#they’re beauty they’re grace…they fall flat on their face!

[stormyblue90]

Behold, the Domino Twins

Absolute finest troopers!

#the clone wars #Domino Twins #the bad batch #ARC Trooper Fives #Bad Batch Echo #ARC Trooper Echo #they’re beauty they’re grace…they fall flat on their face! #absolute goobers the both of them

[beskarandblasters]

Small Discoveries

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: My entry for @morallyinept’s Flora and Fauna challenge! The graphic is by me and dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💐

Summary: You and Din enjoy the scenery of Naboo where you learn something new about him.

Word count: 717

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, established relationship, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), takes place when Grogu is with Luke, very light angst, fluff, pet names (cyar’ika), no use of y/n

You’re on Naboo with Din and it’s your first time visiting. He had to come here for a bounty and you decided to tag along. The planet’s in full bloom, teeming with flowers on the streets and lining all of the windows. You’ve heard this planet is famous for its natural landscape- specifically its rolling hills. And you’re dying to see them.  

But for now, you’re stuck in the Razor Crest, waiting for Din to return from his job. You’re sitting in the cockpit, watching the clouds roll along above you. You’re excited to enjoy a little slice-of-life moment with him for once. Ever since Grogu left to train with the Jedi, he’s been working himself to the bone, taking bounty after bounty to distract from the pain. 

You hear the exit ramp lowering and climb down from the cockpit, watching as Din schleps the bounty inside. He’s already knocked unconscious but Din shoves him in the carbonite freezer anyway, sighing once he’s done dragging such a heavy load. 

Once the bounty is secured in the carbonite you ask Din, “Care for a little sightseeing?” with wide eyes and a sweet smile, hoping he’ll say yes. He knows you’ve been so excited to come here. 

“Anything for you, cyar’ika. What would you like to see?” he says, softening up and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“The fields.” 

“Let’s go.”

He leads you down the ramp, sealing the Crest behind you two. He’s docked on the outskirts of Theed so the fields aren’t far. And soon enough, you’re met with the scenic views of majestic hills. Mountains loom in the background and the sun peeks through the clouds. The breeze gently shakes the grass and… the wildflowers. Maker, they’re beautiful, in all different colors. 

You can’t help yourself. You start running down the hill, letting the wind kiss your skin. 

“Wait!” Din shouts behind you. 

You turn and watch him barrel down the hill after you. But he’s not as graceful. Because he trips and lands on a rock, falling helmet first. A gasp escapes your lips. Your first instinct is to run over to him but once he hit the ground his helmet flew off. 

You run over to him, picking up his helmet that skidded towards you while simultaneously trying not to look at his face. You keep your eyes averted to the ground and walk over to him but just as you’re handing him his helmet, he sneezes. 

“I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sneeze before.”

Instead of responding, he sneezes again. And again. And again. 

“I think… I’m allergic to the flowers,” he sniffles. 

You can’t help but laugh. 

“What? It’s not funny,” he says. You imagine he’s pouting. He puts on his helmet and his modulated voice returns. “Much better.”

“So you’re allergic to flowers and I heard you sneeze for the first time… Does the helmet normally drown out the sneezes?” you say, looking at him. He’s sitting in the grass, legs straight out in front of him with his hands flat on their palms behind him. 

“Yes, but normally I don’t have to sneeze. The helmet blocks out most irritants.”

“Hm. You learn something new every day.”

You sit down next to him and lean on his shoulder, admiring the beauty around you. It’s silent between you two but for once it’s not comfortable. It feels natural. Your mind wanders to what life was like before Grogu left, how happy the three of you were before. You think about bringing Grogu here and how much he’d love the flowers. You reach out and pick one, smelling it and being sure not to mention Grogu. It’s a sensitive topic for Din and rightfully so. 

But then he surprises you again, for the third time today. 

“I bet the kid would like it here.”

You look over at him and he meets your gaze, the sunlight bouncing off his helmet as his cape billows in the wind. Your heart swells with love, happy that he’s finally enjoying himself for once.

“I bet he would,” you affirm, leaning against his shoulder.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” Din whispers. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It’s no problem” you reassure him. “Thanks for taking me here.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

#jettsflorandfaunachallenge #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin drabble #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedrostories #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction

[swanqueenfeathers]

“Don’t worry, guys” says a young Tim Drake to the congregation of stuffed toys that line the foot of his bed, like soldiers standing at attention. “I’ll be back before ya know it! Keep an eye out for Mrs. Mac, ‘kay?”

He silently slips out the bedroom window and onto the roof, his footsteps soundless as he stalks towards the edge. He eases himself over the gutter and drops down a few feet to land on the balcony outside his parent’s room. They’re not home, of course - they rarely are, and so there’s no fear of being caught as he squeezes through the railing, grabs the drain pipe and slides down like it’s a fireman’s pole until his feet hit grass.

He adjusts the strap of his camera bag slung over his shoulder and slinks towards the front gate, keeping to the shadows as he climbs up and over, dropping down into a cluster of bushes on the other side with hardly a rustle of leaves. He’s done this a hundred times, following a path only visible to himself to the bicycle he kept hidden beneath an alcove of rocks, kicking up the stand and riding into the city.

He loves Gotham at night - rain puddles in the street that reflected the blinking neon lights, the warm, yellow glow that spilled from the windows of 24-hour diners, and the absence of all the noise a bustling city makes during the day. He even loved the ugly side of Gotham - darkened alleys where shady individuals swapped goods, dimly lit corners where beautiful girls crooned at passers-by, luring them into dens pumping with music and alcohol.

And because the ugly side is where Batman and Robin haunted the night.

Tonight was special, too - It was Tim’s 9th birthday. His parents hadn’t called to wish him a happy birthday or sent a gift; Tim figured they were busy or maybe they’d just forgotten again, but that was alright. Mrs. Mac had made him his favorite dinner and a chocolate cake decorated with nine candles.

“Make a wish,” she had said, smiling at him kindly but with a sort of sadness in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. Tim had squeezed his eyes shut and wished for just one gift, just one perfect picture.

He turns into an alleyway and hops off the bike, pushing it behind a dumpster before climbing the fire escape of the adjacent building, hoisting himself up and onto the flat roof. He crouches down and creeps towards the far corner of the roof, away from the light of the street lamps and facing another back alley, carefully pulling the camera from his pack and slinging the strap over his head. He had patched into the GCPD dispatch radio using a homemade scanner, and through a set of wired headphones he listened for any mention of Batman and Robin, having followed the trail of reported low-lives unfortunate enough to run into the Dynamic Duo during acts of questionable morality, tied up nice and pretty and ready for the ride to jail in the back of a squad car. 

The trail leads him to the roof he’s on now, and he carefully peers over the ledge, looking down into the alley where two men argue in heated whispers, their shoulders tensed and their eyes constantly darting to the shadows around them with a tangible uneasiness. One of the men shoves something into the other’s hand. Tim snaps a photo of the exchange, and he also watches the shadows but with a nervous excitement that has his hands shaking ever so slightly. 

Tim hears and sees nothing, but feels the sudden overwhelming presence. He’s here, he thinks giddily, camera ready. An imperceptible shift in the inky black of night at the other end of the alleyway that even the two men sense as they fall silent and stiff with fear. 

There’s a flash of color and both men fall to their knees with cries of pain. Robin had swung in from behind and with a graceful twirl, kicked in the back of their legs as they stood frozen staring at the darkness beyond.

Tim takes as many pictures as he can while remaining unnoticed. He captures the moment Robin effortlessly vaults over the two men, landing light as a feather and throwing a smug smirk over his shoulder. 

“Seriously, guys?” He tuts, crossing his arms and shaking his head like a parent scolding children. “That was too easy, it’s not even fun!”

“It’s not supposed to be ‘fun’, Robin,” Batman growls, melting from the shadows and looming over the pair with a dangerous aura. He extends a gloved hand with silent and threatening expectation, and one of the men quickly hands him the object exchanged earlier with trembling fingers. Batman examines it, and Tim zooms in to catch a glimpse - it’s a crumbled slip of paper with writing that Tim can’t quite make out.

Batman wordlessly tucks the paper into a pouch on his belt, then with lightning speed he strikes both men behind the ear, knocking them out cold. Robin makes quick work of binding their wrists and ankles before dragging them closer to the street to be picked up by the GCPD.

With a simultaneous click of their grapple guns, the Dynamic Duo ascend to the roof of the building across from where Tim lay hidden. He hardly dared to breathe lest they hear or see him. His heart pounded in his chest and his only movement was to press his finger to the camera's trigger. 

Batman sprints towards the building’s ledge and leaps onto the neighboring roof, his black cape billowed out, contributing an impressive and threatening silhouette. Robin was hot on his heels, performing a fluid backwards handspring, launching himself into the air and twirling mid-leap to land lithely on his feet. 

At that moment, Tim is six years old again - he’s at the circus with his parents, watching a beautiful family fly together. That same move performed for a crowd whose cheers turned to screams and gasps of horror as tragedy struck. 

Tim feels numb but his mind is moving at a million miles a second. Puzzle pieces click into place and as Batman and Robin disappear into the night, he clutches the camera to his chest. 

“Bruce Wayne is Batman,” he whispers in awe, “Dick Grayson is Robin.” He looks down at the last picture taken, a perfect capture of the duo suspended in the air. Elation is making his hands shake and he’s smiling so wide it hurts his cheeks. He shuts the camera off and tucks it back into the bag. He can’t wait to develop the photos and add them to the rest of his stash, which he kept hidden away in a lockbox under his bed. He was careful to only take them out when he was sure he was alone, showing them to his camaraderie of stuffed toys as he discussed with them his theories on the identities of the Dynamic Duo. And boy, did he have the story to tell them tonight!

“Don’t worry, Batman,” he says into the nighttime air, “Your secret is safe with me.” 

#swanfic #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman #robin #i luv baby tim yall #and i've had this fic in my drafts for foreverrrr

[petri808]

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

*Special holiday chapter*

“Uwah!” 

Lucy’s excited giggle pierced the cold night air as she held out her hands to catch the snow falling around her. It’s not very often that Tokyo receives snow, maybe a couple times in a season and rarely enough to blanket the ground. On the sidewalk around her, other tokyoites scurry past uninterested in a young girl’s childish antics for it is two days before Christmas Eve and there are errands to run. She grinned at Natsu before looking towards the sky and closing her eyes for a moment while the cold little drops of snow flurries touched her skin. He merely chuckled as a warm smile graced his lips. It never failed to amaze Natsu each time the woman did something to make him fall in love all over again. But here she was, her face bathed in the artificial glow of store signs looking like an ethereal angel. 

This was their first winter after graduating from high school when nothing was yet set in stone and the rest of their lives laid before them. Once Natsu turned 20, he already knew that his father wanted him to succeed as the Oyabun, but he wasn’t ready to be a boss of their yakuza group just yet. He’s still young! And as he watched his girlfriend catching snowflakes, it only steeled his desire to focus on love not business… especially because Lucy is opposed to him becoming the boss. He held back a sigh and put on a smile as she grabbed his hand again to continue walking down the avenue. 

“Did you order the meal from KFC?” Lucy queried.

“Of course,” Natsu lifted their conjoined hands, kissing the back of her knuckles. “I even ordered your favorite cake from the patisserie.” 

“Mmm,” she bounced up placing a quick peck on his cheek. “You take such good care of me,” she cooed and snuggled to his side.

‘I’d kill for you,’ Natsu mumbled in his head. “I wanna give you everything kitten. I’ll always protect and take care of you.”

He knew that she knew exactly what those words meant… and it only added to her opposition. It wasn’t that Lucy was against him being the boss, what she’s really annoyed with is the whole boys club aspect of the yakuza. Natsu didn’t blame her for feeling the way she did, hell one of the things that attracted him was her strength. People often assumed Lucy was just another pretty girl who traded on her looks and lacked in intelligence, but they’re dead wrong. Picture it. The woman who was just minutes ago childly catching snowflakes was always in the top 10 percent of exams and was accepted into Tokyo University, one of the toughest universities to get into for business. Beautiful, brilliant, and feisty. He loved her so much… It’s because of that love that he didn’t want her joining the yakuza. 

Time to change the subject.

“Hey, I was thinking we should go to an onsen after visiting the shrine for New Year’s.” Natsu suggested. “We haven’t visited one in a while.”

“That would be nice, a trip before I start college.”

Natsu kissed her temple. “I’ll book a room with a private onsen.” 

The couple spent a sweet and savory Christmas Eve together at Natsu’s apartment, cuddling under the covers for most of the evening. He lived in a one-bedroom flat on the 26th floor of a high-rise apartment building where the nighttime views of Tokyo were beautiful. Outside the picture window, snow flurries fell and swirled through the air, catching on the light coming from the apartment before disappearing into the darkness. A few scattered buildings around the city were lit up for the holiday season making them stand out in the skyline. These really were the best times, when they could forget the world and all the responsibilities of life that lay beyond the front the door. Here in their own little heaven, where they made the rules, it was always sad to leave it. 

The next morning, Lucy went home with plans to hang out with her best friend Levy because Natsu had to deal with some end of year matters for the organization. No matter, it’s just five days until they’ll leave for their trip. He really hated being apart from her for more than a couple days, but he knew he better get used to it. Once Lucy started school, there will be times she needed to focus on projects and exams that may keep them apart for weeks at a time. He too may have problems that pop up that he needed to deal with. As the current first lieutenant it’s his responsibility to take care of matters before they escalated and required the boss to get involved. 

Finally, the 30th arrived. Natsu picked Lucy up from her apartment and they headed out in his car to an onsen located in the Saitama region. It’s about an hour’s drive, but the route is scenic once they leave Tokyo with forested land flanking many sections of the highway. During the autumn, the colors… all the reds, yellow, and orange leaves are pleasing to the eye, now those trees lay barren, and the pines are blanketed with piles of snow. Mountains of white wintergreens gleaming in the mid-afternoon sunlight.         

The ryokan Natsu chose was a mid-sized inn tucked away from the nearby city. Its design featured traditional Japanese style accommodations from tatami floors to pillowy futon mattresses, complimentary yukata robes, and in-room dining services. There are sliding shoji doors that led to a private deck and covered onsen bath that’s open to the outside. It’s a perfect hotel if you’re looking for a cozy, intimate getaway, and that’s exactly what Natsu wanted to spoil his girlfriend with before school stress began. Let Lucy start off the new year relaxed and sated. 

“Of course, I’m being clingy,” Natsu teased as they walked towards the guest room after check in. “It’s been a week.” He wrapped his arms around Lucy’s waist making it difficult for her to walk, but as much as she grumbled through gritted smiles, he won’t let go. The poor attendant carrying their luggage must’ve been so uncomfortable. 

The moment the door closed behind them… “Okay! Okay!” Lucy shrieked and clawed at the arms cinched around her waist. “So embarrassing!”

“Oww! Oww!” Natsu laughed as he finally let go. “Sorry kitten, I’ll leave the affection for behind the scenes.” Lucy rolled her eyes though there’s no malice in her expression, so Natsu still considered it his win. He kissed her cheek. “I’m just happy.” He kissed her cheek again. “Can you blame me?”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed. “No…” 

Yup, definitely his win.

The couple changed into the more comfortable yukata robes and hapi coats before venturing outside. For the three hours before the dinner service would be served, they spent it walking around the hotels zengarden and tea house. It’s a beautifully maintained garden replete with a koi pond that had a wooden bridge that crossed it, several intersecting pathways to follow, benches along the way to rest, and a couple of gazebo structures to enjoy the tranquility of nature. There’s a very light snow fall during the walk, but without much of a breeze the chill factor is tolerable. Natsu couldn’t remember the last time he’s been in a garden like this one. It might have been during a school trip. Had he held hands with Lucy then like he’s doing now? Possibly. Oh well, now there’s this memory to add to the collection.

Because the hotel is smaller it doesn’t have a sit-down restaurant, so meals are delivered to the rooms by request. Guests were also allowed to order specialty menus at the time of reservation, which is the route Natsu chose. He knew Lucy’s favorite dishes and made sure they were included. For dinner he’d chosen a mix of options. A chirashi bowl of sushi rice covered in a variety of fish, scallop, shrimp, and eel sliced thin in sashimi style. Braised pork belly coated with a sticky teriyaki sauce. Red miso soup with wakame seaweed, tofu, and scallion. Shrimp and vegetable tempura, and lastly for dessert, strawberry mochi ice cream drizzled with sugar glaze and kinako powder. The resident sake master included a top line junmai daiginjo sake to go with the meal. Everything was delicious. 

Now that their bellies are full and the sake has mellowed them, it was the best time to relax away the rest of the evening. They took turns taking a quick bath before slipping into the onsen. Natsu went in first. 

“Finally,” he teased from the steaming waters. “I was starting to worry you fell asleep in the bathroom.”

Lucy kneeled next to the edge with the towel wrapped around her body and her hair tied up in a loose bun. “I have a surprise to show you first.”

“Oh?” Natsu shifted his body to rest his elbows on the edge.

She turned around, still on her knees, then let the towel drop down to her waist to reveal her back. “I got it on the 26th so it’s still healing.” Lucy twisted her neck so she could see him. “What do you think?” Then before he started to respond, she let go of the towel and joined him in the water. 

Natsu prompted Lucy to sit with her back to him so he could look at it closer. “It’s a beautiful tattoo, fits you perfectly.” He ran his fingers over the soft, fluid line work that graced her upper back. Top to bottom it covered half of her back, perfectly centered over her spine with the wingspan stretching over her shoulder blades. He couldn’t quite place the style, a touch of whimsy, fantasy, maybe even tribal and the design was part butterfly, fairy, and angelic in its beauty. “Very delicate, perfect for a woman, but why wings?”

Lucy turned back to him. “Because you often call me kitten or angel, so when Levy and I visited the tattoo shop and I saw this design I decided to go with it.” She caressed his cheek and placed a pressured lingering kiss on his lips. “Now I’m forever your angel.”

Natsu pulled her onto his lap so she’s straddling his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist with hands draping over her lower curves. The steaming waters chased away the winter chill, while Lucy’s lithe body is framed by the lightly falling snow behind her and the overhead light created a haloed glow around her blonde hair. Just, breathtaking… and it’s all his. He grinned and returned the kiss in kind letting his forehead rest against hers, “Damn right your mine, and I’ll never let you go.” 

Snap Snap Snap “Boss? Oi Natsu, why the hell are you staring at the kids?”

“Kids?” Natsu’s eyes blinked and slowly readjusted from daydreaming. That’s right, the restaurant they ate dinner at was across from a park decorated with lights for the holiday season. He was waiting outside while Gray settled the bill when he noticed a young woman bathed in lights looking at the sky while two children, presumably hers, were laughing a few feet away as they made snow angels in the snow. Did he just flash back to a decade-old memory? The second he realized where he was, he turned around to address Gray. “I um, was just remembering how we used to make snow angels too as kids. Remember, Gray?”

Gray’s brow raised in suspicion, “not really, but whatever. I paid so let’s go.”

“Right…” Natsu glanced back to the park one last time before falling in step with his lieutenant. He’d almost forgotten that memory, but how could he. “My angel,” he muttered under his breath and gained another weird look from Gray. 

With the shinnenkai end of year celebration party coming up in a couple more weeks, Natsu had been too busy preparing to notice all the Christmas seasonal decorations around the city. Though a western thing, it was becoming more and more accepted as a secular holiday, especially in the bigger cities. But that wasn’t the issue of the moment. He really loved it when Lucy got that tattoo because he thought that it meant she’d accepted a future with him— Oh, how wrong he’d been because that was the year they broke up and ten years later he still wasn’t exactly sure why.  

“You go on in Gray, I’ll be in shortly.” They’d arrived back at the office building, but Natsu wasn’t ready to go in just yet. 

Natsu pulled the collar of his coat tighter to his neck to brace against a small gust of chilly wind. Lately his and Lucy’s current relationship as rivals was starting to wear on him mentally and it was getting harder and harder to control his emotions surrounding her. Guess ten years of pining really will drive a person insane. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky to allow the little white flurries to chill his skin. Somehow, some way he’ll win his angel back and finally fulfill the wish he’d made at the shrine all those years ago. ‘I said it didn’t I Luce,’ he smiled to himself. ‘I’ll never let you go…’

#nalu #nalu winter wonderland 2022 #nalu fan fiction #fairy tail #nalu fanfiction #we'll take back heaven #ch 8 #special holiday chapter #petri808

[tigersandheroes]

i want to know ALL the things, but i shall restrain myself. let's have some Speak of the Devil, please

(i resisted the temptation to ask for YOU DID NOT SEE THAT!)

Thanks so much for the ask, friend! Speak of the Devil came from my desire to write another supernatural fic after Blood Lust, and after tossing around a bunch of ideas, I eventually settled on Otabek as a jaded incubus and Yuri as a lonely part-angel with schizophrenia. Take a peek at their first meeting:

Otabek looks out over the silent expanse of the moonlit countryside from his hilltop perch, the emptiness of the landscape echoing in his chest. His veins course with the energy of his latest victim, but hollowness gnaws its way through his satiety. 

He has enough nourishment to survive another day, but for what? To seduce another sleeping stranger, draining the sustenance from their soul so he can continue this endless cycle?

Desperation drives his feet forward until he finds himself wandering among the graves in an overgrown cemetery adjacent to a tiny church made of crumbling stone. Unholy creatures like Otabek instinctively shy away from consecrated ground, but the lure of destruction calls siren-strong to his heavy heart.   

As he approaches the building, the smell of angel blood tickles his nose, and he knows that his immortality will end here. Within the walls of this sacred place, the righteous sword of heaven waits to plunge into his flesh and burn his wretched life away. 

His pulse pounding, he scuttles up the outer wall of the church to peer down through the peak of the pointed arch of one of the windows. Even beings of darkness know that heaven’s messengers are beautiful, but Otabek doesn’t expect the sight of one to tear the air from his lungs. 

The angelic man’s lithe body is perched elegantly on a stool in front of a small desk, his graceful fingers dancing over the keys of an old-fashioned typewriter. In the moonlight, his bare torso and delicate face glow like they’re carved from alabaster, and his long hair gleams like fine gold silk.  

Utterly entranced, Otabek creeps along the stone surface to the next window, his neck craning forward to bring the object of his fascination back into view. The movement blocks the moonlight, casting a sudden shadow over the desk, and the ethereal man lifts his head to look straight at Otabek.

Otabek reflexively retreats from the window, every muscle tense as he waits for a blast of heavenly fire to incinerate his wicked form from the side of the church. When it doesn’t come, his stunted sense of self-preservation screams at him to flee, but it’s no match for his curiosity.

He peeks through the glass again, only to find two bright green eyes staring at him from a few centimeters away. Startled, Otabek loses his grip on the wall and falls into the grass below the window, flat on his back.

As he lies gasping in pain on the ground, the window bursts open above him. The scent of angel blood washes over him, and a lovely face ringed in a gold mane pokes out to gaze at him.

“Are you okay?” the beautiful man asks, his voice soft and his expression concerned as he extends his hand. “Let me help you.”

#ask game #otayuri #otayuri fanfiction

[stuck1nthelimbo]

[ breasts ] * nanami kento x f!reader // 0.5k, 2nd pov, edited repost, no beta, no smut, fondling, fluff-y, from anon's ask || ✨m.list✨

Drinking beer doesn’t feel the same without your blondie. Lounging on the balcony with a can of beer in one hand and a magazine in the other, you peer at the wall clock in the kitchen. He’s late, which is unprecedented: nobody can force him into overtime.

Minutes pass, and you shuffle to the bedroom, lifelessly slumping on the mattress. Reaching to grab the pillow he sleeps on, you drag it closer to your chest and take a whiff. It has the scent of his shampoo, with hints of the cologne he uses daily.

“Couldn’t wait for me, darling?” a disembodied voice startles you, making you twist on the bed to notice a familiar silhouette in the darkness, dimly lit by the bedside lamp.

“When did you get home, Kento,” you didn’t hear a peep, neither of his dress shoes nor the door of your flat. He doesn’t respond, you feel a sudden depression on the bed, when he supports his weight on his knee while his left hand loosens the necktie. Something clatters on the bedside drawer. His sunglasses feel janky near the small lamp. The faint light illuminates his exhausted expression. Two fingers pinch the skin on the bridge of his nose before Nanami tenderly places his head on your chest, “babyyy,” you coo, caressing and ruffling his neatly brushed hair, until his hand swipes under your t-shirt and gropes your breast. You purse lips: he’s only human, isn’t he?

“It’s so soft,” he chuckles lowly, his nasal voice rumbling from the back of his nose.

“Stop squeezing them like they’re your stress balls!” You protest as if you wouldn’t let this man manhandle your body as much as his heart desires.

“You don’t like it? Does it hurt?” he sounds worried. His calloused fingertips and palm gently knead the soft mound. You dejectedly shake head and hold your breath, focusing on each shape his digits draw on the skin. He’s oh-so-careful. The tender strokes on the silky skin feel intimate. Yet the movements of his fingers are limited, the snug t-shirt restricts them. He delicately slides the tank top, pooling the fabric under your arms. He supports his weight, lifting his head. Sinking his elbows into the mattress beside you, closely studying your chest. The sudden embarrassment washes over you and face, ears heat up.

“Stop starin’…” you mumble.

“Why? They are so beautiful,” his honesty will be the death of you. Both of his hands massage your breasts, kneading and fondling, his focus unwavering. Several times, he leans closer, planting pecks on the velvety flesh. While his lips aimlessly grace the surface of one breast, his hand works its way to the other, pinching the nipple between his slim fingers.

All of a sudden, he falls on his back, smacking his thighs with vigor, nudging you to sit on top of him. You crawl on his lap and his large palms cup your breasts once again. Meanwhile, his eyes study your entire figure resting on top of him.

© stuck1nthelimbo; do not redistribute, repost, modify, or use in any way, form, and/or shape.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kento smut #kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #kento x you #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut fanfic #jjk fanfic #smut #limbo’s domain

[sassysillysavvy]

People scramble all around her. Make-up brushes dab at her cheeks, powder in the air. Her hair pulls in all directions. Measuring tape wraps around her torso and arms and legs and is replaced by fabric just as quickly. Too many conversations by too many strangers around here clog her ears and cloud her head.

Bella isn’t used to this.

She’s still marveling over the majestic chandeliers above her head and the shiny marble floors below her feet. Terret’s castle is massive and gorgeous just like the stories, but nothing like her imagination could’ve ever possibly prepared her for. Her new mentor Healer Liang – Flint – acts like it’s all normal and doesn’t even bat an eye. She’s trying not to stick out and keep a leveled head like him, but she’s just never seen so many people adorned in gold before. She’s barely even had a moment to take it all in since she’s arrived, meeting one person after the next, taking tests to prove her worth and attempting to remember how to breathe. Despite how fumbled and out of place Bella knows she must’ve looked, the Medical Board surprisingly agreed to have her become, at his request, Healer Flint Liang’s first apprentice.

As soon as the decision was reached, arrangements were quickly made to finalize her position to the rest of Terret – and the world. Everyone important is going to be at her announcement ready to spread the word, and the thought terrifies her. Flint keeps telling her he sees something in her, but what if the rest of the world doesn’t?

“Put these on,” she’s instructed by one of the dressers. The woman hands her a pair of red shoes with a tall, skinny heel. It intimidates her.

“Is there… anything else?” Bella asks shly. She’s only ever worn flat shoes. She can’t imagine trying to walk in these. She definitely noticed the other women around the castle wearing them. Even the Grand herself, but Bella knows she’ll fall flat on her face if she ties these to her ankles. What a great first impression to the world.

The dresser smiles with sympathy. “Miss Thompson, I know that you’re new here, but do you want everyone else to know that too?”

Bella’s face flushes red with heat.

“Dear, you’re going to have to learn how to dress and act like you belong here. You’re Healer Liang’s apprentice now. Whatever you do will reflect back on him.” She pushes the heels in Bella’s hands closer. “You don’t want to embarrass him now, do you?”

Bella heard about Flint Liang long before she met him. Logically, she knows everyone else must know his name, too. He’s a savior, a child prodigy. He’s a star.

She refuses to let herself taint his shine.

“N-No! Of course not.” Heart thumping in her chest, she kneels down to slip the shoes on. They’re a sparkling deep red, shiny and glittery and nothing like what Bella would ever choose for herself. The dresser nods in satisfaction. Before Bella can even comprehend her new height or the shakiness of these skinny heels, more dressers are pulling and tugging at her. They slip her into a dress as red and glittery as her heels. It’s short, poofy at the bottom, and shows off an uncomfortable amount of skin. Cold gold is placed on her wrists and fingers and dangled from her ears. She watches herself transform in the mirror with numb amazement. If she were to walk through her hometown in what she’s currently wearing, the people wouldn’t hesitate to rob her. All of the gold glows underneath the candlelight from the chandeliers above her, dazzling her eyes.

Just what has she gotten herself into?

More make-up brushes are pressed and swiped against her face. Her eyes are outlined in a dark color, her lips ruby red. Her hair is pulled back half way with a golden clip to tie everything together. She hardly recognizes herself. She doesn’t look like Bella anymore, she looks like…

She looks like Flint Liang’s apprentice.

She looks beautiful. She looks regal and dignified and deserving of Terret’s grace. Part of it is overwhelming, staring into a mirror and not recognizing her own reflection, but part of it is invigorating. No one from her hometown would know it’s her. She meshes straight into Terret’s culture. She looks the part of the savior’s next-in-line.

Now she just has to act like it.

She has that small moment with herself for only a second before everything rushes back into scrambled chaos. She’s being shuffled out the door, guided by a different group of people now. They’re halfway down the hallway before she even notices, ankles stumbling in her pretty shoes but no one has the time to wait for her to regain her balance. It’s all so fast – She almost feels like throwing up.

She’s pushed into a smaller room where several people are waiting. Their faces gloss over her eyes just like all of the other strangers who have been poking and prodding at her all day. Her mind doesn’t even register their facial features, they just blend into the powdery, sparkly chaos. They’re all ignoring her anyways, busying themselves with papers or conversations or last second clothing fixes. Only one person turns to look at her, and everything else disappears.

Flint.

He’s standing by a set of closed double doors. They’re huge and ornate, and Bella assumes that will be their entrance to where everyone else is waiting. His hair is braided back into a delicate bun, his clothes all black to match except for a vibrant purple vest. Gold and Terret’s signature green adorn his ears and hands, his eyes also outlined in that same dark make-up she has on hers. It makes them pop in the candlelight. Their beauty catches her off guard.

“Hey there.” He greets her with a smile. The simplicity of it takes her a second to adjust. He’s like the calm in the storm, and Bella can breathe again.

“Hey…”

There’s a man brushing off invisible debris from Flint’s vest and straightening out any wrinkles. Flint shoos him away with an effortless flick of his hand. She’s reminded of his grace and power, and feels clumsy in his presence. To compensate, she smoothes out her dress and fixes her jewelry. Maybe Flint won’t notice. Maybe he won’t see how much of a mess she is and regret his decision.

While running her fingers through her hair for tangles, she hears him chuckle. “You look beautiful, Bella.” She glances up to meet his eyes again and finds herself shocked at the genuinity there. He’s been nothing but kind and encouraging to her since the day they met, but she still can’t seem to wrap her head around it. The Flint Liang? Having an interest in her? It just doesn’t make sense. But his eyes are truthful and smile warm, and it won’t be long before she’s officially his apprentice anyways. It’s happening regardless of if she’s ready for it or not.

She flushes from his compliment. Flint’s words always seem to hit differently than everyone else’s. “Thanks… So do you.” Instantly, she realizes her phrasing. “Um– I mean– You look nice,” she tries to fix it quickly, but her burning face ruins it. She still hasn’t quite caught her breath since earlier. Again, there’s a passing thought wondering why this is all happening in the first place. She looks the part, but can she truly play it?

(“Whatever you do will reflect back on him.”)

Despite her creeping doubt, Flint only looks amused. “Why, thank you.” He bends his head in a playful bow. Bella can’t help her smile in spite of the racing thoughts in her head. “It’s truly an honor.”

He’s trying to make her laugh. Even with her anxiety sky-rocketing, she can tell. She’s been forced around by strangers all day and only her imagination can prepare her for what’s possibly beyond that door, but as long as Flint is with her, maybe it won’t be that bad. He defended her against her protective dad and doubting town, argued her worth against his own Medical Board, and held her hand throughout the maze of Terret and its marvelous castle. As long as he continues to stay by her side during this announcement, she’ll have an anchor to hold onto.

“Places!” someone with a clipboard demands. Flint holds out a bended arm for her to slip hers into. He’s going to guide her out and introduce her to the world, and Bella swallows down the lump in her throat. It’s now or never.

She takes a step to cross the distance between them–

And she trips.

Flint grabs her before she can hit the ground. His grip is tight and steady on her shoulders, her hands braced against his chest. She’s up in his space before she can even process it, heart thumping and ankles shaky. These stupid shoes–!

“You okay?” His voice sounds alarmed, and she looks up to quickly reassure him. She’s supposed to be impressing him, proving to him that she can handle Terret and anything it throws at her, but she just keeps making a fool out of herself instead. Yeah, she can definitely look like she belongs in Terret, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t, and everything around her keeps reminding her of that. Flint has been calm and stable throughout this whole process but she can’t even walk straight. She can’t talk straight. She can’t look any of these strangers in the eye or handle a few dressers throwing clothes and jewelry at her. She’s going to fail in the Medical Bay too, isn’t she? She won’t get but a few days in before Flint becomes disappointed and regretful. He’s Nova’s savior, she’s just a girl. He’ll see that soon enough.

Her heart sinks.

…Why is she even here?

Bella leans back onto her heels to steady herself. Flint glances down at her shoes at the movement, lips pressing together. “Did the dressers give you those?”

She sees no point in lying. She nods dejectedly.

Flint hums in displeasure. “If you’re uncomfortable, Bella, you don’t have to wear them.”

Surprised, she looks back up at him.

“The dressers always try to force their stuff on us. They think they know what’s best.” He rolls his eyes. “They don’t. You don’t have to comply.”

His tone drips with annoyed experience. Bella blinks, processing his words. She– She doesn’t have to? But what about fitting in? Looking the part? Impressing the people?

(“Whatever you do will reflect back on him.”)

She feels his thumbs roll over her shoulders in comfort. All day has been about rushing her from one place to the next but now, with her announcement ceremony only right outside those doors, Flint seems fine to take all the time in the world. The contrast boggles her.

“Do you want to go change?” he asks.

That’s… an option?

Her legs feel tight from the strain of the heels. The dress is fine, but a bit cold from her exposed skin. The gold and make-up are a little much though they are very pretty… What about the people waiting on the other side of that door? Her dad and sister are there. The Grand is there. The voice of that dresser from earlier rings in her mind. Won’t she stick out? Won’t she make Flint, who’s dressed up in his own shiny vest, look bad?

“One minute!”

That man with the clipboard is demanding things again. Her mind can’t move fast enough to make a decision. One minute until she’s out there in front of that crowd? Even if she wants to change her shoes, there’s no way she’ll have the time. What can she–

Flint’s hand touches her cheek. Gently, he guides her eyes away from the loud people in the room and back to him.

“Listen, Bella.” His voice is serious. It draws in her attention immediately, the rest of the world fading out. “Don’t listen to them, okay? This is your night. This is about you.” His eyes sparkle like jewels in the candlelight. “So if you’re uncomfortable and you want to change, they can wait. All of them can.”

Dumbfounded, she blinks again. Wait? The man with the clipboard? The people in the other room? The Grand?

“R-Really?”

Ever since she’s arrived in Terret, she’s been pulled around like a puppet on strings. She hasn’t had much say in what she does, where she goes, who she meets. She’s just a girl from the west. Who cares about her or her opinions? Terret’s so big and powerful. She’s so small and meaningless in comparison.

Without a sliver of a doubt, he nods. “Absolutely. You wanna know why?” His hand drops back down to her shoulder and squeezes it tight, grounding her focus. He smiles. “Because you’re my apprentice. And I’m Flint Liang. And you know what that means?”

There’s a playful glint in his gaze that excites her. All of this pressure and none of it ever bothered him one bit. She wonders why. She wants whatever he has that allows him to stand so tall and send people away with a twitch of his finger.

He leans in closer to her. Her heart jumps.

“It means we can do whatever we want.”

He says it so quietly, but with so much power. The conviction in his voice is enough to move mountains. She understands suddenly how he’s able to walk around anywhere he likes without permission. How he can talk back to the Medical Board without consequence and waltz into the Grand’s office to speak with her without appointment. It’s why everyone looks at him with glowing gazes and does whatever he says without hesitation. It’s why Bella herself looked at him in awe and amazement the first time she saw him in person.

His name certainly holds weight to it, but it's his unshakable confidence that truly makes the difference. Bella wonders for just a moment… Is he, perhaps, more influential than the Grand herself…?

The thought of that kind of power makes her head spin. His fingertips leave sparks against her skin where they touch, her breath lost at the potential. She should be afraid. She’s so young… He’s so young. She keeps forgetting that. But the realization of what she can become is a rush. Everyone in her town ignored her. Her dad kept her bound in a cage of small expectations. Bella didn’t think she’d ever grow up to be anything special or do anything significant – until Flint swooped in and told her differently.

She may have stumbled her way into Terret, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t run it someday just like her mentor.

Suddenly, she feels powerful in her heels. The height boosts her confidence. From watching Flint, she knows now that confidence is the key. She just has to walk and talk like she knows best and she’ll own Terret in no time. That will impress Flint Liang. It will impress everyone. Maybe one day she’ll move mountains with her voice like Flint does. Maybe she’ll be a force just as mighty as the Grand. The possibilities are exhilarating to think about.

“Actually… I think I will wear these shoes.” They no longer feel like a prison but a platform. She’ll prove to the audience beyond that door that she belongs here, that she deserves to be Flint Liang’s first apprentice.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She answers without hesitation, just like her mentor does. “But not because someone told me to.” She smirks. “But because I want to.”

Satisfaction shines in Flint’s eyes. “Atta girl.” His praise feels like a high. She knows she made him proud, and it’s a shot of adrenaline to her system.

This time, when the clipboard man shouts, “Thirty seconds!” it doesn’t startle her. Flint holds out his arm again for her to take but it feels different now. She’s not a foreigner staring up at an untouchable savior anymore. They’re equals.

“Shall we?” he asks with a playful smile.

“We shall.” She slips her own in just as smoothly, chuckling from the ease. Flint guides them to stand facing the closed ornate doors, all of Terret and anyone important just on the other side. Her heart still beats nervously in her chest, but she breathes it all out. Confidence is the key. She can be someone new and significant. She can be someone Flint is proud of.

“As someone who’s been doing this for a few years now, allow me to give you some advice.”

Flint’s voice sounds serious again. She looks up at him. His demeanor has changed, leaving him solemn and stiff. He stares at the door ahead of them like it’s an enemy to overcome. “There’s going to be an immense amount of pressure,” he warns, just loud enough for her to hear. People with their papers and clipboards shuffle behind them, but Flint pays them no mind so she doesn’t either. “From this moment on, everyone’s eyes are going to be on you.” He takes a breath. Does it tremble or is that just her imagination? “And they are never going to look away… Not even after your death.”

The candles in the small chandelier above their heads flicker, casting a quick shadow over Flint’s face. His young, young face. He’s only sixteen, isn’t he? She didn’t notice them before, but she can see sleepless lines. It looks like the dressers tried to cover them with make-up.

“People are going to talk. A lot. They’re going to say things that aren’t true.”

His unexpected vulnerability surprises her. She’s used to his lively smiles and self-assured attitude. The somber switch sends a chill down her spine.

He turns to look at her then. Their eyes meet. The candles’ flame reflect in them, lighting them ablaze. “Never,” he hisses fiercely, “ever let anyone try to convince you that you’re less than what you’re worth. You are smart, you are strong, and you are talented. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Prodigy child. Savior. Her mentor wasn’t always like that though, was he? An important detail she forgot about strikes her like a lightning bolt.

He was twelve when he first started. Just like she is now.

“Promise me,” he says.

She always thought he was untouchable. She thought he had everyone wrapped around his finger so easily. She thought it all came to him naturally.

Maybe… they are alike after all.

“...I promise.”

Her own genuine sincerity knocks herself off guard. There’s just something deep and important here in this conversation that would be a disrespect to take lightly. Whatever happened to him, Bella respects the hard work he had to go through in order to pave the way for her so easily. It will still be difficult, but at least she has him by her side.

…Did he have anyone by his side when he was so young?

Flint softens in relief from her response. Squeezing her arm, he turns his head back towards the doors. “Good.” He’s satisfied, but jittery as if recalling a bad memory. She wants to comfort him like he always does for her. She opens her mouth to say something, but–

“Go!”

The clipboard man signals their cue. Someone pushes on her shoulder. The double doors open at the same time, lights blinding her eyes and the roar of the audience drowning her ears. It’s like a tidal wave hit her senses. Her equilibrium is knocked off balance and she finds it hard to breathe in the rush of it all.

For a moment all she can see is Flint, and she watches numb as a switch seems to flip in him instantaneously. Behind those doors he was shaken and trying to hold himself together, but in front of the crowd? His smile is smooth and bright. His teeth gleam in the light and he holds up his hand to greet the audience. All of his gold glitters blindingly. His stance is perfectly straight and his head is raised with pride. He looks handsome and charming and confident.

He looks like a god.

Now Bella truly understands. It isn’t confidence that’s the key, it’s pretending to have confidence. It’s knowing how to fool an audience. It’s smiling in the face of doubters and proving them wrong despite the nasty things they may say.

It’s the character of “Healer Savior Flint Liang”, and her mentor found the way to play him perfectly.

Now it’s her turn.

#flightless writes #ocs #flint liang #bella thompson

[k0z3me]

haikyu!! fic recs

fics

- you never called it what it was (pt1) (pt2) — sakusa kiyoomi — @willowfolksong

+summary : in which you and sakusa are in a fwb situation, you're in love with him while he's still in love with his ex.

- meet me (under the stars) — miya atsumu — @touyangel

+summary : despite starting off on the wrong foot, you can’t help but be taken with the very handsome stranger who you brush paths with while on holiday.

- the hunt — miya atsumu — @heich0e

+summary : when you get sent a brief for a inz hookup

- the burden of being — miya osamu — @sashimiyas

+summary : there was an osamu who loved you once. who loved onigiri miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of hyogo ward. a fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. now they’re gone and memories are all you have. so as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.

- down the drain — miya atsumu — @getoswhore

+summary : your big brother's best friend has always quirked an interest to you everytime he's around, and this time, he makes sure it's even more the obvious for you tonight.

- from me to you — koutaro bokuto — @flyingraijin

+summary : The strip club isn’t the kind of place you’d usually go to meet people. Really, you’re just there to do your job. And even after you do run into a kind of nice guy one night, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again… right? (In which you fall flat on your face for Bokuto as he begins to teach you that you are, in fact, truly beautiful)

drabbles

- married under 25 (1) (2) — miya atsumu — @neoheros

- bad idea! — suna rintaro— @earthtooz

- msby manager! — iwazumi hajime — @shoulmate

headcannons

series

- office rivals — kuroo tetsurou — @augustinewrites

+summary : kuroo tetsurou is your co-worker, cubicle neighbour, and the bane of your existence…but only he would trick you into going on a date with him. (or, office rivals/enemies to lovers)

- wicked crown — sakusa kiyoomi — @iwas-baby

+summary : forced into an unwanted marriage, the prince and now princess must learn to overcome their quarrels as bigger threats are on the rise

- the walls are thin — miya atsumu — @a-kaash-me-outside

+summary : in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. [ i love this series eee, i'm reading it as it comes out ]

- lover be good to me — kita shinsuke — @pantowone

+summary : you meet kita shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. you know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. he seems like a good man. like a good soulmate. but it's your wedding day.

- bottom of the deep blue — suna rintaro — @samuskitchen

+summary : sirens, creatures of unmatched beauty and cunning charm, they lure men in with their voices and grace, taking advantage of all the gullible fishermen and pirates. mermaids, the peacekeepers of the deep blue sea, naive and kind to a fault at times. a fated encounter between the two underwater dwellers leads to a difficult situation and a love that shouldn’t be.

- the agreement — suna rintaro — @noosayog

+summary : the best part about the agreement was how good he made you feel. the worst part about the agreement is that you probably like him more than you should and he definitely doesn't feel the same way

- as friends — suna rintaro — @animatedrapture

+summary : sure, you have more than just a tiny crush on suna Rintarou, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get to know him as friends... right? Or, in which: It’s hard to get Suna’s attention when he’s at the center of it all, especially not if he might have someone else he already likes.

- no title — miya atsumu — @noosayog

+summary : university au, enemies(ish) to lovers

- no title (pt1) (pt2) (pt3) — miya atsumu — @shoulmate

+summary : in which atsumu rejects you without knowing he did..

- little miss cherry chaser — various — @

smau

- don't smile at me — suna rintaro au — @atzuums

+summary : when you become the photographer for famous model suna rintaro you were excited. your dreams are soon crushed when you realize he’s an asshole, but maybe that’s just how he flirts.

- plug walk — miya osamu au — @splitontendo

+summary : in honor of your friends birthday your friends and you all decided to get high. buying the drugs from no other than osamu miya. the most attractive dealer you’ve ever laid eyes on.

- traitor — sakusa kiyoomi au — @rinslutz

+summary : sakusa had a new girlfriend exactly 3 hours 10 minutes and 55 seconds after you broke up. he moved on so quickly it’s hard to believe that he ever loved you, or that he wasn’t cheating thought your whole relationship. you heavily believed that he was, so you set out to make his life a living hell.

- 40 days 2 love — suna rintaro au — @zephestia

+summary : it's the second year of high school, and everyone are either in a relationship or is getting into one. everyone except you. it's not like you care anyways, you've got better things to worry about. but when your seat mate offered you a deal to provide you lunch for the next 40 days of school in exchange for you to be his (fake) girlfriend, it's hard for you to turn the offer down.

- say it back — suna rintaro au — @animatedrapture

+summary : l/n y/n has been pining for her very best friend, suna rintarou, since high school. now they’re in college and nothing much has changed—that is, until she finally confesses to him after a deal with her friends. will he say it back?

back to navi

#ılıl﹕𖥻﹒hq﹒📧 #tsukishima x reader #suna rintaro x reader #fic rec #kei tsukishima x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #suna x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu!! x reader #fic recs #lia's.posts. #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader #reader insert #x you #x reader

[devildom-drabbles]

Story - Fallin’ For Ya

Prompt: A character sees someone they admire and are so distracted they fall down stairs and/or run into a wall -- by @writingprompts365

Characters/Ship: Mammon x MC

Word Count: 614

Warnings: None, just silly fluff

“Money~  Money~”  Mammon sang to himself, a skip in his step.  “Gonna make me some money~”

He hummed this made-up tune as he walked down the hall and descended the stairs to the first floor of the House of Lamentation.  A new get-rich-quick scheme danced about within his head, making him feel giddy and motivated to put it into action immediately.  All he needed to do was steal retrieve a few cursed books from the RAD library--

Mammon’s mind went blank when he rounded the corner to the bottom half of the stairs.  Someone stood at the base of the steps, unaware of Mammon’s presence as they fiddled with their D.D.D.

MC.

The world suddenly went in slow motion for Mammon.

MC’s eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly as they blinked to remove any dryness from staring at the phone.  Their nose stuck out in such a way that Mammon wanted to boop his own against it and hear them giggle in response.  A calm smile graced their lips, and their cheeks grew rosy as they laughed at something they read, making his cheeks warm and his heart do backflips.  Their hands, proceeding to diligently type something, looked so soft even from a distance; surely those hands were lonely without him holding them.

MC…   They’re beauty.  They’re grace.  They’re--

--now watching Mammon land flat on his face.

“Mammon!” MC cried, crouching down to check the demon’s condition.  “Are you all right?”

Mammon weakly groaned in reply.

They helped Mammon sit up and cradled his face in their hands, carefully examining for any bruises or bleeding.  “I don’t see a broken nose or anything serious, but your face is pretty red.”

Because you’re so close!! Mammon wanted to scream.

“Wh-What do ya expect?!  I just ate dirt, so of course my face is red,” Mammon tried to laugh off the incident.  “N-No other reason!”  

He winced in pain when MC readjusted their grip on his face.  “H-Hey, watch it!”

“Sorry,” MC said, releasing their hold.

“No, wait!” Mammon begged a little louder than he would’ve liked.  He snatched their retreating hands.  “I-I just meant, uh…”

Please keep holding my face.

“A-Are you busy right now?” Mammon inquired, eager to change the subject.

MC shook their head.

“Great, then you’re comin’ with me!”

“To a hospital?” MC asked.

“N-No!  I don’t need to see a doctor or nothin’!” Mammon argued.

“But your face--”

“Is fine!  Perfectly fine!  You could even say handsome, ya know!”

MC snickered under their breath without the rambling demon noticing.

“Anyway, I came up with a great way to make some quick cash, and you’re gonna help me, got it?”

“Please don’t tell me you fell down the stairs just to knock such an idea into your head,” MC said, becoming increasingly concerned.

“Wha--  Of course not!  I just fell because I missed--”

Mammon’s hands grew warmer when he remembered they were still wrapped around MC’s.  He stared at their face, admiring every inch of its features.

“--you.” he murmured.

“Missed what?” MC questioned him, tilting their head slightly.  “I didn’t catch that.”

“A STEP!” Mammon blurted, face even redder than before.  “Right, a step!  I missed a step!  Obviously!  Now quit your game of twenty questions and follow me!”

The Avatar of Greed stood up, bringing MC up along with him, and guided them to the front door.  He turned back to flash them a confident toothy grin.  “We’re off to become rich!  You and me!”

MC’s wide eyes relaxed into creases.  Giggling, they declared, “All right, if the Great Mammon says so.”

Even if this money scheme didn’t work out, at least Mammon had MC all to himself for the day.

#spoiler: it didn't work out #barbatos totally caught him in the act 😬 #don't worry mc saved him #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me mammon x mc #short story #prompt used

[heartshyuck]

 Ascension to the throne

Pairing: CrownedPrince!Jeno x servant!reader

Genre: angst, slow burn, smut, strangers to friends (kind of), political, mystery, king au.

Synopsis: With the death of his father, threats from nobility, rise of rebellion as his country faces famine; will King Lee Jeno be able to rule his country and investigate the death of his father?

Word count: 30.2k LMAOOO

Warnings: there’s smut! Though it is sectioned off with (***) asterisks and black headers so you can skip it if you are a minor/don’t like smut. If you’re a minor please don’t read it and proceed with caution! panic attacks, themes of grief, self harm, description of blood, mention of violence, bombing and shooting. Just everything under acts of terror, threats, manipulations, profanities and drinking.

a/n: apart of the the “King’s Crown” series! thank you to my love @byutafy for beta reading, making the beautiful header, being my mental stability, motivating me and starring in this monster fic, ilysm bby 😙

Death is inevitable. Even for the King, who is worshiped like a God. All is taken away from him once the crown slips from his head: his power, authority, riches and status all erased by the infinite slumber. All he leaves behind are the people he’s wronged, each one cursing him, causing him to turn in his grave. Jeno is sure his father will not be resting in peace as he watches his coffin lower into the ground. The grey skies ripped open by lightning, the clouds seem to be the only ones truly mourning the loss of the great dynasty as Jeno himself is unsure if the heavy drops that stream down his face are the rain or tears. Maybe they’re both. So he doesn’t ignore the painful ache in his chest, for he knows it’s not grief but anger. A red blur that keeps his mind captive, for a King could not die unless wanted dead. He watched his mother sob, wearing a black veil as she’s now married to death and the status of a widow replacing the once worn proudly, Queen. For who was she without her husband? She was her son’s mother, never holding an identity of her own. Anger seeps into his veins as her world was stolen from her.

The hundreds of black umbrellas soon dwindle down to one and now that it has quieted down, maybe he can still hear Jeno as he drops to his knees in front of his gravestone begging for him to come back. “I am not ready father,” his voice breaks as he gasps for the cold air to hit his lungs, yet no matter how much he tries his breaths won’t steady. He sits there by his father's grave, the cold embracing him and the rain accompanying him. The future King sobs.  

“Your Grace.” A soft voice stirs Jeno back from the dream but from the wetness of his pillow and his tear stained cheeks, he guesses it was more of a nightmare. His eyes are heavy and swollen and there’s a stinging behind his eyelids as he attempts to lift them and just as he’s close the harsh sunlight pours into the room, as the heavy curtains are pulled back, his eyes squeeze shut and a deep groan leaves his throat as he rolls on to his stomach, rubbing his eyes and slowly preparing them for the streams of golden that illuminate the room.

The same voice, now less considerate to Jeno’s still sleepy state, breaks the silence once again: “Your majesty, you must break fast with your mother. She awaits for your arrival on the southern terrace, ” he tells Jeno and yet again, another groan leaves him. He only nods as he falls, face flat against his pillows.

As the many busy servants hurriedly move around him, dressing him, he stands there staring out of the window; and as far as he can see, flowers bloom and the sun kisses every inch of land, but he knows beyond that the world is set ablaze with a raging fire. “My Prince.” That voice again and Jeno is growing sick of hearing it disturb his thoughts day in and out.

“Yes Mark?” He replies in a yawn as he walks down the many hallways of the grand castle, Mark jogging slightly behind him to keep up with his long strides.

“The itinerary for today,” Mark continues, “After breakfast, you will have to attend your first summit.” At those words, Jeno’s heart drops and he’s reminded of the painful ache he felt that day, the daunting fear of not being enough, not being ready. Mark can feel the stiffness in the air as he can just about see Jeno tense, his steps falter and lose steam as they slow down. “And then an audience with you has been requested by your cousin, Lady Na, your Graces” And those words cause Jeno to smile and the fear he felt for a second fades.

“Accept it.” And Mark simply nods, still jogging along his side.

Reaching the south terrace, Jeno sees his mother looking over the flower garden that, at this time of year, is in full bloom. Wisteria climbs the balcony, tulips dominate the South and to the North the roses rule; Jeno has always found this to be his favourite place. A place that offers solace and peace, a place that numbs the still bright burning red that swells in his chest. At the sound of his footsteps his mother looks up to greet her son with a smile, the same smile she had gifted him with. Crescent moons for eyes as her cheeks push up, a comfort to Jeno that he prays isn’t going anywhere for a long time.

“Sit my dear.” She extends her arm to the chair opposite from her and he complies. “Since when did my son become so important that even his own mother had to schedule to break fast together with him?” She questions as the servants bring out the food. The warm spring wind greets Jeno, the pollen kissing his nose as he turns to his mother returning the smile

“Duties of a crowned prince unfortunately seem to take the place of oxygen these days, but never of my mother, that much I can assure,” he says with a sweet voice, smiling her way, trying to his best to convince her and yet she still narrows her eyes and sends a scoff his way.

“Speaking of duties.” His voice is hesitant and she knows the topic is a sour one, yet she braves through continuing. “The summit.” And again Jeno groans at the reminder, his eyes rolling back. “Your attendance is vital and I expect it.” her voice stern, it’s an order but her eyes are understanding.

“Crowned Prince and yet even the thought of defying my mother’s word sends lightning down my spine,” he smiles, again trying to reassure her.

“Even as King you should fear your mother,” she scoffs as she raises her cup gracefully to her lips and Jeno lets out a laugh, glints of happiness bubbling up to the surface, the first specs of happiness in a while.

Happiness is a luxury, the only one the Crowned Prince and future king cannot indulge in. For his happiness does not have an allegiance with the crown, his happiness resides in the smaller moments in life, like when his arrow cuts through time and space itself to hit the bullseye or in a larger aspect much more grand than his significance, such as watching summer collapse into autumn. Inevitable, out of control yet beautiful. Finding solace in nature, people, scriptures and living itself, that is what happiness is to the Crowned Prince, the future King.

This does not give him any form of happiness, standing here in front of a large group of nobles who all bow to him and yet wish for death to greet him early. Jeno takes his seat on the throne, the same one his father had previously occupied, to his right his mother and to his left his advisor Qian Kun, a great man whose family lineage had spent their whole lives guiding the Lee Dynasty in their reign. Jeno trusted Kun as much as his father did, enough to consider his thoughts but not enough to be completely blind to his own because of them.

“You may seat yourselves.” Jeno’s voice echoes through the chamber as all are silent, eyes only focused on him. As they all seat themselves, Kun rises to the centre to navigate the conversation.

“Our first decree of importance, in the discussion of Prince Jeno’s coronation,” he announces to the room of nobles.

An old man, no taller than up to Jeno’s shoulders, rises from his seat and clears. his throat. “Your highness.” He turns to Jeno yet his eyes address his mother “It has been almost a moon cycle since our great country has been without a monarch yet we have a fine and fit heir to rule, I say we are to have Prince Jeno crowned before the new moon.” a rumble of voices burst out as all discuss their opinions. Yet one voice makes it’s way above all and it’s a familiar one, Jeno’s uncle, next in line for the throne speaks up.

“But yet our Prince is still so young, much to learn and not to forget he is still not in possession of a wife. I suggest these formalities are to be dealt with first.”

But then another voice cuts him off, refuting his argument. “So we are to remain without a monarch whilst poverty, famine and rebellion begin to cripple our nation. Marriage is something Prince Jeno can attend to later, as you yourself state he is young thus having plenty of suitors and time. If anything, the additional title of King will make it easier to marry and forge new allies.” An agreement rings through the court until quieted down by Kun.

“Silence!” He shouts as he knocks a gravel against the bench to gain the attention of the nobles “It is then settled. Judging by the flow of converse, our Crowned Prince Lee Jeno shall be made King on the last Sunday of April,” he announces and the words make Jeno’s heart stop, his blood freezing as the words sink in. King by the end of the moon phase, the thought alone was daunting. To think he would be in charge of a nation, of people’s well beings and lives at only one and 20 orbits of the sun.

“The second and final decree of discussion is the rebellions and uprising of small terrorist groups. Duke Na, please educate us on this matter before we proceed with discussion.” At Kun’s words, Na Jaemin, the General of the army and brother by law to Jeno, stands for all to hear his voice.

“The rebellions have been an issue our late King and I had dealt with. Many of you know of the unfortunate North,” he explains but it seems like everyone already knows what he’s talking about, everyone but Jeno. This is his first time hearing about these rebellions, his father never once mentioning it. During the years of preparing to be King, never truly once did he really know about the affairs of his country, learning how to rule and govern hypothetically and nervousness builds up as Jeno wonders if he truly is the divine right and ruler. “Poverty had alway plagued them and famine runs in their street, the north are barbaric and incomparable to the divine south yet now they seek for better leadership, demanding their King to fix their problems. Through terror they plan to bring our attention to them. Myself and every soldier is working to stabilise them and once Prince Jeno is King, we can work alongside his majesty.” Jaemin then bows his head towards Jeno as he sits down once again. No one dares defy his words, he’s well articulated and each word convinces not only Jeno but hundreds of earls’ dukes and lords, nothing further is needed to be said.

Kun only nods before turning to Jeno. “Any input, your majesty?” He asks, and even though Jaemin had fully convinced Jeno he has this under his control, he can’t help but pick up on the tone of superiority in his voice, that they all think they’re better than those who belong to the North. He knows they do, for this North-south divide is as old as time itself.  “We need to save the North, they are my people as much as you are, they deserve the same level of respect and care. I need to assure them I can provide a much more stable lifestyle for them, decreasing the unemployment rate, investing in the North, decreasing famine and poverty and increasing literacy rates. The rebellions should not just be dealt with by the army but with my role as king to provide for them, we will have to work through this.” Jeno’s voice does not waver, he sounds like a King, he feels like a King. Yet the feeling plummets down as he sees the weary faces, the shocked ones and the displeased ones, all showing what they dare not to express. Jeno’s gaze quivers and falls to his feet, he nods at Kun as a sign he has finished and Kun begins to dismiss the court.

Jeno rises as soon as the first few bodies are out the door, leaving from where he entered and there is Mark awaiting his arrival. Jeno doesn’t stop for a second, finally feeling the weight of that room off his shoulders and Mark trails after him, saying something but Jeno can’t hear him, his mind and senses hazed. Jeno rushes to find a place with fresh air, any place with fresh air and once he reaches one of the small balconies his body folds over, breathing heavily, his hands shake and and legs about to give out as he crouches down. It’s not until the warmth of a hand on his shoulder pulls Jeno out of the trance, he turns to look at who it is and it’s you.

“Your majesty.” Your eyes widen as they examine the glossiness of his own and worry washes over you. You’re stunned and so unsure of what to do, but you crouch down beside him and he falls into your side, stray tears falling down his cheeks as he leans into your warmth. You’re not sure how long you stay like this but no words are exchanged, his breathing calms and he makes no indications to move out of your hold until Mark runs out onto the balcony. His eyes turn to the doors at the sudden noise and he jumps up.

“My Grace,” he calls out softly as he crouches down, the same worry you wore a few minutes ago, he opens his mouth to speak but no words leave. Mark’s unsure what to say and his eyes turn to you for help, but you’re just as hopeless.

“Your Majesty,” you whisper after a few seconds of hesitation. “Are thou well now?” You ask and his head lifts off your shoulder, he nods slightly and relief is visible on Mark’s face as he lets out air through his nose. Mark reaches for Jeno’s hand, helping him up and once he’s steady on his own feet, Mark lets go of him. You still sat on the floor, the gravel and dust sticking to the palms of your hands as you pressed all your weight to support yourself and Jeno, he turns to you with eyes still glossy and soft and muttered a quiet, “thank you,” to which you only bow your head at him, smiling. It’s only when he and Mark leave that you get up off the floor, dusting the once white apron that sits upon your dress, completely dazed by his majesty the king.

“Certain you are well, my Prince?” Mark asks again from behind Jeno, the concern still evident in his voice. And to this Jeno only nods in response as he makes his way into one of the many drawing rooms in the castle. The grand white doors, with its intricate gold decor covering, stood hovering over Jeno; they always made him feel small and insignificant but instead of that being a feeling he dreaded, he found great comfort in it. It humbled him and reminded him he was nothing special just because of the blood that coursed through his veins, it calmed his nerves. The heavy doors are pulled back by two awaiting guards, with great struggle they pull to reveal the drawing room with equal magnificence to every room in this palace. The wall ivory with gold embroidery, tapestries, portraits of the many great monarchs that come before Jeno and inside awaits his cousin, Lady Na. She rises to her feet as soon as she sees him and bows into courtesy. “Your majesty, King Jeno, now known and forever more.” She smiles up at him and he scoffs, rolling his eyes and he pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“Stop with that, I have yet to be crowned King,” he whispers into her hair, finding solace in her warmth and embrace. She doesn’t pull away until he does, until he’s ready to let go; he grew up with her, equal in age, roaming and running around these castle halls, they caused mischief and she was a constant reminder to his youth, to the days where all was easy and he loved her for it.

“Mhm yes, but it is upon us soon,” she reminds him and he frowns, pulling back and she only laughs at his childish antics. Pinching his cheeks, she always did for he was her little brother after all.

“I do not wish to speak of the matter, in fact i do not wish to speak about me at all,” he huffs out as he sits down and Lady Na follows after. “How is Jaemin?” He asks.

“Your Grace, you are better off telling me,” she sighs “Did you not just encounter him? I haven’t seen him in perhaps a fortnight.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well that’s no good, I’ll demand he takes a break from his wretched military duties that keeps him so far away from his beloved wife.” He speaks in a pout and she only laughs, fully aware that he’s kidding. “Is he treating you well at least?” He asks seriously this time, no underlying laughter but genuine concern for he’d have his head off if he wasn’t.

“Like a queen, I assure you,” she places her hands over his which rests upon his knee.

“As he should. You are royalty and after all, he is below your status,” he scoffs. “He’s lucky to have you love him.”

“That he is,” she giggles. “However Jeno, are you feeling well? Your eyes are swollen,” she asks, concern evident in her voice and she reaches up to feel his forehead but he flinches back before taking her hand in his own.

“I’m perfectly fine, your concern is much appreciated.” And her brows arch, not at all convinced but she drops the subject, he’ll come to her when he’s ready.

An hour or maybe two passes, there is no concept of time as Jeno sits in his sister’s presence, talking about everything they have been up to in their months apart. She brings joy, serenity and solace with her, a comfort he hasn’t been able to feel for a while. Yet the bubble has to pop at one point, though Jeno wishes these moments in time could last forever, the heavy doors are pulled open again causing both their heads to turn and as always, it’s Mark who interrupts. But it is not just him who enters through the doors.

“General Na Jaemin,” Mark announces his entrance and then makes his way to leave.

“Your majesty,” he bows to Jeno before residing next to his wife, instantly she grabs his hand intertwining her finger with his, Jeno sees stars in her eyes for love engulfs her and he can’t help but smile.

“Jaemin, I’ve told you many times to only refer to me as Jeno, we are brothers after all.” And at that, Jaemin just nods his head, repeating Jeno as if he was testing the word out on his tongue. “What brings you here?” Jeno asks. “we were not expecting you.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Jaemin speaks with only respect for Jeno, despite just marrying into the family. There is slight tension from earlier as Jeno sees where his cousins beliefs lie and who he sides with earlier in the summit, they do not align with him. They do not align with his cousin’s yet he hopes it is only an act to appease ancient nobles with even ancient mind sets. Jeno hopes he is as good of a husband as he is a general, a leader.

“You do not intrude,” Jeno reassures him of his place amongst them, he reassures him of his place by his Crown Prince’s side. It almost sounds like a threat, that he has to stay, is to remain loyal for as long as he lives. If the Duchess notices the slight strain in Jeno’s voice she chooses to ignore it, only smiling but Jaemin is still yet to learn the art of masking one’s emotions. Both the Prince and Duchess had spent their whole youth learning to hide intentions, never allowing diplomats, nobles and in time even each other from seeing your true emotions and reactions. For never allowing them the luxuries to be able to know what you’re thinking, to be able to scheme. Never show weakness. Yet General Na has failed, unlike his wife who keeps composure, he can’t help but the rise of his eyebrow, the slight delay in the smile he offers. Possibly it was pride or honour, Jeno is not quite sure but Jaemin definitely does not see himself as lower than Jeno. He sees them as equals, Jeno can tell by his relaxed shoulders, the ease he finds to call him by his name.

Another lesson Jeno, crowned prince, was taught. To read people, be observant and to decipher every movement and expression. The general is easy to read, Jeno smirks as he sees the side of his lip twitch; threatening your general is never a good idea but putting him in his place and allowing him to remember who he serves is never a bad one. We wouldn’t want any ideas emerging in his mind before the coronation.

Jeno does not speak of work nor the coronation in the remaining moments he has in the General and his wife’s company. Instead, they continue to speak of childhood. Jeno has taken on the role of embarrassing his older sister as much as he can before her husband, stories and stories, he retells all that the walls of the castle have seen. His tales are of a time where both the lady and himself were all but barely five. He speaks of himself as a spoiled prince showered in mother’s love and protection. Speaks of Lady Na as a child who sat by the King, his father, in courts; always ambitious, for she said she declared in a voice that rang through the halls so clear and loud that she would make a better king than Jeno any day. She smiles at this, she laughs and yet she rolls her eyes, “I was five,” she defends her childish thoughts.

“Ah, but clearly you must have been correct,”  Jeno teases. “Father did allow you to sit by his side.” And Jaemin laughs at the image of a five year old sitting in court, not possibly understanding anything said within the chamber and again she rolls her eyes, nudging her elbow into Jaemin’s side, she narrows her eyes and he only laughs more. A smile so wide and it is one only meant for her, she softens at the sight of it immediately and Jeno decides maybe he is as good of a husband as he is a general. “Do plan on having any children soon,” he blurts out.

Both of their eyes snap up towards him, laughter seizing and smiles faulting, a sore spot Jeno thinks to himself. “Soon, maybe,” Jaemin answers truthfully and he holds onto his wife’s hands, squeezing it tightly, “Being a general is busier than one would think,” he laughs but it’s awkward and she smiles yet it’s awkward.

They leave soon after, Jeno shakes Jaemin’s hand, his grip firm as expected of the man that leads the nation’s army. He hugs his sister, he holds her close to him, almost as he wanted to melt into her. “I’ll see you soon,” she laughs, her voice strangled slightly as he squeezes her with his arms, swaying side to side. “The coronation is soon,” she reminds him as if he could possibly forget. He only then draws back, smiling, finally letting go; they say the last of their goodbyes.

You run as fast as legs could carry, past the maids that dusted the mantle pieces, polished the banisters, scrubbed at the floors. The servants that carried towers of silverware, the finest the kingdom had to offer and you made your way down to the kitchen where you have been called. "______!” He shouts and shouts, and you wince as you grow nearer.

“I’m here, Mark,” you announce your arrival and he turns on his heels to face you.

“Perfect.” His eyes light up at your fast response. “You are to take these up to the bus boys.” He points to a silver tray that carries a dozen golden flutes, all with careful and intricate detailing round their rims. “And then make your way to the Prince’s chambers to help ready him.” You bow your head before leaving, tray held steadily between both hands, your steps are now slow and steady for you would sacrifice your life if it meant these flutes would not drop.

“Jisung,” you called out, one of the many busboys waiting down in the ballroom making sure all tables were perfect for tonight. He turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, ____.”

"Here, take these." You hand the tray over to him carefully. Jisung is a great friend of yours; he's sweet and kind and most definitely clumsy. You've known him since you were young, having grown up in the castle where your parents worked and now years later here you are working in their place. He's quick to take them off you and with a wave of your hand you bid him farewell before you're off again, rushing towards the Prince’s chambers.

You haven’t been in the Prince’s company since the day out on the balcony, and you haven't seen much of him either as you have been asked to help prepare in the kitchen for this upcoming day. The coronation. After a month of planning, running around and hectic itineraries that Mark laid out everyday leading up to today, just one more busy night and you can finally return to the normal pace of the castle. The dormant sunrises that will replace the endless, sleepless nights that just merge into daylight. You guess Mark had asked you to help the Prince get ready for this evening just in case another episode was to occur, if the Prince got too overwhelmed and forgot how to breath, maybe you could hold him tight to your chest once again, stroking his hair and whispering reassurance into his ear, just as you did that day.

Finally, you reach the large doors that lead to the Prince’s chambers. Four guards are stationed outside instead of the usual two, but they all recognise you, two tugging at the golden handles to pull open the heavy gates for you. Quickly, you make your way over to where all the other maids are lined up, waiting for instructions, when to move. Jeno’s eyes meet yours but he doesn’t acknowledge your presence; after all, you were just another servant girl. Are you really just any other servant girl though? You saw his majesty, the great dynasty and emperor to the Kingdom on his knees, crying and whimpering, breaths ragged. You saw him vulnerable and weak. The moment plagues Jeno’s mind for if he was taught one thing: it was to never let people see your weakness, but to make them worship you as if you placed the sun in the sky and gave them rain, to make them think you were a god.

Jeno wasn't a god, he knew he wasn't—he was barely a king. Yet he had to act as one, forced to fit into the facade no matter what. He would cut his arm off to fit into it, if that meant he was worshipped like the ones before him. To be a king as great as his father. Jeno wasn't the perfect Prince, the media loved to pick on all the little things he did, though they fawned over his looks and the charity work he did, they never allowed him to live a childhood for long. Articles written about temper tantrums he had at the age of four, condemning his mother and her abilities to nurture him. Calling Jeno spoiled when he got his first car at the age of 17, everything he did made it on the front cover of some newspaper, or some magazine who had to throw their two cents on what they think about Lee Jeno, crowned prince and future king.

He doesn’t expect it to be any different now; he expects it to be a lot worse, especially with the rebel groups gaining with more and more support, the increasing worry of the North overthrowing the South is something that runs through all their minds. He’ll be criticised for every move he makes, unable to please anyone, for giving the North what they want would only make the South feel threatened. A deep rooted hatred that dates back centuries, civil wars have broken out many times as they fought for the riches of the land, only worsened by the industrialization of the South. The North couldn’t compete. The country was unified by one of Jeno’s ancestors, being the first to rule both sides and finally uniting the country. Yet the social divide stayed and was never even attempted to be fixed for they all clearly saw it as just the war won and this was their reparations. The unbelievably low employment rate, the famine that runs in their streets. Jeno has never been allowed to visit the North, but rumour has it their villages are run down, roofs with holes and families of 10 living in one room, their electricity unstable, as is the running water. All of which Jeno plans to fix, for it’s the only fault his father had, the only fault of all the Kings before him. Whilst they maintained and kept the South well looked after, the neglect of the North is one mistake they all made. But Jeno vows to look after all his people.  

Jeno is snapped out of his thoughts when a pair of hands reach up to button his collar. And there you are to remind him of how his train of thought even began. He releases a soft sigh from his nose, the cool air brushing against the back of your hands as they diligently work their way down. He watches your every movement, your hands that barely hold on to the buttons of the silk shirt; so scared your hand will graze against his chest. You don’t dare to meet his gaze, taught to lower your gaze, never once look him in the eye, for who were you to challenge his stare? You grew up in the same castle he did, yet not once had your paths crossed, for he was raised in the heavens and you in the depths of hell, to serve and submit to the great prince, who would rule the world you knew. You stepped back, allowing him to see himself in the mirror and he nodded, dismissing you. You bow your head before moving back in line, two other maids going up to place the heavy velvet on his shoulders. He looked like a King.

Stepped further away from him, you could see how his shoulders tensed, how his jaw was shut tight, his finger fumbled. He was nervous, understandably but a redness gleamed under his skin; he was angry. The vein prominent along his neck and temple, beating with every beat of his heart. His stare is unfocused, slipping in and out of consciousness, you can see when he slips into his mind. The words that swirl around him, are so clearly shown, the anxiousness that causes chills to run down his spine, the daunting feeling of not being good enough and the unsettling feeling of being a failure. Jeno probably takes pride in being able to hide his thoughts and feelings, you think. But little does he know, around those whose presences aren’t worth much, he exposes all of himself.

“Leave,” he commands, voice already stern and stiff as he waves his hand, dismissing all in the room. You’re one of the last ones to leave, weary he might break down once again. You linger as much as you can; Mark would kill you if you didn’t. Once stepping out the door, you feel his weariness lift off your shoulder, a heavy sigh slips past your lips as the weight dissipates.

“Finally,” another servant girl cries. “I couldn’t take another second in there,” she said rather too loudly. Your eyes widen, searching to see if there is anyone to hear.

“You can’t just say that outside the Prince’s chambers, Fei,” you nudge her with your elbow, eyes still looking around just in case.

She giggles at how your voice goes higher with concern “Only a fool would not agree. His majesty has been a good Prince, but every time something related to his duties are mentioned he is as stiff as stone and the air weighs down, suffocating us all. You are far from a fool ____ , you know more than I do on the matter, that I know.”

“What is it I know?” you question her, eyebrows arched for her statement intrigues you. Word travels quickly in the castle, the walls whisper all that has been said and done, gossiping starts from hell and spreads like the fire it was born out of. Your ears just happen to fall onto the whispers of the walls, the whispers that make their way around in the moonlight, when dreams take all hostage for the night.

“That is for you to know and never tell me, I don’t need anymore stress,” she sighs/ “Prince Jeno’s is already rubbing on me, especially when he has that brooding expression on his face.” she huffs out in a pout.

“Ah yes, his famous brooding.” She falls into a fit of laughter as she sees your face mimic the expression that you both know all too well. The one where Jeno’s eyebrows are furrowed, jaw tightened, bottom lip held captive by his teeth and the vein that runs down his neck throbbing as the blood runs to a mind working overtime. Her laughter still rings through the air as you pose in different stances with the same expression painted across your face, until suddenly the laughter seizes and a heaviness settles. You see Fei bow her head and wince at the sight. Turning around slowly you pray it is Her majesty, Queen Mother; being a little too hopeful you pray it is Lady Na and most of all you pray it not to be the moody Prince. But when did you ever get what you prayed for? Slowly opening your eyes, you see his broad shoulders ahead of you, decorated with velvet, he stands tall.

He clears his throat and it echoes through the halls. Fei flinches slightly behind you. “Leave us please, Fei.” and she scrambles away.

“Your majesty,” you bow your head, in greeting or apology, both you think.

“So what is it you know?” His question throws you aback, your eyebrows shooting up and blinking as if it would make the words that left his mouth anymore clearer.

“I don’t know much, Your Grace,” you answer quickly, hoping to run back downstairs and away from his painful stare that pricks into your skin, ice cold, sending shivers through you.

“I heard everything,” he says, and it almost sounds like a threat.

“I know only of what the walls happen to whisper, my Lord. I am sure you know mo-” You begin to explain but he cuts you off.

“I don’t,” his voice stern once again, “I have no clue what happens within these walls. I am but a child in his father’s clothes. I was not taught nor have been taught anything. They plan to use me as a puppet, a scapegoat just to dispose of me as they did my father.” His eyes are glossy now and they look at everything but you, for if he sees the pity on your face once again, he’ll hate himself for not hiding what there is to pity about him, properly.

“I don’t know anything of your father’s death, my Grace,” your voice is soft as if not to break him, not when the coronation is moments away. Yet you have. A tear slides down his cheek and he lets out a heavy sigh. You have seen it already, his sadness and anger.

“I want you to find out,” his voice quivers and he cuts himself off to clear his throat once more.

“Please accept my regrets,” you start, but again he doesn’t allow you to speak anymore

“Your regrets are denied,” he says so simply and you can’t help but blink at these words too. “I command you to find out, as your King.” His eyes raise and meet yours, so full of rage, hurt and vengeance.

“You are not my King yet, my Grace, my service is to the crown,” you say so bravely your mind facepalms seconds later.

“I will be now,” he says as he walks past, the red velvet that trails behind him flowing into you, the softness stark in contrast to the stiffening of the air.

You’re dazed, unsure of what you have been thrown into. You prayed for it not to be the Crowned Prince yet the gods gave you the exact opposite, your paths intertwined far more than you would have ever hoped. Running down the stairs as quickly as possible you make your way to the East wing where the chapel is. Hiding behind doors, your people watch in the nooks of the hinges, the small gaps of a slightly ajar door. Crown Prince, Lee Jeno being coordinated as King.

His face is stoic, not a single expression of any emotion, not a single thought could be read. Jeno is fitting into his facade, the tear he shed was wiped away quickly and there was not a single sign it even dropped.

He stands before the priest and he begins to speak. Every person holds their breath, even you, so focused and desperate to hear the words that’ll leave his mouth. You’re sure you’ll only see this once in this lifetime, for a great dynasty is to rule for decades.

“Sire, is his Majesty willing to take the Oath?” The priest asks.

“I am willing,” his voice confident as it carries itself and echoes through the chapel.

The Archbishop nods to a stand by to bring a book, the Bible you presume, Jeno places his right hand upon it. The Archbishop continues to speak “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the Great Kingdom of NEO, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will.”

And at that, Jeno kneels down at the altar steps and says a promise for all to see. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God.” He then walks back holding the orb in his left and the cross in his right, he makes his way to the throne on the other side, all eyes on him but his are set on the crown that awaits him. He’s assisted down into the throne, the high priest holding up the crown worth the world within his finger and he slowly places it upon his head.

“All hail King Lee Jeno.” He shouts, voice ringing through your ear and all those there.

“All hail King Lee Jeno.” All chant back

“Long live the King,” they all shout in unison.

There is your King.

“This way, your Majesty.” The man behind the camera calls as the shutter clicks. A blinding light forces Jeno to close his eyes and silently groan.

“Mark, what is this for again?” Jeno calls out to the only person he really trusts in this castle. Mark is only a year older than Jeno, raised and trained by his own father, Mark’s sole purpose in life was to serve under Jeno and help keep the castle in order. It’s only been a month since he has officially been put in the position, but unlike Jeno, Mark watched his father run the castle for his whole life. He saw and learnt all it took to make sure everything ran smooth. Mark also grew up alongside Jeno, he ran his schedule since they were young, it was to ensure that Jeno could trust Mark later on and that Mark would have a great understanding of the type of person Jeno was, his likes and dislikes, so he could serve him to his best.

“It is for the NEO Press, my Lord,” he answers back quickly. The NEO Press is arguably the most influential media, the public seem to trust their every word and their opinions on politicians have made or broke some careers. Jeno's father had a very civil relationship with NEO Press, he would always give them the story first never allowing others to twist the truth but he never stopped them from saying what they wanted. Freedom of speech is one thing Jeno's father believed to be of the utmost importance, the NEO Press in fact was the paper that tagged Jeno as a spoiled brat, his father never put an end to it. "If it's not true, why be so bothered by it?" He always said. Yet this felt wrong.

"My father never took any pictures for them, however," Jeno continues pressing Mark for questions. The biting of Mark's bottom lip is enough to indicate to Jeno that it is not something he should say, but who is he to be afraid of other than the king? "Mark I am your King and I demand to know." Jeno's voice is firm and stiff

"The Nobels set up a campaign for you, sire." His voice was weary and weak, almost hoping Jeno wouldn't hear the words that passed his lips.

"A campaign?" Jeno couldn’t conceal his shock and the offence this statement brought. As if he was a politician who had to campaign for their spot in court. He owned the court by blood. The NEO Press, whilst admirable, could easily be bribed; this was no simple coverage of their new King, this was propaganda.

"Just so the transition runs smoothly, my Lord." And at that, Jeno's jaw tightens. He is already being used as a puppet. Already they were controlling him but he won’t allow it. Taking off the silk that drapes around his shoulders, dropping it, he walks out.

"Sire, where are you going?" Mark shouts from behind, his legs trying to keep up with Jeno's.

"I'll shall return in a mere moment," he says, jaw still stiff and hands in fists. He strides down the long halls, where to? Mark has no clue.

The mere moment never arrives as Jeno storms off to his mother’s drawing room, his feet hitting against the marble floor with all his anger and haste, even as the King he runs to his mother for help he thinks to himself but excuses it for being only 21 orbits. He doesn’t even wait for the guards that stand by her door to open it; as they bow to their King, he grabs on to the golden handle and swings the heavy door open. The force and speed of the door cause the door to slam shut just after him, alerting his mother of his entrance. Her head quickly turning towards the door to see who dared to make such an entrance, she let a soft sigh leave her lips as she saw her infuriated son storm up to her but his tracks slowed once he saw she had company.

His eyes blinking at the three bodies that rose to greet him, bowing to their King. “Your majesty, it’s an honour to be in your presence.” The all too familiar and irritating voice of his uncle, Jeno is unsure of his intentions but he sounds all too condescending for him.

“What brings you here?” Jeno ignores the greetings and pleasantries, sitting down by his mother’s side. He examines the two other bodies beside his uncle, one he recognises to be his cousin sister and the other a young man he is sure he has never seen before.

“We ask for your blessing, my Grace.” He stands as if giving a speech to parliament, walking in circles around them all, he begins. “My one and only daughter is to be wed with Huang Renjun.” and at the mention of his name he bows once more before Jeno, introducing himself. “Let us hope his lordship is to bless the holy union of the two”  

His uncle is always conspiring, his daughter just as ambitious, so who is this Hwang Renjun for it would have been a much more powerful marriage if she were to wed a prince. Perhaps it was love, Jeno’s cousin had always been the selfish type; she would never sacrifice such a thing as marriage just for the advantage gain of her father. Yet Jeno couldn’t let his guard down for they are the snakes in his garden. If anyone had killed his father it would have been the man that stands before him.

“Renjun, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure to have heard or met you before,” Jeno begins his interrogation. Who is Huang Renjun? What did he offer that he was able to marry into such a family? What threats did he bring to Jeno? The questions ran in circles around Jeno, his mind running in overdrive as he feared a new possible way to overthrow him. His uncle had always wanted some way for his bloodline to sit on the throne, if it couldn’t be him he wanted it to be his son, yet god had only blessed him with a daughter though it is said she is of the son in a woman's body. A great swordsmanship and archer she is, she cares for horses and her wits is as great as any. She had always been cunning from what Jeno remembers from childhood, squirming her way out of scolding and pushing the blame on Jeno and Lady Na, finding ways out of the community service the three of them would do. She only thought of herself as a child, spoilt by her father, Jeno doubts she’s changed at all. Yet she could never sit on the throne by herself, as a woman it wouldn’t be allowed, so why marry a commoner and not a Prince?

“I am not surprised, my Lord,” Renjun lets out a breathy laugh. “I am but a commoner,” he tells Jeno.

“I see, but you must have some status, for I don’t see my dear cousin marrying a man without one nor my uncle allowing it.” Jeno pushes for answers and again Renjun lets out a soft laugh. “What is it your father does?” Jeno asks

“My father is a businessman, Sire, he works in the heart of the city,” Renjun tells Jeno, his voice clear and precise. He feels no nervousness before Jeno. Even the General quivered more than he, a commoner.

“I presume he is successful.” Jeno looks at the smug face his uncle wore. The media belittled Jeno’s uncle and cousin when the General married into the family, for they didn’t see his cousin before him marrying anyone better, despite her claim to the throne. At least a royal wedding would take the media off of Jeno for a while as well as the nobles and finally Jeno can focus on the cause of his father’s death.

“A billionaire,” Jeno’s uncle brags,”he brings great amounts to our economy.” He places his hand on Renjun’s shoulder and he’s flushed at the comment, shaking his head mumbling something about it being an overstatement.

“The courting season has just begun. I am surprised you chose so quickly, dear cousin.” And at Jeno’s words her head snaps up towards him, smiling. The same smile that Jeno hated as a child, the one that only meant doom.

“Do you not bless our marriage, Sire?” she asks, avoiding Jeno’s statement with a question.

“I bless it, may your marriage prosper, I wish you both nothing but happiness.” Jeno turns to his mother as to what she thinks and she only holds a smile, the crescent eyes of her on display and Jeno can’t help but to mirror it. All three in front of them bow to Jeno in thanks, Renjun taking his brides hand in his, he smiles at her. Jeno truly hopes they will be happy.

“Why don’t you join us for a meal? We already plan to meet with the General and his wife. Please do join us,” Queen Mother offers them an invitation and of course who was one to turn down an invitation from the King's mother. "Jeno my dear, are you busy now or will you join us?" And he simply nods his head, the NEO Press have gotten enough pictures as it is. "Well then let us all make our way," she stands and leads everyone out the room.

No one is to walk in front nor beside the King, not even his mother. It's a lonely act to walk 5 steps in front of everyone else, no one there to accompany him down the long corridors. Though his mother and Renjun do try to include him in the conversation, the space between them is far too great. The words are strained and the reply too delayed to hold a conversation yet it doesn't stop Renjun who walks slightly ahead of the others to keep Jeno company. "I have never met the General, Sire. What of a man is he?" Renjun asks

"I presume a great one, I trust my sisters and their choice in husbands," Jeno says, steps not faulting as he leads them towards the hall. Renjun smiles at this, there's a skip in his steps, a slight bounce Jeno sees. There's slight envy in Jeno as he sees this, for he would love to smile in these halls just as he did when he was young.

They reached the large banquet hall, the doors already opened as maids and servants ran in and out, you saw them enter as Mark had asked you to clean the mess that Jisung had caused by spilling orange juice. Jeno's eyes meet yours for a second that same emptiness surrounds the singular flame of vengeance. A vengeance he's not even sure of, yet it quakes his bones and boils his blood. Quickly you step back into the line of waiting staff, always on standby to serve at just the raise of a hand.

They seat themselves, Jeno at the head of the table to his right, her Grace's suitor, Renjun and her next to him. Jeno’s mother sits opposite him on the long glass table that's decorated with arrangements of flowers, silverware, silk napkins and golden flutes waiting to be used. Jeno's uncle sits beside his mother's side leaving the two remaining chairs for General Na and her Grace, who step in only moments later.

"It is an honour to meet you," Renjun stands at the arrival of the General, who bows his head his way and signals for him to sit.

Jaemin laughs at his words softly as he pulls back the large throne like chairs for his Lady. "It is much more of an honour to meet my wife." He smiles down at her and she scoffs at his playfulness with a soft blush across her cheeks and as he sits he greets all those around the table. "Thank you for inviting us, your majesty," he says to Jeno, snapping him out whatever daze he was engulfed by this time.

"We are family Jaemin," he smiles at him and in return  Jaemin returns an even brighter one. Though Jaemin and Renjun seem like good men, men who Jeno is happy to give his sisters away to, as King he can't help but feel paranoid, maybe even threatened. Though Renjun is bright and clueless, an innocence so pure it is as if a character he plays on stage. Jaemin is charming and sweet but there seems to be a sinister underlying meaning, as if threatening with kindness. Jeno knows all about perception and putting on an act, he knows all about facades. Yet he won't allow these thoughts to invade his mind unless they give reason to.

"Might I ask," Renjun begins, questions aimed at Jaemin, "How is the military dealing with the rebels at Port 127?" The food is being served, and your ears prick up at the sudden talk of political matters so quickly into the meal. Renjun skips all pleasantries, asking the question that would take back all those at the table.

Jaemin stutters slightly, a stark difference from his usual well articulated self who stands in court presenting facts and only showing confidence and reliability. The question is sudden, the sun has barely risen from the horizon and the moon, she still hangs above the clouds. "We are dealing with it the best we can, many men have been deployed and now that his majesty has been officially crowned as King, we can move forward with his help." Renjun was about to open his mouth again, endless questions about to spill out, curiosity sparkling in his eye.

"Do you mind if we choose not to converse about political matters at breakfast, it is a rather glum topic do you not think?" Jeno's mother announces, cutting Renjun off to which he only nods as he sends her a smile. There were many reasons as to why she did it which one is one that Jeno wasn't sure of. Maybe it was her motherly institution, she could feel his anxiety rise and tighten the noose around his neck, could feel the crown suddenly become too heavy to wear for her son who wasn't ready to become an idol for those to worship. Did she do it because she didn't want Jeno's uncle to hear about a sudden uprising that is a threat to the crown, giving him a motive. Whatever the reason Jeno is grateful.

"When is the wedding?" Lady Na asks her sister, who sits opposite, breaking the silence that was looming over Jeno, finally he can breathe.

"By the full moon," she replies coldly, blunt as ever. She was never much of a conversationalist. She considered herself greater than all if not then most, her eyes were always set on the throne but not in the naive way of a five year old, in a much more ambitious way. She was raised with the hunger for power, the thirst for the crown to sit upon her head. She never liked Jeno for this exact reason, a boy destined for greatness they'd say, yet she never saw what was special about him. In fact he was quite the opposite of a King in her eyes, a boy who was quiet and sweet, easily manipulated and gullible. How would someone as soft and kind as him rule over a kingdom? How would he command a military? He was too kind, she thought.

“It was as if it was like yesterday the three of you were running around these great halls and now you are married.” Jeno's mother begins to reminisce, staring at all three, who she considers each as her own. Watching them grow up and spending all the time she could with them, each one of them is her child, though not biologically, the love she feels for the other two is immense. A proud fondness blooms in her chest as she sees the elegance and beauty they have each grown with. She begins to fill the rest of breakfast with anecdotes of a time that seems ancient, of another life that they all wish to fill their days once more. A time where the little moments in life mattered, like the first snow that fell down in winter, the first bloom of the Royal garden, picking apples in the orchard, horse riding with the wind breaking through their hair, staring up at the stars. The universe that is much bigger than the three children that looked up with doe eyes, in absolute awe of the world. Smiles stretched along everyone's lips, occasional bubbles of laughter spilling through and it was as if the air was lighter, Jeno basked in the moment.

Breakfast was quick to be cleared, pulled to the side by Mark afterwards, you followed him to an empty corridor. "Here," he extends his arm and a small, neatly folded piece of paper is held between his thumb and the side of his index finger. He shakes his hand slightly, hurrying you in taking it, looking around to see if anyone was passing by. "It's from his majesty," he emphasises its urgency.

"What does it say?" You ask, eyes wide as you take the paper from his grasp and into your own possession. You weren't shocked to have a note from Jeno come your way but the fact he asked Mark to pass it on, was Mark allowed to know?

"If it is not for my eyes then I would not wound his majesty by intercepting and reading words not meant for me," Mark tells you as if that was blatant, he scoffs. It's now you realise how well Jeno knows Mark, to be able to trust him to not even have any curiosity to open the note, how much respect Mark has for Jeno to not even dare to have that curiosity.

You stare down at the paper, playing around with edges, you are hesitant to open it. Scared that it will only make this dreaded reality more of one, if you ignore it will it go away? Of course it wouldn't, you shake your head, he is the king and anything his majesty wants, he gets. "Just open it already," Mark interrupts your thoughts, he rolls his eyes at your hesitance. "It would not be anything serious, a private note probably is him asking to bed you and nothing more.." You’re taken back slightly by the unfiltered words that leave Mark, eyes wide and he only laughs at your reaction. "His majesty is a grown man, ___," he laughs once again, turning around to leave, lifting his hand as a gesture of farewell. “Have fun," he giggles once more.

"Fuck you, Mark Lee," you grunt under your breath as you finally pry open the neatly folded paper, rough tears along the sides and black ink still fresh. You can smell it, you read the cursive writing, written with a fine and steady hand. The words look like a form of artwork, the way each letter swirls and connects to the next with intricate detailing to each letter, Jeno's royal blood clearly running through the ink itself. He writes with elegance and poise, as a king should. "My chambers, midnight." The note reads nothing more, and you roll your eyes at the words. If Mark was to read the note, he wouldn't have thought anything other than the lewd thoughts that already cloud his mind, but you know this note means death is only coming closer.

"____." The familiar voice of Fei calls out to you, "Jisung spilt more orange juice." And you throw your head back, a loud groan passing your lips as you curse Park Jisung in as many ways as possible. "I'm coming," you shout back, slipping the note into the pocket of your apron.

Mopping the marble floor of the great banquet hall, the second time that day did not put anyone in a good mood. Jisung is lucky he did not break any glasses, for that would cause a mess that none would have let him through. As you and Fei finally ring the last orange soaked towel into a bucket, knees sore and arms aching, you finally sit back and let out heavy sighs. "I'm going to kill Jisung." Fei falls onto her back, legs splayed out, the rise and fall of her chest rapid. You mimic her actions, allowing yourself to be spread along the shining marble floor, you laugh at her comment before allowing silence to engulf you both for a moment, closing your eyes, you just breathe. Until broken, "What’s this?" Fei asks, a small piece of paper in between her fingers.

"Hmm," you hum as you pry one eye open. At first you don't realise but then panic crashes down on you all at once, throwing your body forward, you jump up but it's too late. The note was already open and her eyes scanned every letter that was so beautifully written.

"Holy shit," her eyes are wide and you see them read the note over and over again, "Holy. shit," she says much slower, emphasising each word to which you roll your eyes, snatching the note from her hand.

"It is not what it seems." You get up off the floor and make your way out the banquet hall, avoiding her begging eyes that demand answers to the million of questions that run through her head.

"There is no way it is not like what it seems," she rebuts, "No one meets with the king in his own chambers, let alone at midnight." She hurries after you, following you as you turn through the complex maze of corridors.

"It is not from his majesty," you scoff at her as if she is foolish enough to fall for it.

"No one writes as beautifully, no commoner that is for sure." She's quick to argue back, there's no fooling her. Anyone with functioning eyes could see the painted words belong to no one less of a King. You curse the King and his constant need to show his authority, even in writing. You guess he does not mind the rumours, for they have no effect on him, but for you, society has decided it will leave you stained.

"Will you say yes?" She asks as you enter the kitchen, busy as always but Fei was never one to know her surroundings as she carries on loudy, "Will you go to see him?"

"See who?" another voice intercepts, letting out a deep sigh as your skin irk, annoyance so clear and evident amongst your features but it doesn't stop anyone.

"The King," Fei is quick to answer the other maids as if peer pressure was to get answers out of you. "He requests an audience with her at midnight." the women squeal at the words that leave her mouth. Any woman would think lucky of you, to be favoured by the King. You would be dressed in riches, become a lady of the court and if God blessed you, a child is what you'd gift to his majesty. Though the child would not be in line for succession, they would be looked after as royal blood ran through their veins and you as their mother.

"There is no choice but to see him," another tells the two of you, much older she has been in the castle since you were children. You suppose she's seen this happen before, yet little do they know of the actual situation.

"Personally I find General Na much more attractive." Higgles explode at the statement, lightening the mood slightly you find yourself laughing along. "Oh and have you seen the new Sire, Sir Hwang is beautiful." more giggles arise as the women discuss their type in men of the Royals.

"Oh have you seen the portrait of Lee Haechan, he is as handsome as they get," someone else chimes in and everyone bursts into giggles again, lungs seizing to work. "The criminal?" Shock paints its way onto Fei 's face, causing all of them to laugh once more. Your annoyance subsides as you giggle with them, long forgotten was your note and instead conversation flowed of men the women would accept in a second, if they had been asked.

Midnight arrives much sooner than you would have liked, the stillness of the night disrupted with the erratic beating of your heart, the beauty of the moon stolen by the anxiousness that settles in your stomach. You pace back and forth the corridor that nears the King's chambers. Two guards stationed outside as always, you're hesitant to go up to them. Yet they know of your arrival, expecting you, they don't question a thing. Instantly opening the doors to you, they allow you in, quick to close the door behind you as well as if they were told to conceal you. You walk slowly and quietly through the drawing room, hoping the King had fallen asleep and giving a good reason to have left without making your presence known. Yet he is not, he waits for you, the balcony door left open, spring nights sweeps its way through and into the room, a chill running through you. You stepped outside to find him, the moonlight shining down on him, his skin kissed by Selene, beauty gifted by Aphrodite. The blood that runs through his veins is truly one of Gods. He restores the beauty of the night.

You settle next to him, bowing as you come closer but he doesn't turn nor does his eyes even acknowledge your presence. They never leave the endless garden of flowers, yet you think he looks beyond them. You stand in silence for a while, not daring to snap him out of his daze. Standing behind him, you too allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts and the beauty of the night sky, walking amongst the stars you think of your parents who have long gone by now, amongst the stars they lie and burn into the next life. You think of your own life and the meaning it holds, not much you think will it ever be anything that what it is now? Your eyes look towards the King, who still looks onwards, and you think maybe this is where you gain more.

"Is there something on my face?" His hand reaches up to cheek, voice snapping you out of your thoughts. He rubs at the skin softly, pulling back his hand to see if there was any residue.

"No Sire," you are quick to respond, shaking your head to emphasise it.

His eyes finally meet yours as he turns himself to you, "I suppose you know why I have summoned you," he starts off, about to continue to speak until he sees a shiver shoot down your spine, every muscle of yours slightly shaking. He stops. "Are you cold?" His voice is stern as if he's telling you rather than asking. "Sit," he ushers you towards the chairs that are carelessly placed, tugging on the velvet that wraps round him he covers your bare arms in hope of stopping the shivers. Jeno was always polite, he never went out of his way to burden anyone, never asked for much if he was able to do it himself but this is far from just being polite and you think about the dangers you will be placed in.  

"The one I suspect most, is none other the next in line." His statement doesn't surprise you, if you were to bet on anyone it would also be placed on Jeno's uncle. Growing up in the castle you have had countless encounters with the man in mention. He was cold, jealousy clear in his eyes as they set upon Jeno who only furthered his grasp on the crown and every time he saw him it worsened for Jeno had been growing, if he was to even sit on the throne momentarily he would have to hurry. Though it seemed the man tried his best to love Jeno, bringing him presents from travels abroad though now you think it was to conceal his raging hate. "Though there are others." He starts again, "The General, any of the Earls," he lists out his suspicions.

"And what exactly is it you want me to do Sire?" You ask him, causing his eyes to drift towards you once more.

"Investigate them," he says as if it was as simple as that. "As a maid, no one suspects a thing. You have access to private conversations, others will tell you of the conversations they have overheard." He begins to explain your role.

"Why not ask Mark?" you cut him off, he's slightly startled, his eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening at your sharpness in tone  but he lets it slip past.

"Mark is not one for gossip. He only remembers what's important and to him that is seating and formal dinner arrangements, he takes a lifetime to tell a story and the fact he is so close to me is enough for people to be wary of him. You however have known all the people in this castle, since your first breath. They trust you and no one knows of my commands, if anything, they think I am sleeping with you and that is all." So he knows about the insolent rumours and you roll your eyes upon hearing them. "I am certainly not that bad for you to be offended," he says in mock pain, a slight smile playing on his lips and you did not think the King was one to joke.

"Strictly speaking Sire, I have no opinion of you," you reply honestly, you were never one to overly please the Royals. There were enough Nobels for that.

"Very well," he clears his throat of the slight awkwardness "Any other questions?" He asks

"When do we start, my Grace?"

“When the moment arises, you will know.”

Time flies as if it were an arrow, now in the king’s country seat, never a day of rest and Jeno finds himself in the same position as he did just over a month ago. Standing before the large group of nobles who all bow at his feet, holding knives behind their backs. "Long live the King" they chant, ironic Jeno thinks. With a wave of his hand they all take their seats, smoothing out the creases in their gowns, they settle. Jeno's mother is not with him today, as he is now officially King it is not permitted for her to be with him yet Kun is still beside him and the crowd is no one unusual yet it doesn't stop the jitters crawling up Jeno's skin making it itch.

Hours and hours this lasts until Jeno hears the words that finally arrive "Lastly we speak of the rebels who refer to themselves as the Helios," Kun's voice rings through the chamber, every man tensing at the mention of the rebel group. Kun continues going through details that need to be discussed. "Since the bombing of Port 127, the military has managed to save all, not a single life was taken and managing to capture two prisoners." Applause echoes throughout the great hall, words of praise and compliments thrown towards Jaemin and Jeno himself is clapping, smiling his way. "Yet we worry with the upcoming royal wedding, it allows opportunity for enemies, Sire," Kun turns to Jeno, asking him for his input. Jeno hears the many murmurs, some discussing the delay in such a large scale event, some suggesting max military protection for the elite.

"The ceremony of their union will go on," Jeno silences the mutters. "We will have the army patrolling the streets as well as guarding the chapel. The staff will be only the castle staff, for those are the only ones worth placing our trust in." Though some look appeased, Jeno can see the few with fear evident in their eyes or a scrawl

'Sire, please consider the delay of such an event," a voice shouts out and many more follow in agreement, their voices getting louder and louder until all together they fall with the bang of the gavel. Kun orders silence. "One at a time," his voice vibrates authority into each man.

"My Grace," Jeno's uncle stands before the court, "I see no reason as to why my daughter should have to wait any further in being wedded." Jeno rolls his eyes at his tone and gesture, hand to his chest but the smirk so evident on his face, he causes the red of anger to rise up to the surface of Jeno’s skin, an unbearable heat taking over.

"Reason? The risk of her breathing her last on such a day, is not reason enough?" A voice shouts out and chaos ensues once more. Screams of those who agree, shouting of those who disagree, gasps of those in which fear has rooted deeply in.

"Order!" Kun shouts once more with the bang of the gavel that makes its way into Jeno's mind, a throbbing in his head as all the voices are quick to silence themselves, a few murmurs still hanging in the air. Jeno rests his head against his palm, eyes half closed and with a deep sigh he motions with the flick of his wrist for the court to resume.

"So you fear the North? You fear Helios?" Jeno's uncle says once more. "Do you not have enough faith in the strength of our men, our army. No faith in our General who has dealt with attack after attack?" Jeno's uncle spins around to preach these words to every man that sits in court until finally he has spun back, facing Jeno before he could ever think about changing his mind. "Do you not put your faith in our King?" He lifts an eyebrow, challenging the King.

Jeno's jaw tightens at his words, for they do not put their faith in him. "The wedding will go on, my sister is to marry when she would like." And at his final word, Kun bangs the gavel once more, dismissing the court. Jeno is quick to leave, he does not wait anymore for the first few nobles to leave. Each of his steps filled by fury, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes set ablaze. This heart hammers against his chest, his skin burns as the roaring flame of rage engulfs his every thought, a red haze blinding him. He hears Mark’s hurried steps after him though they are muffled by the rage that rushes towards his head causing his ears to pop.

"My Lord,'' Mark huffs out. "Please, what is the haste?" He grabs onto his forearm, turning Jeno to face him. Tears run down in streams, his breaths ragged once more as his chest heavies rapidly “My Grace.'' Mark is taken aback, his grip loosens and his hand slowly falls back to his side, he has no idea what to do, no idea on how to stop the shaking, the constant flood of tears that blurs Jeno’s vision. He wasn’t taught how to deal with this, regardless of how many times he’s seen his majesty fall apart before him, rage aching throughout him that he could only cry, Mark couldn’t do a thing. For instinct called for him to hold him close to his chest, hoping his warmth and the regular drumming of his heart would sooth him but he wasn’t allowed to touch such a figure of great power, Mark already got ahead of himself by grabbing onto his majesty. He must not step out of line again but Jeno’s head falls on his shoulder, tears soaking through his dress shirt and Mark can’t stop his hand that goes to rest in Jeno’s hair, patting his head slowly. The King sobs.

This was everything but a nightmare, Mark wouldn’t wake him up with the streams of golden sunlight that cause his eyes to sting. Jeno’s greatest fears that blossom in nightmares bloom in reality, his fear of not being enough. His fear of being easily manipulated, losing his throne, losing the crown that sits heavy on his head. His fear of disappointing his father, even in death the man’s approval is all Jeno thinks of.

He rests on Mark’s shoulder until all the tears have fallen, until the shaking has stopped and until the rage has subsided. He sniffles against Mark's shoulder and lets out small giggles as he pulls away seeing the oddly shaped wet stains, he mumbles an apology and Mark can’t help but let out soft laughter too. “I ask you of a favour, Mark,” Jeno stands straight, fixing the velvet that drops from his shoulders and smoothing the wrinkles in his dress shirt, “Give this note to ____.” his voice is soft and slightly strained, he hands Mark the neatly folded parchment with teared edges.

“I’ll send them with tea Sire,” Mark says, turning instead of taking the note in hand. Curiosity was only natural but Mark always finds a way to keep his own in check, Jeno smiles as he watches him turn the corner and once out of sight he makes his way to his chambers.

Being called by the King was something you constantly expected, constantly dreaded, for each time the other would smirk and those brave enough would chime in a few chants or whistles. Fei would always give you a pointed look regardless of you assuring her that you hadn’t slept with Jeno. "Anxiousness?" Fei questions as you explained the frequent episodes his highness faces, the quivering and shaky breaths and how you were the one to find him in such a state.

"Yes," you confirm as you stir the brewing jasmine tea. She accepts the explanation but her eyes still tell a different story and they follow you as you make your way up the marble steps. Silver tray carefully balanced in hand, you walk slowly up towards the King’s chambers, his large doors as daunting as ever, the intricate gold that spirals up the painted white wood and long slim handles that fit perfectly in hand. Two guards as always, ready to hoist open the door as soon as they see you but the door doesn’t open as widely as it usually does, instead just a slither. Jeno slips into the crack, revealing himself to you, he doesn't say a word he doesn’t have to for his eyes says it all. Fury, anger, rage. They all pulse through him, though dull they seep into the bloodstream, effect everlasting. His hands graze over yours, thumb slipping into your palm and instead of the smoothness of a King’s thumb that has not seen a single day of work, rough parchment scratches you and instantly your hand wraps into a fist. He takes the tray off your hands and before you can even look up once again, the doors are pulled shut.

You waited until you were round the corner, out of sight of the foot guards, you opened notes that seemed one for lovers, straightening the folds of the paper. It read a decipher, “midnight is upon u," the phrase was strange and out of place to anyone who's eyes would fall upon it but you understood it all the same, the moment arises on the balcony almost a fortnight when midnight had been upon you and now midnight is fast approaching once more, you suppose it was something similar he read in one of the many scripts of literature, arrangements not many have had the privilege of reading. Jeno was definitely one of the few in the kingdom of such a high level of education and though the inferences of such saying has not much meaning to you, you still appreciate the beauty of words. "Midnight is upon us."  you whisper to yourself and as you turn the parchments corner slightly, in the smallest font, you squint to see "I under the moonlight of a full moon."

The full moon arrived quickly and as expected Jeno stood in the moonlight that came in the form of cameras shuttering at every moment as the nation watched the Princess walk down the aisle. White, pristine gown, she is gorgeous. The halls heavily guarded, fear could be smelt in the air as every Nobel gathered in one place, all seated in rows and rows. It would be so easy to cause chaos, too easy for the Helios. Commoners waiting outside, rows and rows of children holding bunches of flowers to hand to their princess as a congratulations. A gathering that asked for massacre but that was pushed far back in your mind, as the looming orders from his majesty clouded all.

"______." Jisung taps your shoulder, calling you, he takes your eyes off the setting sun and the rising moon. You meet his smile and naturally one falls upon your lips. "They'll be entering the ballroom soon, Mark-" he's cut off by his own laughter that he couldn't keep in at the sight of your face dropping at the mention of the name. "Hey come on, Mark's not that bad." Jisung walks you over to the ballroom that where the mentioned awaits.

"He is when he's barking orders at us," you roll your eyes and Jisung laughs once more at the annoyance that paints your face. "He acts like I haven't seen him piss his pants," you scoff.

"In his defence he was 8," Jisung defends Mark who isn't present to do so yet does little to hide the amused look as the memory floods back into his mind.

"And you, barely 5, still had better control of your bladder," you smile at a time long gone, as you near the large ballroom. Servants and maids at every corner, waiting for a raise of the hand, the clearing of a throat or just one who just speaks to the air. Dozens of golden flutes filled with golden liquid in hand, platters filled with small and delicate starters. We wait to work through the crowd, unnoticed we go until we are needed.

"Where have you been?" Mark marches his way towards you as soon as he sees your figures make their way through the entrance. His voice is stern but he’s Mark, his kindness is overwhelming and the sparkling of his eyes are too precious for one to ever feel intimidated. He’s highly respected however, his leadership and caring nature making him the castle’s sweetheart, you are certain he’s gotten proposals from all who set eyes on him, some even from high nobels. He’s rejected them all though, the excuse of a wife would only get in the way of his duties but everyone knows that’s not true. For a moment all speculated he already was in love with another but he didn't ever leave the castle so you disregarded the rumours.  

“We were watching the ceremony,” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you all moved out of the way of the entrance, last minute decorations and drinks coming through the door. “You know how excited Jisung gets during big events,” you tease and Mark lets out a little laugh releasing a little tension from earlier.

“The decorations are pretty,” Jisung mumbles in a pout as he defends himself and you can’t help but smile at his pure innocence, he’s adorable. Nor can Mark as he lets out his squealing laugh as he hits Jisungs shoulder before squeezing his cheeks and calling him cute.  

The church bell rings and Mark jumps out of his skin, the sound ripping through the air and Mark is quick to shout out orders, directing everyone to their stations. “Head on now.” He doesn’t bother to face you two as his eyes scan over the ballroom once more, everything must be perfect. They begin to flood in, best gowns on display, a sea of a thousand colours. Fanfare blares through the hall as his majesty walks through, the crowds parting as the red sea once did, his mother on his arm and then another blow of the trumpet and the bride and groom walk through followed by Jeno’s uncle. The third and final call of attention as the general and her grace walk through. The three calls before judgement arrives. “The night has only begun,” Mark whispers and he couldn’t have been more correct.

The violin cuts through the air and the string quartet begins their piece, diluting the chatter that arrives with the nobles. Jisung is instantly pulled away by the raise of a hand, rushing away quickly with a dozen golden flutes your eyes follow his figure until he’s washed away. The crown is so obviously burning into you, his eyes not leaving your figure for a second and you can practically hear his thoughts from here, questioning why you aren’t moving. Why haven't you started your quest and followed through with his orders. Lee Jeno has no patience you think to yourself as you too grab onto a tray of the gold liquid, then again why should he, he is a king.

You navigate through the crowd, avoiding nobles who are known to be too needy, you're too busy for that you think. You pass by the thrones that sit above the crowd, Jeno’s eyes still following your every move, you send a wink his way and watch his face contour in confusion or slight disgust you aren’t too sure. Either way his furrowed eyebrows and slight pouting were amusing, something you find yourself in need to survive this night. Continuing to ignore the lesser nobles, you make your way towards the number one suspect. He stands there tall, front and centre, a crowd surrounds him congratulating him on the marriage of his daughter. He speaks with pride, his head held up high, he waves his hand up as he his eyes meet yours and instantly you are at his side, serving the many flutes to the people that are practically on their knees worshipping him. He speaks of his new son, bragging to all who’ll listen and they entertain him by asking question after question. They gasp, ooh and aah at all he has to say, feeding the enormous ego. If you thought Jeno was entitled, you were mistaken for pride took human form in his uncle.

You hang around them even when you have finished serving, no one thinking twice about your position nor caring for you were invisible to them. The crowd around him soon dwindles as the stories begin to repeat themselves and as the floor opens up for the dancing to commence. The string quartet playing the usual ballroom music, you hum a long, listening in on the conversations around, ignoring all hands that raise up unless it leads you closer to Jeno’s uncle. A countess waves her hand and you're quick to approach, never leave the rich waiting is what you learned very quickly, pretending not to hear they will forgive for there is always some else there who’ll serve but slow service is never forgiven. You refill her flute and she raises it to her lips instantly, emptying it of its contents and she again motions for you to replace it again, a bored expression on her face as her husband hangs on to every word that falls from Jeno’s uncle's mouth. “Poison?” Your ears perk up immediately.

“Very effective, quick execution and not a single suspicion,” he says loudly as if murder was not a crime, even for someone of such high status and power there is no avoiding punishment for murder, depending who it is. “So I hear,” he's quick to add.

“Of course, Sire,” and then the two men laugh, giving all too knowing looks. “Hypothetically speaking. how would one know such poisons.”

"Standard herbology" he tells him "Though I suppose not all have such privilege to study the concept," he boasts, you and the countess both rolling your eyes. "I think I have some files stored away in a country seat, I'll be sure to invite you sometime or if so urgent I'll send a messenger with the docu-"

Darkness. Silence. Nothing but the heaviness and the loud beating in your chest, your eyes are screwed shut, unable to open, stinging with each attempt. Suddenly it’s cold, every hair on your body raising, chills running down your spine, your heartbeat in your mind, it’s pulsing and suddenly all noises flood back in at once, a ringing in your ear causing you to wince. Five shots explode in the air, screams and cries as people push past you, some falling to their knees. The many golden flutes that were once in your hand now shattered on the floor, grey smog invades the room as the moonlight floods in through the gaping hole made in the wall, a foul smell following after it. It’s sickening and you feel bile threatening to rise at the back of your throat as the stench overwhelms you. You don’t have to be told what it is, it is potent and clear, the smell of burning humans is so distinct. For no smell is as foul.

Another two shots, the lights flicker for seconds before failing completely, the room a void, the once beautiful moonlight posing sinister. Another shot followed by screams, a body falling and another. You scream with them, you cry as death nears you closer and closer.  There’s a tug at your wrist as you’re pulled back into the rushing crowd that runs out of the ballroom. A tall figure pulling at you, dragging you through the crowds of panic, your vision still foggy you can’t make out who pulls at your arm until all the grey smog has fully cleared and you’re out into the long corridors where the crowds of people are packed. There are wails of cries that echo constantly through the hallway, yet still you are pulled through them all until you find yourself in the all too familiar kitchen downstairs. The rush and the blurs finally stop, enabling you to see clear and concise images. You finally see Jisung who stands before you, hand still holding on tight to your wrist as he looks around for what you aren't sure of. Your breaths ragged, your hands still shake in his grip.

You pull your wrists out if his grasp, turning his attention back to you, his head turns. "Blood," you manage between breaths,  lifting up a rag that sits on the table and pressing it to his head. He lets out a surprised squeal escape his lips that form into an "o" shape, he hadn't noticed the wound inflicted on his head, hadn't noticed the blood that slowly dripped down the side of his face, for adrenaline coursed throughout his whole body. He winces as you press the now champagne soaked rag to his temple once more, scrunching his nose and knowing better than to complain to you. "And Mark?" worry evident on your features and voice, though your words so few.

"Assisting his majesty," his reply instant.

"Mark is anything but a guard," you hiss as you press the rag harder to his temple, he winces again, holding on your wrist until you ease the pressure.

"It is his duty." Jisung argues back

"To serve, not babysit." You grab Jisung's wrist replacing your own hand with his. "Keep it to your head, I'll return in a mere moment.”

"Off to where?" He asks, watching you ascend the stairs back towards the panicking crowds but you ignore his question. “______!” He shouts, “It’s not safe! We need to get out of here”

The nobles clamored into their carriages, all eager to leave the premises and back to their own private estates but if one is not safe in the King's Country seat, where would they be safe? Though you guess they finally realise their irrelevance in society.  Helios were not after minor influences of society, they were here for the crown.

Jeno sat above the rest of the world, the crown sitting above him. He looks down on all and now he is on his knees, at the mercy of the world.  His hands shake and shake no matter how much he tries to stabilize them, eyes focused on nothing but them, he uses all his might and yet still they shake. Another thing he has lost control over, his own body or did he never have control over it? For all the times he couldn’t help the raging emotions that broke the dam causing tears to fall. Jeno is a king yet he has no control over anything, neither his people nor himself.

Fear eats away at him, anxiety crippling him and shame looming over him; it clouds his decisions and judgment for all he wants is to please those around him. He let his uncle push him against the wall, allowing him to make a fool of him once more. It was Jeno’s final decision to have the wedding despite the risks, he had practically put a huge bullseye on himself, a target for Helios. He grips onto his crown, pointed tops digging into the skin of his palms, Jeno pushes it harder until he feels the drawing of blood, until he feels the sting.  He clutches on to it before throwing the crown so it lays beside him, his crimson blood dripping down the sides of it. It strangles him, chaining him to this misery, he struggles to breathe in its presence. He doesn't deserve to wear the symbol of ultimate power he thinks . For he has anything but power. And it's here he cries once more to his father, "please" he begs, "I was not ready nor am I now.” He allows the tears to break past the dam once more, too weak to hold them in, a pain too great. “Come back…. Please,” he whimpers.

It’s upon the sound of the doors being hoisted open that makes Jeno turn to see your figure, you stand fists tightened until you see the shine of Jeno’s eyes and you immediately drop them. “I told Mark, I was to be kept alone,” he manages between sniffles.

“He is unaware of my presence Sire,” you tell him and Jeno is instantly intrigued for if you were to show face it would be with information of any sought.

“Then what is it you come to tell your King?” He asks and you think how he still manages to place the facade over himself once more, even in such vulnerability. For the title is so clearly driving him to insanity.

“Tell me Sire, what does it mean to be King?” You ask as you sit a little behind him.

“You deny my question?” He responds

“And you mine? Do you not have answers?” You respond. Questions with questions, you answer each other in a loop, no answers being found. Yet Jeno has more at stake then you, for if he simply denies to answer, so do you.

“To be perfect,” he finally replies, looking down towards his still trembling bloody hands.  

“Perfect does not exist,” you tell him.

But he shakes his head “It is not for you to understand,” he sighs. “For even if it were not real, the illusion must be there. To make reality into perfection, a king makes perfect.”

“Seems more like a coward than a King.” Your tongue lets loose, unfiltered your words are and you wonder when you truly lost your mind because you would very much like it back, for this foolishness is unexplainable.

He doesn’t seem to mind though as he lets laughter escape his lips and it’s here you truly wonder if he has also lost his mind. “I suppose they are the equivalent,” he lets out laughter, so loud it rings. He sounds insane, the image of a king on his knees before the streaming moonlight that’s let in through the open balcony doors, crown thrown to the side decorated with his blood. The same blood that drips down onto the floor, it seems crazy. Yet he speaks truth that no other man would be so brave enough to utter, you wonder is he insane or is he so aware of reality.

“What would you want King to mean, Sire?” Jeno is taken aback by these words for he has never once thought that it could have another meaning, for what he was taught had been installed for generations. His blood carries such honour and riches, he is the sole heir of NEO given the best education and luxuries and it takes a servant’s questioning  for him to think about how intends to rule. Jeno was truly not ready, for all he knew was he was to sit on that throne, to place the crown above his head.

“Fair.” He answers, “I want to be just, I want to end this war and I want to be better for my people. To fill my father’s place and be better than my father and his father and all those before him. I want a united nation, North and South put aside. We are all the same, the farmers in the north and the industry workers in the south, they are no different. Me and you are no different.” He grabs onto his crown, holds it up to the sky, moonlight shining through the jewels and light refracts on to your face. Blinding, you squint as you watch Jeno crown himself King, and he rises before you. For this was his true coronation.

“So tell me what you have found,” he doesn’t ask, he demands. And you rise to your feet, standing next to the King who claims you as his equal.

“Your uncle speaks of poisons to a count, says they are effective with not a trace left for suspicion. Documents kept in some country seat, he intends to invite said count or send a messenger. It is not much but it is worth investigating.” You tell him as you both stare out into the midnight sky once more.

“For murder, regardless my father or not has to be punished. The threat alone is incriminating enough.” He responds, aware of the slight fault in your voice. His reassurance telling you, you have succeeded him.

Jeno was to return to the castle instantly, his hands now wrapped in bandages, he sits in a carriage with Mark who doesn’t question what happened, even when he sees the wounds as he changes the dressing. Jeno supposes Mark knows their self inflicted, for after the attack he had been sure to check for even any slight tear of Jeno’s skin. Jeno doesn’t wear his crown today, even though you washed the blood away, he finds his head to be lighter without it. He is the crown he decides, he the symbol of ultimate power.

“Gloves, Sire.” Mark holds them open for Jeno to slip his hand into.

“What for?” Jeno asks though he instantly places his hands in.

“A summit awaits your arrival. I assumed you would want to keep this hidden.” Mark says, head bowed as he makes sure the gloves fit securely, all whilst trying his best not to hurt him. “I am sorry if my assumption is wrong,” he makes sure to add.

“Thank you Mark,” is all Jeno says and the carriage falls into silence once more.

Jeno has no idea where he would be without Mark, truly Jeno owes him his life. For not only has he been the greatest of help, he has remained to be the only person in Jeno’s life he has ever even considered a friend. His only friend. “Mark!” Jeno calls .

“Yes Sire.” And as always instantly Mark’s head whips up towards Jeno, ready to hear his orders.

“Call me Jeno.”

“Please accept my regrets, my Grace, but I simply could not.” Mark’s voice is high pitched and squeaky as it always does when he’s surprised. Jeno thinks back to when he told him he had taken his father’s amulet once and Mark had the same gasp and squeal. His voice high pitched, even higher than a seven year olds is usually, as he forced Jeno to march back into the King’s chambers to return it. Jeno can’t help but smile as he reminisces.

“Regrets denied. Truly Mark you wound me.” Jeno fakes a hurt expression as he clutches onto his chest. “I did not know it would have to come to this but I suppose you leave me no choice. It’s a command. I command thee to call me Jeno.”

Mark is left somewhat speechless but Jeno can hear the cogs turning in his head and he knows his words are just on the tip of his tongue. “Mark, just say it,” Jeno sighs as he stares out the window.

“Uh yes Sire, I mean Jeno,” he stumbles over his words and the word sounds foreign out of his mouth but Jeno likes it. “Why so suddenly, your majesty?”

“Jeno,” he corrects quickly before Jeno could mention it and at this Jeno smiles.

“Sudden? If anything this is long overdue. I have known you my whole life Mark, there is not a single human on this earth that deserves the right to call me by my name more than you. You are my friend, the only one at that.” Mark only dips his head smiling, flustered he is, he doesn’t respond to what Jeno says.

“I have a question.” Jeno once again pulls Mark’s attention back onto him and it’s now he thinks he’s getting his own back for all the times Mark has interrupted his thoughts. “What do you think of me as King?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean Sire?”

“Jeno,” he reminds him “ And I mean, do you think I make a good one?”

“I think you try your best. In the end that’s all we ask,” Mark responds and Jeno couldn’t have asked for a better answer. “You’ll do well, Jeno. I know so because I know you. You were born to be King.” Mark adds on with a smile.

“Thank you Mark.”

As soon as Jeno arrived back to the castle he made his way to the council hall, two guards now accompany him even in the palace walls along with Mark. “You will be discussing the attack on your Country Estate, in Neozone, the General will give a report on how he dealt with the situation as well as the victims and casualties. From there it is up to you to accommodate the redemptions you see fit to give the families that have suffered.” Mark briefs Jeno quickly on the emergency summit as they walk down the long corridors.

“Got it.” Jeno nods his head as the grand doors are pulled open. All rise once they spot Jeno’s figure entering through the door, awaiting him by the entrance is Kun who now escorts him to the throne, instead of Mark who waits behind. Jeno flicks his wrist and they all fall back into their seats, except Kun who now walks back into the stand to lead the discussions.

“Today we call you all for the discussion of the attack on his majesty’s country estate in Neozone, the attack was carried out by the Helios, a terrorist organisation run by Lee Haechan. You all are aware of this but the new identification of the leader is thanks to General Na, who will inform us on the attack in further detail.

Jaemin takes to the middle and stands there tall, he doesn't have any parchment with him unlike all the rest who present in parliament, “The rebel group confirmed this morning with an exclusive interview with the Neo Times, a northern media, that they were indeed the group that attacked the manor last evening.” he begins “Though the full guard of the castle had been moved into Neozone to guard his majesty and his guests, our full force was spread thin as we patrolled the coast, towns as well as the manor. To have prevented such a high scale attack we would have needed military involvement. However that would have put every other major landmark at risk, me and the men I had available worked our best to ensure a minimise of casualties.” There are a few scoffs as he talks but none truly daring to be loud enough for Jaemin to hear, they respect him, Jeno thinks to himself.

Jaemin continues to explain the severity of the attack, “The explosion was only to clear the rear wall, though due to the layout of the ballrooms set up, five lives were taken here. This allowed infiltration of an enemy we are not too sure of. Seven shots were fired, five into the air and two into the crowd, each one taking a life. Nobles were taken from the Kim family as well as the Wong family. A total of seven lives lost.”

“You say you aren’t sure of the ones who shot in the ballroom, how so is that possible?” Someone dares to interrupt, Jaemin pauses to look at Kun who signals for him to answer the question, the question we all were thinking.

"We believe “someone who works for the crown has betrayed your highness' trust and either gave an entrance to the attackers or are the attackers"

"Impossible." Jeno interrupts "everyone who served us that evening, having been serving the Lee family for generations. I place my trust in each and everyone of them, my life in their hands more than I would in yours General." Wide eyes and mutters erupt but Jeno doesn't feel threatened, not anymore.

"I understand your view your majesty but please do not rule the possibility out" Jaemin says calmly but the look in his eyes burn fury "as for why we struggled to deal with the attackers, they had specialised equipment that we believed and have now confirmed to have been stolen from "camp 119" a military base. I and the NEO Guard will further investigate breaches in the military and with the help of his majesty I request permission to do the same for the castle staff."

"Is it wise to focus on an inside rat rather than the bigger problem here General. As you say your men are already spread out thin, I would hate for such investigations to get in the way of proper defence if another attack was to happen" Jeno presses Jaemin for his incompetence. "The truth is we all put our trust in you and your men last time we gathered in these walls, you have failed us once. Do not do it again."

"And I ask you my Grace, to not be so easily pressured into making decisions that put us in a vulnerable state." Jaemin presses into Jeno's flaw, his mistake. "Helios is a great enemy and I cannot turn a blind eye to their strength regardless if they are northerners or not. So I ask you my Grace to not make me an enemy and to help me for without your support this is truly a lost cause."

The problem is what Na Jaemin portrays Jeno as, a hurdle in defeating the Helios. He makes it seem as if Jeno's actions are leading to the difficulties the military face, a way to hide their incompetence and the nobles will fall for it for they have placed their trust in Jaemin already. They will rather watch NEO fall than admit being wrong.

"You have all my support, that I assure you General. I just ask you to take heed of my insight." And with that council drawn to a close, Kun banging the gavel only once today, an accomplishment Jeno thinks. Arising from his throne, Jeno is quick to leave, though he has found new comfort in his position he still hates that room. Hates the eyes of those men.

“Your highness!” someone shouts out as Jeno makes his way down the hall.

“His Grace, Renjun” Mark whispers close to Jeno

“What do I owe this pleasure?” Jeno says as he turns to face him.

“We are to travel to our country seat that sits along Dream Pier, I am told you stayed often as a child. Do join us” He invites Jeno. “It is rather a secluded area so I’ve been told, if you worry about Helios, I do doubt they would attack a place with no much attraction.”

The King is an attraction.” Mark states his tone so blunt Jeno finds it hard to hide his laugh.

“You are correct” Renjun lets out an awkward laugh as though to release some tension. “However the capital is a much more dangerous place My Grace.  We are also hosting for the General and her lady, so I do hope you consider Sire.”

“Mark gather who you deem fit to travel with us” Jeno turns to Mark and then to Renjun “I gladly accept your invitation.”

"My wife will be happy to hear it" he smiles, and they proceed to walk down the rest of the hallway.

"Your first summit, am I correct? How did you find it." Jeno starts up a conversation.

"In all honesty My Grace, fucking terrifying" they both spill out into laughter and just as Jeno's laughter is about to subside he spots Mark's face in a state of shock and he can read his thoughts as if they were said aloud.

"Mark next time you should accompany me"

"Sire why scar him" Renjun turns to Mark, hand on his shoulder "the nobles grow horns and fangs, the General's eyes glow red and they all hold their fists tight." Renjun laughs. "Not to mention the mumbling that will drive any man mad" and at that Jeno nods his head aggressively in agreement Renjun then speaks of trivial things such as sport and stocks until he's walked Jeno to his chambers, they speak like old friends until he bids him farewell.

It's only after the presence of Renjun has completely vanished that Jeno sends Mark with another note for you. Mark finds you with Fei , in the previous King’s office, clearing and organising files.

“______, i was searching for you” Mark runs into the room

“Your quest is over, how can I be of help Mark?” You ask head down as you flick through the pile of paperwork.

“I have something for you” he walks over to the desk that's center of the room, big and grand. Thousands of papers occupy it, all which need sorting for the arrival of the new King. He places the neatly folded note on top of the pile before you, your eyes briefly going to it before going back to reading the parchment between your fingers.

“What is it the two of you are doing anyway?” He asks as he looks between you and Fei .

“Tell me Mark, what does it look like?” Fei rolls her eyes

“It looks like you are not doing much Fei '' He scoffs as he looks her way. Her feet rested on the table, she sits on a large chair, papers sprawled on her lap as she flicks through them. Her head whips up, eyes turned into slits and Mark mimics her expression before sticking his tongue out, earning himself a paper ball to the head. He lets out a large groan as he rubs the point of impact, causing Fei to fall back in laughter, papers slipping as her head is thrown back. Her laughter cuts off as Mark throws one back, this goes on for a while, both throwing paper balls at one another until Mark falls on a tall stack of paper and that’s when you decide you’ve had enough.

“Can the two of you get any more irritating?” you sigh, getting on your knees to gather all the fallen paper

“I’m not too sure, what do you say Mark can we tempt ______’s anger anymore?”

“Most definitely” He nods his head “However I don’t think it’s too wise.” He smiles your way, as innocent as possible as your jaw is tight and eyebrows furrowed. “You appear displeased ______” He giggles as he nudges Fei .

“Mark how about you help us clear the paperwork.” You suggest, his laughter seized instantly.

“Yes, do join us” Fei says, turning to him, always one to change sides quickly.

“I believe I do not wish to stay but I wish you well,” He says, quickly heading out through the door with a wave.

Fei too joins you on the floor, separating the scattered papers into piles. There’s silence for the majority of the time, carefully you both read over the faded or the blotchy ink, occasionally broken by the loud groans of Fei as she stretched her limbs or to ask what this word says or the other's opinion on whether this was important enough to keep.

“______” she calls, you answer in a hum, head still down until she is aggressively shaking you by your shoulders. “______, look” her voice falls into a whisper as she shoves the paper into your hands, her eyes looking towards the door to see if anyone is walking past.  Your eyes skim fast over the words again and again, eyes widening each time. “show his majesty” she whisper shouts

“I will” you whisper back, folding the paper back and slipping into your pocket.

“When do you see him next?” Fei asks, looking back towards the note that waits on the desk.

“I have yet to open it” you say back, continuing to stack up the loose papers.

"Be weary." Is all Fei says before the room falls silent once more, note long forgotten as you continue clearing through the papers.

“Be weary Sire” Jaemin consults Jeno as they sit round a large conference table. Jeno remembers this room, the room he wasn’t allowed to enter as a child, the room he watched, the age of thirteen standing in the corner observing, his father sending all men to a war, a war that still rages on today, nearly a decade later. Now, a decade later, Jeno sits in this room with the General under his command.

“I assure you Mark is only loyal to me” Jeno’s jaw tightens as Jaemin persistently insists for interrogation of the crown’s private secretary. “I will not hear of this”

“Sire, it is just a precaution.” Jaemin still tries to convince Jeno as best he can. “Turn your eyes upon this, please my lord if only for a moment.” He says as he places torn, discoloured parchment in front of Jeno. “I suppose you do not remember much, for you were all but five” he says as if they are not equal in age. “Your father, the great King before you, faced acts of treason similar to the terrorist attempts you are challenged with Sire. It was later discovered that it was your father’s own private secretary that betrayed him. He was executed, your majesty” Jaemin pulls out another piece of parchment, a death certificate. “Revenge runs through his kin”

Jeno knows of revenge, a drive that runs to the core of his bones, that aches raging and dull pain. It is persistent and forever present. It crawls under his skin and rots away his brain, his mind and thoughts being consumed.

“I trust Mark” Jeno says once more “Yet I understand your concern. Interrogation is not needed General but I promise to maintain some distance between us.” and with that the discussion is dismissed, Jaemin leaves with a sigh. Leaving Jeno to think, would Mark really betray him?

And as if the devil had heard, Mark appeared through the door “Sire” he called, “Your next council awaits you.”

“Allow them in.”

They all pile in, nobles from a variety of  different families all who own a substantial amount of land and their sons who come to observe as they study economics and business though they have no interest in the subject, just a formality as they inherit the estate. Jeno was amongst them last year, he would sit beside his father and hear of the prospers of the lands as each noble told tales of the prosperity the great goddess Tyche had blessed their lands with.

“Unemployment rates begin to rise Sire, due to the bombing of the port 127” Zhong Chenle tells on behalf of his father who is too old for travel. Chenle comes from a wealthy family, his family owning the largest port in NEO after his ancestors fought off the North during the first North-South war long before even the birth of Jeno’s great great grandfathers. “My father remains back in our district overseeing those who have been affected by the bombing, helping them relocate into other businesses, the general has suggested we introduce conscription of a few thousand men to help with unemployment rates. As well as this we introduced cartels for all major stores to ensure prices remain low.” He continues to speak on but Jeno’s mind wanders off.

Would Mark ever betray him? Was his friendship a lie? Was Mark raised to believe Jeno was his enemy? The questions run through Jeno’s mind spiriling into more questions causing his head to spin. He relives every moment, his life playing before him as he analyses all that Mark has done. Would Mark ever betray him?

"Sire" Chenle's voice is loud and his stare is worried, his lip upturned "Your opinion on conscription?" He says slowly, a tone that confirms this isn't his first time asking.

Jeno sits up, clearing his throat "What of the North?" He asks his voice carried with confidence yet confusion settles around all who sit beside him.

"What is it you mean my Lord?" Chenle questions in a shaky laugh.

"Who owns the land of the North?" Jeno answers back with another question

"You my Lord." Chenle states

"Then I should know of the economic stance of my land. Your father is the economic minister of our country, does he not know of half the country?" All turn to Chenle, who stutters to find an answer.

"Let us call it the end, come to me once your role in this court has been carried out." Jeno rises from his throne, heading out the door. Mark waiting outside as usual, Jeno can't help but think of his father. Of the betrayal he faced and he wondered would he face the same.

"A short summit?" Mark questions as he walks behind Jeno only hums in response. After all he did promise Jaemin he'd keep his distance.

Trust. A greater compliment to being loved, for to trust someone is to place your whole being within their hands. You may spend a lifetime building this trust but a second to crumble it down. Lee Jeno trusted all too easily, he did so to gain trust and support in return. Yet he failed to see how trust was just a concept built on threat. Lee Jeno trusted you too easily.

You pace the room back and forth, skin of your thumb trapped between your teeth, breaths hesitant, slightly you hold them back. “I should not have done this” you turn to a completely calm Fei, she leans against the pillar that holds the archway above your head. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips upturned, she rolls her eyes.

“Please inform me ______ as to why you allow your mind to dwell on decisions it has already made.” She yawns as she straightens  “You have aligned yourself with his majesty, you serve him and rightly so” she walks over, close to you ear and she whispers “You came to him, you chose your side. Don’t let your morals get to you now” Her voice sends chills down your spine, her words threatening every hair that stands. "For you will regret otherwise." She backs away but her words still linger around you, in the air and it crawls in your ear and they repeat themselves in your head until it rings.

Then the door creaks open, the man standing tall, the image burning her words in your mind. Huang Renjun stands and breathes as a living reminder of regret or was the unsettling feeling, your conscious.

You both bow instantly, as he steps into the room, waiting for his indication that you can stand. Unlike Jeno, Huang Renjun loves the surge of pride and power that pulses through his body as he stares down on all. Royal blood doesn't run through his veins so you accuse his need to validate his pride and self worth without hating him too much.

"Rise" his voice is quiet but authoritative and instantly you rise as fast as you bow, for patience was replaced by pride. Every moment within his presence your mind decides the wrenching feeling is regret, for what possibly would cause you to serve him. Then the dull ache of revenge burns a little brighter, the constant reminder making its presence known.

"We found the documents" Fei begins to tell. "You were right your highness, his mother indeed was attempting murder. The Queen Mother called for a divorce when Jeno was age 5, yet it being a dead end she turned to his brother to seek other means." at those words a sinister smile adorned his face, his eyes crinkled up and you too saw the vision he saw. The crown sitting upon his head.

"Well done" he praises

"All is left is to locate the documents that supposedly awaits in the house" you tell him as he rests his hand on his chin, pacing as you were earlier, nodding as he hears your words.

"Perfect" his smile beams as his plan falls into place, the puzzle pieces allocated now to only place them down. "Show Jeno both together, for there is no way he could deny you otherwise." To which you nod and bow down your head at his orders. "Keep him distracted  ______ and you shall be rewarded greatly."

"Don't let him distract you" Fei whispers for only you to hear, her jaw clenched, she speaks through her teeth and you resist the itching urge to roll your eyes.

"The attack Sire" you bring up hesitantly "the one in district 127, was it you or the Helios?" You ask for the wonder of another thorn in your side, floats in your mind.

"I suppose I never did warn you, that I apologise for." His words reassure you. "Expect another and let it be a sign that your King is I that stands before you."

The week seems to approach quickly but days drag on endlessly, and you wonder if it’s because your last awaits you. Every breathing second guilt hovers over you yet revenge eats you alive. The contrasting feelings of plummeting regret and the raging fire of anger both fight for the dominance of your mind and heart. Though you have given in to the red blaze it only strengthens the other, inner conflict forever waging in your mind. It’s especially at these moments when guilt gains a lead, when he simply just smiles.

Jeno climbs into his carriage, he smiles at something stupid Jisung said and waves him a goodbye. You can see the pink dust that decorates Jisung’s cheeks from here and you can’t help but smile too. For the younger adores the king and you wonder if this means you betray Jisung too and then you remember Mark and then the guilt has won the battle. For Mark is loyal to his crown, his majesty and friend; Jeno.

You look over towards Fei whose ear is being talked off by Mark, the sun has yet to even submerge from the horizon yet here he is as awake as midday. Fei’s face holds annoyance as she leans against one of the many stacks of hay, her eyes closed as her sleep has yet to leave her eyes but not once does she silence him or interrupt him. You supposed she likes hearing him ramble on about whatever excites him this early in the morning and you wonder if she too feels guilt.

“Let us depart now” Mark says loud enough for all to hear yet not loud enough to disrupt the sound of the birds that chirp and the spring wind that helps heave the sun up into the sky. All that have been rounded up climb into carriages to be taken to the Pier, a small team of servants hand picked by the King himself. For these are the few he trusts as Mark put it, only intensifying the guilt just that bit more.

“Dream Pier sounds nice” Jisung says excitedly, as he mounts onto the carriage

“If you like sweating, sure it is” Fei answers back, much less enthusiasm evident in her voice.

“Why do you always have to bring the mood down.” Jisung grunts in annoyance , his lips forming into a pout that makes you giggle slightly.

“Someone has to warn you” she shrugs as she too follows in right behind him “otherwise you’d complain that we did not mention the heat”

“Ah she’s got you there Jisung” you laugh as he rolls his eyes, mimicking her words as he pulls his face in all different expressions earning a solid punch to his arm. You laugh once again at their antics and you wonder if this will be a part of  life serving under Renjun, you hope it will be.

“______” Mark calls just as you are about to enter, “the king asks you to sit with him.”” Fei’s head sticks out the carriage instantly, her eyes widen and her ears perk up.

“An order or a request?” you asks

“The difference is?” he asks back

You let out a deep sigh “I suppose we shouldn’t keep the King waiting” you say walking towards his direction and stopping once you realise Mark is not trailing behind you. “Are you not coming?” you whine out, a carriage ride with Jeno and Mark would be sufferable but without Mark you know what conversations are to be held and you don’t think the guilt in you can resist feeding off of it.

“I’ll ride with them” he says as he steps in and seats himself in your former place.

“Have fun ______” Fei shouts out, laughing loudly until Mark places his hand over her mouth to silence her. You turn around to quickly join Jeno but not before you stick your middle finger proudly up at Fei but it only encourages her laughter more.

You climb into Jeno's carriage that awaits you in the middle of the long row, he sits there head against the side, his eyes closed. You think how easy it was for you to enter, how easy it was to gain his trust and how easy it would be to stab him in the back right here, right now.

“Oh you are here” his eyes open and he smiles slightly as you sit down opposite him.

“Why is Mark not riding with you?”

He doesn’t appear to be shocked by your words and you don’t expect him to, for no one else has ridden with Jeno other than Mark since he was a young child.

“I am told to be wary of him” Jeno answers, his words much more shocking. Eyes widening and eyebrows shooting up, you are left speechless. “It is why I requested you instead.”

“You believe this?” you ask still fazed by the words that left him moments ago

“Do I wound you?” He asks “You seem to have taken offence.” You scoff, out of everything he picks up on he chooses the tone you use with him.

“I just find it hard to believe Mark would be of any threat and yes you wound me as you do not believe the same” He trusts you, why does he not trust Mark?

“I want to believe it”

“What is stopping you?”

“This” he says as he pulls out stained parchment, the edges uneven and it’s rough against your palm as you take it from him.

“Who showed you this?” you ask as your eyes scan over the papers.

“The general. He told me of a sought rebellion led by an inside operation which so happened to involve Mark’s father, he was beheaded for treason.” Jeno tells you and that’s when it clicks. The General who worked for Renjun, they were using Mark as a scapegoat to lead Jeno’s suspicions away from them, his suspicions away from you. “This is a motive for revenge.” Jeno says and any man with a brain would say the same.

“I see” you choke out, it takes all you have to spit out those words, words so heavy as they sit on your tongue for the lies that you’ll spew are one to eat away at you. Guilt beginning to seep through you. For he is correct this is a motive for revenge but not for Mark. “You should be cautions Sire.”

“Will you look into it?” He asks

“Consider it done” you say with your eyes closed, maybe if you didn’t look at him it would be easier. You were taking his life from him. You’ll take his crown, his throne, his title and status and you’re taking his only friend but you suppose that is revenge. The rest of the ride stays silent but your mind is loud as the waging war of morals and desire still is underway.

The carriage halts to a stop, your body jerking slightly forward, you're quick to open your eyes, holding on tight to the seat to stop your body from jolting forward. The door opening and the smell of sea salt invades all your senses, lingering in your nose, stinging your eyes. The sun bounces on the horizon of the sea, the blue blinding as it glows gold.

The manor runs busy, as countless staff prepare for the arrival of the King. "All these people and still you bring us" you comment as you stand waiting for Jeno to climb down.

"We are in the lion's den ______, it would be foolish if I did not bring those I trust"

"You do not trust Mark" you remind him and he shouldn't trust you.

"I trust him more than I should," he says quietly as he sees Jisung come skipping your way.

"Dream Pier is marvellous your majesty, it is an honour to have accompanied you" Jisung beams as bright as the sun "though I have already been bitten my a bug" his smile slightly dims as he analyses the small red bump on his forearm

"Are you complaining already" Fei walks up behind him, Jisung flinches at the sound of her voice and instantly denies her accusation, shaking his head.  "Well you will be soon, the sun has yet to rise fully and it already feels at though we stand in a desert"

"You are the only one complaining" Jisung mumbles under his breath earning him a strong flick to the forehead but before Jisung can retaliate Mark calls out.

"My Grace, let us enter" Mark gestures towards the large entrance.

The manor sits on a grassy hill, overlooking the town below as well as the sea. It sits prettily by the coast but a grassy field barricades the exterior followed by stone walls that are built high. The sun illuminates it from behind, making details hard to see but the green vines that climb it are impossible to miss as the violet flowers bloom.

"My Lord, it is a pleasure to have you" Renjun extends his arms as he waits by the entrance for Jeno's arrival. "I hope it is just as you remember it"

"It has yet to change one bit" Jeno smiles before taking his hand to shake.

"My wife, her father and your mother await us in the dining hall, you must be famished My Lord, the travel is long." He allows Jeno to lead him through the halls and you all follow soon after. Your legs follow them unconsciously, your mind elsewhere, you think of the task ahead. To perform treason, to betray Jeno, to stab him in the back and to avenge your parents.

You walk past many rooms on your way to the hall but as you walk behind Renjun, his hands behind his back he points slightly towards one and just as you pass it you're aren't able to catch a glimpse as the room door is sealed shut.

"Your staff are free to join our own downstairs Sire" Renjun says as you close approach the hall, you see both the Princess, her father and Jeno’s mother already seated, waiting for the arrival of the King.

"Mark stays with me" and Renjun nods at his words.

"The rest of you are free to do as you please." Jeno orders before stepping into the hall, Renjun and Mark follow after and then the doors close.

"Let's head to the Pier" Jisung suggests and Fei groans instantly.

"Jisung it is boiling" she complains "the sun will grill me"

"The sun has yet to rise" he shakes her arm as he whines back "______, you'll accompany right?" Jisung says full of hope, his best smile on display.

"No," his smile drops instantly, "I would rather sleep Jisung." You yawn out "Fei has yet to deny you though, so have fun you two." You wave as you walk off  "Keep him occupied Fei" you smirk out and she rolls her eyes before being dragged by the arm.

You walk out of their sight, back the way you arrived, you head to the room that holds all answers. The corridors emptied, not a roaming soul yet you feel the peering eyes. The eyes in the walls, for you are sure Renjun has someone watching you, to ensure your rage still burns brighter than the inevitable guilt that trickles into your system. You are sure Fei has mentioned something, unlike Jeno she was never one to trust.

You arrive at the office, the door left ajar,  you find a key that sits in the lock. The room is dark, curtains drawn with only a single stream of sunlight illuminating the grand wooden desk that sits in the centre surrounded by walls that hold books from ceiling to floor. This is the room. This is where you'll find the last pieces of the puzzle.

It feels like hours as you scavenge through the endless papers and files stored here, documents written decades ago. You pass over agreements, marriage proposals, business alignments and wills. Your eyes tire as they read over every letter of every scripture. You find old pictures of the Royals, moments in time caught and held on to, you see Jeno splashing in the sea with his two cousins. There's a smile on their faces that looks foreign on them, you almost don't recognise him. You tear your eyes away from the picture as soon as guilt chases you.

Yet you finally catch on to the feeling you chase, the revenge that sits in your heart you find the letters you need, the puzzle pieces, to avenge those who have been wronged. You slip them into your gown, under the many layers they act as protection to conceal from others. A new wave of burning rage and revenge courses through you and you rush to place everything back to the way you found it but the increasingly loud footsteps approach fast. His voice echoes through the halls and you hear Jeno's uncle coming quick.

"Let me just retrieve my clubs," he says and your eyes instantly turn to them as they rest against the wall in the corner of the room.

"Why not let a servant, father" you hear Renjun request but their voices continue to grow closer. You quickly hide away any remaining documents that are left, placing them in the cabinets of the drawer, not caring for where they were originally placed as you leaped across the room to hide yourself behind the door.the clubs on the opposite end of the room you only hope their eyes don't travel towards you who seeks refuge behind the wooden door.

"Yes let someone else get it, we can head on over to the course" Jeno also tries to convince him.

"Why bother someone when it is just in my grasp, do not be entitled, my sons, we are more than capable of doing simple matters" he preaches as he pushes the door open, your body being backed up against the bookshelf. You hold your breath as he enters, the door slightly moves forward and you close your eyes at the thought of being revealed and suddenly it’s hard to swallow as something rises up your throat, your veins pulse and heart jumps in your chest, shaking your ribcage.

He walks towards the centre, he turns quickly in search for his clubs and you count every second it takes for his eyes to fall on them, for ten seconds has never felt longer and just when he's about to leave, he turns once more. His eyes landing in the centre, they turn to the desk and its then when you realise you have left the draw open, papers spewing out.

"Shit" you cry to yourself in your head, you don't dare risk making a sound for if he were to hear you it would be over before it even could start.

"Father" Renjun calls again and he turns instantly, he leaves without a second look, closing the door behind him. You can finally breathe. A deep sigh leaves you until you hear the turning of a key and the click of a lock. You were stuck.

"Fuck" you curse out as you shake the door handle for the nth time as you attempt in getting the door to open. You fall against the door and slide down until you've met the floor. You grunt as your mind runs circles trying to think of a way to escape, your hands run through your hair and you tug at the roots slightly, hoping the pain will simulate some ideas.

"Ugh come on" you hit the side of your head, desperate. Running your temples, you let out a deep exhale, your mind racing as every brain cell works to find a way out. It's then you feel the heat across your face, a blinding yellow burning behind your eyelids and they slightly sting and even more as you try to open them. The sun streams through, light breaking up into a million different colours as it refracts through the prism windows. Then in that moment, your head clears and instantly you rise to your feet, the answer being in front of you.

Unlatching the window, you push it as far as it’ll go, you hoist your legs over and just as you’re about to jump; you look down. “Not that high” you breathe out, trying to convince yourself. You close your eyes, heart racing, your palms begin to sweat and then you jump. The wind breaks through your hair, your heart leaps into your throat and adrenaline kicks into your system, every nerve on fire until you meet the floor. Your fall is softened by the awaiting bushes, though thorns dig into your arm and the branches scratch them, you breathe out alive. Basking in the lingering adrenaline, you fall back relieved.

Panic settles in Jeno's stomach as he worries whether if you have been locked away, evidence of his suspicions is obvious. He fears his uncle, more than a King should, more than a nephew should. He is a much more powerful man than Jeno cares to admit but that ignorance and pride will end with nothing but ruins for Jeno, so he sets them aside and proceeds with every caution. His mind runs wild as he thinks over and plays every scenario possible, he only has one thing on his mind. To get you out of there.

Yet his legs carry him somewhere else, he walks alongside Renjun and his uncle to the golf course. Clubs in hand, they all take their stance to swing into the open. One ball after another, Jeno's swings get faster and harder, yet gain speed but lose accuracy. Renjun is nothing but perfect, his posture, his angle and aim, he outshines all no matter what.

"Do you often play your majesty?" Renjun asks "My father and I play every Saturday" he tells him.

"I am more of an archer but it is no sport I am alien to." Renjun nods as his response as he aligns his club with the ball, pulling back before he swings forward with force. The sound crackles through the air as the club comes in contact with the ball and away it flies.

"Any word from the General as to when he shall arrive?" Jeno asks as he too sets up for the ball. Pulling back, he swings faster, knuckles whitening as he grips onto the handle.

"This evening perhaps. Her grace may arrive without him so my wife says." Renjun calls for another ball, a boy placing it down. He pulls back and swings and Jeno swears he saw sparks as it crackles, the ball flying across the sky. Renjun raises his hand to shield his eyes, trying to pinpoint where exactly his ball landed and once he has found it, he smiles to himself satisfied. "Shall we move to the next hole?" He asks but he moves on without any answer.

"I wonder Sire" he begins as he lines himself with the ball once more "what are your intentions for our great lands?" He asks swinging and perfectly the ball rolls to a hole in one.

"I plan to unite the South and North." Jeno announces loudly

"The great King Jeno, ending decades of conflict, he unites the clashing sides of NEO and rules them as one." Renjun acts out, his hands waving around "that is what the papers will say" he smiles. "Though do you think it is possible? Do you think the nobles will allow it? Do you think the North will just accept you as their rightful leader?" He continues to ask, no breath between them, he overwhelms Jeno with them.

"I will make it work" Jeno says, jaw slightly tightened but is he angry at Renjun or himself? Does he have the answers to his questions? Questions so important but isn't it simple? What a King says is what goes.

"Your turn your majesty" Renjun moves behind Jeno to allow him access. Jeno stands in line with the ball and just before he's about to swing, Renjun speaks up "is that not foolish? My Grace please do not take offence as I do not intend to wound you but even a king does not have complete control." He tells him

"Do you take me as a child Renjun?" Jeno asks as he swings, the ball rolling against the shortly cut grass, it swerves slightly before it plops into the hole. "I will make it work by doing everything in my power. I will give equality to my people, I will convince anyone I must and if needs be I will purge the court with those who are more inclined to negotiate."

"A hole in one, well done my grace" Renjun praises before he steps in front to take his turn once more, swinging once more but the ball doesn't roll straight in like it did before. Renjun takes the hole on from a new angle, realigning himself with the ball. "I offer you my luck my Lord" Renjun says before rolling the ball straight into the hole.

Jeno then swings for the ball, landing straight in, another hole in one. "It seems as though your luck has already been received" Jeno laughs out as he turns to Renjun.

"You use it so soon my Grace." Renjun says in response "My luck has given you the win but the next time I will guarantee it stays in my favour. I will win."

Picking the leaves out of your hair, you walk down the halls of the manor in hopes of finding anyone. The halls remain haunted, empty and not a single soul insight. Occasionally you would see a guard or two but that is all and for a place that is hosting a king it seems too less. Yet you think that is exactly what Renjun has planned, to allow the snakes in the castle walls to squirm around all too easily. He's made your job easier and you are grateful.

"______" Mark shouts, turning quickly you spot him jogging up to you.

"You've been dismissed?" You ask and he nods as he answers back

"His majesty is resting in his chambers" he tells you. "Have you seen Jisung and Fei?"

"They went to the Pier, I suppose they'll be back when called." You explain to him

"I'll go to them then and bring them back, the general is coming I hear" he tells you as he walks back the way he came and as soon as he's out of your sight, you too change your direction. The King's chambers, your new destination.

You knock on the door only once before he opens it, the guards are stationed nearby but not at the entrance like the castle, you suppose Jeno’s orders. The way he moves and his haste, he was expecting you and he’s also expecting others to walk by. You rush in, and make your way further into the room following him.

"You managed to find a way out" he laughs as he pulls out a leaf from behind your ear. "I suppose jumping out of window is one way"

"And you would suggest?" You stutter as you feel his presence that lies so close, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

"For you to wait for me, I would have retrieved you." He steps back, a smirk adorned on his lips.

"Frankly Sire, my only thought was not to get caught. Jumping out of windows an extreme I was much willing to take."

"You can rely on me ______, to get you out of tricky situations"  he tells you and you only bow your head in return. “So what is it you have found?”

You pull out the parchment that’s still neatly folded from under the many layers. “I suggest we sit down, your highness” you warn him and he raises an eyebrow as his interest increases but he listens and situates himself on the small bench that sits at the foot of the bed. You kneel before him, sitting down below him on the floor, you spread out the many papers you stole from Jeno’s uncle as well as papers you found whilst clearing the King’s office that you had bought along with you. Jeno’s eyes follow your every movement, he tries to read the parchment upside down but the smearing and faded ink is already hard to make out enough.

“It is true your uncle attempted to murder your father, your suspicions were correct” you begin and his eyes widen and you can see the water that threatens to overflow from his eyes, his heart hammering so loud in his chest, he feels the thumping in his head and hears the beating in his ears. His blood rushes so fast, he feels in flow past every cell and every nerve ending is lit on fire. Rage pulses through him and everything is tinted red and on instinct he jumps up, attempting to head for the door until you hold on to his wrist. He looks down at your, fire burning at his iris, he stares you down. “There’s more” you gulp as the guilt becomes hard to swallow.

Jeno sits back down and you take in a deep breath before you can carry on, you fight the guilt with the fact that this is all true and if anything you are doing what he requested you to do. You ignore what is to come next. “Your mother was in on the attempt” and in that moment anger and rage dissipate and only despair cripples him, aching through him. He falls onto his knees in front of you, shaking his head continuously he mutters something incoherent, his eyes wide and unfocused.

“It is a lie” he chokes out as he grabs you by both arms, grips tight enough to bruise them “tell me it is a lie” he shakes you as if it would make the words fall out of your mouth. His grip gets impossibly tighter and the pain becomes almost unbearable, tears clouding your eyes. “Tell me it is a lie” he cries out, his head falling and his grip loosens as he grows weak. His tears roll down and you feel them drop onto your skirt, hear a few splatter down onto the floor.

“It is true Sire” you stutter trying to speak around the knot stuck in your throat and you lift up the document Fei found that day you cleared through the office. He snatches it from your eyes, examining the paper again and again, he reads it again and again until his mind can no longer deny what his eyes see. A letter proposing the assination of of Jeno’s father, a proposal suggested by his mother to his father. The two closest people to Jeno, everyone his father trusted, turning their back on him. How could Jeno trust his mother, if his father himself couldn’t?

“Yet sire, these letters are dated years ago” you remind him as he hangs his head low and if your words are meant to bring him any comfort, they do not. “Your father died naturally your majesty, there was no evidence to say otherwise so let us assume he passed peacefully”. These words only cause another wave of shaking and tears course through his body and Jeno thinks the life his father lived was one so painful, the betrayal of a lover and his brother, he only prays he passed peacefully. His head rests in his hands and he weeps into them, bent over his legs, the king cries in front of you. Every part of his body aching with grief he shakes again and again and the immeasurable amount of guilt you feel is eating you up. You place your hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, you hold onto him and just like the day on the balcony he falls onto your lap, retreating into your warmth for comfort. To make the aching stop, to stop his heart from crying, to stop the tears that continuously run down his face.

His breathing remains ragged, his eyes remain swollen as tears dry up and his head still lies in your arms, they’re wrapped around his neck as you pat his back, humming to comfort him. He’s distressed and confused, his mind in chaos as he thinks back at every living moment that was painted as a lie but he lifts his head up and it’s now you both realise how close you are to one another. His lips only centimetres away, his hot breath fans across your lips and you gulp. His eyes stuck on them, he can’t move, he must not be thinking right. He must have gone insane, you think. Yet he inches closer until the gap between you is no more, his lips crashing on yours. He kisses with force, lips pushing against yours and they move in a hurry and messily as his teeth clash against yours as you both move your lips in sync. He kisses you until he’s stolen all the oxygen from your lungs, until he’s set you ablaze and until he has you weak for him. His tongue pushing its way into your mouth, he fights for dominance everywhere he enters and you give it to him and as soon as you do he pulls back, lower lips pulled with him as his teeth drag it back.

(***) Your mind froggy as his lips continue, his tongue dragging down your jaw and then to your neck he places wet open mouthed kisses. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen that your lungs heave to regain that has caused you to not be thinking straight but you never tell Jeno to stop even when he hesitates and looks up at you, asking for permission. He presses himself into the crook of your neck, marking dark bruises that have breathy moans escaping the back of your throat.

“Your highness” you let out in a moan and Jeno groans at the sound as his tongue swipes across your collarbone, “are you certain about this?” you ask.

Jeno stops and he faces you, his lips so close to yours you feel brush past yours. “I am. Are you not?” he asks

“I am” and with your  confirmation he continues. Unbuttoning your blouse, he kisses down the valley between your breasts. He pushes you down, against the marble floor, your bare back against the cold, you arch it towards him as he wraps his lips around your nipple. His free hand attends to the other as he sucks and his tongue circles around the aroused bud.  Your mouth hangs loosely, jaw slacked, and you can’t help the string of moans and profanities that leave you and they only encourage Jeno as he makes his way further down. Tongue sweeping across your abdomen he makes his way down, ridding you of your skirt, he’s finally facing your dripping core. You’re soaking, he swipes his tongue against his bottom lip before going down. Kissing your thighs, he teases, his breath fanning where you need him most and when he hears you soft whines he only giggles.

“Keep your legs open” he orders and before you can even answer, he’s lapping at your folds. He picks up all the glistening arousal that seeps out, yet you only become more wet, your hole dripping with more and Jeno’s tongue attempts to pick up every last drop. Your back bends and your hips grind down on him unconsciously. Jeno brings euphoria to you, the king now on his knees , he serves you. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking away at it until he has you screaming.

“Fuck” you shout but then all air is knocked out of your lungs as his tongue circles the rim of your hole. “Stop teasing Sire” you beg and with that he plunges it in, pulling a symphony of moans from you and he too can’t help but moan into your core. The vibrations sending you into overdrive and the familiar knot in your stomach comes undone, your body shaking from the ecstasy . Then he pulls away, snatching your high away from you, his lips glisten and he smirks your way as you cry out from what has been stolen.

“Sire please” you beg, desperate to have him where you need him, any part of him. Just as you open your mouth to speak once more you’re silenced by two of his fingers ramming into you. They move at a godly speed, bringing back the high you so crave.

“Fuck you are beautiful” he says against your core and you shiver at each brush of his lips to your clit and then his tongue pokes out doing wonders, circling your clit, he has your hips bucking up for more. He holds you down, iron grip surely going to leave bruises, you shake until finally coming undone. He pumps his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm and once your breathing becomes more regular he pulls them out, licking up his fingers, he collects all your juices before entirely sucking his fingers.

You take in the godly sight in front of you but it’s then when your eyes are now focused on Jeno and not being rolled into the back of your head that you realise he is still fully dressed whilst you lie before him, completely naked. So you take matters in your own hands, whilst lifting yourself up you pull him by the collar to meet you halfway. Pulling him in for a messy and passionate kiss, you taste yourself on his lips and then even more as his tongue delves into your mouth. Your hands are quick to rid him of his shirt, working the way down to each button and then he himself throws it over his head. You instantly reach for his chest, feeling him down to his abs your fingertips flutter over them as you deepen the kiss. Lungs burning and lips turning numb but you can’t pull away, for Lee Jeno is far too addicting. So you drag your lips against his jaw, allowing you both to breathe but still allowing your lips to stay on the hot skin that sends electric sparks through yours. You mark up his skin, decorating it with the blooming red that will soon turn to purple, down his neck and torso. Once you reach the band of his trousers, you push them down and with Jeno's help you get him out.

"On your knees" Jeno says as he rises up and you obey, sitting yourself on your knees. The cold marble floor causes them to ache but at this moment you really couldn't care any less. He strokes his length a few times, hand pumping at the already hard and proud standing dick. The tip, an angry red leaking precum and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation. When he's ready he taps on your chin indicating for you to open and you comply instantly. Jaw slacking completely, you stick your tongue out ready for him.

With no hesitation, Jeno rams his dick straight into your throat. His hands find purchase in your hair, he holds tightly by the roots and forms a makeshift ponytail, using it to move your head in time with his rhythmic thrusts. You hollow your cheeks and relax your throat, tongue swirling around him at any chance you get. As the tears form in your eyes as Jeno replaces all oxygen in your system, you hold onto his thighs, nail digging into the back but the pain only stimulates more pleasure.

Your throat is raw as he continues to thrust deep inside, pushing your head down until he feels your throat completely engulf him. Swallowing around him, Jeno lets out a deep groan as his head drops back; his eyes rolling back as far as they can. Your core aching your hands go straight to your clit to create some friction and just as you feel the urge to gag, he pulls out, his hand going to your cheek to wipe away the stray tear you hadn't even noticed. He pulls you once more into a kiss, mumbling against your lips but the words so quiet compared to the blood that rushes through you and the erratic heartbeat banging against your chest.

"Turn around" he whispers into your ear, placing sweet kisses just below. He helps you into the position he desires, your back against his chest, he has you on your knees once more. His tip teases you as it circles around your still dripping core.

"Please" you beg and breathless it comes out as you still try to retrieve your breath.

he mumbles against you, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he talks "say it again" he pushes a little further into you.

Moans leaving you as he slowly fills you up "please" you beg once more and he pushes just a little further.

"Again, louder" he orders, kissing down your neck and arms round your waist he holds you up.

"Please Sire" you cry out, and at your begs he rams the rest of himself inside of you. Buried deep inside, bottoming out, he doesn't move until you beg once more. "Please" your voice is faint and horse but he still gives you what you ask for.

His pace starting at a godly speed, he thrust impossibly deeper into you. Your back arching and your jaw hanging loose as a continuous string of moans leave you, only causes Jeno to join you in a harmony of moans, grunts and groans. Your head resting on his shoulder, you give him full access to your neck once more, his lips immediately placing soft kisses. His hands on your breasts, he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger as his other travels to your clit, overestimating you .

You cry his name and he yours as if it's all you know. You join as one as your breaths become the same, ragged heaviness and you feel his heart beating behind you as well as your own, you begin to lose the differentiation. Pleasure overriding your system, your mind becomes froggy as you feel another orgasm reach you. Your thighs are shaking and if it wasn't for the strength of Jeno holding you up, your legs would have given way long ago. You moan out his name as you come undone and he thrusts harder into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his own. Moments after his hips stutter, thrusts becoming sloppier, he pulls out unloading onto himself and you.

You both fall back onto the silk sheets of the bed, Jeno assisting you on after he had cleaned you with a wet towel. You both lie apart, the only sound your breathing is trying to recover with unbearable silence. (***)

Jeno doesn't say anything as he gets up to redress. He picks up the scattered clothes placing them where he lied early and begins to dress. You don’t say anything, you don't even look his way as he buttons up his shirt. You hear him shuffle around but you just lie there, unable to look him in the eyes, worried if you turn to him you’ll crumble. Guilt rising quickly and the seconds pass excruciatingly slow, you close your eyes tight, praying he’ll leave before it all becomes too much. Yet when he leaves, the door closes behind him gently so as to not disturb you, the guilt doesn’t subside at all and that’s when you decide you too need to pay someone a visit.

As soon as Jeno steps out the door, he lets out a deep breath, the tension that built up fizzling out and the weight lifted off his shoulders. His head falls back onto the door as he thinks back, something else he’ll have to confront sooner or later but as for now later if the answer, he decides as he pushes himself off the door.

He makes his way down the hall, two guards following him and as he passes more, he orders them to follow too. Soon he has a collection yet he enters without them, pulling open the large doors, he makes his way into the room unannounced and there she is. The sight of her makes his blood boil, his fist clench and his heart ache once again.

His mother sits by the window, book in her hand, she stares down but her head snaps up as soon as Jeno nears closer. His presence burning with fury, she can feel it though the many feet that distances them. His eyes glow red and the blood so clearly pumping through his veins as the more prominent they get and his jaw tightened.

“What is the matter?” she asks as she places the book down on the table before her.

Jeno doesn’t answer, instead he places the parchment in front of her. She reaches for it instantly, her eyes scanning over the first few words and she freezes. Her body stilling as all air leaves her lungs, Jeno watches as colour drains from her and she just blinks at the paper in her hand.

“Where did you find this?” she manages to stutter out

“That is irrelevant,” Jeno speaks between his teeth, jaw still locked tight. “The question is, what the fuck is this?” he spits out. She’s taken back by his words but Jeno has lost all respect for her, he’s lost her trust in her.

“Jeno, listen my dear-” she flinches, cut off by the sound of a thousand shards scattering across the floor as Jeno throws over the vase of flowers that stood in the middle of the table. Jeno’s hands in his hair, he pulls at the roots. His mother reaches forward to try to comfort him but he’s quick to move back

“Do not touch me,” he snaps at her, eyes bloodshot red but no tears fall for he is blinded by anger.

“Jeno I did not murder him, I promise,” she cries out and he scoffs in disbelief of the words that had just left her mouth.

“No, you just attempted to,” he laughs out like a mad man. Hair tousled, breathing heavy as he constantly bites away at his bottom lip, drawing blood.

“Jeno I was miserable.” she tells him “A divorce was out of the question-” she’s cut off again, another smash of glass thrown against the wall and she ducks in her chair, as he throws yet another vase on the other side of the room.

“So you result in attempting murder?” he pants, his chest heaving. “And not only do you betray him, you involve his brother too” he screams at her.

“Yet I did not go through with it for you, I knew your uncle would not abdicate the throne once you were of age for the throne” She pleads for him to show some mercy. “I lived in misery for you”

He laughs at her words “do not tell me to be grateful, do not try to say this was for my benefit when this only causes problems now” he screams. “You were miserable and now you make me miserable” his voice is hoarse and the veins running up his neck pulse as he speaks. Jeno throws his head back and sighs as his chest feels lighter, his eyes are glossy but he refuses to cry once more, he refuses to allow his anger to engulf him. He hears the shouting of his uncle and his mother rushes to the window, panic evident in her eyes.  

“Please Jeno” she begs

“Guards” he calls for softly and they run in with a hurry, holding both his mother’s arms behind her back. She screams and she cries, she begs him to think this through, begs for forgiveness but Jeno blocks out her cries for this was hard enough. He doesn’t look as they take her away and he doesn’t look as she is handcuffed, he doesn’t watch as she’s driven away.

As soon as you hear the door click shut, you come out from under the silk sheet, dressing quickly before Jeno returns. You too head out of the room, tension still so thick even without his presence and once you step out you feel your shoulders lighten, your head clear and you let out a deep sigh.

You walk down the halls, heading towards your final destination and then finally all of this can be put to rest and you will have no more involvement in Renjun's schemes. You knock on his door softly, as if you don't want him to hear and that this could all be avoided but he does. The door swings open and he steps aside to let you in.

"I have fulfilled my orders" you tell him soon followed by shouts and guards running past the room before Renjun could close the door behind you.

"I see you have" Renjun smiles as if he's been given the world, so bright and it stretches across his face. "Well done, ______" he walks past you and sits on a chair that faces the window, he separates the blinds and stares out as he speaks. "I doubted you but clearly you proved me wrong, you'll be rewarded greatly when I ascend to the throne" he tells you "how does revenge feel?" He asks, a smirk adorning his lips.

Revenge. The word sits blank in your mind, not having meaning anymore for now that you have had revenge, what are you left with?  There was no satisfaction that came with it, no joy or peace. Only anxiousness, guilt and regret. Did Jeno deserve something he didn't cause just because his family did? Did Jeno deserve to lose everything? For his search for revenge had now left him alone. It takes his mother, his uncle and it doesn't bring back his father. It doesn't bring back your family either. Soon Jeno will lose his title and crown and you'll lose Mark and Jisung. So how does revenge feel, you wonder.

"Great" you say softly to Renjun, putting on the best smile you possibly could

"I'm relieved" he says as his smile only grows impossibly more. "I need you for one more thing however" and your heart sinks slightly as his words that proceed to leave him.

You make your way out of his room once you have been dismissed, you breathe out the last of your facade and the guilt comes pouring in. Renjun wants to break Jeno completely, he hasn't and will not show any mercy. Your gut clenches, your throat closing in on itself, you feel sick. Holding onto your stomach, you kneel down trying to contain and subside the feeling of your stomach in your throat.

A hand is gently placed on  your shoulder and just by her presence you're aware who it is. Fei's grip firms as she helps pick you up. "Are you not feeling well?" She asks though her voice holds little to no concern, you're used to it. She already knows what your next orders are, you don't even have to assume, it is most definite. You can see the way her eyes glare at you, how her words hold subliminal threat. She asks if you are okay yet not your wellbeing but if you are okay with your orders. If you will carry them out and if you are not a threat.

"I'm fine" your reply is blunt and expressionless. For hiding the guilt grows too difficult to even act pleased. You shrug her hand off your shoulder and if Fei thinks anything of it, she doesn't say.

"We are to return to the castle" she informs you and your head snaps back at her, eyes wide

"Why?" You ask

"King's orders" she shrugs "must have to do with the arrests I'm certain." And you only nod as you hold your bottom lip hostage, biting away at the skin and kept hostage even as you walk down the halls. The sun now sunk into the horizon, the moon hovered above all, the trees swayed as the wind blew through them. The world is serene and yet you hold chaos. Revenge winning over guilt but guilt is the one that remains, it's the only one present.

You pray Jeno doesn't call you into his carriage but your paths are intertwined and the moment Mark comes up to you, you know the words that are going to leave his mouth. "Sire asks for you" he tells you. You only nod in response making your way over to Jeno's carriage, Fei's pointed look not going unnoticed, her eyes burning into the back of your head even as Mark rambles on to her. You arrive at the carriage, climbing in, Jeno sits shaking. Yet he rests, calm with his eyes closed. You wonder if this has brought any peace to him or if revenge has only left him feeling empty as well.

You aren’t sure if he’s heard you arrive or if he even acknowledges your presence as he keeps his eyes closed but as the carriage moves and he makes no sign to, you suppose he knows of you being there. You sit in silence watching the scenery change, distracted by the long river that runs along your path, you watch the constant stream, ripples and tides. Jeno stirs a little and you turn to see his eyes open.

“You are awake”

“I was never asleep” his answer is short and the carriage becomes stuffy and it’s hard to breathe. The air is stiff and silence is deafening, you clear your throat to somehow fill it. Jeno just stares at you and you wonder if you should say something, words forming in your mind but never on your tongue.

“What happened between us” Jeno’s words cut through your train of thought and your head snaps up towards him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “It meant nothing,” he tells you.

You just blink at him until you realise he is waiting for a response “It meant nothing” you repeat back to him, assuring him that there were no feelings involved from your end. No feelings of attraction, that is for certain. Jeno visibly unstiffens and lets out a deep breath, the tension slightly relives and you go back to staring out the window. Yet Jeno is not done talking, it seems now that he has overcome the hard part but you still have to face yours.

“Thank you” and as those words leave his mouth, you realise you are facing it now, guilt overflowing you’re surprised you’ve managed to contain it. You don’t respond, you don’t even show any indication that you’ve heard but he doesn’t repeat himself and the rest of the ride to the castle the carriage remains silent.

As you near the castle the lump in your throat forms again, it’s hard to swallow but you thank it for making it impossible to speak. Your palms begin to sweat and your stomach turns and your heart is pounding in your mind. Your blood rushes through you and you hear it in your ears, every nerve ending lit on fire as the adrenaline hits in. Yet when the carriage comes to halt so does the rest of the world, it all falls away and suddenly you can’t hear the birds that chirp or the people that shout out orders, you can’t hear Jeno’s breathing or even see him. Everything goes white and you only hear your heart beating louder and louder, for this was the moment.

You step out quickly after Jeno and instantly sirens blare through your ears, Jaemin walks into view and this was the beginning of your final orders. After this it would be over. Jeno looks around confused, grey smoke streaks through the dark blue sky and a raging red paints the night as if the sun still hangs in the sky.

“Another terrorist attack, Sire” Jaemin shouts as he runs up to the both of you, “Helios are here” there's worry in his voice and Jeno freezes in fear. “I have to escort you somewhere safe” Jaemin grabs onto his arm and pulls him through towards the castle. “The bunker is designed for emergencies like this” Jaemin tells Jeno, to reassure him of his plan but his words fail to stay in Jeno’s head as once again he is crippled by fear.

“What about ______?” Jeno asks

“Who?” Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow as he still pulls Jeno along, making sure he keeps up with him “The bunker is only for royalty your majesty”

“Yes I am aware but they were with me” Jeno turns back to see if you still stand there or if you too were running along behind them but he can’t make out the faces through the smog nor the wave of soldiers running through the courtyard.

“That is not of my concern, you are my only priority” Jaemin yanks at Jeno’s arms, grip tightening as he pulls him into the bunker. “Please wait here your majesty as I bring others as well as round up the soldiers, you will be safe here” and with that Jaemin leaves Jeno in a room where no one can enter and he can’t escape.

Jeno doesn’t know how long he waits before he hears the door click open but he knows it was long enough to drive a man insane, for he was pacing up and down wondering who the next person to walk through that door would be. Would it be Lee Haechan, head of Helios? Would it be General Na? Whoever it was, they were here now and Jeno could hear his heart beating against his chest, his rib cage rattling. Yet the figure that steps in is not one he expects. Huang Renjun walks in tall and proud, a smile is adorned on his face but it only adds more to Jeno’s fear and confusion.

“Renjun, what are you doing here?” Jeno asks

“No your majesty, what are you doing here?” Renjun smirks at the confused expression that still paints Jeno’s face. “Why are you locked in a cell”

“Helios have arrived” Jeno is quickly cut off by Renjun

“No they are not” His voice is more stern now but the smile never once falters  “This was devised Jeno” Renjun laughs.

“What do you mean?” Jeno asks, throat going dry.

Renjun laughs louder, head thrown back, it echoes through the room and sends chills through Jeno “I mean” he nears closer to the cell “whilst you were playing detective on a case solved years ago, on a murder that never existed. I turned every single minister against you and those who still sided with you I killed. Helios was never a threat, I had turned your General against you and now they all work for me.” he smiles as he watches Jeno fall to his knees, eyes wide, he cannot believe the words he hears. “Yes bow to your King” he smiles down at him

Jeno’s heart stops, his breath caught in his throat, he cannot speak nor think. He closes his eyes and tells himself this is just another nightmare and that Mark would wake him up as he always did. That the curtains will be drawn and the sun will flood in causing his eyes to sting but it never comes. The only stinging of his eyes come from the uncontrollable tear that rolls down his cheek. Renjun crouches down to get a better look at Jeno who shook at every wave of fear passed through him, his blood running cold and all colour draining from him. Renjun smiles at the sight, “I hope you enjoyed the wild hunt I sent you on” he whispers low, his voice making its way into Jeno’s mind the words linger.

“What do you mean you sent me on?” Jeno’s head snaps up

“Oh Jeno, you are flawed in many ways. You are weak, indecisive, unconfident and soft but the worst of your traits is you trust far too easily.” Renjun stands and Jeno has to strain his neck to see him, “______” Renjun calls and Jeno’s head begins to spin.

You step into the room, eyes on the floor for you cannot stand to look at Jeno but Renjun will only see it as a sign of respect to him. You don’t need to be looking at Renjun to know he is smiling, you can feel it, you can hear it as he speaks.

“You see Jeno, not everyone within these walls is your ally. Your father made enemies when he didn’t serve justice. He blamed his servants for the attacks that took place more than a decade ago, he did it to protect his wife and brother.” Renjun tells Jeno

“You are lying” Jeno shouts out, almost choking on the tears that run down his face

“Your father killed hers” Renjun shouts louder “by blaming them then he has made them take action now, against his son. Your father was a fool Jeno. You just as much of one.”

You wince at every sound of his uneven breathing, the heaving of his chest and the groans of denial as everything is revealed. You feel guilt but the more Renjun speaks of what Jeno’s father had taken away from five year old you, the more bearable it becomes. “Thank you ______, for keeping him occupied, you followed your orders well.” and you bow to him like you would once to Jeno. You feel his eyes burning into you from below, you are sure he curses you a million times over but when you dare to look at him you don’t see the raging fury he always held in his eyes. The fire had been put out and Jeno was left broken. The man who once held the world in his hands, the crown on his head and all riches a man could ask for.

Now on his knees is a man. And there before him, is your king.

© (jisungiest) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #neothestars #nctcreations #czennet #Jeno #lee jeno #nct jeno #NCT #nct dream #nct fic #nct angst #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno smut #jeno x y/n #nct smut #nct dream smut #loml jeno #king's crown #ascention to the throne

[sombreboy]

Split↬snakehybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: snakehybrid!pjm x female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, fluff ⤍word count: 3.9k ⤍warnings: profanity, jimin has a cute hiss/lisp, neither is sub or dom in this but jimin is pretty whiny and soft but so is y/n haha ig they’re just whiny for eachother, blowjob, pussy eating with that dextrous split tongue, light breathplay, Jimin has two BIG cocks im not even sorry for this one, double penetration (yes it anatomically works in this world we’re all monsterfuckers here), double creampie? is it even called creampie in the ass too...Just, a lot of cum, biting, mentions of blood, fluffy ending. A/N: Enjoy this surprise. I know many of you wanted this. I worked really hard on it, so please praise me with your love. As always, thank you for reading my filth. xoxo

“Jimin? What are you doing--”

You were unable to finish your sentence before his pillowy lips found purchase on yours, hungrily devouring your mouth with a newfound aggression that contrasted his normally sweet, gentle behavior. A whimper escaped your throat that the snake hybrid gladly swallowed, a rumbling groan erupting in the core of his chest in response to his favorite sound.

He pulled back momentarily, his hot breath fanning your face as it lingered close. Those intense eyes were staring straight through you like scorching razorblades, pupils shrunk into thin slits of focus. He only had eyes for you, you, you in this very moment-- and there was only one thing he desired. And you knew exactly what it was, and just the thought of what he seemed to have in mind had your body immediately reacting accordingly, heating up several degrees until your skin felt flushed hot.

Jimin was sensitive to changes in temperature, and loved how he was able to trigger your flesh to heat up for him like his own personal source of warmth. But nothing compared to the comforting, maddening heat beneath your skin.

“Baby… You know exactly what I’m doing.” He murmurs against the skin of your jawline, smoothing the button of his nose down your neck until he inhales deeply to take in your scent. You smelled so divine, mixed with his own since he’d claimed you as his mate for the first time. “Wanna play with you.”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate, your body was already more than ready, responding to his every graceful movement against your body. His hands gently smoothed down your curves, snaking beneath your shirt to caress your stomach while he took advantage of the towering force of his body to guide your steps backwards towards the bed. You complied, naturally submissive to his ministrations as you allowed him to place you on the bed, sitting on the edge with your palms flat on the soft duvet. He stood in front of you, between your spread legs while gazing down at you. He tugs your shirt up and off your torso, tossing it to the floor without even blinking to avoid missing a single second of seeing you.

“You’re so pretty.” You look up at him with admirations swirling in your eyes. Without thinking, your hands settle on his clothed thighs, running them up his firm muscles until you reach the waistline of his pants, curling your fingers around it to gently tug downwards-- signaling that you want to free the hardening bulge from the cage of fabric. “Wanna play with you too.”

Jimin’s forked tongue slipped out his slightly parted lips, swiping them across the delicate, pillowy skin until a layer of his spit served as a natural gloss, only adding to his unfair beauty. His pupils dilated significantly the second you gasp when you visibly see his cocks twitch through the clothing-- always amazed by his hybrid-like assets.

“Yeah, okay... A little-- You know I get impatient…” Jimin wasn’t blessed with patience, often greedy to get straight to the point of what he desired. But the look in your eyes made him want to give you the world. He couldn’t do that, though, but what he could do was to give you himself.

“I know, Jimin. You can’t help it.” He really couldn’t. When he gets excited, he loses control, the predatory part of his hybrid self taking over almost completely. However, that was exactly what you wanted..

You slowly pulled his pants down together with his underwear, flinching when his cocks sprung free in front of your face. You’re practically foaming at the mouth already, seeing how the swollen tips are glistening with beads of precum, waiting for you to indulge in his sinful flesh. So you did, grasping both in your hands, slowly stroking them from the get go with little to no patience yourself.

He was already hard in your hands, the velvety skin radiating heat. Jimin whined quietly in annoyance, rutting his hips forward to press his girths closer to your mouth-- you got the hint. You parted your lips, taking one of his cocks into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head before diving forward to take it all. You’ve done it countless times before, but every single time the tip of his turgid length prodded the back of your throat, he moans out loud. It’s one of his favorite things, how you’re able to take him so deep until there’s no more space for him to keep pushing.

“Fuck, that feels good, baby... “ Jimin’s tongue lisps lightly around the ‘S’, hissing out his cursed praises. His free hand grasps his untouched cock beneath the one currently buried down your throat, stroking himself simultaneously to the rhythm you quickly found as you sucked him off. His other hand strokes your hair, his delicate, ring-clad fingers brushing your curls behind your ears to see your face better. His hips begin to rut forward to meet your mouths as it comes down on him, watching your lips stretch around his girth with every drag back and forth, back and forth, the skin of his length wetter with each repeated action.

The praise has your cheeks rosy, beaming with pride at how easily he was falling apart just because of your mouth. However, his faux submission didn’t last long until he decided it was your turn to crumble beneath him. He gently grasped your hair into his fist, pulling you back until his length is stripped from the warmth of your wet mouth, a thick string of saliva dripping down your chin.

You look up at him once more, this time feeling your cunt throb when you make eye contact with the predatory stare that came from above, tunnel visioned on you, and you only. He never lied to you when he said his patience was practically nonexistent.

“That’s enough, baby. Take your clothess off…” he lisps endearingly, biting down on his lower lip when you don’t waste time to obey his commands. Your shirt was already off with his assistance, and you threw the bra to join the fabrics on the floor. Laying down on your back, you wiggle your hips while pulling down your pants, eyes never wavering from his. Your snake-like movements mesmerized even him. The prey taunted the predator.

“Moving like that, you drive me crazy… sshit..” Jimin groans, his hand stroking both cocks to the view below him of you stripping down to just your panties. You lift your legs up, taking off the pants completely to toss them away into any direction-- it didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was how riled up Jimin was while watching you, his wet cocks gliding against one another as he kept them in his firm grasp, slick sounds striking the room. His hissing got louder between grunts, and eventually he whines when he stops touching himself, instead coaxing you to move up towards the headboard of the bed to give him space to crawl between your spread legs, still hidden by the thin, soaked panties that you intentionally left on, knowing he loved to see the cotton stick to your cunt like a second layer of skin.

“J-Jimin…” You whine when he leans in between your legs, his hot breath fanning your clothed pussy as his darkened gaze flickers up to meet yours. His lips tug into a teasing smirk, showcasing his pointed fangs that you were so fond of-- for various reasons. His split tongue snakes out from his parted lips, giving your wet panties a long, slow drag from the bottom up to your clit. His moan vibrates in his chest at how he could taste and smell you through his taste buds, the sweet and tangy essence he couldn’t wait to soak his tongue in.

“Lovely.” Jimin praised yet again, smoothing the pads of his finger down your slit, feeling the heated skin beneath the panties. He slowly stroked his fingers up and down a few times before tugging at the thin fabrics, catching it between his fangs to rip it off with one smooth motion of his razor sharp teeth. You exhale audibly at the sight, hands curling up against the sheets to grab a fistful in anticipation-- you know exactly what you’re in for, and just knowing had your body shuddering from the thrill. Only one man could make you feel this riled up with so little, he hadn’t even begun to properly play with you.. yet. 

“P-please, it’s torture…” You whine, knowing all too well which ones of his buttons to push. Begging, whining-- he’d be a puddle that obliged to your wishes within a heartbeat, playing it off as his own greed. He’s domineering, and thrives through the power he possesses over you, sure-- but that didn’t mean he was immune to your pleading, sweet voice. It drove him mad, and if patience could go minus on a scale, his was dropping with every shaky breath that escaped your lips.

“Now who’s impatient..” Jimin teased, giving in to your pleas nonetheless. He understood the feeling better than anybody, and he saw no reason in dragging out the torture any longer than necessary, for the sake of you both. He gets comfortable between your legs, properly situated to finally allow his pillowy lips to kiss your clit softly, drawing another breathy whimper from your pretty throat, watching your chest shudder. He lets his split tongue slip past his parted lips, licking up the wet arousal that had seeped from your cunt, his hot breath hitting your skin as he exhales in rapture. He loved eating you out, and it was of no surprise that you loved it just as much-- his tongue was skilled, and perfectly shaped to give it a unique feeling compared to what a normal, human tongue could do.

Jimin said nothing from then on, but simply allowed his ministrations to speak for him. His dexterous tongue lapped at your dripping entrance, slowly, but not too slow to make it unbearable. He licked upwards stripes, his own drool mixing with the continuous essence that leaked out with every sweet constriction he coaxed from you when his moans vibrated against your pussy.

“You taste sso good, baby.” He sighs blissfully, inching even closer. The wet sounds his mouth made was sinful, alternating between licking and sucking lightly with his plushy, glossy lips. You were squirming above him, arching your back as your hands searched for his golden locks, tangling your fingers into his roots before tugging, pushing him closer to your core for more friction.

“H-harder-- make me cum, Jimin, ah…” You whimper, gritting your teeth in frustration-- you wanted more, more, more, greedy for him to please you further. He whines when you tug at his hair, but allowed you either way to control him. His lips found your clit, sucking at it tastefully, swirling his forked tongue around it to properly give you the attention you craved. His hands were tightly grabbing at your thighs, keeping your moving body in place as he picked up the pace when you kept tugging at his roots, spurring the aggression in him. The pain you caused him made him go harder-- so you closed your fist, pulling harder, and as you anticipated, his mouth treated you rougher.

“G-god, yes-- just like that, so good, I’ll c-cum.. Fuc-k!” Your throaty moans were like music to his ears, but he could only hear the muffled version of it as your fleshy thighs were pinning him in place, pushing against his ears. He could practically hear your heartbeat in your thighs, the warmth comforting and maddening to his senses, your throbbing, swollen clit impossibly hard in his mouth as he kept abusing it with his tongue. He rutted against the bed, his cocks leaking profusely with precum from how desperate you were to cum-- and it made him feel the desperation right on his tongue, both tasting and smelling your impending orgasm.

Your harsh grasp in his blonde curls didn’t cease, but increased the second his wet, skilled tongue flicked over your clit harder, coaxing your orgasm more and more until finally, it hits you like a tidal wave, drowning you in blinding rapture. Your back arched, your insides pulsating in a rhythmical pattern, every throb causing your body to twitch, and your silent cries only came out as gasps. Jimin pulled through, unable to breathe for a mere few seconds, still keeping his split tongue wrapped around your clit, feeling the way it pulsated against his lips. His muffled moan was more than enough for you to know he loved this just as much, but the moment he tapped your thigh you quickly let go of him so he could pull back and gasp for air.

“Ah, I’m s-sorry…” You half laugh, half whine, your dewy skin glistening with sweat, chest moving up and down with every shaky, heavy breath. You look down at his black stare, admiring you as if you were his entire universe. And to him, you are, no doubt.

“Don’t be. I loved it-- sso pretty... Sso hot…” Jimin huffed, giving your soaked entrance one last lick, gathering your essence on his tongue before slipping his tongue back into his mouth, savoring the taste. “Mmm...  You’re sso delicious, baby.”

“Gah.. D-don’t say that, it’s embarrassing.” You hid your face in your palms, face flushed with embarrassment and the lingering arousal in your body. You felt him get up from his position, crawling on top of your body to kiss your hands that covered your face. Slowly, you removed them to peek at him, only to see his pearly, sharp smile, eyes squinted into the most beautiful crescent moons.

“You’re too cute. How can you act so innocent after using my mouth like that?” Jimin cooed, leaning back in to kiss your lips. It tasted like you, but you didn’t mind-- because it was living proof that he’d just indulged in his favorite treat.

Well, one of his favorite treats.

Jimin sat back up on his knees, his cocks standing tall and needy for any attention whatsoever at this point. He’d been so patient after all, putting effort into making you feel so good. Now that you’re soaked, both his mouth and swollen heads of his lengths were dripping with desperation to finally fuck you.

“Baby?” Jimin’s soothing voice was like a siren’s song, impossible to ignore-- absolutely impossible to say no to.

“Yes?”

“Ride me, please?” His eyelashes fluttered, flirting his way through your heart to get what he desired. And it worked--- obviously. He wouldn’t even have to ask this nicely. He treated you well, so you wanted to give it right back.

You nod, moving to the side to let him take your previous place, laying on his back. He propped himself up a little with a few pillows, reaching for your body with a pout when he felt cold without the warmth that is you.

“You’re still the more impatient one.” You giggle as you straddle him, lifting your hips up above his cock. He watched with wide eyes, nodding in agreement to whatever you said at this point-- all he could think about was to fill you up.

“Yeah, yeah.” He murmured, guiding your hips down slowly to sink down on one of his cocks, the other left untouched, sandwiched between the fleshy cheeks of your ass. His cocks were wet, easily providing a pleasant glide against your skin.

“I really want to be able to fill you with both this time…” Jimin confessed while he swallowed tightly, fangs clamping down on his lower lip as he pushed you down further to take his entire length in your warm insides. His cocks throbbed, one in you and one against your ass, a heavy exhale slipped past his lips in bliss. “So fuckin’ goood to me, shit… Rock your hipss, baby, use me.”

“God, you’re so pretty Jimin…” You praised him right back, feeling his cock pulsate with every sweet word coming from you. He loved it when you called him pretty in various ways. Rocking your hips back and forth, his cock grinds deeply inside of you, causing yourself to moan from using him to please yourself. “And s-so big, fuck..”

“I know.” Jimin crooked a playful eyebrow at you, but just as quickly his shit eating grin was wiped off when you spit in your palm, hand snaked behind your back to stroke the cock that wasn’t already wrapped in your heat. “Ahh, yes.. Touch it-- touch it more…” He whined, his hands grabbing your thighs to coax you to rock your hips harder. You did so, all while teasing the wet head of his free length.

“Want to fill both my holes with your pretty cocks, Jimin?” You said sweetly, already knowing the answer. His hips bucked upwards in response, his hissed curses spurring your growing confidence. You slowed your movements, guiding the drenched tip to prod at your ass. Slowly, you teased your tight rim until you could comfortably slip it inside, carefully allowing him to fill you up to the brim with both of his blessed, turgid lengths. You gasped again, overwhelmed by how full you felt, so complete.. “O-oh my god....”

“Yes, yeah, fuck yess..” Jimin screwed his eyes shut for a moment, stilling his movements for your sake, wanting you to decide when it’s time to move. He knew it’d be a lot, and he’s so proud of you for taking both his cocks at once-- such a fucking good girl for him. “Tight, isn’t it? Take it easy..”

“Yeah, you’re big, Jimin…Unf..” You place your palms flat down on his toned abdomen, breathing steadily to relax your muscles. The two of you truly felt each other then, his flesh filling you up in such a completing way that he’d never done before. Your warm insides hugging him snugly, comforting him in every sense of the word-- he felt at ease, like this is where he belonged all along. 

You began to move when you felt ready, grinding your hips against him, feeling the twitching of his needy cocks inside of you with every movement-- not a single moment went unnoticed by him, every breath and whine that slipped past your lips was pure bliss. You picked up the pace a bit, rocking faster on him, growing greedier with every low curse, hiss and moan that pushed past his bit swollen lips, his blunt nails digging into your thighs.

“D-don’t go too fast, I’ll cum…” He whined, licking his sharp fangs as he stared at the way your body jiggled on top of him. His hips rutted upwards, changing the rocking motion into an up and down bounce, causing you to moan out in pleasure when his cocks abused the thin wall of flesh separating his lengths, grinding against one another.

“M-maybe I want you to..” You breathe out, your voice nowhere as coy as you had imagined it to be-- it was impossible to tease when he brushed against every inch of your sensitive insides, the sweet stretch driving you mad. But on the other hand, you could tell he’s the one who was falling apart underneath you, the common tick of his where he continuously swiped his tongue over his sharp fangs, a known quirk of his when he’s desperately trying to control his impending orgasm by feeling the sting of his teeth. “Want you to fill me up so well. Help me, fuck me harder. I c-can’t by myself.”

“Mhm.” Jimin’s nails had dragged down your thighs countless times at this point, coaxing red welts to form in his rake. He smoothed his palms up your body, digging his digits into your hips to get a proper hold of you, aiding in your bouncing motion, allowing you to plunge down on his cocks harder to meet his bucking hips, forcing the slapping sound of skin to skin to grow more prominent in the room. “Oh, baby, I swear… I’ll cum, ah…”

Those few, sweet words spoken in his lustful, canary voice was all you needed to feel a rush of energy pump through your veins, adamant to make him cum just as good as he made you. Your fingers curled on the skin of his stomach, light scratches forming on his milky tone as you bounced on his cocks harder, faster, deeper-- the shameless wet smacking sounds driving you both towards lustful madness. His split tongue continuously swiped over his teeth, lips, biting down hard on his pillowy, delicate skin. His teeth itched to bite down on something, the scorching heat pooling in his abdomen creeping up on him faster than ever before.

“B-baby-- Wanna bite.” Jimin pleaded, but it wasn’t a command. The biting wasn’t your favorite, he knew this, but he felt desperate. It was his way of marking you, claiming you-- to show you he loved you and you only during a time like this. “I promise I’ll be g-gentle, please.. I’m cumming, fuc-k!”

You didn’t hesitate, wordlessly leaning forward to offer him your neck, all while his tight grasp moved to your ass, forcing you down over and over on his lengths. His lips immediately kiss down your neck, searching for his favorite spot in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips curl up as his fangs came into view, not wasting a second of this given opportunity to let them sink into your soft skin. Your body tensed up, holes constricting around his lengths, just the way he anticipated--and had hoped for. He kept fucking up into you, hissing as his razor-like fangs chomp down your neck, savoring the throaty cries that pushed past your lips.

“O-oh, ow, shit-- fuck! Jimin, ahh… F-feels good.” You reassured him, knowing that although his primal instincts took over the second his fangs bit into you, one of his hands soothingly ran up and down your waist as the other remained tight, fucking you down on him. However, it only took a few more punishing thrusts before he pushed you down once more, but this time keeping you still, emptying himself into both of your holes. His body tensed up, hips stuttering as he hissed out, lips curled up as he bit down harder. This is where he’s the most lost in his hybrid part of himself, mating you like it’s the first time, although it’s far from it.

“D-doing so well, Jimin…” You praised as you felt his body relax slowly, cocks pulsating as hot cum gushed out into the tight space, already seeping out from the lack of anywhere else to go. His hands is the first indication that he’d come back down to reality, smoothing down your back and pulling you close to his body. Lastly, he unhinged his jaw and let go, licking his bloody fangs clean before holding you close, still lodged deep inside of you with no intention of removing you from this position just yet.

“Thank you, baby.” Jimin stroked your back, nuzzling his nose into your hair to coax you to look up at him. When you did, he smiled. The familiar, pearly smile that caused his eyes to form into this lovely squint that had your heart fluttering. “I love you.”

This man was really made out of sugar, spice and everything nice.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#Fic: split #Jimin smut #Park Jimin smut #snake jimin #snake hybrid jimin #hybrid jimin #bts hybrid smut #hybrid bts #jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x y/n #bts smut #park jimin hybrid #snake hybrid smut #sombreboy

[gangrenados]

YOOOOOOOO THE HAIRY JASON = 🖤🖤🖤🖤

the man deserves some love tbh.

dc watch out cause i’m coming for u if u continue to keep him in captivity.

I must admit that I'm a little bit too much in love with this concept, like I never thought hairy men were that nice, but goddamn this kinda changed my mind lol AND YES Jason deserves so much love 😫😫

Anyway, I had this in my draft and decided to add the concept, well, I wrote this every time I was bored, so maybe it's not that great.

thanks to @imagines-fluff-yandere-smut for this great ass concept, girl keep up your horny thoughts, I love them 😤😤💕💕💕!!

Warning: Uh kinda smutty, a blowjob and a lot of slurs??

(L/n): your last name

You have no idea of how much I love that gif 👉🏽👈🏽

The soft sound of the tv echoing in the background alongside with the lulling murmuring of the city, were the only thing that was keeping in touch with the reality you were set on: living on a rather small apartment setted in the middle of one of the most tumoltous cities in the world.

Was it comfortable? surely not, but the company was greatly accepted. Besides this was just transient point in your life.

You stirred closer to your lover with a soft yawn, scaping from the cold that Gotham rainy nights always provided and being dealighted welcomed by a side hug of his right arm that quickly fell limp beside your shoulder.

You took the dare to rest your head on his chest, he didn't moved or said anything, staying in the same position with his arm behind his head as the other is around you, but with the slight difference that his lips were forming a little side smile.

Taking that small gesture as a green light, you kept going with your intrusion. You dragged your fingers  down town his torso, wandering through his abs before finally setting just above the hem of his boxers.

You caressed his skin softly, just the tender touch of your fingers before your nails ran up and down his skin, leaving a nice ticklish sensation all over Jason's body, to finally play gently in the hairs of his happy trail.

It didn't take long before your let your hand go lower, and between your innocent caress and the small talk of the show going on, you brushed his crotch lightly. However, that was more than enough to peek your boyfriend's attention.

"Are you trying to get me horny, doll?" his hoarse voice made you giggle. Trapped in the middle of you act and you couldn’t but offer a playful smile once you noticed those beautiful blue eyes looking down at you.

“Maybe...” you mumbled trying to appear innocent while your hands were still moving up and down his member in a gently, but firm maner. Jason arched his eyebrows, scoffing at your words. “Is it working?

You let out a yelp as Jason pulled you over him like nothing. It might soud crazy, but the way he stares at you makes your insides light up in pure fire as your heart speeds up for a moment.

So now your mind can only focus on the way his big hands were caressing your hips, daring to tugg at the waistband of your panties and to  run down those calloused fingers a little bit too close of your inner thighs.

Jason looks so beautilf underneath you and then his words makes you pay attention at what you had provoked.  "I think you gotta work harder."

Between kisses you moved to his neck, nibbling onto the soft skin and sucking lightly as you keep grinding  your ass on his clothed cock. Jason wanted more, you could sense this by the way his hands were pressing you against his pelvic, a way to prevent you to go elsewhere.

 Jason’s hips bucked against  yours, his hands still resting on your arse as he let his head fall down on his pillow. ”Is this enough?" You smiles against his skin, giving a small kiss with your swollen lips and Jason just nods.

"You won." His raspy voice sends shivers downs your spine." I have a boner and I would pretty much like to fuck you right now, congratulations!”

"Nice!" You say as you grab his face between your hands and give him a peck, Jason looks up to you with one of those heart melting smile he keeps for moments when your cuteness is about to give him a heart attack.

So you go down, giving short kisses across his abdomen and tracing his skin with your nails. As you reach his boxers you give a sweet kiss to his clothed cock and without taking your eyes off of Jason while tugging down those black boxes and he can't help but caress your head lovingly.

You spit on your hand quickly before you take his hard dick in your hand and start to pump him at a slow pace.

The contact makes him shiver and Jason mind is starts to fog the instant you take him in your mouth and you your tongue swirl around the shaft.

Jason pants as you bob your head up and down, sucking at his hard cock while your hand pump what you can't fit in your mouth.

His whimpers are music to your ears and seeing his face contorts in pleasure is making the coil in your belly tighten. It's nice to be able to have this view, but you're more focused on keeping up with the work.

"Fuck" Jason says as he sinks deeper in his pleasure. One of his hands goes to your head and grabs your hair, he doesn't move whatsoever. "Just like that! You're so good to me, babe."

Everything is going so nice, there's nothing better than receiving head after a hard week of work and Jason's state of mind is more than enough proof of this. The wet sounds mixed with Jason’s moans opaque the long forgotten sitcom that was still being played.

And moment like this make Gotham nights more berable, just the two of you enjoying each others bodies with the very welcoming bonus of being in love.

However, the euphoria is quickly cut off as the  annoying sound of the doorbell comes into scene; at first you don't stop and Jason is thankful because of it, but the person waiting at the other side of the apartment isn't as glad. The ring of the doorbell sounds acute in your ears, making the task of ignore it more difficult than you thought.

"(L/N) I am here, open up" the deep and annoying voice of your landlord fills the air and your groan in frustration.

The cold hits Jason's dick as you take him of off your mouth. "(Y/N), doll, don't leave me like this."

"Sorry, I forgot I called my landlord for the issue with the water." you say with a guilty smile, however,  seeing you kiss the tip of his cock doesn't make Jason feel any better.

"Are you busy, (y/n)? I can come another time" your landlord suggest and Jason flashes a grin.

"Problem resolved." He says a little bit too excited as he rest his weight down on his elbows. "Now where were we?"

"Jay no." you shook your head before getting up on your feet.

"He said he can come  later!"

"But that will mean another month carrying water buckets to take a shower! " Jason's mind pops up with an idea, but before he can say you cut him off." And no, I can't keep going to your house any time I have a problem, Jay!"

You can't help but giggle at his pouted lips, it's always a cute view seeing the so feared Red Hood whining over you. "You can! You know I don't have a problem with that." The way he talks so passionately falls flat once he notices that you're not going to back down.

"I didn't even got to show you how much I love you" Jason groans and just roll your eyes playfully at him. ” I want to fuck you until you’re scraming my name so the whole building will know who you belong to.”

"That reminds me that they're at the verge of causing a riot if they hear us again" you chuckle, putting aside Jason's attempts as reach up to him and leave a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"We will finish this as soon as the landlord goes. That's a promise " You wink at him before get of him to head towards the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly.

"Fucking cockblock" Jason ushes under his breath and you chuckle as you go to meet with the imapatient man at the other side of your apartment.

Tag list below the cut

Tag list: @burningclodwagonjudge @meany-marcelini @alice-fell-down-the-well @demondoxable @fluffyshrimpuwu @mad-grace-amber @screechingghostbananafarm @owl-witch-prompts @waroncheer @nervousfandom @c0-77 @astroherogirl @omgtheywereroommates98 @redarsenal @shadygoateeprincess @lovelyartemisa @missmaskedwriter @thegirlwholovesbooksblog @silverw19 @simpery @unknowntoanyone @ghost-bich @lucy-roo @adarksoul098 @magicisabluewish @kellieriddle96 @ashyvillain @panic-attheplace @greeknerd007 @honeydolly @perylinsus @cedrics-things @just-deka @malfoys-demigod @aterriblelangblr @hamdehlesmis @dreamxcollide @thirstiestpotato @magicalbeanie @letlly

#smutty #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #dc imagine #dc x reader

[plush-rabbit]

What A Good Little Girl

Warnings: Non-Con, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I’ve uh,,, I did a fic. Headcanons probably would’ve had it gone out quicker but I was kind of excited to do this,,, hope you like it!! I think I’m depraved with this but I’m not totally sure!! Its hard for to be like “hm, is this heavy or am I reaching?” anyways, enjoy!

-

Your hands grab fistfuls of the comforter, pulling on it, desperately trying to grab onto something to pull yourself away from him. Your knees dig into the mattress, hands letting go of the cloth and reaching out to grab the linen, pulling it away, your teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, hope and fear coursing through your veins as you reach to grab the various layers that decorate the once pristine bed. You’re desperate, crying and begging, shouting until your voice is hoarse, until you’re sure that blood runs down your throat. 

His hands are on you, nails digging into your bare hips, the skin ripped and blood spilled as his fingers hook into your underwear, pulling it down, exposing your cunt and your bum. Your nails drag against the bare mattress, mouth open in a scream of help with spit spilling out and making the white sheets translucent. 

“Stop!” You shout, trying to dig your toes into the slipping bedsheets. “Please!” Your sobs are ripped out of you, hoarse and ruined as tears stream down the curve of your face. Your body is flipped over, his fingers leaving bruises along your sides. Hair spills in front of your face, catching on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks. “Overhaul, I’m begging you!” You spit the hair out, your mouth parted as you gasp for breath.

He’s looming above you, the sharp point of the mask poking against your nose, his knee in between your legs, the front of it pushing against your sex. His hands grasp your wrists, pinning them above you, his eyes frantic and wide. 

“I love you.” You can hear the smile on his words, gracing them with a twistedness that you’ve only heard in movies. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stop your thrashing, chest heaving and nails pressing against your palms. “Let me go. I swear, I- I won’t tell anyone. Just- Just, please-” your voice cracks, praying to any god above that is willing to listen that they would show the humanity in your attacker- “let me go.”

“No.” His answer is simple and your trashing resumes, your legs kicking out, screams tearing through the air and his knee presses further against your sex. “Shut up.” You refuse to listen to him, crying out, your wrists swirling and twisting, an escape attempt that is futile. His hand slams against your face, smushing your face lips wetting the palm of his hand. “I said-” his voice is cold, harsh and unforgiving, eyes narrowed at you- “shut up.” You let out a shuddering breath against his palm, your shouts lowering into a whimper. His hands claw, nails scratching at your chin. “I lied when I said I’m not going to hurt you.” Your blood runs cold and your body still, heart beating rapidly against your ribs. “I don’t want to but if I have to train you, then I will.” His head tilts, his eyes pushing upwards, the smile hidden beneath the god-awful mask. “Understood?” You nod to your best attempt, and his smile presumably falls. “I asked you a question. I expect a response.” His fingers press against your forehead and you hate to think of his touch on you. “I’ll ask once more.” His head tilts and you can feel the aura that oozes off of his body- it’s slimy and thick, tar-like and nauseating. “Understood?”

“Yes, Overhaul,” you whimper. You swallow the lodge that formed in your throat, teeth clenching at the pain of the raw wounds inside your throat. “I understand.”

He relaxes, the smile returning, the point of mask gently rubbing against you as if it were giving you a kiss. “I’m going to let your wrists go but if you dare to try anything, I’ll disassemble you. Don’t make me do that. I’d hate for our room to be bloodied.” 

You want to vomit. Your fingers twitch as his hand releases your wrists and the need to survive wants to strike up at him but the look of his eyes make you stop. They’re unforgiving. You know that he isn’t lying. He’d ruin you in a heartbeat, in less than a blink of an eye if you even made a sudden movement. You lie still, your wrists aching and you have to ignore the urge to rub at them.

He grabs you roughly, pulling you onto your feet. Your bare body is against his, your chest against the fabric of his shirt. His hand rests on the beginning curve of your bum, his eyes, bright as the sun and golden like the blood of gods, burns into your very soul, marring you in a way that you will never be clean ever again. 

He holds you tight, his arms circling around you and hands slipping around your body. His chest rises and dips, even breaths that meet your chest. His hand turns over, bringing it under the cusp of your breast, goosebumps pricking at your skin. His thumb rises, edging under your nipple, pushing the pebbling bud upwards. He places the curve of his beak against the curve of your neck. You hear a sharp inhale, his beak brushing against your pulse point, edging it closer to you, the point of it pressed close to you. When he pulls away from you, his eyes have widened slightly, head tilting at you. His arms release you and he steps backwards.

He stands in front of you, his heels clicking against the floors. “Kneel.” There’s defiance inside of you, wanting to snarl and spit at him and as if noticing that you still have that bit of urge to fight inside of you, he flexes his hand open. You kneel. Your knees digging into the floor, hands flat on your thighs. “Beg for it.”

The room is silent, unable to hear anything but your own heartbeat that echoes in your ears. “What?” You ask in a horrified whisper, hands clawing on your thighs, leaving marks in its wake.

“I want you to beg for my cock. I want you to beg for me to fuck you.” A shiver of disgust runs through your body. “I already love you but to be honest, the whole appeal of sex has never been a favorite of mine. But-” his fingers snap and you look up at him immediately- “I would like to be your first.” Your mouth opens in defiance but he raises a hand and you fall silent. “I’m aware you’ve been with women before but never with a man. I’d like to be your one and only.” Your body is filled with ants, crawling inside of you, scratching under your skin, the shiver makes your twitch, a jerking motion of your shoulder as you your mouth is filled with poison. He takes a step closer to you, the sound of metal clinking together as he undoes his belt. “You’re going to beg, and you’re going to do it well because if you don’t-” his hand grasps at your chin, smushing your cheeks together, and with a careful hand, he removes his mask placing it on the bed beside you, a face that you sure would have been beautiful if not belonging to the monster that stands above you contorts into a mess- “I’ll make sure that you feel every second of pain that I’m going to bring to you.” He releases your face and stands back up right, a tent in his boxers that shows how much pleasure he’s getting from the entire experience. “Beg for it.”

Humiliation courses through you and no matter how much you try to hype yourself up in your head, trying to ingrain the idea that if you don’t do what he’s asked of you, the punishment will be worse than you can imagine. Any defiance inside of you dies quickly, a flame snuffed out by a cold gust of wind that leaves the room devoid of light and warmth. 

He clears his throat and you flinch. Your lips are dry, your tongue heavy with acid and with your eyes downcast, you speak with tremors. “Please, Overhaul.” You want him to kill you, you’d prefer it rather than anything else but a death with him wouldn’t be simple. “I- I want-” you might throw up- “your cock.” Tears burn your eyes and you’re begging for something worse than death on your knees. 

“Do better.”

You bite on the inner corners of your lips. “I want to suck on your cock. Please.”

The palm of his hand burns against the side of your face, a print left of it as you curl on the floor, a hand holding you up and the other cradling where he has touched you. Your face pulls into a frown, gasping for breath, trying to not give him the satisfaction of you crying. 

“I told you to do better.” His voice is cold, and when you look up at him, he’s rubbing the palm of the hand that had struck you. 

You slowly come back to your original position, rising to while holding your cheek, the other hand coming to graze your pubic mound, fingers touching lightly on it to cover the intimate area. “Plea- Please Overhaul. I-” you swallow the poison in your mouth and look up at him with watery eyes- “Overhaul, I’m on my knees. Please, let me suck your cock. I want your cock so badly- I- I-” your face stings and you curve your hand to cover your mouth, the hand above your pubic drifting off to the side as you spread your legs- “I need your cock in my pussy.” His eyes burn against your body. Your mouth parts behind your palm, the hand on your thigh lifting and hiding behind your palm. The index and middle finger rest on the flat of your tongue, your lips closing around the knuckle, cheeks hollowing as you wet your fingers, sliding them out and looking at the tent in his boxers that twitches when your spit coated fingers touch at your clit. “Let me have the honor of sucking on your cock.”

He inches closer to you and you can see the tip of where his cock rests darken. “Say that you're a filthy bitch who wants cock.” 

Your fingertips press against your entrance as you try to remember a previous partner, so desperate to make yourself want this. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock.” Your fingers tickle at the inside of your walls, the spit making the stretch a bit less painful. 

His hand rests above your head, fingers gripping against you to force you closer to his cock, nose against the tip. “Bark for me.” His cock leaks, arousal dripping on the tip of your nose and slipping to your cupid’s bow. 

Hopelessness fills you. “Arf.” Your hair knots into his fingers, a sharp tug on your scalp. “Arf! Arf!” Your fingers curl inside of you, your head lifted as he tugs on your hair. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock! I’m a little bitch just for you Overhaul! Please let me put my mouth to use and fuck my mouth! Arf!” His cock is pushed against your lips, splitting and the pre-arousal spilling past your teeth and filling your mouth with something bitter. Your fingers pump inside of you, trying to force arousal to drip. His hands curve to the back of your head, gripping your hair and forcing you further against him. “I’m just a filthy bitch! I want your cock, please! Arf!”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth, your eyes widening and squinting in distaste at the arousal that is forced down your throat. He holds himself close to you, his bills pressing against your chin. Your tongue is against his underside, the salty taste of him infiltrating your mouth and forcing you to remember how he tastes and feels.

“Move your tongue.” His orders are strict and you listen because you have no right to disobey him. Your tongue slips around him, feeling the vein that rests alongside him, the soft dip against his cockhead. “Keep fingering yourself but don’t you dare make a mess.”

Out of habit, you make a sound of understanding, the muffled voice surrounding his cock send vibrations against him. He grips your hair tighter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, the bitter scent of his skin pressed firmly against your nose. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat, a bitter taste that slides down your throat, thin and slippery that makes you feel sick. Tears spill past your eyes, sliding down to drip from your chin and land on your breasts. Nausea is heavy on your tongue, your fingers still inside of your cunt, the small bit of arousal that you forced to coat your fingers has finally dried and now your fingers are tight inside of you. 

“You aren’t touching yourself,” he grits through his teeth, taking a small step further towards you. Your body stiffens and the hand knotted into your hair pulls away, smoothing over the stinging pain with a soft pet. “You know I hate messes, right?” You make a sound of confirmation with his length still inside of your mouth. Your fingers have begun to twitch, curling and petting over your velvety walls that slowly dribble with arousal. “I told you I would punish you, didn’t I? To keep fingering yourself and not make a mess? Well, you listened about not making a mess, but you still defied me.” Your body stiffens and he coos in a clincal voice, his hands slowly coming to curve to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to press firmly on your skull. “Well, consider this a lesser punishment for not listening to me. If you do that again, I might be forced to do something that you’ll regret.”

He pulls away from you, his cock slowly sliding out of your tightly closed mouth, his cockhead remaining between your teeth, more of the sickly, bitter thin arousal lands in a puddle on your tongue. He orders for you to open your mouth wider and you do so, the flat of your tongue resting on the underside of his cock and you take a shaky breath, tears still fresh and clinging to your lashes when he pushes himself forward, and you choke on your last breath.

His cock hits against the back of your throat in such a forceful manner that the only thought you’re able to hold onto coherently is that you’ll be left with a bruise. He slams to the back of your throat, holding tightly onto your skull.

Overhaul is unforgiving, holding your head to the hilt of cock, your nose squished against his groin and he stills for a moment. Your eyes water, spit running through the gaps in your mouth and his hand slaps firmly against your cheek. It’s an unwelcome feeling, the firm pat of his hand against your face, touching against his throbbing cock that pushes so deep into you that you are unable to breathe. He holds himself closely to you and one of his hand lifts, only to hammer against the other, pounding your skull closer to his skin. Tears burn their mark on the curve of your face, sliding and mixing with the thick, slimy spit that coats your shin and drips to your breasts and onto the back of your hand that is nestled into your cunt. 

He pulls away, his cock bobbing with spit hanging onto him and dripping off in thick strings to the floor. It splatters against your legs and it’s uncomfortably warm. You gasp for breath, your face burning and lungs expanding with precious air. Your jaw aches, opened wide for a monster who claims to love you, who wants you pure and yet defiles you with the very body that he keeps so clean. 

It’s a second of relief, the only pause you have in this nightmare of a scenario before he pushes into you once more. He swings into your still body, feeling the back of your throat with semen running down your throat. You are unable to move, your fingers slowly becoming coated in arousal that is induced by fear. The vision in the corners of your eyes begin to be speckled by black dots, your mind slowly lost as your hands curve around his thighs and nails press into his skin, a desperate attempt to be let go from the current scene that you are stuck in. He ejaculates into your mouth, spilling and forcing it down your throat even as your cough and speckles fly and land on his thigh. 

Survival instincts take over and you are uncaring of any punishment that can be given by him. You slap his thigh, begging in a muffled cry to be let go. His hand hammers to the back of your skull as a warning sign, and you still, the muscles in your legs tense and you are desperate to be let go, to breath for a moment as your vision starts to grow dimmer by the second. 

With a brief moment of mercy, he pulls away and you gasp for air, holding onto your chest that burns from restriction, your heart pumping madly. Your hearing goes distant as you focus on survival, unable to hear the scratching of fabric against each other, your vision blurry with tears missing that his bare legs come into view and walk away from you. You are on all fours, sobbing and begging to be let go, that you won’t speak a word of this. You trip over your words, blubbering, watching as spit that coats our chin drips to the floor, your sex hardly wet and the fingers that were inside of you moments ago are now curled into your hand in disgust. 

There is a horrible brewing inside of you, whatever fight that you left in you has disappeared, leaving you a broken husk of a person that was ruined by a man. Someone so clean and orderly, respected and cared for, has made you filthy, has ruined you internally and outside, ruined your worth with an intimate act saved for lovers. You are on your hands and knees, crying and begging to be let go, acidic spit coating your tongue as you promise him that he’ll be the only man you ever love as long as he lets you go. But your words are nothing more than fuel for him to continue, evil growing deep inside of him as he saunters to you, gripping you the hair and raising you, pearls of discharge bead from his slit as he listens to your cries. He walks and tosses you onto the bed and with realization of what is to come, you sob harder and bury your face into the bed, your hands clinging to the bed sheets that you held onto so tightly long ago.

“Make sure you cry, okay?” His lips are on your shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. “I want you and I both to remember who it was that took your virginity. Remember that I claimed you.” His hands are cold as the trail down your body, his legs kicking yours open and you can feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He enters you, and you squeal, your scream high-pitched and hands tearing into the sheets. 

Overhaul is cruel, slamming his hips into yours in a telling way that he does not care for your own pleasure but is purely seeking out his own. With every thrust, he meets with a cry, your back arching and something war and slick spilling onto your inner thighs and you can only hope with a muddled mind that he’s spilled inside of you, but you know that that isn’t the case. You cry his name and it's ruined on your tongue, stuttered out and broken, filled with agony and hate, drenched in everything evil and it matches who he is. 

“Fuck-” his curse is cut off by breathless laughter- “you were a virgin!” His nails dig into your hips and your fears are confirmed. “Staining my cock is pure blood,” he claims and you can hear the smile, “you really are everything good and pure.” It's a mockery to hear those words. Time is blurring and your mind is starting to escape you, leaving you there to be motionless as he uses you to his own pleasure. He grunts above you, sweat clinging to you and your tears sliding down in silent sobs. Your hand is limp as he pushes it above you, curving over you as he holds your hand. Finally, in a ruined state, you can feel his seed spill inside of you, dripping in thick, white ropes that paint you pink and white, red messily swirled inside of you.

He pulls away with a gasp and his lips are on your burning body. He picks you up, holding you close to his chest, his heart beating reminding you that he is human. Overhaul picks you up and brings you into a bathroom and he lets you rest inside the tub, the water spilling onto your feet and soon rising to your collarbone. He joins you and washes your body with the scent of vanilla and orange blossom filling the air. His lips are pressed against your face, kissing you in what should be a loving motion as you cry and turn your body into his chest, mumbling how everything hurts. His hands are gentle on your body, cupping your sex and kissing your trembling lips.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #yandere overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki x reader #kai chisaki imagine #yandere chisaki kai #bnha imagine #overhaul imagine

[paperpocalypse]

the first.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 7. “Good morning, beautiful/handsome”

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,035 words

Warning: Swearing

[A/N: AU where the original timeline is restored after S2 and the siblings get back home :)]

He feels strange when he wakes up.

Five opens his eyes just a crack, then squeezes them shut immediately after, breathing in as he buries his face halfway into his pillow. God. He feels really strange.

The blankets are heavy and warm over his body. An ache – a half-pleasant ache, the kind that brings relief through every muscle once you stretch – lays gently along his shoulders as he rolls onto his back, reaching up to rub his eyes. Then he opens them again, more fully this time.

The curtains are drawn, and the sun paws at them with soft fingers. A gentle, yellow glow from the gap in between them falls across his eyes, and as he blinks, adjusting to the light, Five feels you shift next to him.

He looks over at you. You gaze back at him through sleepy, half-open eyes, and even though the bottom half of your face is obscured by the blankets, he knows that you’re smiling.

“Good morning, handsome.” Your voice is raspy and muffled. “Why’re you up so early?”

Five hooks his fingers over the top of the comforter, pulling it down so he can see the rest of your face. Your nose wrinkles at the cool air, and the ghost of a smile flits across his lips. “You realize that the sun’s up, right?” he murmurs.

You shift again to lay on your stomach, hugging your pillow. “That doesn’t mean anything to me anymore,” you say.

He raises his eyebrows as you yawn. “And why’s that?”

“Because the world isn’t ending,” you drawl, stretching out a hand underneath the covers to find his, “and we have curtains.”

Your tone is matter of fact. Five lets out an amused huff as you close your eyes, absently stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. Every once in a while since April 1st, you remind him that the apocalypse is no longer coming, sometimes in passing like this, other times more directly. And although he has never admitted it to you, he’s been needing those reminders – stopping the apocalypse had been his priority for decades, and now that it’s finally gone, he has to force himself to think about a future that lasts more than ten days.

A future that, thankfully, includes you.

“Did you sleep well?”

He hums, gazing at your peaceful expression. “Yeah,” he replies, and he’s being honest.

“Seems like you did.” You let go of his hand to brush his hair out of his eyes. A small grin graces your face. “You’re usually grouching around the room before your coffee.”

“Believe me, I’ll need it eventually.”

“You’ve been drinking less of it, though. That’s good.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ll fully kick it,” Five mutters. He reaches for your hand again, not completely unaware of his action. “It was one of the only things keeping me sane during the whole saving-the-world shitshow.”

Your grin grows slightly cheeky. “Oh?” you muse. “And what were the other things?”

“I can see your head swelling already.”

“Indulge me.”

He gives you a flat look, then rolls his eyes, letting you kiss his knuckles. “Fine,” Five concedes, his voice softer. “You also kept me sane, some of the time.”

“Aw, Five, I’m touched.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You press your lips to his hand again, and Five instinctively pushes down the strange, pleasant feeling that it sends through his chest. But then you hold them there, and you just look at him, and he swallows down the thought that he should pull away because he doesn’t want to. Because it feels nice. Maybe he should start getting used to having nice things, like Klaus and Allison had said.

… Jesus, he’s taking his siblings’ advice now. Something’s wrong with him.

When you withdraw, the distant ringing of a bell filters through the door. Five frowns.

You sit up reluctantly as he turns away from you to check the alarm clock. 9:34. Huh. Everyone must have slept in. It’s understandable; the previous night had been quite eventful, after all, with Claire’s birthday party at the mansion.

“I guess we didn’t sleep through breakfast,” you remark, stretching as he pushes the blankets off the two of you. “I wonder what Grace whipped up.”

Five swings his legs across and over the side of the bed. “Well, it’s Saturday, so she probably made pancakes.”

“Really? I was thinking waffles.”

The ringing gets louder. Klaus is heading up the stairs, Five thinks while the two of you pull the covers over the pillows. About thirty seconds from now he will open the door, swinging the bell around and telling Five and you to wake up. As per usual. Five finds himself looking forward to it, in the exasperated, fond kind of way reserved for his brother. It’s like old times.

(Better, actually.)

“Five? [Y/n]!” Klaus’s singsong voice cuts through the sound of the bell. The door creaks open and he pops his head in, pausing his clanging around for just a moment. “Wakey, wakey, lovebir – oh, you beat me to it. Less work for me.”

“We’ll be down soon,” you tell Klaus, smoothing out the comforter on your side.

“Oh, excellent. We greatly look forward to your presence at the table.” The man provides a sagely nod, then points the bell at Five. “You, not so much.”

Five sends a sharp, narrow smile his way. Klaus merely returns it with a mock grimace, unruffled, then resumes his ringing as he disappears from the doorway.

As his brother makes his way back down the hall, Five turns back around to meet your eyes; eventually, you break out into a chuckle as he deadpans. You move towards the curtains nearest to you and pull them open, letting the light in before joining him.

“Well,” you say, “we can’t leave them waiting, can we?”

“They’re used to it,” he responds.

Unhurried, Five walks with you over to the door, ushering you through before leaving the room himself. He leaves the door open.

Morning has broken, and his siblings and niece are downstairs. You are right beside him, alive and well, no longer touched by the ashes of the apocalypse.

Everything is just as it should be.

#cliché tropes and prompts #source: bucky-plums-barnes #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #umbrella academy five #five x reader #five imagine #the umbrella academy #tua #tua fanfic #fluff #fanfic #reader insert #the first morning that five wakes up and actually feels well-rested #bc that old child needs to catch up on like 45+ years of sleep #cheesy mccheesyville all up in here let me indulge lol

[inkformyblood]

darkness for sighing (daylight for song)

Summary: Obi-Wan should have known better than to think his mission would be a straightforward one. But he couldn't have suspected the man he would run into, or the mystery he would start to uncover. [Fantasy AU] Pairing: Codywan

“What are you doing?”

It isn’t the tone of the voice, which is warm despite the late hour and the biting chill in the air and strangely compelling, that makes Obi-Wan pause; it’s that there is a voice at all. 

This section of the expansive gardens was meant to be abandoned, a momentary oversight during a temporary guard rotation change, and yet…

“Regular maintenance,” Obi-Wan answers, his attention torn between the enchanted lock-picks humming in his grip and the slow methodical beat of footsteps behind him, drawing closer. He fights to keep his breathing regular as he can feel the man’s gaze burn into the back of his neck, bereft of his usual shield of loosely tied hair which was pulled into a tight braid while he was working. His mask hangs around his neck and Obi-Wan tilts his chin, catching the edge of the fabric in readiness. 

“Tell me.” Another step, but he can hear the edge of laughter in the man’s words, breathless and disbelieving, and, for a moment, Obi-Wan wants to see if he can coax another laugh from the man. “Does that line ever work for you, thief?”

“More often than you’d think.”

The man strikes, his halberd piercing the space where Obi-Wan had been only moments before. The blade sings beneath his boots before the melody is cut off as it strikes the door and Obi-Wan continues his twist upwards, one arm bracing against the frame before he kicks off of the opposing wall, landing with a grunt and pulling his mask over his face. 

He looks up into dark eyes, barely visible through the visor of the helmet, and sees a spark he hadn’t expected. 

“Oh.” The corners of the man’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “You’re one of those thieves.”

“My dear, I can promise you, you have never fought anyone like me.” It is an easy rhythm to fall back into, honeyed words designed to throw his opponents off balance as they fought, but he couldn’t help but notice the thread of regret twisting through his chest. In another life, they could have met very differently. 

The man’s grip adjusts on the halberd, his fingers curling around the handle, but Obi-Wan doesn’t step away, keeping his gaze locked with the other man’s.

“And you’ve never fought anyone like me.” 

In a flicker of movement, almost too fast to see, the man slams his head forward, aiming for the centre of Obi-Wan’s face, pulling the halberd free with deceptive ease. Obi-Wan steps backwards, his feet soundless as the grey stone of the walkway makes way to the damp press of grass. The man adjusts in an instant, the blade swinging through the air, skimming over the floor as sparks fly as he rolls it across his shoulder only to catch it, ready to strike again. 

It was beautiful. He was dangerous. 

Obi-Wan grins, excitement burning low in his chest, sharpening his thoughts. Any information he could gather was priceless for his organisation, provided he could keep his scattered mind from focusing on the ease with which the man moves, all feline grace and confidence. 

“Showing off for me? You tease.” The damp grass clings to his boots as he steps away, tucking the picks back into his belt. If he had just had a little more time… 

The moon peers through a gap in the thick clouds overhead, illuminating the guard. Silver light clings to the curve of his broad shoulders and the sway of his hips as he steps closer. His face was hidden beneath his helmet, but Obi-Wan knew his dark eyes, intense and curious, were fixed on him. Except for the single sunburst that lay over his heart — a bright flash of orange amongst featureless grey — his armour was blank, only carrying the expected fixed scuffs and dents. 

The man spins the halberd around, passing it to his other hand and back again with no pause to his step and no hesitation to his grip as the metal tip flashes in a warning. 

“I’m good at my job.” There was no hint of arrogance or pride in his words, just a careful deliverance of the truth. Something familiar pulled at the edge of Obi-Wan’s mind, a certain sway to his movement as he struck forwards, but Obi-Wan was already moving, circling him, only to be blocked by grey steel. 

“I can see that. Competency is very attractive, you know.” Obi-Wan steps back, chancing a glance at the gardens that surrounded them, trying to re-orientate himself in the wash of moonlight. 

In the day, the garden was secluded and overgrown from years of neglect. Brambles stretched out their grasping hands from their kingdom of the broken gazebo and weeds ran amok, pressing up through the shattered paving stones that snaked through the graveyard of planet beds and grass. In the darkness, silver bleeding through the cracks in the clouds, it was a battlefield. Obi-Wan could see the ghost of his passage from the high walls to the door and knew he wouldn’t be able to return here if he fled. 

“Thank you.” The guard spins the halberd over his shoulder once more, ostensibly to adjust its positioning, but there was something else there. “My main goal in life is to win the approval of every thief who tries to break in.”

“You’ve been seeing other thieves?” Obi-Wan steps, trying to slip past the guard again, but is blocked by another hissing swing, his footsteps softer as he steps onto the grass, pressing Obi-Wan backwards.

A grin burns through the guard’s words, and Obi-Wan, for one thoughtless ecstatic moment, wants to let it wash over him and settle in the soft places between his ribs. “Love, I would never. You’re the only thief for me.”

Obi-Wan waits for the next strike and sees the slight shift as the guard centres himself, the power behind the movement apparent, and draws in a deep breath, letting it go before he moves. It is a technique he has performed countless times before: one sweep to press the weapon levelled at his chest aside, and a strike at his opponent’s side to send them stumbling away. 

Obi-Wan prefers defence, keeping his opponent off-balance and exhausted before he strikes, but he is adaptable, and he is running out of time.

He can sense the rumble of laughter rather than hear it and sees the guard adjust seconds before the halberd is swung in a wide circle, slipping from Obi-Wan’s hold, as the guard spins. There’s distance between them now, and Obi-Wan bites back a curse as the cool cling of grass gives way to the rough stone of the path. 

The guard is trained, more than Obi-Wan would have expected, given the lavish parties that the Emperor threw and the broken down sections of the city he ruled over. 

“Why not let me pass?” Obi-Wan steps, moving along the path and the guard follows, slower. He would let Obi-Wan run from him. The knowledge settles into his mind like one of the flowers that clung to the ruined walls, their scent lying thick and heavy in the air. Every strike, every step, every move had been careful and coordinated. “You’ve seen what the Emperor has done to our people. Help me, and let me pass.”

There’s hesitation in the guard’s step, his fingers tapping against the wood of the handle like a drumbeat, but his advance doesn’t slow. Obi-Wan moves to strike again but his blow is blocked — the halberd clutched in the guard’s hand and lying flat against his forearm — and the guard steps closer, catching Obi-Wan’s second strike without glancing down.

He can feel the faint tremor through the man’s hold on his wrist and see the shifts of his shoulders as he breathes, but Obi-Wan’s attention is locked onto his eyes. They’re still dark and burning into him, but he doesn’t pull away as Obi-Wan leans forward, pressing his forehead to the cool metal of the helmet. His breath fogs the surface, but neither moves.

For a moment, they are still.

“I can’t.” The whisper trembles out of the guard, barely audible despite the gentle night breeze that presses against them. There’s a catch in his words, a moment of hesitation that hadn’t been present in any of his previous actions, and Obi-Wan frowns, leaning impossibly closer.

“Why?”

He watches as the flicker of a snarl curls across what he can see of the guard’s face, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrows. “I can’t.” 

It is easy for the guard to transform the press into a head-butt, the motion rumbling through him like a quake and Obi-Wan steps back, breaking the contact between them before the blow lands. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s your job, my dear. I can’t fault you for that.”

“No, it’s—“ The guard stops, shaking his head and Obi-Wan moves to strike him, his blades raised.

It seems to happen slowly and yet too fast all at once.

Obi-Wan watches the man swing the halberd behind him, lending additional power to his strike, and moves to one side, seeking to circle him. The man turns away from him, his head turning to follow Obi-Wan’s movement. A single thought rises to the clouded surface of Obi-Wan’s mind, a burning curiosity that threatens to overwhelm him, as the man kicks out, putting his whole weight behind it.

Obi-Wan doesn’t see the blade until it’s too late.

A white-hot strike of pain radiates through his side and Obi-Wan is twisting away, fear freezing in his veins. The blade retracts into the concealed holster with a hiss as the guard steps away. One hand is half-stretched towards him, the fingers curled in regretful concern but Obi-Wan is too far for him to reach. 

The damp morning dew sinks into his boots, every step clinging and clutching and Obi-Wan forces his mind to focus on that rather than on the burning trickle of blood through his fingers. 

“You’re very good with your weapons,” Obi-Wan calls, seeking familiar territory. His heart races in his chest, rabbit-fast and his head spins, sending the world spiralling into a web of cold disinterested stars and clawing grasping ground. The rope is light against his frantic hand, whispering around his wrist and hooking around his waist like a caress as he prepares himself to run. “I wonder what else you’re very good with.”

It’s an apology and forgiveness curled together, sweetened with a return to the familiar, and Obi-Wan watches as his words land, the guard’s prowl slowing. His armour gleams in the fading moonlight, half caught between the memory of the night and the triumphant declaration of the morning, all brilliant oranges and purples cascading over the metal. The sun catches the etching over his chest, burnishing it to gold.

“You could always try again and find out?” There’s a flicker of hesitation in the guard’s reply, his free hand ghosting over his side, mirroring the desperate clutch of Obi-Wan’s hand. “If you can find me again, that is.”

He’s already turning away before Obi-Wan can bring himself to answer, tasting the man’s bitterness in the back of his throat as if it was his own. “I’ll see you soon, my dear. Sleep well.”

A stumble, a crack in the man’s impenetrable armour revealed by a single instance of kindness. The rope, enchanted and as impatient as its maker, draws Obi-Wan upwards as silently as he arrived, and he watches the man brush his fingers over his side once more before he straightens his back and walks away.

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #star wars #my writing #fanfic

[falling-pages]

Let me be your strength: MoriHaru

I transcribed this at 2 a.m., so it's not edited nor well put-together. But I liked it and thought it was cute, and there is not nearly enough MoriHaru content. Shoutout to @ohshcscenerios for listening to me cry about this AND for making the mood board!!!!

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Summary: When the pressures of life threaten to snap Haruhi like a twig, she learns to fall into the arms of an old friend.

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(AKA me thirsting over Takashi for 4k words)

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Takashi Morinozuka x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talk of terminal illness

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It wasn’t the champagne that made Haruhi lightheaded or twisted her stomach into knots, but she refused her second glass and sent the waiter away with a polite wave. The heat from the throngs of crowded pressed down on her, though the space was large and cool. She wished she could move outside, but the unbearable heat of a summer evening kept her clinging to her cold glass of water and air conditioning.

She dabbed at the sweat lining her brow, threatening to wash out the makeup Renge had so carefully applied. Haruhi rarely wore it, and when she did Renge always did it for her. They usually stuck together at parties, but she had slipped away as soon as they walked inside. For that, Haruhi couldn’t fault her--the ball was to celebrate hers and Tamaki’s engagement, after all.

The foundation was sticky in her pores, thick eyelashes framing her vision. She was too hot, too tired, too shifty. She tried to enjoy the party, but the source of her discomfort roared deep inside.

“Hello, Haruhi.”

She jolted, briefly, at the voice, so locked up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice the man approach her. Her old classmate towered above her, but his presence was welcome.

“Hi, Mori,” she sighed, leaning into the shadow he cast. Her skin cooled, but her heart burned at how close he was. “It’s nice to see you.”

Mori chuckled, eyes aglow with mirth. Or maybe alcohol, she couldn’t really tell. She had spent the last few minutes searching for anyone she knew at the ball, and it had seemed everyone was classily drunk on their wealth and drinks. It only added to her longing to go home, the guilt lodged in the back of the throat.

How could she be at a party when her father was so sick at home?

“Same to you,” her friend replied. His silver eyes raked down her body, taking in her dress, her makeup, her hair. His glance didn’t feel perverted, though, nor unwelcome. More like an artist working his eyes over a classic masterpiece. “You look very beautiful.”

Haruhi blushed magenta. Renge had worked her magic, lining her eyes and brushing pink wax against her lips, transforming the tired law student into a high-society lady for a night.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his gaze, despite every nerve telling her to look away. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Mori inhaled. He blinked, washing his eyes anew, forcing the bourbon out of his system. He needed to see her straight, and he looked. He looked carefully. Dutifully. Rolling something over in his mind. “On you?” he answered. “Never.”

Haruhi sucked her tongue and smiled, letting herself feel beautiful, letting her insecurities dissipate under his gaze. “You know, this is all Renge’s work,” she explained. “The makeup, and we went dress shopping together.”

Mori grunted, envisioning it a precursor to wedding dress shopping Renge would surely drag her to in the upcoming months. He had to admit, the young lady did a great job -- the light green stitching against the pale yellow silk made Haruhi look like a flower in spring.

“We had to lock Tamaki in the house to keep him from coming with us,” Haruhi continued. She joined Mori’s laughter. “He still thinks of me as a doll he can dress up and play with.”

“Would you rather he had gone with you?”

Haruhi considered, squinting her eyes. “I’m not sure if he would have calmed her down or just doubled the madness.”

“Calmed her down, doubled your madness.”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

They shared an easy smile before Mori stepped away, by her side, to scan the crowd. Tamaki and Renge were sitting at a table overflowing with wine and hors d'oeuvres, chatting as he fed her a bit of cheese on a cracker. Both of them, likely drunk out of their minds, fell into laughter as he missed her mouth, snapping the cracker against her cheek.

“They’re good for each other,” Haruhi mused, not bothering to hide her wistfulness. “The king of excessive compliments, and the queen of backhanded ones.”

Mori noticed the lilting quirk in her voice, veering on the slight edge of jealousy. He grunted again, prompting an explanation.

“While we were getting ready, I asked her if it were too much,” Haruhi said. She sipped from her water glass, swallowing delicately. “I didn’t want to outshine the bride-to-be at her own engagement party. And you know what she said? She said, ‘Don’t worry, you don’t outshine me.’” This time Haruhi was the one to grunt, indignation crossing lines on her forehead. “Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Maybe she meant something nice in French and it just came out bad in Japanese.”

Mori stayed silent as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne. He reached for a flute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question to her, but she shook her head, and he refused as well.

“It’s strawberry.”

Haruhi perched her lip in question.

“The champagne.” He finished his bourbon, setting the glass down on a nearby stand. “They did that for you. They remembered you like strawberries.”

Haruhi briefly smiled, but took another sip of water. “That’s kind of them.”

Mori noticed the way she gripped her drink, the way she stared at the happy couple with blacked-out pupils. She couldn't be jealous of them individually, he knew. But of them as a couple? As a concept? Of their happy smiles?

He wanted to tell her she could outshine a thousand suns, that the golden shimmer on her cheekbone reminded him of a fairy queen, that in the lightness of her skin she could have trapped the moon. But he didn’t; he raised his fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away.

“You’re jealous,” he muttered. “Why?”

Haruhi snapped her gaze back to him. He had always been able to read her like a book, a riddle solved without explanation as the others stood scratching their heads. He looked back down at her, seeing how small she really was beside him. Confusion stirred in her deep eyes.

“Are you not?” he repeated.

She tore his eyes away from his, feeling movement in her chest. The terrifying ordeal of being known. She knew the champagne wasn’t the cause of her stomach knots, this time, either; rather, the smell of his cologne, strong and musky, left her lips parted in silent contemplation.

“I am,” she confessed. The drink weighed heavily in her hand. “They’re so carefree. There’s not a thought behind those eyes. They’re happy and don’t have stress or law school or a sick parent at home they should be caring for right now--”

Mori took the glass from her hand and set it on the table before stepping in front of her, bowing and extending his hand. She paused her rambling, just now noticing the change of music into a love song and the couples thronging onto the dance floor.

“Haruhi,” Mori said, “may I have this dance?”

Without hesitation she slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

Just that little bit of touch sparked an inferno in his lungs, and he strained against the desire to just wrap her in his arms and whisk her away.

Once they floated to a free space, he took her right hand clasped in his left and took her waist with the other, spreading his fingers over the soft bodice of the gown.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Haruhi gasped, nearly euphoric at the feeling of his strong hands on her. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t even realize how touchstarved she was until his thumb rolled over her knuckles. Like it was right, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Mori led her in a waltz, guiding her clumsy feet with his experienced steps. He was a man so prone to the wild that she had nearly forgotten he was raised in aristocracy, trained and learned in all things fine and elegant. He probably learned this waltz as soon as he could walk.

And yet he held her with firm hands, looked at her with gentle eyes, softly correcting her mistakes without annoyance, only a speck of amusement playing in the upturned smile on his lips. He was in control, and this dance was the only thing she didn’t have to stress over. It made her want to fall into his arms and have him take care of everything else, too.

She noticed, too, his handsome features, as there was nowhere else to look but his face. He was taller now than in their youth, a broad-shouldered man of 26, heady and well-established and strong. She thought him too tall and muscled to be a graceful dancer, but she had forgotten he was a hunter, a fighter, a swordsman at his core. His suit, dark green and black, barely clung to his athletic frame. He was absolutely massive compared to her. Gone were the lanky, tall boy and flat-chested girl that once walked Ouran’s halls. Now they were man and woman at their peak.

She wondered how he had not found a wife yet, then wondered how she had never noticed him before.

He noticed, too. Every girlish feature he had adored in high school matured into ones of a woman mother nature scorns. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, she turned her attention back to his face. He was looking at her with the same intensity, but not the same recognition, like he was seeing something he had always known. His nose was noble, lips full, jaw sharp as his eyes. But what caught her attention was the scar, white against his tan face, jutting through his left eyebrow. It had healed long ago, the result of a kendo accident his first year of college, but the hair of his eyebrow never grew back correctly. The scar was turned and jilted and railed against the puckered skin, so untameable that Mori had stopped trying.

But Haruhi thought it suited him. The man could outrun the wild, but the wild would always catch up to him. The bit of evidence that he was more than what his last name got him.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch it. She had never felt the urge before; she barely noticed it, to be honest, and would never disrespect her friend like that.

But then again, he had never held her so intimately before.

Before she could, Mori cleared his throat. He had waited until she was settled in the dance to question her further, but she was staring so intently at him that he kept quiet. Had he been less tan, she would have seen him blush.

“What else is going on,” Haruhi?” he asked, turning slightly to avoid bumping into another couple.

She took a breath, disappointed that her reprieve had ended. She enjoyed looking at him. If he allowed it, she would have all night.

“You know, my dad,” she said simply, and Mori nodded, pulling her closer. Feeling his hand squeeze her made her woozy. “He’s still so sick. Not getting any better, not getting any worse. Just on the verge of needing someone to care for him at all times.”

Mori nodded again, chin hovering above her head. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Haruhi did not miss the singular I. “Kyoya has been gracious with paying for the medical care, and for the nurses staying at our house. You all have done enough. Truly.” She looked up at him and did her best to smile, but even she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “It’s just so difficult because he needs care 24/7. So I feel guilty about going to class, guilty about sleeping, guilty about being here.” Her steps and voice faltered, eyelids fluttering to avoid tears. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, tugging her hands away from him. “I should be at home, with him. He needs me--”

She tried to turn around, but Takashi grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, shuffling so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze wandered just above them--to his scar, he was sure--but he shook her very slightly, very gently, like waking a baby. “Haru,” he whispered, taking the liberty of a nickname. Her eyes flashed in pleasure, in a memory, bright with tears and charm. But her bottom lip trembled.

“You deserve a break,” he said, using his strength against her for the first time, making her look at him, to hear every word he spoke. “You have done so much. You have suffered so much. You deserve a break.”

Haruhi tried to fight him, but it was useless--he was right, and he was here, willing to provide it. Beneath her anger, beneath her sadness, there was just exhaustion, burning like a bed of red-hot coals, and she was dangling just over the edge of it, so close she could feel the hellish fumes on her face. They drew smoke up her nose, wracking coughs through her chest, burning and blistering her palms as she clung to the rope just barely keeping her alive.

Either the rope would snap, or she would.

Her father had depended on her ever since she was a child, and she had no choice but to claw her way up the frayed thread. But now her lungs burned, her fingers bled. All she wanted was rest.

She had to drop sometime.

A warm hand on her shoulder roused her back, and she looked into her friend’s steel gray eyes, now warm and pooling like molten lead. When his fingers glided along her cheek, she realized she had been crying, and wiped away the tears. He didn’t speak, only caught the ones she missed.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted into neither a smile nor grimace, but a ghostly combination of both. “They were right. I’ll never be like my mom, I’ll never be good enough.” Her exhaustion poured over her in buckets, weak knees finally giving in, stumbling forward into Mori’s chest. He caught her without reservation; he had since the moment they met, and he always would.

He was strong enough to stay still when she fell, propping her back up and sheltering her against him, within his arms. He held her fastly, tightly, as she cried, nine years worth of pining and love for the taking, manifesting in front of their very eyes.

He knew how difficult it was. He had just graduated from the same law school only months prior, had the same professors and took the same classes. He himself barely scraped through at times. Even though he had given her his old books and notes, she struggled--and no wonder, having to constantly take care of her father.

“You’re right,” he said against the shell of her ear. She shivered, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. “You’re not like your mother. She ever had to carry the burden you do.”

Mori saw the weights tied to her feet, dragging her over the edge. She was going to slip, and soon--she couldn’t continue the facade of strength when she barely slept at night, barely processed her mornings over coffee, barely found the motivation to shower and brush her teeth when all she wanted was to sit at her father’s side and cry.

Maybe she thought she was concealing it well, but he was a Morinozuka, trained and battle-hardened and able to pinpoint weaknesses. He didn’t want her to hide from him.

A cold hand wrapped around Haruhi’s heart, and she pressed further into Mori’s chest. Then she realized herself and flung back, cheeks reddening at her boldness.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Mori, I forgot my place,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his very expensive shoes.

“No, no, Haru, no,” he said, scrambling for words. He cursed his silent nature. “I’m not going to let you fall. You are safe with me. I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

For a man whose strategy was always holding his cards close to his chest, he threw them down, baring his heart and soul to her mercy, desperately, as he tried to comfort her. He bent down, awkwardly long limbs sufficient in holding her, pressing her head to his chest. Her shampoo smelled so sweet, like the cherry blossoms waving just outside, and she felt so small curled up in his protective embrace. It sparked a heat in his knuckles, anger in his heart.

No one so sweet and good should have to suffer like this.

When she was ready, she moved away from his chest, accepting his willing hand wiping away her tears and the handkerchief in this pocket to hide behind until she regained her composure. Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was in disarray, but Mori thought she had never looked more beautiful than under his arm, pressing her cheek against his hand, chasing his comfort.

As soon as she smiled at him again, he took her hand and spun her back into the waltzing position. Mori built up the confidence to speak again.

“Is it alright if I call you Haru?”

A blythe smile. Pink tinged around her ears. “Yes.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “Haru, you are strong, and beautiful. It breaks my heart to see you like this. If you need to lean on someone, lean on me. Let me be your strength."

A fluttery sigh escaped her lips. “Okay.”

Mori nodded, leading her quickly back into the dance. Amazing, how many songs could be waltzed to. His agile feet knew them all by heart, so he could bask in the young lady’s presence.

Their eyes met periodically, blushes exchanged, and then gazes wandered. His traveled to the dance floor, landing on Tamaki and Renge.

They danced like two fools in love--which they were, obviously. Clumsy, falting steps, swathed in each other’s arms, mouths colliding in mismatched kisses and loud laughter. When he read their lips, he saw them chattering away in French. He saw the light pouring into each other’s eyes, both of them the sun pouring warmth through the window of the other’s soul.

He saw the way Tamaki’s bride-to-be looked at him, and wondered if the woman in front of him would spare him the same glance.

“You’re jealous,” Haruhi said suddenly. “Why?”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did she use his own words against him?

She hid her smile behind her hand. “Are you not?”

He rolled his eyes, taking her firmly by the waist, as her hand returned to his shoulder.

“If you must know,” he muttered, twirling her under his arm, smiling as she giggled, “I am jealous. Because Tamaki has a beautiful lady in his arms, whom he loves, and who loves him, whom he can kiss and woo whenever he pleases.”

The orchestra suddenly roared, or maybe it was the blood in his ears when he noticed Haruhi’s hand tense in his. But, at least she didn’t drop it. She spun back into his chest, clinging to his shoulder like her grip would imprint on his suit. And when she looked at him, eyes bright and wide and full of wonder, he saw the knowing glint within.

She cocked her head aside. Her steps slowed, and she looked at him, running her eyes up and down his body as if just now realizing how long they had been dancing together.

“And you long for that?” she asked.

Mori sighed, ears pricking as the music ended. He let her go and bowed, assuming her wariness a rejection. Parallel to the floor, at least, gave him time to hide his face, regain his composure, mask the pain flowing quickly to his hands.

“Yes,” he sighed. And then, throwing all decorum out the window with a cracking toss of the head and a to hell with it for social commentary, he spoke again. “I long for it the way a bird longs to fly. And it makes me jealous of them, because I, too, had a beautiful lady in my arms, whom I love most dearly, whom I also wish to kiss and woo, but I do not know if she loves me back.”

His heart rose in his throat, and he gasped as he uttered the last words, oxygen leaving his lungs and brain at the sight of her chewing her lip. She had likely never heard him speak so many words at once. But they had clouded his mind. He had lived with them for nine years, pushed them down beneath the surface even as they slithered and crawled around in the form of blushes on his cheeks and pats to her head.

Finally, she spoke. They had stood there for an eternity, watching the other breathe. Wondering whose heart would give out first.

“Well,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand, “she does.”

And then she pressed herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, just in time of the climax of the new song, in beat with the swells of strings and cymbals and trumpets, forgetting, momentarily, where they were. Takashi didn’t forget, but he couldn’t have given less of a damn. He turned off his practiced decorum, the polite manners of the aristocracy, all he had ever known, and kissed her like a man starved. Like she was his last meal, like he was poisoned and she was the antidote. It was Tamaki and Renge’s ball, yes, but he, too, deserved to be selfish for the first time in his life.

Haruhi knit her brows in concentration. His body was so hard, rough and solid and muscled from his years of training, but his lips were soft. Even harder were his practiced hands as they clung to her waist. They bunched the dress, moving and touching and exploring, and it reminded her of some exploring she also wished to do.

Without breaking the kiss, her hand wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, threading in his hair, before landing at his temple stroking the fine hairs of his eyebrow. But she hesitated. Even as her tongue was in his mouth, she was nervous.

When her fingers brushed the scar, he grunted. Though it was muffled by her mouth, the shame filled her stomach. She moved her hand back to his hair, but he grunted again, pulling just inches away to see the mortification hollowing her pupils. He pulled her hand forward, pressing a kiss to it, and replaced it where it belonged. He clutched her closer, watching in amusement as she touched as she pleased. The scar was rough and tattered, like the rest of him, but it distinguished him from the fine elegance of the ball.

She never cared for fine elegance, anyways.

Mori leaned down to press a softer kiss to her swollen lips. Haruhi’s stomach twisted into knots. How this force of nature could love her so tenderly was beyond her.

But when the song ended all too soon, he took her hand and led her to a table, snagging a glass of water for her. He whispered her name, his voice the soft type of strong that made her feel safe. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to call you mine.”

Haruhi’s mouth filled with cotton. She cautiously moved her hands up his chest, circling the knot of his tie.”Mori…”

“Call me Takashi, please,” he said, reaching down to hold her face. His thumb swiped gently over her lips, seeing how flushed and full they were. “Or you can call me Mori, or anything else you wish. It only matters to me that it comes from your lips.”

She gave off a sigh, a damp, fluttering sound from the back of her throat. “Yes,” she cooed, breathless. “Yes, Takashi, yes.”

At her perfect annunciation, Takashi swept her into his arms, lifting her high into the air, almost like the first time in Music Room Three, but this time she was smiling, and laughing, and maybe it was the candlelight and stringed musicians that made him feel so romantic, but he thought he could see forever in the way her glistening tears met her smile.

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#ouran high school host club #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #mori x haruhi #moriharu #takaharu #takashi x haruhi