. He would, no, must kill you. You betrayed him, bringing to his people. You will never be forgiven.

"Now I await your return, Jongho."

—---

"Your Majesty─" A soldier sprinted frantically toward your throne, only to be struck down by a figure in a tall hat lurking behind him. He collapsed, his lifeless form swallowed by a tide of crimson. The man in the hat advanced slowly into the hall where you sit. You rest your hands on the table, unflinching in the face of impending doom.

"It's all finished. Surrender. White Queen. Your forces have surrendered, and I have eliminated every last one of your warriors. It's time for your cruel reign to end." The man before you brandishes a sword, each word he utters striking your heart like a relentless hammer. How long has it been since you last heard his voice? The affection that once colored his words has faded, replaced by a chilling disdain.

"Hatter... or should I call you Jongho?" you murmured softly. As your revelation hit him, Jongho's steadfast gaze shattered momentarily, only to reassemble into its former intensity.

"I had a feeling you were Alice's partner, the one who's going to take me down. And I'm right. It just took more time than I expected. I've been waiting for you for so long."

One day, you stumbled upon a mysterious book hidden away in your father's clandestine chest, tucked inside a room that few knew existed. The pages revealed a prophecy about a woman named Alice and her band of allies who would rise up against your reign. Among them was a figure known as Hatter. While the book offered no details about his looks, a gut feeling whispered that he must be Jongho. And as fate would have it, your instincts were spot on.

"You should have. You took everything from me and shattered what we once shared," he retorted, his words slicing through you like a cruel blade. "I can never forgive you."

"I don't need your forgiveness, Jongho." You stood up straight, stepping forward until the cold tip of the sword pressed against your chest, invading your vulnerability. Blood trickled down, staining your white dress. Yet, you felt no pain; the heartbreak had rendered you numb.

"Your words are as hollow as the shell you've become," you said, voice steady despite the growing chill spreading from the sword's point. "You speak of taking everything, but it was you who abandoned us. You chose power over love, ambition over the promise of a life together."

Jongho's face twisted in a mix of anger and grief, his grip on the sword tightening. "You don't know what you're talking about. I did it all for us, for a better future. But you... you were blinded by your throne and your obsession with control. You destroyed everything in your path, including our love."

"Love?" You snorted, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "You speak of love as if it's some fairy tale. You turned your back on reality, Jongho. On the truth. You were always meant to be the Hatter, trapped in Wonderland, while I was meant for something greater. I was born to rule, and nothing—not even you—could change that."

His eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering just below the surface. "You're wrong. You were never meant to be a queen, not like this. You've become a monster, consumed by your own greed and paranoia. And now, it's time for you to pay the price."

You met his gaze without flinching, feeling the weight of your actions pressing down on you. "Then do it, Jongho. Strike me down and end this nightmare. But know that even in death, I will never regret my choices. I would rather die as a queen than live as a pawn in someone else's game."

For a moment, he hesitated, his sword wavering. But then, with a fierce determination, he lunged forward, the blade piercing through your chest with a sickening thud. Pain erupted within you, searing through your veins like wildfire. You stumbled backward, crashing into the table behind you, the sound of shattering crystal mingling with your own labored breathing.

Jongho stood over you, sword still embedded in your chest, his face a mask of cold resolution. "Goodbye,Y/N. May you finally find peace in the afterlife."

But as you gazed up at him, your vision blurring with the onset of darkness, you knew that peace would never be yours. Not in this life, nor in the next. You had made too many mistakes, caused too much suffering. And now, as the life force within you began to fade, you realized that your only hope for redemption lay in the forgiveness of those you had wronged.

With your last breath, you whispered, "Finally, you can become a hero."

"What're you talking about…"

"The Red overthrow The White. A hero defeats a villain. That's what people would believe in the future. The Red is not evil anymore, but the White."

"I'm sorry, Jongho. For everything."

The air in the throne room seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment, heavy with the weight of betrayal and regret. Jongho's eyes widened at your whispered apology, a flicker of emotion crossing his stern features. But it was too late, the damage had been done, and the path to reconciliation had long been lost in the labyrinth of Wonderland's twisted politics.

He withdrew the sword painfully, leaving behind a gaping wound that oozed a sickly crimson.

You collapsed onto the shattered remnants of your throne, the cold marble beneath you now stained with your blood.

"What have I done to deserve this...Y/N?" He sank to his knees, the weight of his bottled-up feelings crashing down on him. "Why do you push me to end your life? For the sake of heroes and villains? Why?I never wanted to be a hero. I just wanted…us…"

Now he finally understood, you made him kill you so that he could be the hero and no one would suppress the Red again.

The White fell, and with it, Wonderland found its tranquility. Whispers circulated that the Red King had toppled the White Queen's rule, yet the truth remained shrouded in mystery, for no one had laid eyes on him and Jongho did not ascend to the throne of Wonderland; instead, he disappeared. And your corpse? Oddly enough, it appears to have vanished alongside the Red King. When the troops stormed into the throne room, all that was left were a bloodied sword and a crown. Everything seemed to evaporate overnight.

As time passed, Wonderland slowly healed from the wounds of the past. All is well again, and the sorrow of yesteryears has faded away, washed clean by the passage of time.

—-----

"Alice, wake up!" Her sister gently nudged her as Alice lay dozing on her lap. "Dinner's ready! Father mentioned we have new neighbors, so we should go say hello soon!"

"Mmm?" Alice stirred from a vivid dream. She recalled a fantastical adventure where she leaped into a rabbit hole, nibbled on peculiar cakes, and experienced wild changes in size. In that strange world, she had been hailed as a savior, destined to challenge a queen whose name eluded her, though she vividly remembered the queen's striking white attire.

"Wait, where's the hatter?" Alice shot up, a sudden realization hitting her. She recalled racing to the palace after defeating the White Queen's dragon, but her friend, the hatter, was nowhere to be found. She distinctly remembered following him inside.

"What hatter? That's just a tale, Alice."

"No!" Alice insisted. "I swear I saw him! And his name wasn't just hatter… what was it…?"

"Alright, alright, just head home and stop with the daydreaming."

"I'm not daydreaming! It was real!" Alice hurried after her sister. "I followed the rabbit and fell into the hole!"

"It's merely a plot from a story."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Because it's not true."

As their debate continued, they arrived home, where a couple, presumed to be their new neighbors, turned away from them.

"Meet our neighbors," Alice's father said, gesturing. The couple stood and greeted them with warm smiles.

"Hello! You must be Alice, right?" the man said. A wave of recognition washed over Alice, and she gasped, momentarily speechless.

"You… you… you? Hatter and White Queen??"

"What?" They both laughed lightly. "No, I'm Jongho, and this is Y/N."

"She's just lost in her imagination, sorry about that," Alice's sister chimed in.

Is it truly just a figment of her imagination? Perhaps only Jongho held the key to the truth.

—---

(Bonus/Side story)

Jongho's POV

The palace around me was steeped in an eerie silence, punctuated only by the distant clamor of chaos as the last vestiges of her army capitulated to my forces. The thought of revenge fuels my existence, yet even as I exacted it, my heart felt hollow, as if a vital piece of me was missing. Her lifeless form lay cold, drenched in blood. I should have revealed in this victory, but instead, an overwhelming wave of sorrow washed over me, leaving me gasping for breath.

I believed I had acclimated to a life without her. Yet, deep down, I knew I had never truly let her go; I thought my feelings had vanished the day she plotted my demise. Perhaps I merely buried them within my heart. That fateful day, I was saved by surviving soldiers, who claimed a mysterious figure had orchestrated my escape from The White. Initially, I suspected it was the woman named Alice, revered by many as the savior. I adopted a new identity as Hatter, aligning myself with Alice to dismantle the White Queen's reign.

The journey was fraught with peril, yet it unfolded with an unsettling ease, as if someone had choreographed it all. Blinded by my thirst for vengeance, I overlooked the nagging doubts that lingered. In hindsight, I realize how foolish I was... This entire scheme was orchestrated by Y/N to provoke me into her demise.

I found it perplexing—what had turned her so merciless? Was it truly just because a servant pilfered her fruit tart that she sought to annihilate an entire family? Eventually, I understood that this was merely a game to her.

I embraced her and stepped out of the palace. She had been ensnared within its walls, and now she could finally break free. No longer would she feign the role of a tyrannical ruler; she could simply be my wife.

Arriving at our old cabin, I was astonished to find it remarkably well-preserved amidst the turmoil. She had cherished our memories, and not a speck of dust marred the furniture. We had made a promise here, yet unexpectedly, that promise now lay beyond our reach.

I wrapped my arms around her and settled onto the bed, pretending that everything was just as it had always been. Reflecting on our conversation, Alice had shared how she tumbled down a rabbit hole and found herself in a place untouched by war, where peace reigned and everyone thrived together. How wonderful it would be for Y/N and me to exist in such a realm!

But it was too late.

I retrieved the vial of poison from my bag. Downed it in one go. The agony I anticipated never arrived. Instead, I found myself surrounded by a brilliant light. It was in that moment that a voice I recognized broke through the silence.

"Wake up, jjong. Don't sleep."

Ah, is she, my Y/N.

tag list: @angelsaway , @yeosangcutie0615

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aquamechanic12 · 4 months ago

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toweroftickles · 2 months ago

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Reimagined Tickling #5

Fairy Tail/The Legend of Korra

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This one was a request from my readers! Let’s see how Avatar Korra fares, living through Lucy Heartfilia’s torment from Virgo.

This story takes place during TLOK Season One.

Late-night puddle droplets splished into the air and drenched Korra’s heavy tundra-camel boots with every thunderous step. The brickwork backstreet was too crowded for her to use her bending arts safely, but she wasn’t going to let her target escape.

“Hey! Get back here!!” she shouted.

Through the window of Narook's Noodlery where she and her Fire Ferrets celebrated, Korra had spied the girl outside...a scrawny little scarecrow, couldn't have been more than 10 or 11, all in seaweed-colored rags of ill fit, with tufts of bright orange plumage shooting out from beneath her aviator goggles. She'd been struggling to remove the hubcaps from Asami’s car. A street rat kid rummaging for auto parts? Probably part of the Badgermole Triad. Well, if Officer Lin was too busy with “important city matters” to deal with them, Korra would do it herself.

The Avatar pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, lagging behind a diminutive thief who had the ability to simply slip underneath the sea of legs. For a moment, her pursuit was blocked by a busy traffic intersection...the girl was already across the street and fleeing fast...but Korra quickly dodged and flipped between the charging vehicles. As one car pulled out into the road, milliseconds before crashing into it, she vaulted legs-first over the engine hood, a blast of air propelling her along to the sidewalk on the other side, and the squeeeaaeeaaaky slide over hot metal nearly rubbed her butt-cheek raw.

"GET OUTTA THE STREET, YA MORON!" The pedestrian driver's horn rattled her eardrums.

Yow!! Ow ow ow ow ow! Korra hissed to herself, clutching her sore behind as she ran. (Well…it was more of a limping hop.) Ugh, that’s gonna smart for a while…

The chase led down a limestone alcove, hidden beneath a dumpster behind the Cabbage Corp building, down a wrought iron ladder that bored flakes of rust into Korra’s palms, and into the cyclical catacombs of the Warrens. Why did these dumb squirts have so much energy? She was nearly out of breath and about to call off the pursuit, when she found herself in the atrium of a massive cave.

The city lights above illuminated the red-brown earth floor. All across the sprawling portal were the bodies of countless wrecked vehicles, no doubt used in the illegal racing circuit. Satomobiles and Cabbage Car chassis of all colors littered the pools of light like croutons in soup, their parts creaking and groaning against each other. And at the far end of the cavern, past the musty graveyard of wheels and springs, there stood the kid, her back to Korra, perfectly still.

Was she oblivious, or planning something? Korra wasn't gonna wait to find out. Uncaring about noise or stealth, she charged.

Now I've got you!

Without a turn, without even a sideways glance, the mysterious child stomped a bare and bandaged foot into the dirt.

The ground beneath Korra's feet instantly dropped away like a trapdoor. “WHOA!!!” Korra yelped and tried to stop herself, but her momentum slid her down the ramp-like opening on her heel and carried her right into the maw of this newly-dug pit. She barely had time to steady herself either - as soon as she wobbled to a stable position, four large rectangles of stone, thick as concrete slabs, rose up vertically around her and rushed at her from all angles. On pure instinct she threw her arms out to the sides to block them, and her wrists were greeted by a crushing weight that nearly shattered them to splinters. She winced and shouted as the walls pushed against her hands, boxing her in and forcing their way closer and closer to her, but somehow, her throbbing arms held firm. Her energy was drained from the chase, but eventually, the blocks ground to a slow stop, and the dust settled.

Korra wheezed. Whew. I was almost a pancake. She felt like she was trapped inside a chimney. Unable to clearly see her surroundings, she glanced up to find the little sticky-fingers on the ledge of the trap hole, staring furiously down at her.

"Stop following me!" the kid yipped.

“You’re an earthbender?!”

"Of course I'm an earthbender! Now leave me alone!"

It was this surprise revelation that made Korra pause…this earthen box itself was no problem. One quick push outward and the walls would crumble. Her knees swiveled inward to form a Gong Kiu stance. She furrowed her brow and felt the rock surge beneath her hands, unaware of the sedimentary serpent that approached her.

It started small at first. Tiny granules of sand and crumbled earth all teemed together like a school of krill at the Badgermole recruit’s feet. Then, smoother, rounder stones joined the fun. Soon they all coalesced into the shape of a tentacle, that grew and grew in length until it was large enough to reach over the edge of the crevice and spiral down to the Avatar’s body. It nosed around as if hunting, dancing to its master’s commands, until finally, it lunged.

A sharp blade of air stabbed Korra's throat. All the blood in her face drained into the back of her neck, and she froze, save for her widened eyes, which darted to look at her abdomen. For a split second of terror, she thought she'd been speared. But no. This was worse.

The stone whip that she saw for the first time caressed her stomach back and forth like a tongue, up and down, side to side, between every taut muscle and even around the rim of her navel. It wiggled and poked and wouldn’t stop.

What the - ?!

“Tickletickletickletickletickle!!” the urchin girl’s shrill voice called out.

No. Wait. You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Korra tried to wrestle the urge down into her stomach, but she couldn’t help herself. She simply burst out laughing.

“Wha…d-d’ah! H…Haha! Haha Ha-Ha Ha!” Only for a fraction of a second, her hands slipped downward. But that was enough. Her strength gave way and those rock slabs, commanded by another stomp of the mysterious kid’s foot, pummeled even harder against her arms. They smooshed Korra tighter and tighter ‘til her elbows buckled.

“Ahhhh-ow ow ow OWWWW!!!” Hot thorns of pain cracked her ulnae.

“Heh-Heh Heh! That’s the best trick I ever learned! Not so easy to concentrate on your bending when you’re laughing like a hyena-monkey, is it, Miss Avatar?”

“Ugh! You little brat! Fight me like a real bender!” Korra barked.

But the young thief was merely bemused by this demand. “Hmmmm…” She stroked her chin and pretended to ponder for a moment, before a cruel snaggle-toothed smile grew across her freckles. “Ok!”

The girl threw out her right arm and twisted her wrist so that her fingers faced the ceiling. While those pointed digits wiggled in the air, her left hand made fast swipes like a conductor's baton, and her feet drew concentric circles on the ground. Korra had never seen bending like this. She would’ve been more curious...if her thoughts weren’t distracted by the craggy tentacle that was now wiggling underneath her left armpit.

“D-don’t!! Haha-Ha! Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! *gasp* Huh! Quihit it! Nooo, crahap; why don’t I cover thohohose?!” This was humiliating. Why tickling?!

With every tiny stumble of her hands, the rocks pushed in closer. A few more slip-ups and she'd be crushed. Now she was starting to panic.

“Are you ticklish here? Or here? What about there? You’re gonna beg for mercy before long!”

The pebbles in the strand climbed over one another and traced serpentine patterns along Korra’s jaw, dragging their tiny rigid edges against the underside of her chin…down her neck…deep in her collarbone…drilling into the left armpit, and then the right…down her back…scrawling between each individual rib…once it even burrowed itself into the back of her knee, twisting and wriggling against a painfully vulnerable spot of skin. Every time Korra attempted to contort her body away from the rock-and-sand tendril, it leapt with lightning speed to another one of her softest pressure points, each more weak and sensitive than the last.

“Kitchie kitchie coo! Ah-Kitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitchakitcha!” That nasal baby-talk was really starting to grate.

“PFFHA-HA HA-HA……nnnnn!! ….GkKHaha-Ha! *hic* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! D…Dahamn it! Haha! Huh-Huh Ha-Ha Ha!! R-HA-hocks…rocks are supposed to be sharp; they’re not s’posed to tickl-hl-hl-ha!!”

Korra’s arms trembled in their sockets. Only a single cubit’s length separated the two walls that sandwiched her…all her strength was sapped out…gravel was practically sanding down her ears…

“Had enough yet?”

All of a sudden, the tickle whip backed off. Korra bent over double in a struggle to catch her breath. Pools of achy misery swam through her ab muscles. A single bead of sweat drizzled its way down the bridge of her nose as she huffed and puffed.

“Hmmm…this isn’t working,” the pint-sized pilferer pouted with folded arms.

“Uhhh…Wha…what do you mean?” the Avatar moaned and raised her head. Particulates of sand were slithering up the side of the crevice and back to their commander. “Why’d you stop?”

“Hmf. Well I wanted to punish you for chasing after me. But you’re enjoying it.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU THIS IS TORTURE!!” Korra might not have been a direct branch on Aang and Katara’s family tree, but she sure could channel her Water Tribe forebear’s explosive frog-mouthed temper. Tenzin was rubbing off on her.

Before she could protest further, the stone walls around her dissolved back into the ground as quickly as they’d sprung up. With nothing to push her palms against, Korra was suddenly thrown off-balance and, with her arms windmilling wildly, she toppled backwards like a chopped-down tree.

CRASH!!

It was a good several seconds before she managed to push herself up off the soil again. A heavy pulse thump-thump-thumped all the way from her hips to her throat. Her arms felt like jook pudding.

“Ugh…yep. Still smarts. Landed right on it,” she groused, to no one in particular. Korra didn’t have to climb out of the quarry to realize that her quarry was long gone.*

Great. Just great. She galavanted off halfway across the city, ditched her friends, bruised her ass, got lost in the Underground, nearly broke her arms, and got tickled mercilessly, just to fail at catching a poor kid who didn’t actually steal anything from them. Brilliant, Korra. She groaned and pinched her eyebrows, her mouth in a stubborn frown.

Slowly standing and dusting herself off, Korra limped up and out of the hole. In the midst of wondering how to explain this one to the team, one more terrible realization struck her.

"Aw, crap...

…I didn't pay my check."

*Why yes, I AM very proud of that sentence, thank you. (gets hit with a shoe)

********

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chat-rivary · 3 months ago

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Sun waved his hand with a big smile and immediately Moon lifted you up, the cable pulling him up to the balcony where he landed gently, but didn't let go of you, coming to snuggle his nose against you with a long, heavy purr as you returned his hug. Sun soon joined you, entering their room and placing your bag on the desk. Moon gently placed you on the floor before turning to Sun who came to stand on the other side of you grabbing your hand at the same time as Moon. Without exchanging a word the two led you to the balcony holding your hand.

"Could you sit here for a minute and close your eyes please Starlight ?" Sun asked, whispering in your ear.

"Give me a kiss and maybe I will." You reply.

Sun and Moon exchanged a look before leaning in simultaneously placing a kiss on your cheeks each. You let a chuckle escape you before grabbing their face disc, you placed a kiss on Sun's forehead whose rays began to turn before turning to Moon, lifting his cap slightly before placing a kiss on his forehead, watching his face color delicately.

"Now I'm inclined to wait."

"And close your eyes ?" Sun asked.

"And close my eyes." You confirmed.

You sat down on the ledge letting your legs fall to the ground, you looked in the direction of Sun and Moon, grinning at them as well, sticking your tongue out to tease them before finally closing your eyes. You heard their cable come down before hanging on to the back of one of them, you assumed it was Moon as Sun dove straight into the ball pool making you laugh slightly. For several long minutes you heard distant noises resounding without being able to know what it was about, you started to shake your legs, tilting your face backwards while keeping your eyelids closed.

Suddenly the lights that filtered through your eyelids disappeared, before slowly a slight source of light began to show, your curiosity slowly consumed you, pushing you to play with the bells attached to your bracelet. The sound of their acrobatic cable and the sensation of someone next to you told you that Moon had returned and soon after Sun joined you. You heard them stirring in their rooms again before finally they returned, each taking a seat next to you.

"You can open your eyes now Starlight." Sun sighed.

You opened your eyes slowly at first before finally opening them wide in surprise. Hanging from the ceiling a little further down the Daycare was a multitude of small pieces of what you assumed were pieces of mirrors or glass, each piece was different in size and shape, each suspended by what you assumed were very thin wires since you weren't able to see them and that was the only explanation you had for the floating pieces of glass. But you were only able to see all this because of a huge spotlight, which glowed quite dimly, that was just above the largest gathering of the small pieces of glass, illuminating the bits of mirrors and glass that reflected the light. You felt like you were watching the rain at sunset, the water droplets inevitably reflecting the sun as it began to disappear over the horizon.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf daycare attendant #sundrop and moondrop #fnaf sb fanfic #Polarized #my writing #my art #fnaf sb fanart #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moodrop

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laurasimonsdaughter · 1 year ago

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By the shore there once lived a fisherwoman and her wife. Together they had three children, each as beloved as the other. They were a sweet sight to behold. The eldest had hair the colour of chestnut, that flowed like waves. The middle one had hair the colour of mahogany, that fell down in ringlets. And the youngest had hair like ebony, that curled straight upwards.

All their days their mothers had kept careful watch over them, but one evening, when the fisherwoman had not yet returned from the open sea, her wife received an urgent message calling for her assistance. There was nothing to depend on if not the help of kind neighbours, so the woman called her children inside, drew all the curtains, and told them to stay within for as long as she was gone.

“For it will be a dark night, but a clear one,” she warned. “And you will surely end up elf-shot or pixie-led if you go out in the gloaming.”

All three of them promised faithfully not to set a foot out of doors and their mother quickly set off to be of help to her neighbour.

For a while the three children were content within, but the further the sun sank below the horizon, the more restless they became. At last the eldest could take it no longer.

“I shall only draw back one of the curtains,” he said, and all three of them crowded around the window to look.

Outside the sky had slowly turned to dark velvet and since no moon rose to light it, far before true darkness had come the shimmering pinpricks of stars appeared. The whole world seemed to glisten in soft grey and it was not long before the second of them grew twice as restless as before.

“I will only open the window,” they said, and all three of them leaned against the windowsill to breathe in the night air.

But never had the gentle wind smelled so sweet and it was not long before the youngest could no longer contain herself.

“I will only go and sit on the windowsill,” she said, but no sooner had she let her legs dangle over the side or her siblings came to join her. And once they were all there, staring up at the sky with the wind in their hair and the distant rush of the sea in their ears, it did not take long until they slid off the windowsill and jumped to the ground.

“We shall not go up to the cliffs,” they told each other. “Nor inland towards the moors. We shall only go to see the sea and then straight back again.”

After all, they would be back before their mother ever knew they were gone, and they would have done so without ever setting a foot out the door.

Gaily they ran down to the shore, where the stars hung lower above the waves than they had ever seen. White mist danced above the water, and the sea foam danced as if rising to meet it. Amidst all this splendour, they suddenly heard the soft sound of hooves and from across the starlit beach, a beautiful pony pranced towards them.

The children gasped and cried in delight. They had never seen any animal half as beautiful. Its coat was as dark as the dusk and its eyes were like shimmering pools. And it came towards them quite as if to befriend them.

“I want to ride it!” the middle child exclaimed in raptures and they eagerly rushed forward.

“No, I get to ride it!” the eldest insisted.

“No I want to!” the youngest cried.

“Then you ride behind me,” the middle one said boldly and they caught the pony, as gentle and willing as a steed could possibly be, by its long black manes.

“There will not be room for all of us on its back!” the eldest protested.

But as soon as his sibling had scrambled up the pony’s back, it was clear there was plenty of room for him left. And once he was seated astride behind them, even though it had not seemed like a large animal at all, there was precisely enough room for their little sister to join them.

So laughing and hooting they all climbed onto the pony’s back. “Giddy-up! Giddy-up!” they cried. “Ride on!”

But the pony did not trot down the beach from whence it came. It turned and tossed its manes and galloped straight for the sea.

The children screamed, but no matter how they struggled, they were incapable of dismounting. The animal’s slick coat suddenly stuck like tar and the louder they screamed, the faster it ran. There was no glee in the children now, but all the more in the creature, for kelpies delight in their cruel games. Neighing and whinnying it rushed towards the waves, but with only seven strides away from the foaming tide the youngest of the children cried:

“Your pocket knife! Take your pocket knife!”

And quick as a fox she grabbed her own little knife from her skirt pocket and cut through the cloth so that it ripped and tore and she was free. Her brother and sibling followed suit and one after the other they tumbled off the speeding creature’s back, with only the fabric of their clothes left behind as the kelpie plunged screaming into the waves.

The mist whirled and the sea broiled and then there was nothing left to be seen, but the children did not stand to look. They ran, breathless and wide-eyed, hearts pounding and feet flying, all the way back to their home.

There they found their mother, pale with worry. And so glad was she to see them all safe and sound that she did not even scold them for going out into such a dangerous night, nor for tearing all their pretty clothes.

For the rest of their lives, those three children watched the waves for a sign of the kelpie, but not a trace of it could be found. Not a hoof print in the sand, not a strand of midnight mane, not even a whisper on the cold sea breeze.

#kelpie #kelpies #faity tale #laura drabbles #family #siblings #nonbinary representation #if you read my fanfic you know what this is from #but I wanted a happy ending #and escaping from kelpies by cutting your clothes is Traditional #even though it's in a different context than this #I think it's allowed

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spiritussancto1 · 20 days ago

Text

Gillyweed

Jegulus microfic wordcount - 3092

~~slightly NSFW~~~

TW: chest dysphoria, drowning, spicy content

this is a continuation of my previous microfic Adventure

Ambiance, if you enjoy such things: https://youtu.be/KLPApSRku8Y?si=6FA_LqTGD-n_-tXl

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They appeared with a crack on a wooded muggle street across from an empty parking lot. All was quiet apart from the buzz of the streetlights and a bird somewhere in the trees.

“Just a second, Love,” James muttered, pointing his wand at the top of a pole where a camera turned away from them.

“And do you know how many cameras there are here? Where they all are?” hissed Regulus

“The guard is a 78 year old grandfather who dozes off after 9. I think we’ll be ok,” James quips, but he is walking quickly and quietly, staying in the shadows.

“I so don’t want to know how you know that,” Regulus drolls, following silently.

James stunned a camera at the doors of a low building and Alohamora’d the lock quietly, slipping in and pulling Reg by the hand behind him. Reg took care of two cameras behind the ticket desk and James shot him a look of respect. The younger boy raised an arched eyebrow imperiously. James was gazing fondly and seemed distracted until Reg pointedly looked around the lobby and the various exhibits and hallways leading off it. James shook himself a little and towed Regulus down a dark hallway, taking out cameras as they went down a slope into an underground room. It was sparse and utilitarian with large cement blocks to use as benches and little else but as they came down the sloped hallway Regulus could see the entire back wall was a huge, curved fish tank. He caught his breath in the darkened room, a huge multicolour coral reef lit in blue stretched from below their feet to surface level some 15 feet above their heads. Regulus and James walked closer slowly, hand-in-hand, taking in the full splendor. Regulus pressed his pale cheek to the glass, craning his neck and peeking up at the surface of the water that opened onto the night sky. Colourful fish of every description darted about, tickled by anemone, hiding in the coral. It was a whole other world.

“James,” Reg breathed, “it’s beautiful.”

But James was gazing at him, beaming, “it is. Let’s go see,” and he tugged Reg’s hand over to a door marked “Staff Only,” unlocking it silently and starting to open it, something beeped and they both shot freezing charms at different parts of the door. It stopped beeping but they looked at each other, unsure which spell had stopped it. James froze for a moment, listening and looking around but nothing happened. He shrugged and pulled them both through into the dark back room. Regulus lit his wand tip and James stunned a camera before lighting his own and looking around a bit. They seemed to be behind the background coral reef in the huge tank. There were several levels of scaffolding holding buckets, pumps, shelves of chemicals and hoses, fish food, and cut seaweed. Various machines whirred and bubbled and splashed, dripping in several places. There were ladders and scrub brushes and nets on long poles and a wall of scuba gear hung on pegs.

“Ah yes, much more romantic back here,” Regulus grumbled, dodging a drip.

“Sure will be!” James sang, possibly too loudly, but it was pretty noisy back here anyway. He led the way to a metal stairway up to a door in the ceiling? He unlocked it and pulled Regulus out into the warm may evening, dropping the trap door quietly behind him. They had come out between two rock walls that curved around an access point to the pool. It was landscaped like a pond above ground, the ecosystem below benefiting from the sunlight. The semi-hidden area they stood in was not accessible or very visible from the rest of the grounds. The large rock walls and thick bushes formed barriers that discouraged the public from touching the water or entering the pool. This artificial rock formation had been built into the side of the building, camouflaging this staging area. A gate built into the rock provided access to the parking lot out front to their right and a passageway to the left led behind the aquarium building into the rest of the zoo. A pair of discarded flippers sat in the shadow of the rocks. It appeared the scuba divers came and went from here. James pulled the paper bag out of his pocket and offered it to Regulus, raising his eyebrows.

“There’s only enough for about 15 min for the two of us. What do you say?”

Regulus could feel his heart trying to hammer out of his chest. They were going to get caught. This was such a bad idea. He was going to have to take his clothes off. In front of James Potter. But James would take his clothes off in front of him. That reef tank looked incredible. When would he ever get this chance again? He’d come this far. James worked so hard on this. He would be so sad if Reg said no. But he wanted Regulus to work on his boundaries. Did he want to swim with James Potter in a huge aquarium in the middle of the night in Germany? Yes. yes he did.

“Alright, hold on, it takes effect pretty quickly,” Regulus muttered, toeing off his shoes and pulling at his tie. James was gazing at him like he couldn’t believe his luck. “What? Are you going in fully dressed?” Reg asked, and James shook himself a little.

“No, you’re right,” James says and starts stripping quickly, shivering a bit in the breeze, trying not to watch Regulus undress. Regulus doesn’t hurry. He moves slowly, stealing sidelong glances at James to see how naked he intends to get. James stands in his underwear folding and bundling his clothes before Reg can get further than his shoes, socks, and tie. James in his underwear. Regulus swallowed hard. It’s not that he hadn’t seen James in his underwear. It was just that he hadn’t been alone with James in his underwear. In his underwear specifically in front of him. Where he was allowed to look. James’ light brown skin in the moonlight, muscles working as he bent over to pull the paper bag out of his trouser pocket. Regulus loosened his belt and let his trousers slide down, joining the pile of wand and shoes, and stepped toward the pool edge unbuttoning his shirt slowly. James sat and dangled his legs in the pool, which was first-gasp cold, apparently. James had seen him in the locker room. Had touched his chest a bit through clothes, pressed against him at least, that time they kissed and he wasn’t in a binder. He knew he was trans. He wouldn’t touch him if he said no. Leave it on or take it off? How naked did he want to feel? The thought sent a bolt of desire searing through him, making him bold. In for a knut, in for a galleon. He let the shirt slide off as he approached the pool edge and took a steadying breath before unzipping his binder and pulling it off, trying to act nonchalant about it. He sat on the edge of the pool dangerously close to James. The water was cool but not too cold against his bare legs. The breeze was making him very aware of how topless he was and he tried very hard not to hunch his shoulders or cover his small chest. He cleared his throat. James had been staring. At his face. He was a gentleman, but it looked like that was taking some effort.

“Shall we?” James held out the gillyweed and Reg took half the slimy strings, grimacing.

“Cheers,” Regulus smirked, shoving them in his mouth. He chewed as few times as possible to not choke, and swallowed several times. “You didn’t bring anything to drink did you...” Reg tried to say but he sputtered on the last word. James had followed suit and was similarly starting to choke, his lungs and throat rearranging themselves, his hands and feet growing webbed and elongated. It burned and his mouth and throat felt so dry he couldn’t breathe! James was clawing at the sides of his neck and Regulus did the only sensible thing, grabbing James by the shoulders and tipping them both into the pool.

It closed over their heads in a great splash and they plummeted down down down in a column of bubbles. Great slits tore in Regulus’s neck on either side and it didn’t hurt so much as it felt very disturbing. Cool water rushed in and he was drowning! No, he was breathing. It felt wrong and right and very strange but he inhaled deliberately, letting the cool water soothe the burn in his dry lungs, trying to calm down. Thrashing and panicking wasn’t going to help. wasn’t going to help. “Isn’t going to help, James!” he tried to say but it’s a string of bubbles in the dark water, swirling around them. James was rubbing his neck and wild eyed, flailing until Regulus grasped his shoulders again. He’s used gillyweed before. This is normal. Reg held James’ eye contact, deliberately pulling in a long breath of water and letting it out. Nodding to James to do the same. James held him back and breathed with him for a moment, then smiled. James held his hand up, wiggling his now webbed fingers and waving his hand to use the fin. He grinned, nodding that he’s ok now.

Somewhere in making sure that James was ok, Reg was breathing easily, gently waving his elongated feet to tread water, remembering how gillyweed feels. They giggled a bit at each other, looking around. The faint blue glow of the viewing room below them illuminated a rainbow of coral, angelfish darting about in small schools, avoiding the small shark lazily lurking. It was a few inches longer than Regulus’s foot, curiously approaching them. James swam down past it, pulling on Regulus’ hand, and started pointing out different fish, eager to see Reg’s reaction.

They were beautiful. So much complexity! Reg tickled an anemone and a stream of giggling bubbles escaped him when it pulled in all its tentacles in response. James waved his webbed hand to make a water current that flushed a school of small transparent cardinalfish out of some kelp, flashing neon blue.

It was magic. They pointed out their favourites to each other, trying not to bother the creatures too much. Trying to see everything they could. When Reg saw an eel poking out from a rock burrow he pointed it out to James, turning to see his reaction. The eel apparently found this rude, flashing like a streak of sparks and giving Reg a little zap. He pulled back with a jolt, sucking on his zapped finger. James was smiling at him fondly and pulled his hand to his own mouth, kissing the fingertips and watching Reg’s reaction. Yes? Reg settled a hand on James’ hip and smiled. Yes. James traced his tongue in a languid circle around the tip of Regulus’s finger and gently sucked it into his mouth, slowly letting it escape as he pulled Reg in to kiss him.

It’s an odd sensation, being able to breathe water as you kiss, it mingled in their mouths and the water around them, strangely intimate, warmed by each other’s bodies, which glowed heat in the pleasant cool dark of the water. Regulus’ tongue slid easily into James’ mouth who welcomed him gladly, caressing and tasting. The intoxicating taste of James Potter. Reg wanted to drink him in. He wrapped an arm tight around James’ waist, the other snaking around the back of his neck to play with his curls and cup the back of his head. “You’re mine now,” the touch said, “I’m keeping you.” James was pliant under his lips, wrapping his strong arms around Reg’s back, hooking his leg up around Reg’s hip. More than willing to accommodate however far he wanted to take this. Regulus’ bare chest pressed into the heat of James’ body felt very vulnerable and the thought ignited a fire in him. “This. I need This,” Reg thinks. “This boy. This magic. This life. Please don’t ever make me let him go. I need him. I need him as part of me. I need to be closer. I need him... inside me. I need to breathe him and taste him and drink him in and...” doesn’t this water feel a bit...wet in his lungs? Ah. the gillyweed. He would have to stop kissing James if he didn’t want to drown. “I drown in him anyways, what difference does it make?” Reg pulled at James' hip and he responded enthusiastically, grinding into him. Liquid heat flooded his loins and that was too much. Too fast. His body was responding without his permission. Regulus started breathing too quickly and had to pull back. The motion pressed James’ groin into his and he gasped, choking. Shit. His hands were moving more easily through the water now, the webbing shrinking. They were out of time down here.

James was still kiss-dazed, lightly stroking Reg’s back, giving him breathing room and keeping him close. Calmly concerned and focused on the pale boy in his arms. Regulus grabbed his wrist and motioned toward the surface. James was starting to look a little distressed too, probably feeling the water in his lungs a bit too much. As their faces broke the surface the night air seared their skin and they both spent a few minutes coughing the water out. As the sputters subsided James flipped to float on his back, gazing up at the sky. When he seemed enraptured, Reg followed suit. The quiet evening was blanketed with stars. Reg reached out and took James’ hand to keep them from floating apart. James asked something about Orion and they chatted astronomy for a few minutes. This moment right here. Regulus wanted to memorize this and keep every part, perfect and unchanging, to live in his heart and keep him warm. This boy. This night. That would never happen again.

“Hey! Was macht ihr Jungs da drin?” a rough old voice called from the gate and Regulus went ice cold. Keys were jingling in a lock. Adrenaline shot through them both, sending them scrambling to the edge of the pool. They slipped and splashed, pulling each other out, racing to where they’d left their clothes. James managed to snag his whole pile but Reg’s was less tidy. He scooped up his wand, pants, and shoes before the guard burst through the gate and James pulled him away, the screaming old man close on his heels. Laughing and bumping into each other, dripping salt water and clutching their clothes, they ran for anywhere out of sight to aparate. wet alabaster and golden skin shining in the moonlight as James whooped and Regulus cursed. As soon as they rounded the corner James called, “hold tight!” and wrapped his arms around Reg, spinning in the same movement. Regulus clung to his neck, their belongings crushed between them as they were squeezed and spinning tight tight tight, into the darkness.

They landed in the tunnel with a gasp, giggling and shivering, dripping water into the dirt floor, coating their bare feet in mud. James made his way to a small box in the corner where he pulled out folded towels, fluffy and soft, wrapped in a warming spell.

“I liked that shirt, damnit,” Reg grumbled, but he smiled. This evening was worth losing every shirt and binder he owned. They hadn’t even gotten arrested.

“Yeah me too,” James said. He wrapped a towel around Regulus’ shoulders and rubbed them, giggling. Regulus clutched the warm towel, covering his chest, trying to make it look like he was just cold. He gazed into James’ warm hazel eyes for a moment before clearing his throat and turning away to dry himself and dress as much as he could. James rubbed his hair dry, making it stick up in every direction. James pulled a thermos from the box and poured Reg a cup of hot chocolate.

“You really did have a plan this time,” Regulus mused, giving James a sidelong glance, “Kinda.”

James grinned sheepishly, “I tried.”

“No I mean it,” Regulus said, as if realizing he did, “You put a lot of thought into this. I thought you only got the gillyweed this morning?"

“I always put a lot of thought into you,” James smiled for real this time. Earnest and bright and lovely. Regulus felt it warm him to his core.

“Why did you leave the towels in the tunnel though?”

“Would ruin the surprise, obviously!”

“Course. What was I thinking?”

They chatted and bantered all the way back to Hogwarts. As they emerged from the statue, James insisted on draping them both in the invisibility cloak and walking Regulus back, over his half hearted protests. Sneaking around after dark was one thing, doing so half naked and soaked is something else.

“You take the rest of the cocoa,” James wrapped Reg’s cold hands around the thermos at the door to the Slytherin common room.

“Why did you do all this?” Regulus asked, baffled. “You were going to pull a prank with the gillyweed”

James had a touch of confusion in his voice as he softly said, “Making you happy is so much better though.”

“Maybe I should get us more gillyweed,” Regulus joked

“Maybe I should get better at charming the security cameras,” James laughed, and Regulus chuckled. A soft, intimate sound. Regulus reached up and touched James’ cheek with just his fingertips, wonder shining in his eyes

“Thank you. For tonight. It was magical. You’re magical.” and he leaned in to give him a lingering, longing kiss. “Goodnight Jamie, ” he whispered, slipping off the towel and handing it to James. He slid into the common room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Reg tiptoed across to his dorm, feeling light enough to float there. The door clicked quietly as he slipped inside. Reg stood still and blinked for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. He took a deep breath. That all really just happened. He reached for his pajamas and Barty turned on the bedside lamp.

“Evening.”

Reg turned around, shirtless, drenched, at midnight. they stared at each other for a moment before Regulus shrugged.

“I’m not explaining,” was all he said before heading for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

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i might end up sewing all these little bits together into a longer form fic at some point. i'm not sure that over 4000 words still counts as microfic anyway. i'm sure that will require a fair bit of timeline fiddling and editing to make details congruent, etc. i'm still very much learning this craft and welcome feedback.

i'm intending to write a "several years later" post-war wedding proposal scene with Regulus recreating this date for James. being a spoiled rich kid he just rents out he whole aquarium like you can for weddings and kids sleepovers etc. much less daring, but Reg has done better research on security cameras and magic this time so they can have real privacy

#marauders #marauders era #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #james potter #regulus x james #sunseeker #slytherin skittles #trans regulus black #trans regulus #jeggyverse microfic #jegulus microfic #fluff

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tedwardremus · 18 days ago

Text

Penance

From the small stone church at the heart of the town, the strains of ancient carols drifted on the wind, weaving a tapestry of haunting melody over the yard and fields where the dead were buried. The hymn's verses spoke of hope and redemption, a promise of light breaking through the darkness. Yet here, amid the graves, that promise felt hollow—a jest for those left behind to bear the weight of earthly failure.

The white snow was freckled with red, a sacrificial stain that led to the kissing gate. Its iron lattice shimmered faintly in the moonlight, like the bars of a cold, silent confessional. Frost clung to its edges in a delicate but unyielding grip, as though the earth itself sought to preserve the sanctity of this somber place. Beyond the gate, rows of stone slabs stood as mute witnesses, their carved epitaphs offering fragments of lives lost, while the ancient oak above spread its gnarled branches like the withered arms of a crucifix.

An owl hooted from its perch, its cry echoing through the yard. The jagged shadows cast by the sprawling canopy of branches stretched across the graves.

The faint glow of streetlamps beyond the cemetery touched only the periphery, leaving most of it cloaked in impenetrable darkness, like the shadow of sin that even the bravest dared not confront.

A man stood hunched over a gravestone, his black hair and cloak merging with the night’s shroud. His breath came in ragged gasps, curling into fleeting clouds that dissolved as if rejected by the heavens. Blood dripped steadily from a wound hidden beneath his robes, darkening the pristine snow at his feet. The blood seemed almost deliberate, pooling beneath him as if marking a place of penance, a ground consecrated not by blessing but by guilt.

“It’s time—we need to go,” a voice urged desperately like a disciple pleading with a fallen saint.

“Not yet,” the man croaked, he was a sinner refusing absolution.

“You’re going to bleed out, Sirius. We need to get you to a safe house,” the voice pressed on.

But Sirius barely heard it. His focus was consumed by the sound of the church choir, their harmonies wrapping around him like a benediction he neither wanted nor deserved. The song was familiar, tied to memories of stained glass and candlelit vigils. Yet now it felt unknown, its promise of salvation mocked by the unrelenting void in his heart.

The bells of the church rang, tolling the birth of the anointed one, were hollow in his ears. Their joyful proclamation was out of his focus as he embraced the stillness of the graves before him.

No savior had come.

No guiding star shone in his darkness.

He was alone, and salvation was a lie.

“Sirius,” the voice from the shadows pleaded again.

“Leave me here,” his voice was devoid of fight.

“I can’t.”

“There’s nothing left for me to do,” Sirius muttered, his voice cracking like dry parchment under the weight of despair.

A hollow sigh followed, heavy with resignation. Sirius had once carried the hope of redemption, a promise made in the name of friendship and duty. But he had failed, and no measure of penance could absolve him now. His gaze dropped to the gravestone, the inscription etched there: The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed Is Death.

The words cut deep. They mocked him, demanding answers he couldn’t give.

The crimson snow spread beneath him, its stain as unerasable as his sins. He wished for the earth to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole, a final descent into darkness that even the ringing of the bells couldn’t reach.

Footsteps crunched softly behind him. Sirius didn’t flinch as Remus emerged from the shadows, his expression weary and drawn. He was a man shouldering a cross too heavy to bear. Without a word, Remus knelt beside him, his wand drawn but lowered in deference.

“At least let me close the wound,” Remus said gently. His voice was free of judgment, only quiet care, like the prayer of a penitent priest for a sinner who refused confession. “It will get infected.”

“Good,” Sirius spat, his lips curling into a bitter mockery of a smile. “Let it.”

“Sirius.” The word was not a reprimand but a plea.

“Stop.” Sirius’s voice hardened as he turned away, his profile etched against the moonlight. “Remus, just leave.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Remus said, his words deliberate, spoken as if invoking grace.

Sirius’s hands clenched into fists again, the blood on his knuckles mingling with the snow. He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the gravestones, the crimson pooling beneath him like an offering at an altar.

“Harry acted on his own,” Sirius muttered finally, his voice hoarse and uneven. “Went to the Ministry to get Arthur. He should’ve called me. I messed up.”

“You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know,” Remus said. He kneeled beside him as though in prayer, his breath forming faint halos in the icy air.

Sirius shook his head, his breath trembling. “As long as Harry was fine, then I could have made it right. Repay them. Fix what I’ve done. That’s all they would’ve wanted—for Harry to be safe.”

“I know, Sirius,” Remus replied, his voice steady, like the final notes of a hymn. “But you’re still bleeding.”

Sirius’s shoulders sagged, the fury draining from him like the ebbing tide. His fists loosened, trembling as he buried his face in his hands. Above them, the owl hooted once more, a solemn requiem as it took flight, its wings beating against the heavens.

And still, the choir drifted on, their ancient melodies carrying through the cemetery like an uninvited ghost, weaving through the headstones and wrapping around the two men.

Each note was a reminder of a world that existed beyond the graveyard.

A world that found hope in the birth of a child—a world that dared to sing of peace and salvation, even as Sirius’ hope lay buried beneath the snow.

#harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #what is this? dont aske #good godfather sirius black

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http-paprika · 10 months ago

Text

IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER II

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 2.7k / warnings descriptions of death, religious imagery, trauma, and an unhealthy response to food. / taglist open

arriving at castle tharn, you are thrust into the startling reality that you are at the mercy of those who govern these unknown lands.

masterlist / chapter III

There’s a dull ache in your head that pools down your throat to the ribs to the stomach and rests in your hips. With every trot of the horse, you are thrown back and forth from heavy exhaustion and startling awareness. While you pretended to sleep under the canopy of stars, you’d heard the quiet murmurings of the knights and what they’d do upon returning to their castle. Dread burrowed deep in your bones as your fate looks as dreary as the morning sky that has been cast with a gray haze of clouds.

The gnawing realization that you’ve fallen from grace, ripped from your place as a lady haunts you every time your eyes close and your stomach twists. A lady of your stature is not supposed to witness horrors you’ve seen, they were not supposed to show the face of humiliation as they arrive in a foreign land. But you fret knowing these knights are leading you to a foreign land and a castle with a lord you do not serve.

Around the company, the pines begin to thin and the hooves fall on a dirt path. Your eyes shutter close and your brows tighten against the gray light of the morning. Even with the sun hidden from your sight, it rivals the dark shadows of the forest. The horse slows along a cliff edge and you cower away from the plunge with its roaring waters and rocks below.

“There she is, Castle Tharn.” Simon directs you, his arm stretched out to the north. Set above the valley of rivers, marshes, and wild green, you can see the dark structure silhouetted. Turrets reach the sky behind fortified walls, and a deep river isolates the castle from the valley. It causes you to shiver in your seat, an unwelcoming sight built like a fort to keep out any unwanted visitors and keep in any prisoners.

Full of excitement to return to their grazing grounds, the horses make haste as they’re led down the cliff path and trot into the valley. Over streams and babbling brooks, past hamlets and homesteads where the people stop and watch the knights return. You exhale as you catch a sense of familiarity in their architecture and clothes, so similar to the servants who filled your home and the villagers you met when you were allowed out of the castle.

There’s a jolt of relief when the hooves fall onto a cobbled road, it leads over a wide river that roars as it splits over stones and falls under the bridge. You glimpse your wavering image in the wild waters, before looking up at the flagpoles, flying high with vibrant dark greens and reds. It feels cold compared to the one of your home, you miss the warm yellows and oranges.

Guards in the watchtower shout at your arrival, raising the portcullis as news spreads through the walls and rooms of the return. You pass under the heavy iron gate, looking back disheartened as you watch it lower and shut you off from the rest of the world. Left to the mercy of those who run the grand estate with its ivy-covered walls, blooming bushes of roses, tall stained glass windows, and faded banners. The whole castle’s alive, bursting at the seams with pride as servants and soldiers move through the bailey.

Simon dismounts from the horse, offering his hand to help you down. He’s careful of your sprained wrist and makes sure your feet are steady before dropping his hands to the sides of his armor. You wrap your arms around your chest and tug your cloak closer in an attempt to cover yourself as people join the knights. A stable boy takes the mares away and you listen as John begins to loudly boast about the bandits they’d slain. Women and men alike peer at you when John makes your presence known, and you shrink away almost bumping into Simon in your cowering.

“Come, let’s get you settled for the night,” Simon orders, gesturing you to follow him. Together, you ascend a side set of stairs into the castle. In the dim interior of the castle, servants stare and whisper amongst themselves. Girls who must be no older than you giggle at your disheveled appearance and what little pride you have left makes your cheeks burn with shame.

You enter into a large kitchen, busy and filled with an air of urgency as food is prepared. Barrels of grains and fruits are stacked along the wall, a goose turns on a spit in the fire that crackles happily in a large hearth. Women bustle around, taking orders from a plump and rosy-cheeked woman whose eyes flash when she spots intruders in her kitchen.

“Ach! What have I told you dirty boys about coming into my kitchen while I’m working, Sir Riley?” The woman berates the knight as she comes up to him, swatting at him with a cloth. But upon seeing you in such a state, wide-eyed and ashamed, she lets out a sigh. “What have you done to the poor girl?”

“I’d tell you if you’d let me speak,” Simon says, plucking up a plum from a bowl and shining it. “Found her while out on patrol with John, Mrs. MacTavish. She needs to be looked after, she’ll see Lord Price in the morning.”

“Well, anything for the poor lamb.” The woman takes your arm and offers you a smile. Warm and inviting compared to the stares you’ve received upon entering the castle. “But, Sir Riley, you tell my son that he is in trouble with his father, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, turning to leave you and the kitchen without another thought.

“You’re leaving me?” You call out, naively thinking the knight would stay by your side. Afraid to be left alone in the presence of another stranger, a shyness you’ve never known dawning on you.

“I’m a knight, not a nursemaid. I have duties to attend to.” Simon responds with a firm tone, like a father scolding a child. The knight bows his head to you before returning down the hall you’d just walked through, leaving you in Mrs. MacTavish’s care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lamb.” She says, walking you out of the kitchen after she finishes instructing the women for dinner preparation. “Have you got a name, or should I give you one?”

Mumbling your words together, you tell her your name. With hesitation, you hide your status as a lady from her, feeling wrong to address yourself with the name and title that had belonged to your mother. Even if you consider the treatment you might receive brandishing the name.

“Well, you must have had quite the journey, no? I’m sure you’re more than ready to rest.” She asks, slowing her pace and stopping in front of an oak door. The keys on the wrought iron ring jingle as Mrs. MacTavish picks through them, finding the right one and twisting it in the lock.

You follow into the room which is decorated lavishly, a guest room prepared for only the most prestigious of company. Slowly turning to look over the room, you’re horrified by your appearance when you see yourself in the looking glass. Hair in a tangle, dirt and blood clinging to your skin, and your favorite dress shredded into scraps. Unable to look away, the woman hums a tune as she sets to work making a fire in the hearth. When you finally tear your eyes away, she’s left to fetch water for the bath and you slump onto a creaking stool and sit in the unwelcome silence.

Your mind feels at war with grief and fear fighting against the rage as you question why this happened to you. Why had you been stricken down and left to drown in a sea of loss? Such a divine punishment that made you feel like Job, abandoned by God with no money and no prospects. Everything you held dear, your future and dreams are unraveling like a beautiful tapestry torn through, destroying the foolish hopes you had for bliss. After all, what peace could come from this?

The door opens and you startle up, like a deer hearing a hunter. But your shoulders slump again when Mrs. MacTavish returns with buckets of steaming water. She tells you of the castle and its Lord and Lady whilst preparing your bath, singing praises for those who govern the lands. It’s so endearing that you wince remembering the bleak mutters of those who served under your father, the endless strings of complaints when they thought that no nobles were listening in.

“So, lamb, do you want to tell me how you ended up in the care of our knights?” She asks once the bath is drawn and you’re sinking into the hot water. You let it sting and spill over your skin as her calloused hands massage soap into your hair. Mrs. MacTavish works with care, making sure the soap doesn’t spill into your eyes and that you’re comfortable, just like your mother had done with you were a child.

Bloodshot eyes begin to sting with tears at her question and kindness. A sob quakes through your ribs as you bury your face in your damp hands, the hot water suddenly feeling like ice to you. Like a child who’s fallen from a tree and hurt themselves, you’re wailing for your mother but she cannot save you from this.

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By the time you’ve stopped crying, you are alone in the room dressed in a warm, brown flock. There’s a longing to be dressed in black, wishing you could partake in the mourning ritual for your mother though there will be no burial. In vein, you try to recount what the church instructed upon the death of a righteous person. But you feel foolish and disrespectful knowing you cannot give your mother the courtesy she deserves.

You wonder when your father will hear the news, and when he will come and comfort you in this time. The hope of a reunion seems foolish, the idea of grieving alongside the only living member of your bloodline is folly as the confines of the castle are chaining you in. A fear blooms in your chest that you’ll never find the sun again.

The sounds of the fire dying in your idleness fill the room, playing a pitiful song along with your hollow breaths and your nails digging into the plush quilt and animal pelts on top of the bed. The soft feather mattress is a welcome relief from the nights tossed to and fro in the carriage or the dirt under the open sky. And finely woven drapes shield your face from the fading light of the fire as you curl up like a kitten.

As sleep begins to invade your mind, quiet knocks startle you out of the daze. Lazily you rub at your eyes as another knock sounds against the oak door. Finding the strength to stand and covering yourself with a robe Mrs. MacTavish had left, you force yourself out of the warm comfort and find the door in the fading light, the oil lamp in the room having been ignored.

Creaking on its hinges, you blink up at the masked face of Simon. Curiously you wonder if he ever removes the black cloth as you let him into the room and he steps in with a word. In his hand, Simon carries a plate of food covered by a linen towel. Moving through the room, he sets it down on the tea table next to the stool.

Still silent, he directs you to sit down on the stool. And not having the strength to argue, you listen and sit down, smoothing the rough fabric of your smock. “Mrs. MacTavish said you declined dinner.”

With a nod, you glance over at the covered dinner as the smell wafts through the room and causes your mouth to water and tickle your nose. But your mind is refuses to give in, willing your tongue to dry and throat tighten. Painfully stubborn even in a time like this.

“It’s not poisoned. Eat.” Simon orders, uncovering the wooden plate and setting the lcloth aside. Your eyes gleam at the sight of ham, steamed vegetables, fresh slices of bread, and a ripe, red apple that shines even in the dull light. But you make no move to eat, hesitating under the watchful eye of the knight. “You shouldn’t starve yourself. What would your mother think to see you depriving yourself?”

His words feel like an infliction, striking like a whip and pulling at your flesh with a sting. It enrages you even if you know his words are true. She would be grievanced at the sight of you in such a state, eyes dried red, cheeks stained and skin gaunt. You feel as close to a corpse with a beating heart. But still his statement drives you mad, making your mouth sour in distaste.

“Do not speak of my mother! You know nothing about her, nothing about the loss I’ve witnessed!” You speak out, jumping from the stool to glare at the knight despite his intimidating stature. For a moment, his eyes flash with anger and his hands tighten into fists. But Simon does not rebuke your nor does he strike like you anticipate.

Instead, he takes his place on the stool, reaching over for the beautiful, fresh apple from the plate. A sliver knife is brought into the light, no longer hidden away in his garments, and he begins to cut at the fruit. So ripe, the juices run down the blade and into his gloved palm, appeitizing to the eyes as you watch.

“You’re right, I did not know your mother. But I’m well acquainted with the loss you’ve come to know.” Simon admits, stretching out his palm with an apple slice to you in offering. “And I know starving yourself won’t ease the grief or guilt. It’ll only make it worse.”

Your lip pushes out with a frown, but you steady your hand and accept the fruit. The taste fills your mouth with sweetness, flourishing your senses as you take the fill. He continues to slice up the fruit, precise and neat with each cut until all that remains is the sour core that Simon places on the plate alongside the other foods he allows to grow cold. Never pushing you too far.

“I’m sorry, I spoke out of place.” You apologize, dropping your gaze to your borrowed slippers. Blaming the hunger, you’re certain thats what made you so erratic, appauled by your abhorrent behavior to the knight. Even if you were in this fortress against your will, they’ve treated you with nothing less than kindness. They’ve fed, bathed, and dressed you, Simon proved to be a man of chivalry, seeing to your wounds and wellness when you did not ask.

“Don’t apologize.” He responds, wiping off his gloves and standing from the stool with a grunt. Simon turns to the fire, adding another log and bringing it back to life before turning to leave. “Get some rest, you’ll meet with the Lord in the morning. I’ll make sure breakfast is brought and a knight comes to escort you. Lock the door when I’m gone.”

“Of course,” You mutter as he passes by the fire, eclipsing your vision as you watch his silhouette leave you. The door creaks again, shutting heavily behind him. Following his instructions, you bolt it close and rub your hands against the old ironwork that locks you inside. A thin veil of security over in your mind.

But your knees still buckle with fear, you sink on the stone floor and pull your knees to your chest. Though there are no tears left to cry, you still grieve. “This shouldn’t have happened, what am I going to do? I know nothing!”

All those years of being coddled and running about the gardens like a fool have left you defenseless and confused. You are not in the state of mind to believe that there is a chance of negotiating your freedom with the Lord of the castle. The arguments you’d had with your mother and nursemaid did not prepare you for a time like this. Not even empty prayers bring you hope as you drag yourself from the ground. Could God himself even save you?

taglist @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @ghostlythots @jadeloverxd

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost #fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #ivy and iron thorns #ivy and iron thorns series #medieval!ghost #medieval au #knight!ghost #knight!au #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you

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