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her-satanic-wiles · 11 months

Text

October 19th

Uniform, Phantom x Cardinal Reader

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: Uniform; sub!Phantom; Cardinal!Reader; dom!Reader; male masturbation; brat!Phantom; power play; abuse of power; praise kink; degradation kink; cock stepping; heel kink; begging; edging; ruined orgasm; worship; hand job; unprotected sex; piv sex; dacrophilia; cunnilingus; cum eating; marking/hickeys; this basically feels like torture porn; I was in a man-eating mood and Phantom was the victim, I would apologise but I enjoyed this too much;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost

This is another favourite... I had so much fun writing this.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You had always been a dedicated and hardworking member of the Satanic Church, from the time you arrived in your early teens to now. For years, you had toiled tirelessly, demonstrating your commitment to your job and your faith. And though some days it felt like it did, your efforts had not gone unnoticed, and upon the ascension of the previous Cardinal Copia to Papacy, you too, were lifted from your previous life and placed in a position of higher standing. They were, of course, in need of a new Cardinal now that Copia was no longer filling the position.

Your robes were majestic to say the least - designed specifically to you: your body, your youth, the image you wanted to portray when wearing the uniform. The only non-negotiables were: it had to be black or red, you must wear the Grucifix at all times, you had to wear a zucchetto, and you had to adorn the traditional Cardinal make up when in public. The cut of your robes and everything else to do with it was down to your tastes and preferences. You chose something that made you feel like you wielded the power you were given.

Your robes were split into two parts and made of a beautiful, rich, red, satin material combined with accents of white lace in three places: the bottom of the sleeves, the tip of the bodice, and the top of the neck. The dress itself was designed in a fishtail style, with thick straps at the shoulders to keep everything in place - and the bodice being boned and laced like a corset to keep you secured inside. Those straps were hidden underneath a bolero made of matching material, with added drama.

The sleeves were bell-style, with extra material to give a lap-over effect at the elbows. The sleeves’ openings were long enough to reach your knees when you had clasped your hands together at your waist and were pointed at the end. Your forearms, however, were encased in a beautiful white lace that was clasped together with the red satin making it an optional feature. Square shoulders gave you a more formal look, while the bolero’s collar added an extra layer of extravagance. It was in a turtleneck shape with white lace at the top and an ascot-like finish at the bottom, which could be clasped into the bodice of your dress as it reached that far down. When the collar was in its correct place, the red front resembled the Gothic archways of the Ministry’s architecture, while the sharp, pointed features made you look much more intimidating than you anticipated, but very much enjoyed.

The whole ensemble was bookended by a red zuchetto (Copia’s zuchetto which he gifted to you along with the Grucifix you wore upon your ascension) and a pair of Cesare Paciotti dagger heels that you asked a dear Sibling over in the tailoring wing to recreate for you given that you couldn’t afford genuine ones.

As is customary for a Cardinal, you were given two new members of your team - an assistant (a newly ordained Sibling of Sin), and a Ghoul in training. Your Ghoul wouldn’t be a permanent fixture, sadly, given that when Papa needed a new one he would graduate them from their training and take them from a Cardinal now that they were completely experienced. After putting in a special request, you’d asked for your dear friend, Phantom, to work alongside you, knowing that you’d be much happier with him by your side for as long as possible.

When he saw you for the first time, his jaw dropped. His eyes widened beneath his silver metallic, Venetian-inspired trainee mask. Because the trainee mask arched at the base, the tip of his nose and his mouth were completely exposed to you, though painted black, allowing you to see his full reaction. He had arrived at the tailor’s wing to come and escort you to your new office, and was in awe of what he was seeing.

“What do you think?” You asked him pulling at your dress a little like a teenage girl showing her date her prom dress for the first time. Your two-toned lips were curved upwards into a little smile, evidently enthralled at your new uniform and the magic the tailor Sibling had conjured with their own two hands.

“You look incredible, Sister!” Phantom said quickly, a little too loud for even his own liking.

You stood up straight and clasped your hands together at your stomach. You lifted your chin proudly and said, “I’m not sister anymore, Ghoul. I’m Cardinal now, and you shall address me as such.” Your smile was now playful and mischievous, and you were putting on more airs and graces than you usually would just because it was fun. It was fun to remind him of your new title, it was fun to hear people refer to you as Cardinal now.

Phantom gave a nod and a nervous gulp before reciprocating your smile, clearly somewhere deep inside his own head. Once he had grounded himself, he gave you a deep bow, like a commoner would to a princess, playing along with your little game. “My apologies, Cardinal. As your Ghoul, I am to escort you to your new office and chambers.”

You nodded. “Very good, Ghoul. Lead on.”

He stood and opened the door to the tailor’s shop for you to step out and lingered behind you as you walked down the corridors towards the Cardinal’s wing. Usually Phantom would walk beside you, given that you both were friends, but even as Cardinal and Ghoul, he would still be beside you as an equal. Despite the Ministry having a clear heirarchy, none were treated as lesser than. Papa and his Ghouls and assistants walked side-by-side as did everyone else. It was strange walking in silence down a long corridor with your best friend and not have him beside you.

You turned your head to look over your shoulder to see what the matter was. Phantom was, indeed, still behind you. He was now carrying a suitcase full of your extra uniforms, but instead of looking ahead of him, he was looking at you, focussing extra hard on you. You had seen enough men do that to know exactly what it was he was looking at. His eyes were laser focussed on your backside. The cut of the dress meant that all of your lumps, bumps and curves were accentuated flawlessly, certainly giving you a sexier appearance than your old Sibling habit did, and though you felt good and looked good in it, nothing compared to your new Cardinal robes. And apparently, Phantom agreed.

He’d never looked at you before like he was looking at you now. He’d never been in total awe of your overall appearance, or even been speechless in your presence. And he’d certainly never purposefully hung back to walk behind you so he could perv on you. He’d seen your body numerous times before, given that this is the Satanic church that enjoys a good orgy here and there that you both have partaken in. Hell, he’d even been inside you once or twice before. But the way he was looking at you now was different. Like he was seeing you, truly seeing you for the first time.

“How are you supposed to guide me to my new rooms when you’re behind me, Phantom?”

His eyes sharply rose from your backside to your face, and a flicker of shame darted in them. It was barely there, but you caught it. “Right, shit! Sorry!” He ran to catch up with you, and from there on out made sure he was only one step ahead.

The coming weeks were nightmarish for Phantom, truly. You were simply regal in your new uniform, and it had affected your personality too. You were never not confident, but the Cardinal robes had amplified what you already had to now you being damn near untouchable. He noticed that people would move out of the way for you when you walked down the endless Ministry hallways, with him and your Sibling assistant trailing behind you. When you walked into the room, conversations would dwindle and all eyes would be on you. People didn’t fear you quite as much as they were a little intimidated by you, but you were just simply impressive. And the confidence you exuded made you ten times more attractive than you ever had been.

You were also no stranger and no enemy to giving orders and jobs to people when they needed it. Organising events, overseeing renovations, initiating newcomers - whatever your schedule looked like you were on it and had no qualms taking charge, and doing so in your Cardinal robes? Phantom could barely cope. He would set himself on fire if you were cold and he’d thank you for it. He’d worship the ground you walked on like you were Lucifer himself if given half the chance. And the things he thought about when he was alone in his room? When darkness cloaked him and all he could think about was sinning with you, being defiled by you. He would submit to you willingly; do anything you asked him to with a “yes, Cardinal” and “right away, Cardinal”, “anything for you, Cardinal”.

With his hand around his cock, he thought about what it would be like to grip onto your hips with you straddling his lap. He thought about burying his face in your cleavage and kissing at the exposed flesh below the red, Gothic arches you wore. He envisioned you hiking up that dress so you could straddle his face and he could pleasure you, the way his makeup would be stained and smeared all over your thighs and pussy. How your juices would gather in the engravings on his mask while he held you down on his face and worshipped you as you deserved. Or even how your breasts would bounce under the bodice of your dress as he railed you, as he speared you on his cock and fucked into you relentlessly. He remembered how good your cries were the last time he fucked you - and he hated himself for not savouring the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around his aching cock. Every night after work, he would throw himself onto his bed and stroke himself to orgasm. Orgasm after orgasm until it got to the point he was surprised he had anything left to give. He wanted you so fucking badly, but he had no idea if he was even allowed to have you anymore.

Every day you would do something, or act in a certain way that made life a little more difficult for him. And the worst part about all of it was you didn’t even know - because in reality, you weren’t doing anything wrong. He was just becoming so painfully attracted to you that it was hurting him, and he didn’t know what to do.

You started noticing the little slip ups three weeks into your job. The way the small things would always go wrong, the way he’d relay the wrong messages to people, the way he’d do something and not do it correctly. But you realised something needed to be done about it when one of Papa’s Ghouls, Swiss, came to you with a very angry note from Papa letting you know that Phantom had colossally fucked up, and he’d relayed the wrong message and because of that the Ministry’s power was down for an hour while the maintenance guys tried to find the problem that didn’t actually exist. Papa couldn’t rehearse with his Ghouls which meant he was even more stressed about the upcoming tour.

You found Phantom in the kitchens nursing a tub of Häagen-Dazs strawberry ice cream and the rest of the kitchen staff moving around him frustratedly while they were trying to prepare for the dinner rush.

“Good evening, Cardinal ___.”

The rest of the Siblings echoed the greeting and you responded with a polite bow of your head. That was when Phantom looked up at you and sighed. He grabbed the tub and went to stand, making an attempt to run away, but you were too fast and stopped him from disappearing. “Please just let me wallow.” He said, his voice filled with irritation.

“No. We’re going to talk about this and we’re going to figure out a solution.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. We have to.”

“Um, Cardinal,” your attention was drawn to a middle-aged Sibling who was looking more and more exasperated by the second, “with all due respect we need this space to be free for the staff.”

“Of course, we’re just leaving. Thank you for being patient.”

The walk back to your office was long and silent; incredibly awkward. Phantom was trudging along behind you, still very clearly troubled and in fact, now he was much more anxious. Reaching your office was no better either, because trying to get the problem out of him was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. He sat there in silence for a while, as if you were a cop trying to get information out of him. There was a brief moment when you thought he’d ask to call his lawyer.

“Phantom,” you pleaded for what felt like the eighteenth time, “I can’t help you unless you tell me what the problem is.”

“What if I don’t want help?” He said, petulantly.

“That’s tough shit, unfortunately. You caused a big stink today. You’re going to have help whether you like it or not. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“No.”

“Phantom.” Your voice became deep and warning. It made him falter, but he didn’t budge.

“No!”

“Satan’s taint, Phantom! The way you’re acting I have half a mind to take you over my knee and spank you until you behave yourself.” His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. That caught your attention. “Unless you want that.”

“Of course I don’t.”

You stood up and walked to the other side of your desk, leaning against it. As Phantom was sat down still, you towered over him. As you walked, your dagger heels clunked on the wooden floor below you. The atmosphere had shifted, and what had become a friend trying to help another had quickly turned into a game of power where your closest friend was on the verge of submitting to you. “I think you do.”

“You’re wrong.” Phantom was always a little shit, that was why you loved having him around. The man was the very definition of cheeky - naughty but was so cute he could get away with it, especially with you. You’d had to reign him in before, but you didn��t realise this would be how you’d have to do it for the foreseeable future.

“You’ve been harbouring some feelings towards someone, haven’t you?” Phantom didn’t want to reply at first, which told you everything you needed to know. He continued looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact, and this just wouldn’t do. You placed your index finger and thumb on his chin and moved his head, forcing him to look at you. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

You hummed. “That someone is me, yes?” He nodded but of course that wasn’t good enough for your ego. “Ah, ah. Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Phantom released a sharp breath at the praise, shaky with the nerves he was feeling.

“Tell me about it.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can, my little prince. Tell me everything and I’ll give you a reward.”

He began recounting everything to you, the words spilling out of him with no end in sight. He poured his entire brain on the floor for you to rifle through at your leisure, sparing none of the more intricate or delicate parts of his torment. He detailed how he touched himself at the thought of you, how he spilled onto his stomach at the very idea that you would give him a scrap of attention, and how the whole thing had been eating away at him. All the while, you maintained eye contact with him, jerking his head back towards you every time his shame made him look away. When he finished, he breathed a sigh of relief, though he was still just as nervous as he was when he started talking.

“Such a good boy for me. Obedience deserves a reward, doesn’t it. What shall it be?” Your eyes glanced down at his growing bulge. “Do you want me to touch you?”

There was no hesitation. “Yes, Cardinal.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. Cardinal? Oh. He conveniently left out your promotion in his story. That changed things a bit. Oh yes, this could be very fun. That same hand that was holding his head in place began moving downwards, across the clothed expanse of his chest, down passed his tummy, until eventually your fingers danced over his clothed (now very hard) cock. You didn’t immediately grab him, instead opting to just run light fingers over the material and watch his eyes turn from wanting to pleading.

“Although, you have been holding out on me for weeks. And Papa is very displeased. You’re my responsibility now. You got me into a lot of trouble with Papa.” You groped his whole cock now and released a low chuckle when he gasped.

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You will be.” You cut all physical contact with him and stepped back, leaning up against your desk again. “Kneel on the floor.” You told him.

He obeyed immediately, getting on his knees and looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. But when you moved, he became distracted by it. You lifted your dress just enough for your heels and ankles to be revealed and raised your dominant foot to rest on his thick thigh. You let the toes of your pumps slide up his jeans towards his crotch, and watched as his breathing became heavier and heavier in anticipation for what was to come. At any point, he could have stopped you. Your previous sexual exploits have already established bedroom rules which allowed you both to just plough ahead and wait for the withdrawal of consent - which never came. What did come, however, was Phantom’s gasp when the red sole of your pump arrived at his cock, and applied just a little pressure. Enough to make his hands rush up to your bare calf and grip hold of the flesh. He let out a groan.

“Papa sent one of his very angry Ghouls earlier today to tell me about your fuck up.” You began. You moved your sole up and down a little, teasing him more as his mind became increasingly more and more blank. “I have to report to him later on this afternoon and tell him what happened and what I plan on doing with you. What do you think I should tell him? Should I tell him that my Ghoul was too horny to function? Should I tell him that my Ghoul is now dry humping my stilettos in desperation like a dog?”

Phantom didn’t even realise his hips were moving until you brought it up. His eyes had been shut tight at the feel of you, and how every so often, your heel would scrape against his clothed testicles.

You continued chastising him. “I should have recorded that for Papa to see. Show him what I’m dealing with.” You started rubbing his length in a rhythmic motion, mostly putting pressure on him and releasing it again.

Phantom let go of his inhibitions for just a second and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, eyes closed and hips rocking against you, meeting your own movements perfectly. All the while, desperate whimpers were falling from his lips, strained little grunts that filled the room exquisitely. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop the noises that stumbled out of him. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this; he knew that this was supposed to be his punishment. But it just felt so good. He couldn’t help himself.

“Are you enjoying this, my little prince?” You asked him, a condescending tone decorating your low voice, looking down at him desperately humping your heel. He truly looked pathetic.

“F-feels good.”

“Oh, does it? Is my needy little prince enjoying his punishment a little too much?”

“I’m sorry…” His voice was tight, like he was about to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It feels so good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so needy. I’m sorry I’m enjoying this. I’m sorry!” Everything that tumbled from his lips happened in the span of one breath. His hand moved from your calf down to the top of your foot, pushing you down onto him so he could gain more pleasure from your body without permission.

“My once good boy is acting like a bit of a slut, huh?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Let me hear you say it. What are you?”

“A slut! I’m a slut. I’m such a little slut.”

“Whose slut?”

“Your slut! I’m your slut. I’m a slut for my Cardinal. I’m gonna cum.”

“No, you’re not. Not without permission.”

“Can I cum, please?”

“No.”

“Please, please, please, Cardinal, please! I need to cum. I need to cum so badly. Please, Cardinal! I’m begging you, please let me cum, please!”

By the quickness of his hips you could tell that he was close. You hung on a little more before you pulled your foot away from him. His eyes widened in terror as the orgasm he was on the precipice of having began ebbing away from him, and fading back into nothingness being replaced by his painful hardness of his cock. “No!” He screamed. The noise itself was primal and full of devastation, like he’d just watched something he love get destroyed. This wasn’t the cool, calm and collected Phantom you knew. This wasn’t the mischievous little devil you had the pleasure of being friends with for all these years. This was a desperate, wounded animal on the floor begging for mercy.

You dropped your dress back onto the floor and began to walk away from him, your hand on the door handle. “I’ll go and tell Papa you’ve been adequately punished for your actions.” You had no intention of opening the door, but you did jiggle the handle to get his reaction.

He dove forward, landing on his stomach and resting his head on the floor, fully bowing to you like a worshipper would their deity. “Please forgive me! Please don’t leave me like this. Please let me cum! Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything, please! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!”

“Yeah? You’ll be a good boy?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

“You’ll start listening to your Cardinal when she gives instructions?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

“And you’ll start behaving yourself and you’ll come to your Cardinal when you have a problem?”

“Yes, Cardinal!”

You walked back to your desk and sat on it this time. “On your feet, precious boy.” Phantom stood immediately. You dragged your dress up over your knees, revealing your thighs to him and then eventually your panties. After shuffling around a little, you pulled them off revealing your slick-soaked cunt to his hungry eyes. He wanted to dive straight in, to lap up everything he could see, and he moved forward as if he were going to. But you placed your heel on his stomach and held him at a distance. “No. I have other plans.” You removed your foot again. “Strip. I want no item of clothing left on you… except that mask.”

The mask stripped away his identity. He wasn’t even supposed to have a name, but he’d chose it for the other Ghouls to use. You planned on using him tonight, as he apparently wanted, and the mask would strip him of his humanity. Make him just a toy to play with and nothing more.

He fought with his clothes, his clouded brain struggling to perform the basic task he usually did daily. But eventually he stood there, completely naked, his cock red, swollen and painfully hard, standing fully to attention and waiting for your next touch. You beckoned him closer with your index finger and as soon as he was in reach, you spat on and then wrapped your hand around his cock and began to stroke.

You wanted to torture him a little more, dragging more pained whimpers out of him but there was something so delectable about the whimpers that came out of him when you overstimulated him. How when you stroked him and focussed on his sensitive head, he did everything he could to squirm out of your grasp, but failed every time. “Oh fuck!” He screamed, white knuckling the desk below you as your hand worked him. “Please, please, please. I’m so desperate.”

“You are?”

“Yes!”

“Oh poor baby. Just wants to cum doesn’t he?”

“Please! I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you. Please.” Your hand tightened around the head of his cock. “Cardinal, it’s too much! It’s too much. Wait. Fuck! It’s way too sensitive. Please, please, please, please.” You watched his chest rise and fall erratically as he struggled to breathe through the stimulation. Drool had begun to form at the corner of his mouth the faster you moved. “N-not on the tip, please! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your brain decided to do something even crueller. You let go of him one more time but this time you spread your legs wider allowing him to get closer to your core. “Really!?” He asked, his eyes wide and ready to bury himself inside.

“Of course, baby boy.”

He lined himself up and entered you, but he moaned in despair when he felt your hands on his abdomen stopping him from burying himself in further. You only allowed his tip to enter you, and that was as far as he could go. “Cardinal, no! Please! Please don’t do this! Please let me go all the way in, please!”

“It’s this or nothing, my prince. What do you want?”

Weighing up his options he began shallowly thrusting into you, his eyes roaming over your entire body and taking in your collected appearance. He was a sweaty, red mess underneath his mask and paints. But you, not a single hair was out of place. Your robes were still pristine and perfect, no sweat staining the satin. He protested and complained but even if it was just the tip inside you, he still felt incredible. He watched as his movements barely made you blink.

You moved one of your hands up to play with one of his nipples, causing him to cry out and thrust a little further in than he intended. But this one little movement made him - “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum! Can I please cum? Please, please, please, Cardinal, please! Please I’m begging you let me cum please.”

“Pull out.”

“No please! Please don’t make me.”

You reached round to the back of his head and pulled on his hair. “Pull out.”

Reluctantly he did as you asked and took the smallest step back, the head of his cock touching your clit still needing to be touched. You wrapped your hand around him again and began stroking, focussing on the tip again and earning a whine from him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“I didn’t say you could cum yet.”

“Please can I cum? Please, please, please!” You could see his eyes were welling up with tears threatening to spill out at a moments notice.

“Aw, look at you. Whining and rutting into my hand like a pathetic little slut. Does the little slut need to cum, hm?”

“Yes!”

“Does he wanna cum so hard for his Cardinal?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

“Cum for me.”

It didn’t take much more than that for him to thrust one more time to near completion. “Thank you! Thank you, Cardinal! This little slut’s cumming! I’m cumming for you. I’m cu- No!” Just as white began to spill out of him, you released him from your grip and held tightly onto both of his wrists, preventing him from stimulating himself as he came. The orgasm that was building to be one of the most powerful he’d had in a while was now nothing more than a tiny tingle while his cum oozed out of him and gathered on your bare cunt. Tears spilled out of his eyes finally after all the time he’d kept them contained for as long as he possibly could. You watched with evil delight as they ran down his filigree embossed mask, dripping down and around the engravings. He whimpered, both from the emotion and from the sensitivity of his dick.

His cum pooled on the desk below you as it oozed off your folds and slopped onto the wood. “You’ve got me all dirty now.” You told him. Your tone was just as condescending as it had been before, but this time exuded a hint of anger. Fake, of course, it was all just for show after all. But even so, you were having too much fun with this. “Be a good boy and clean it up.”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

You looked down your nose at him, observing as he dropped so his knees. His gentle, yet calloused hands gripped onto your knees and spread them apart to give him better access to his filth. His tongue darted out in anticipation of touching your folds and once your hands tangled in his hair and pushed him forward, he got the message, diving in immediately. His tongue gathered as much of himself off the desk as he possibly could, swallowing himself down as if it were some kind of drug before turning his attention to your waiting and dripping cunt. His black lips, though now some pink was peeking through from the amount of lip biting and sweating he’d done during this whole ordeal, suctioned against your clit and sucked, tongue coming to play as he worked to bring you to orgasm as quickly as you could.

Your back arched as he sucked particularly hard, making your hole clench around nothing desperately. His brown hair was becoming messier and messier the harder you tugged, keeping him there to stop him from ruining your own oncoming orgasm - because you knew that was something that had crossed his mind. He was a little shit after all.

“Is this making you feel better, hm?” You asked, head thrown back and voice strangled. “Knowing that you’re being useful today after everything you did?” You gripped hold of one of his hands with your free one and put it on your thigh, extending both of your legs so they rested on his shoulders. You dug your stiletto into his back just a little - enough to cause a pleasurable pain that had him grunting. “Answer me!”

His response was a simple grunt.

You watched his hips move, humping the air and begging to release more of the tension that had built in the time it took him to eat you out. His anguish was palpable enough to drive him to his animalistic preset. Humans don’t hump the air in search of pleasure, humans don’t whimper profusely into their meal, humans don’t allow themselves to be driven mad by arousal. He was still the wounded animal that was begging you earlier to make him cum. “Is the little slut hard again?”

Another grunt in confirmation.

“Well, if you do a good job and make your Cardinal cum, I’ll let you fuck me properly.”

He sucked on your cunt more fervently than before, his neediness for your approval, and by extension, your cunt urging him to work even harder to get you off. He needed your orgasm just as much as you did. The sadistic voice in your head was reeling at this, getting off on his patheticness and the little whimpers and noises he was making below you. The sound of his mouth and saliva working over your insanely wet core, not to mention the tiny moans. His fingers were grabbing onto your thigh tightly as he pressed his face deeper. You were sure he was struggling to breathe but it wouldn’t last long - you were driving head first into an earth-shattering orgasm within moments of announcing your intentions.

You kept him against you, riding his face and bucking your hips, using his tongue to finish. When your breath came back to you, you released him from your grip and sighed. “Come on then, little prince. A promise is a promise.”

He wasted no time, standing immediately and lining himself up but not pushing in. He looked at you, wide, teary eyes begging you silently to grant him permission to enter you again… this time fully. “Take your pleasure, sweetheart.”

He bottomed out right away, the pleasure overwhelming him instantly and manifesting in the sob of a broken man, now burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Th-thank you!” He grunted in between sobs and now needy thrusts as he took what he could from you, as quickly as he could, before you changed your mind and told him to stop. He didn’t know that this was it, that you’d let him cum inside you when he was ready, and this made him savour every feeling of his cock dragging against your salacious walls, every time his tip kissed your cervix roughly. “Thank you. Thank you! Thank you!”

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels so good, Cardinal. Thank you! You’re so tight. I can’t breathe. I - fuck!”

His mouth needed to do something as he let your cunt whip him into a frenzy. His lips began kissing every part of exposed flesh he could touch, the cold metal of his mask biting against your skin and adding a layer of pleasure to your sensitive spots. You felt him hone in one the exposed skin of your chest between the Gothic arches of your uniform, licking and sucking the spot there to help him expel some of that overwhelming emotion he was feeling, tears still falling from his eyes. One of his hands clutched onto your robes, holding you as tightly as he possibly could as if you were going to walk away from him and not let him cum. When he lifted his head to look at you, a string of saliva snapped from between your bodies and you saw the purple bruise he left behind… so very obvious to the rest of the Ministry what your most recent activity had been. You wanted to be mad at him, but the idea that everyone would know what you’d been up to had you tightening around his pistoning cock and pulling another groan from him.

“Cum- cumming! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“I got you, baby. Cum inside me. That’s it. That’s a good boy.”

He couldn’t wait for your permission. Both of his hands gripped your hips to desperately prevent you from wriggling away and he buried himself as deep as he could, hitting your cervix and completely emptying his load into you.

You continued your praise all while you hand came back to his hair and stroked him comfortingly. “So fucking good for me. Give me everything you have. There we go. Good job, baby boy.”

His toes curled, his fingers dug into your flesh, and he screamed at the sensation, that once powerful orgasm that was ruined now coming back threefold . His tears stopped for a mere moment while he fought to regain his breath, but once his orgasm subsided, he collapsed onto you, leaning against the desk and burying his head in your neck again. He wept, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this moment of overwhelm, and still clutching onto you. Sub-drop didn’t usually hit immediately, but it did with him, especially given the mood he was in before this all began.

You didn’t urge him to pull out, or move anywhere, instead you wrapped him up in your arms and let him cry as he needed to. “It’s okay, Phantom. I got you. You’re safe. I got you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

You hushed him. “Listen to me, you have nothing to apologise for, okay? I should be the one saying sorry. I didn’t let you feel like you could come to me. I made you suffer for so long. Today included. I’m so sorry.” You reached up and undid the clasps around his head holding his mask in place, and softly removed it. He kept his face hidden for a while, not for anonymity or because it was expected of a Ghoul to completely hide their identity, but because he couldn’t bear to let you see his red, blotchy, tear-stained face - not right away at least.

When he had calmed down significantly, you felt him stand and let him, though you still kept your arms around him in a hug. You wiped the tears from his eyes, and peppered soft kisses around his face. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble with Papa.”

“You didn’t… well, you did but he’ll get over it. He was just lashing out at Swiss because he’s stressed, who then lashed out at me also because he’s stressed. In reality it had nothing to do with you.” For the first time, perhaps ever, you leaned forward and kissed his lips softly, trying to help him calm down. “Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Promise me something: promise me you won’t keep anything bottled up anymore. Promise me that no matter how awkward it is, you’ll come and talk to me.”

He nodded again.

“No, baby, I need to hear you say it. Promise me.”

“I p-promise.” He said, tears beginning to fall again.

You held him in your arms for as long as he needed you, and spent the rest of the day comforting and loving him as much as he wanted. You made sure you cancelled any meetings to give him your attention, and kept him as top priority. This sweet, soft and sensitive boy eventually came back to life, turning into his insufferably cheeky self by the end of the day… except this time he was much clingier and hornier than before. Especially for you.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

The Cardinal:

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tswwwit · 11 months

Text

Here's a thing! Reincarnation of Dipper who's not in the best of situations. (A Cult)

Got some gore and knives in here so watch out!

In the room of ritual, everything is ready.

Off in that wide and majestic space, the candles are lit. The circle is drawn. The altar spread with gold and trinkets, little offerings of delight and whimsy, tomes of knowledge. Along with the remnants of the latest sacrifice, dried in long trails down the stone.

The tomes, though. If one looked closely, they would see mostly encyclopedia volumes from like, sixty years ago. Because, yeah, those are going to be so tempting for a being of infinite knowledge.

Long chanting rings through the hallways, preparing the way. The ritual is in less than an hour. In preparation for the service, the servants of their lord make themselves presentable.

Dipper adjusts his robe - too big for him, by at least one size- and pulls at the neckline. It always drags up against his throat, in a tight, uncomfortable way. He tugs it down again, glaring into the small mirror on the otherwise bare wall.

Bill Cipher is the most powerful being in the universe, and his reach is infinite and his discernment of the mind and mastery of mysteries is unquestionable, yadda yadda yadda.

Dipper just. Doesn’t know what everyone else here expects to happen. Especially with the setup unchanged from the one he saw last year. And the year before that. And the one before that.

Odds are, this ritual is going to end up the same as every other one.

Pointless.

Dipper adjusts his robes again, and smooths out the front with slow strokes. As long as this is going to happen, he might as well avoid drawing attention to himself. He’s had enough ‘attention’ for more than a lifetime.

There’s a rhythm to these ceremonies. Dipper hears the footsteps, and easily tucks the hood of his robe up, only semi-stumbling as he joins the twin lines of robed figures leading into the ritual room.

As he tucks his hands together, covering them with long sleeves - Dipper spends another moment to silently sigh.

He joins the line, ducking his head as he joins in formation. The two lines of followers shuffle on with their long robes brushing the floor. He can hear them whispering to each other; varying levels of excitement, boredom. Talking about plans for after the ritual. He thinks he picks up one of the more devout members, almost humming with anticipation.

Despite the murmurs, the sight itself could be quite impressive. An all-seeing eye, if it was real, might even appreciate it.

Still, all these dramatics are so over the top. Just as fruitless and stupid as every other prayer, or ritual. Never worked before, not gonna work now. Dipper’s not sure why they’re trying the same freakin’ thing, over and over again.

For a bunch of people obsessed with the infinite power and knowledge Cipher represents, they haven’t accrued any.

And for that matter! If Bill Cipher’s eye is truly all-seeing, why hasn’t he ever responded? His triangle is emblazoned on every wall, and on their robes. You can’t look at a surface without seeing it staring back at you, and there’s no short of devout worshipers, constantly praying and doing rites.

Dipper dares a glance at one of the long scrawls on the walls, seething slightly at the handwriting. And the grammar.

If he was watching, surely he would have spoken up by now. Even if it’s just to critique the decor, which is tacky as hell.

The main ritual room fills up with warm bodies, and Dipper stands in an inconspicuous place. Just to the left, and not quite entirely in the back. At the front of the room, he can see the priest nodding approvingly, hands tucked behind his back.

Hidden under the sleeves, Dipper clenches his hands together. Breathing out a silent prayer of his own, to nobody particular. He can stand stock-still through one or two more ridiculous rituals, if it means no more prayers to a blind idiot god.

A week. Maybe two. That’s it.

Then he’ll be out of these robes, and far, far away from here. He’ll never see these people again. He’ll never have to chant a single verse again in slightly incorrect Latin. He’ll never have to kneel, or go before that stone altar again, not even once.

The outside world is - there’s a lot of talk about it. There’s always a lot of talk, more or less colored by personal experiences and levels of permission to go ‘outside’. Dipper’s learned, now, that well over ninety percent of the gossip is lies.

If his palms still sweat at the prospect, it’s because it’s… New. Different. But it can’t possibly be worse than here, and, like. Novelty is condoned by his not-really-a-god. Trying new things should be standard doctrine - if the priest wasn’t a total idiot.

Not much longer, now.

Out there, things will be better. Out there, Dipper will have a chance at having a life.

And there won’t be any trouble, since he’ll keep his mouth shut.

“Children of Cipher!” The high-pitched voice of the priest rings tinnily through the air. “We are once again assembled!”

Dipper bows in concert with his fellows. Staring at the ground is a good way to not roll his eyes.

A chant rises up, and he keeps his lips clamped together as he mirrors the ritual bowing and scraping and general genuflection. The priest will go on and on, no matter what he does.

All it takes to get through this is time. Another round of kneeling, then standing, then kneeling, until they stand at the last word in a thronging chorus.

“Brothers!” A louder, shriller call, now that everyone has been drawn close to a fervor. For all his faults, the priest does know how to read the mood - “Tonight is a special evening!” His arms thrown up, spindly and bare as the sleeves drop near to his shoulders. “Who will bleed for our god?”

The only thing that prevents Dipper from flinching is how much attention that would draw.

He hardly dares to breathe, lest some wayward motion be taken as ‘enthusiasm.’

Dipper keeps his head bowed, as murmurs start up around him and his forehead starts to prickle with sweat.

Sacrifices happen all the time. Mostly animals. Last year they got a goat, and that was considered a pretty big one and the stew afterwards was filling, and probably tasted pretty good.

Human blood, though. That’s - They haven’t done this in years.

The susurration of voices in the background grow louder, and Dipper stays bowed in place. Of course nobody wants to volunteer; ‘willing’ isn’t easily found when it comes to getting a knife in your flesh - but someone’s going to bleed, tonight. The ‘volunteer’ bit will be justified by whatever’s convenient.

Around him there’s murmurs, a few, low arguments. Tension is starting to rise, but for the most part, he’s being overlooked.

He nearly thinks he’s gotten away with it, too, when a hard shove on his back sends him stumbling forward.

“Here, brothers!” The voice rings in Dipper’s ears as he tries to backtrack, slipping on the robes of the person in front of him and dropping painfully to the floor. “The provider!”

Shit, shit, shit.

Dipper tries to glance back at whatever asshole pushed him, but the crowd’s already grouped together into a bunch of faceless clumps, drawing back from his fall.

He levels the worst glare he can manage, even as both his arms are seized by two of his so-called ‘brothers’. The big ones.

Gritting his teeth, Dipper digs in his heels. Struggling’s ineffective, protesting’s impossible. Gesturing wildly, including a raised finger in the general direction of the asshole who pushed him, Dipper gets dragged to the foot of the altar.

“See how he offers his flesh! See how he shakes with joy!” The priest jogs his arms in the air. Dipper shakes his head rapidly holding up his hands. “His arms, already offered!”

And for a moment Dipper’s simply annoyed at how obvious it is that the whole damn ritual is a farce.

“Tonight, we call upon the god! Tonight! We-”

Whatever else he’s yelling about, Dipper doesn’t pay any mind. He’s busy trying to use the loose robes to worm his way out of the guards’ grip. It halfway works, until one of them gets him by the bare wrist and painfully pulls it out.

The cold stone hits his waist. One of his sleeves is drawn to his shoulder. His arm pinned, bare and wrist upraised, on the stone.

Damn it, if he finds out who shoved him, he’s going to - he arches up, but firm hands hold his shoulders. There’s little time to think about revenge when he’s trying to find a way out of this. Arm, stuck. Shoulders, held. The exits, totally blocked by a bunch of crowded figures.

In a way, Dipper can’t truly blame them. After all, if the current sacrifice got away, who knows?

They could be next.

The priest seems pleased, at least. He paces in front of the altar, gesticulating wildly, and rambling on about god and blood, and other nonsensical bullshit.

Great. They have their ‘sacrifice’ for tonight. So, so super ‘willing’ too, what with how he, quote ‘rushed to offer himself’, end quote.

Dipper takes a long breath, holding it for three beats. Then he lets it out.

Okay. If this follows most other ‘human sacrifices’, it should be bearable. Some bloodletting, a nasty scar. Maybe a missing finger, but he’s learned to deal with worse. Push through the moment, wait for it to be over. Soon enough, he’ll be on the other side of this entire godawful situation.

Focusing on the transitory nature of pain helps him steady his breathing. And more importantly, slow his heart rate.

Calming meditation. He can work on that. Though it’s difficult, with the way the priest keeps going on and on about an ‘auspicious night’. Also, the very large, curved, very sharp-looking knife.

Dipper tries his best not to stare at it. Or to linger too much on the thought of knives and flesh and blood. If he could stop thinking, for once in his stupid life, it’ll be over before he knows it.

That’s totally not not the usual knife, though. He wonders where the hell it came from.

Last time, it was some basic utilitarian repurposed chef-thing, with a crudely engraved triangle on the hilt and the blade. This one’s much more… Ceremonial. Sharper, too, with a wicked curve and a gleaming edge, and covered in runes that Dipper’s never seen before.

He mouths a swear as one guard uncurls his fingers from the edge of the altar, turning his wrist back upright. The priest waves the very, very sharp blade around, yelling something that Dipper doesn’t bother parsing, even as his mind races. He can tell it’s definitely not Cipher runes on that thing, and not the old Latin their god prefers. Did someone go outside to find this? Another random artifact that the priest got his hands on? Seems like he’s always picking up useless semi-magic items.

The knife doesn’t feel ‘useless’, though, even from a glance. It radiates a pure and terrifying purpose.

Especially as it comes down, and rests against his wrist. Almost gently, its point bites a drop of blood from his skin.

The fetid breath of the priest pants over the altar. Dipper turns away, neck twisting as far as he can manage, eyes shut.

Please let this be just a bit. Just a drop. A small, tentative cut to fill a bit of the channels on the stone. There’s a sting to the metal, a slight burn, and though Dipper’s not one of the main Holders of Mysteries or anything, he feels like that’s a very bad sign.

Then he feels. Cold.

It runs down his inner arm, lingering for an instant before blossoming into sharp, bright pain. He nearly chokes on air, cringing into a hunched position as he feels the knife slide.

The catching drag of the old knife would have been painful, but that was mostly used for taking a finger, or maybe dragging across the back of the arm, in a more decorative than productive way of drawing blood.

The ease with which this knife cuts sends a deep, swirling nausea straight to the pit of his stomach.

“Behold, the flow! The magic gathers, my children!” THe priest’s voice warbles a bit as “With this tool, with this magic, our god will hear our call! He will behold our devotion, and raise us to glory! He will answer-” More and more words, variations on encouragement. Zero substance, all hype. A fanatical motivation speaker, Dipper thinks, half-hysterically.

Vapid or not, the result is effective. The sight of blood has certainly spurred everyone into a kind of frenzy, whether from fear or fervor, Dipper doesn’t care.

And they’re certainly getting a lot of blood. More than required.

Dipper struggles up against the hold, but it’s pointless. He ‘s stuck there for a few long minutes, oozing out for an audience that can’t even see half the damn thing, and it hurts.

The red trail gathers, slowly pooling down and into the engraven triangle. Enough to fill the shallow channels easily, which, uh. Dipper’s never seen before. With the other sacrifices it kind of stopped and clotted, but this moves like it’s being wicked along the surface.

He makes a face as his blood slowly travels through the lines, but can’t see any surface changes, or feel anything that might have been put on the stone.

Until it connects at the top point. Then it meets, completing the image of Bill with a strange, too-bubbly ‘blorp’.

Okay. Weird. But that’s plenty, right? Ritual done, blood offered, and now, he should get going.

Lurching upward gets the grip to loosen up on his arms, as the guards loosen their grip a bit. They already have what they need, and hell. Dippers deserves a friggin’ break. With the immediate attention off him, he can dare a glance at his arm -

And instantly averts his gaze to absolutely anything else.

The priest turns around, arms raised. Pumping them in the air, knife glinting in the candlelight. “Yes. Yes!” He swings the blade around, nearly catching one of the big brothers in the side. “See how easily the liquid flows. The power builds! I can feel it - the summoning, in this room tonight!”

The crowd calls out their enthusiasm, a high rising ‘oooh’ noise.

Dipper sighs, and tries to scoot back away from the altar. It’s done, at least; he’ll just have to cope with the aftermath. Could be worse.

“The other arm, brothers!” A loud, clarion call. Dipper whips his head around, as the priest lowers his arms - and turns back around. Pointing at Dipper. Again. “I feel the blade crave more!”

Uh, hello? What?

Dipper glances up at the knife. At how the slight sheen of blood has dipped into some of the runes, the faint glow - and goes ‘huh’.

Alright, he’ll admit. It’s definitely magical.

But he’s beginning to suspect it has less to do with Bill, and a lot more to do with other forces. Ones that might, say, make a ritual flow smoothly. Or make a fanatical asshole even more bloodthirsty.

Behind him, he almost feels the guards shrug, right before he gets shoved against the altar again. One of the assholes even dares to pat his side, in a brief bit of unexpected sympathy. Not that it means anything.

Dipper longs to curse them out, to scream at every single one of these absolute jackasses. Every one of them is just watching this happen. Nobody thinks about what happens next, ever, including -

He grits his teeth instead, hard enough that he thinks something might crack.

Everyone follows orders. The words of their supposed ‘god’, filtered through a man who’s fallible and frail and frankly fucking stupid. Always getting stupid magical trinkets. Always trying to find a link to that demonic god, constantly pursuing magic, and power, and influence. No matter the cost.

Why would he care if one of the too-few worshipers pays the price?

And fuck that.

Before, Dipper struggled as much as he could. Partly from fear, sure. But mostly to make a point. That this was stupid and painful, and wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Knowing that with enough kicking and protest, he might get them to cut things short.

Now, seeing the priest whip the blade back around, raising overhead with both hands - he fights.

A solid kick lands in the left guard’s groin, and he gets his wounded arm back. Dipper clutches it to his chest, but the other’s still pinned and being twisted, now. Another kick gets something softer, and he hears a huff from the priest. Then a loud, angry order to ‘Hold him down!’.

Dipper’s shoved into the stone, stomach digging into the edge of the altar hard enough to make him gag. His head hits the surface, more dizzying than painful. There's a hand gripped in his hair. Then his other sleeve is drawn up, his healthy arm extended over the table. Bare skin exposed, lying over the bloody surface.

He breathes heavily, nose nearly against the altar. It quickly grows hot from his breath, and moist, too, which is probably why his face feels wet. He doesn’t hear anything but his own harsh panting.

He never wanted to be a part of this, he never wanted to grow up like this. In a week or so, he was going to get out, and now he’s going to get hurt again, so soon, and he only has so much blood in him. He doesn’t want to die. He shuts his eyes, tucking up against himself. Hoping the weight of his body will drag his arm away where his own strength couldn’t, choking back a tightness in his throat. He was nearly out. He was nearly safe.

He was almost free.

He breathes harder, shutting his eyes tight. He presses his forehead against the runes, and the blood, and just wishes he wasn’t here.

Metal clangs on the floor, ringing bright as a bell.

There’s a sudden intake of breath. Dipper feels the hands release him, a shocked sound. Then the ‘flump’ of a lot of draped fabric, all at once.

Dipper keeps his face against the stone, breathing slower. That’s. That’s not how any ritual goes.

He can’t waste the opportunity, though. Now that his arms are free, Dipper pulls his sleeve back up, bundling it around the cut. Shit. Does he clench his fist or leave his grip loose? Which one slows blood flow.

Whatever interrupted this isn’t going to last. He’s only got a few seconds before everyone comes back to whatever passes for their senses, and tries to ‘complete the summoning’, or whatever the hell they were after.

Gotta act. Gotta - Dipper wheels around, panting for breath.

In front of the altar, all the robed figures in the room have fallen to their knees. The priest’s dropped the knife. Dipper scoots it a little closer to himself with a foot, watching as the zealot raises his arms in devout praise.

Dipper pauses. Still clenching tight on his wrist, though his sleeve is starting to feel damp. Things don’t just stop like that. The ritual has to continue. People should be surging up to keep the momentum, but the entire room is -

Oh.

Yeah, now he sees it.

All the candles were lit before. They give a little light to a room that’s never seen electronics in its life, dim as it is.

Right now, they’re bursting with flame, rising high enough to cast weird shadows over the cavern -

And it’s a very bright blue.

Shit.

Dipper whirls around, unsteady on his feet. Staring at a long, long trail of rising blood. Almost a string, or a reverse droplet, floating up from the triangle carved on the stone. In midair it spreads into a thin web, shapeless and vaguely pulsing.

Okay. That is definitely magical. And absolutely up to no good.

He fumbles around - where did he kick the knife? Maybe if he breaks it, it’ll interrupt this whole thing. Who knows what the hell that idiot priest did, or where he got the artifact, or what it does.

Dipper doesn’t know much about gods, or spirits, or demons, but anything that gets pulled in by a blood sacrifice can’t be a good sign. He spots the damn thing near the opposite corner, and braces himself on the altar. It he’s careful, he can reach it without alerting anyone. Maybe.

Which is when the entire hall fills with bright, loud laughter.

“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice rings just as brightly as the laugh. Dipper jerks towards the sound, involuntarily, only to see a single eye open inside the breath web of blood. “What do we have here?”

There’s a resounding groan from the crowd. Various people start chanting, but they’re all using different verses, and the priest starts his own, presumably improvised, wail of praise and devotion. The end result is an ear-rattling clamor.

Dipper looks back at the altar. Watching the blood twist in this way, and that. The eye alights on him for a moment - he freezes - but it moves on from him quickly, examining the room.

There’s a lot to see, too. Maybe terrified, devout worshipers isn’t weird for a supernatural entity, but it’s thoroughly freaking Dipper out. Even the priest is on his knees.

“Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had this kinda summon!” The net stretches, almost elastic; twisting into limblike shapes, and fractal forms. The slit-pupiled eye rolls back and forth. Then it blinks twice. “Might as well get dressed for the occasion! Hold on a sec.”

The eye shuts into nothingness. Moments later, the blood starts getting really active, pulsing faster, twisting into shapes like it’s alive.

Dipper spares a terrified check on his wrist, but. No, he’s not feeding it, or anything. This is something else. Someone else, taking the material and lending it power enough to grow.

Even as he watches, there’s a spreading arch of bone and the twist of veins. A fairly glorpy assortment of something between and below what looks like ribs, a strange thick blackness tinged with yellow…

He cringes back, and shuts his eyes. Shit, watching this is deeply unsettling.

Not that it’s gory, per se - that would imply that something’s being taken apart, when it shouldn’t be. This is something being put together, a way that it shouldn’t ever be.

He backs up a step from the writhing mass, getting more fleshy by the instant. Then grimaces, teetering in place. Blood loss, right. From the asshole who started this whole thing. He levels a glare at said asshole -

But. Beside him, the priest is quivering with tension. Trembling like he didn’t expect this to happen.

Frankly? Neither did Dipper. For all the times they’ve done a ritual, there’s never been a reaction like this.

This insane mass, forming insanely out of nothing. Or well, from blood, that spread out in a weird three-dimensional - triangle, oh shit -

He should have known. Should have noticed. This was a summon, and while the object used wasn’t for the right being, maybe that doesn't’ matter with so much gathered intent.

This is….

Dipper falls, awkwardly, to his knees. Then ducks down in as low a bow as he can manage, pulling the hood of his robe back over his head.

Part of him thought Bill didn’t exist, or at least not in the way these guys talked about him. Maybe they’d latched onto some other spirit or deity, and completely misinterpreted everything. Maybe they’d made it all up, including some of the really old texts. There was never any evidence that their lord and master was real.

But given what’s happening here…

Like hell is he gonna look like the only person who doesn’t.

Something - two things - go ‘clack’ on the altar. A few series of taps.

Then a long, pleased sigh, and the sound of soft movement, like cloth.

Dipper keeps looking down. The hood keeps him anonymous, another faceless shape in the crowd. Just one more figure genuflecting before his -

Before a god.

One that might not even deserve a capital letter on the word, perhaps, but still an entity that he should not, under any circumstances, piss off.

There’s a tap that sounds like a shoe, and a low hum. Something lands beside him with a thud. In the brief moment that he raises his head, Dipper catches sight of black loafers, and long fingers on an oddly human-looking hand.

He quickly lowers himself more towards the floor, holding his arm tight.

Yep, just one more super-devoted believer, same as all the others. Super not important enough to notice.

“You know, blood’s usually for blood gods!” Bill Cipher’s voice rings through the room. It’s higher than Dipper expected it to be. One of the fancy-looking black shoes kicks the knife up into the air, where it’s caught by the long fingers of that hand. “Pretty wild for you guys to pull this. With another guy’s artifact, of all things!” A chiding tut, and the knife twirls. “And pretty disrespectful, I gotta say.”

“My lord.” The priest’s voice is dry, even for a guy who already sounded half-dessicated. He rises to his knees, hands clasped together. “We meant no disrespect. We are here to serve you, master. As we always have.”

“Uh huh,” Bill says. In Dipper’s limited sight, he toys idly with the knife, pressing the tip against the finger of an opposite hand. A bead of something dark wells up, and he rubs his fingers together.

The priest recites several lines of a chant, making a triangle with his fingers. So eager, and so totally missing the disinterest in Bill’s tone- “We have always been searching for you, our worship unending! You honor us with your presence. You shine upon us your infinite glory!”

“Sure you have,” Bill says, sounding, if anything, bored. The blade in his hand flips around between his fingers, then back again. The motion reminds Dipper of a very deadly fidget spinner. “Do tell.”

Which is when the priest surges up, nearly grabbing onto Bill’s thigh. He’s only stopped by a rapid sidestep.

Dipper cringes back out of secondhand embarrassment. Bad move. Dumb move. ‘Devoted’ or not, Bill was bored already - and infinite beings of pure energy do not like being manhandled by mortals.

“Let us use this connection, and the blade! Let us complete the sacrifice.” The priest continues, undeterred. Shuffling closer on his knees, he spreads his arms wide, inviting and eager. “The blood could grant you all your power, that you might grant us-”

“Pass.” Bill says dismissively. The knife flashes, and there’s a wet, solid ‘thunk’.

Dipper catches a brief glimpse of the priest’s face - stuck in shock, pale and lined with age - just before his body falls to the floor, as limp as a ragdoll. The knife handle in his chest props him up at a weird angle, before a swift kick from a black shoe sends it tumbling down the short three steps of the dais.

Dipper cringes into a smaller ball, trying to scrunch himself into invisibility. He watches Bill pass in front of him, standing in front of the crowd. The hand rests on a hip, while the other is raised out of site. Still far, far too close.

On the one hand, Bill’s examining the congregation. Distracted, for a moment. Staying out of his attention is so, so great.

Dipper curls up in a much, much tighter ball despite that.

In every single one of his plans to get out of here, Bill Cipher existing wasn’t a factor. Much less his actual, physical presence. All he’d ever thought about was how this was bullshit, that the people he knew were awful - and how hopefully, nobody would notice if he left. Now the ‘god’ himself is here. Standing so near Dipper he could, if he wanted, stupidly touch the hem of his pants.

A distant, insane part of him chimes in with the stupid idea that it’s nothing to really worry about.

Like, compared to how he’s still losing blood, for example.

Right. Staunch first, panic later.

Dipper wraps his sleeve around his arm, as subtly as he can, teeth gritted. His first priority is to stop bleeding. No escape plan - or any plan for that matter - is going to be useful if he dies.

The immensely powerful nightmare god is also a problem, obviously. But in this moment he’s not the immediate threat.

“Hmmm.” Bill lets out a low, contemplative hum. It resonates in the room, with how deathly silent things have become. “Let’s see here…”

After a pause, he snaps his fingers. “Stand!”

The entire congregation leaps to their feet. One of them stumbles and gets a swift kick in the side.

“Sit!” Bill commands. Everyone drops to the floor. A low chuckle, then, “Turn around three times and bark like a dog!”

Oh, now that won’t -

Or maybe it will. Dipper cringes, back pressed against the altar. Don’t just comply, what the hell. Sure it’s a magical god-being, but - fuck. He watches the scene with a grimace.

Bill, though, seems to be having a great time. He’s bouncing in place, voice bright with enthusiasm. “Do a little dance! Twist yourself until your joints snap! Hell, start a fight with the guy next to you!”

There’s havoc in the room of ritual. Robed figures practically fall all over themselves, and Dipper notes with a nauseating turn that some of them have drawn knives of their own. Chaos reigns; an entire scramble to do each possible thing, all at once.

And Bill’s laughter rings out over everything, clapping his hands in delight.

Dipper’s trapped in this room with an insane madman, leading a horde of equally insane idiots, and he doesn’t have a way out. He hopes he’ll stay out of notice. He hopes that he’ll live through the next five minutes.

There’s no controlling the situation, but he can improve his odds.

The altar’s pretty close, and Bill’s turned away, for the moment. Dipper scoots back, inching himself towards the corner. With enough shuffling, he might be able to move behind it and get out of sight.

“Welp,” Bill claps his hands again, this time with finality. Some of the chaos stills. “You’re all annoying, boring little vermin, but maybe you guys could improve. I noticed the blood you used to summon me was real choice stuff!” The exaggerated sound of a kiss. “Very nice.”

Dipper feels sweat building up in his robes, and tries to be very still. Basically part of the ritual scenery. Anonymous furniture, at best.

“In fact. It was so nice.” The voice continues, at a lower tone. Almost a purr. There’s a clack of shoes on stone. “Let’s see who this little treat is!”

The god seizes Dipper’s wrist - the wounded one, sending a bolt of pain down his arm - and clamps his palm around it, incredibly tight.

Before he knows it, Dipper’s standing again, involuntarily, staring past his hood into a bright, glowing eye.

He’s meeting his god. He’s been noticed by Bill Cipher.

So far he’s not trembling, so. That’s one thing he has going for him.

Bill’s eye flicks down, then up again, almost thoughtful. Any question about his power is quickly tossed aside, because holy shit; the magic is nearly palpable, thrumming into Dipper’s skin and making his heart race.

He’s also sporting a bright, wide grin, in a face that makes Dipper do a double-take.

Like. He thought - he glances at the triangle on the back of the wall, then to the person in front of him.

Okay, it’s said that Bill Cipher can take any form he wants, human included, but, like. What?

Thankfully, Bill doesn’t seem to notice any of the insane, stupid things Dipper is thinking. All he does is raise his hand, and with one quick motion, sweep the hood off of Dipper’s head.

Dipper flinches back. Jaw clenched, eye shut.

Shit, shit, shit. Special attention. All the scenarios he can think of say ‘not good’. Best case scenario, it’s because Bill wants to thank him, for... Whatever his blood did. The rest of them involve increasingly terrifying ideas about what ‘nice blood’ means, and how much of it Bill might want. All of it, say. Maybe immediately.

Dipper can’t pull away, not with such a strong hold on his arm. Fighting is downright dumb. Trembling’s happening, despite his best efforts, and the intrusive thought bubbles up that, hey, at least there’s lots of pressure on his wound. Could be worse.

Nothing happens. For several seconds.

Eventually, Dipper peeks an eye open.

There’s Bill Cipher, looking back at him. His eye is literally lit up, the pleased grin wide on his face.

Dipper waits for an order, but the god doesn’t speak. He just wiggles his eyebrows. If anything, he looks oddly… expectant?

Fuck. Dipper has to do something.

What the hell, there isn’t any doctrine for this.

Sure, he knows all of the catechism, and each chant he was taught. He’s got an encyclopedic memory of everything he was taught about this powerful interdimensional god-being, he knows every ritual back and forth. The tenets spring to mind, unbidden: Be obedient, speak his words, serve him in all ways - and most of all, don’t think.

But Dipper can’t chant. He hasn’t been told to do anything yet. And though it’d be a death sentence, if serving involves more bleeding he’d be tempted to kick again. Hell, he literally just watched everyone else trying the other bits. They did exactly what they were supposed to, and that was ‘boring’.

He never could stop thinking, though.

Now, his mind is racing.

A little-known and never-preached fact about Bill Cipher is that he doesn’t, actually, like rules all that much -

So.

Dipper offers a hesitant, closed-mouth smile. He wiggles the fingers of his free hand, a bit awkwardly, in greeting.

Then ducks his head again, wishing he still had a hood to cover his face.

That didn’t make it weird, right? That’s a normal, devout thing to do. Coming from a totally religious guy, who’s only slightly damp from all the sweating.

“Oh.” Bill’s voice lowers to something like a purr. He tucks a knuckle under Dipper’s chin, lifting him to meet his single eye again. An eye that’s glowing now, bright gold and half-lidded. “Ten outta ten on the offering, guys. Very cute.”

Which is a little weird, but probably -

“Y’know what?” And Bill’s grin widens, bright and wild, as his thumb strokes Dipper’s chin. “I like this one.”

Uh oh.

Dipper tries sinking down into his oversized robes, but Bill just fishes around inside them until he can pull Dipper up again by his undershirt.

“In fact,” Bill declares, sounding proud. He pulls Dipper in closer, hand still clamped painfully tight on his wounded wrist. “I’m gonna keep him.”

What?

Immediately after that declaration, Dipper’s tugged in close, thumping against his side. Bill turns to start barking orders at the congregation, sharp and sneering.

Dipper can’t quite parse it. He’s still running over the last few words in his head.

In the ritual room, the candles flare even higher, temperature rising to an uncomfortable degree. Dipper watches two worshipers collide with each other in their frantic obedience, and can’t even laugh about it.

‘Keep’, Bill said.

What does that mean? Everything here is already ‘Bill’s’, in a way. But the way he said it sounded… oddly specific.

A hopeful part of Dipper chimes in that it might just mean ‘not let him bleed out’, but he’s never been that lucky before, and there’s no reason it would start now.

With everything else going on. With the presence of a god. e.

The cultists are bustling about; a few of them deposit things near Bill’s feet, like gifts upon the altar. Boxes, totems, more lit candles that Bill idly kicks over onto one of their robes, watching them flail at the sudden burst of fire.

Eventually, Bill considered the task ‘done’, or close enough. He sighs, shaking his head. “About time, guys! Talk about slow. Hard to get good followers these days.”

Bill clicks his tongue in distaste, then snaps his fingers.

Dipper hears a weird ‘zmmm’ sound to his left. He notices that Bill’s suit is really soft material, and also that he probably shouldn’t be grabbing it like this.

He doesn’t dare look at the sound. Not when Bill’s turned towards him with smug pride, like he’s pulled off a plan without a hitch.

“Man, it's only been fifteen minutes, and I’ve had it with these losers.” Bill gives the congregation a look of disgust, then turns back to Dipper. That grin reemerges like the sunrise. “Screw these guys, am I right?”

This time, Dipper’s smile is involuntary. He quashes it fast, but not before Bill notices.

“That’s what I thought.” Bill says, with deep pleasure. He takes a step closer to the altar, pulling Dipper along with a surprising lack of force. “So! What’d’ya say we ditch this joint?”

Dipper doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what’s been happening, either, other than it’s all been going way too fast.

But Bill Cipher is looking at him, still. Present, powerful. Eager for a response.

Dipper just shrugs.

He wouldn’t know what to say even if he still had his tongue.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Bill says, eminently pleased. Pulling Dipper in closer, with an arm suddenly around his waist. “Hold on tight! It ain’t a bumpy ride, but it’s a weird one.”

Dipper follows as he walks. Partly on automatic, and partly because what the hell else is he supposed to do?

About three steps in, he realizes they’re both walking on thin air, towards and over the altar.

He jerks his head over, blinking at the source of that ‘zmm’ sound.

Because of course summoning am interdimensional god-being would leave a remnant. He had to come from somewhere.

Like, say, a weird red-yellow gap in space, with nonsense things flung around in a black and bizarre starscape. Dipper catches a glimpse of something with two many limbs, and of a series of screaming mouths with no bodies, and a duck and a grandfather clock, tumbling through the air.

It’s almost like it might be a nightmare dimension. Who could have thought.

With nothing else to cling to, his free hand clamps Bill’s shoulder, tight.

“You’re my guest for the next while, sapling.” Bill says, squeezing him tight in return as he steps in - and drags Dipper alongside him, stalking into the portal. “Glad to have you!”

#Let's see if I have any fun facts here #I am very tired!#I meant to sit on this and edit it more but I am Posting because of Reasons #Blame one of my cats for this #Sorry about all the setup #The next chapter which I have already started is where the REAL fun happens #In that whenever I think of some of the plot points I cackle and think 'Get Loved On Idiot'#So that's a hint as to what happens #Man I can never think of fun facts while I'm posting. Only afterwards #Anyway I hope this was a reasonably enjoyable read!

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popatochisssp · 10 months

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The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

#anonymous #headcanons #court au #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell/fellswap #horrortale #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year

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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: none Prompt: A dangerous night approaches as you and Lily go out to find the ingredients for your Potions project. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 10: Black Dog

September 24, 1976 - Friday 11:00 pm

As you walked outside of the portrait and onto the halls you realised how much lonelier the school looked like at night. Of course, you’d been out at night on your first night, back then you’d been hanging out with Remus and James and Peter, but right now, being just you and Lily, it all felt bigger, darker. So you decided to fill the emptiness with a conversation.

“So…. You and James?” You said with a raised eyebrow.

“There is no me and James,” Lily replied.

“Aw, come on.” You nudged her again “You can trust me.”

She drew in a deep breath “It’s just that… James Potter is– he’s infuriating!” She told you. “With all his pranks and charm and his constant flirting and–“

“–and you liked it when you kissed him, didn’t you?” You asked, she instantly turned red, you smiled “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Who knows? You may discover other things about James, things that make you forgive those you dislike.”

She frowned, genuinely thinking about it “Well, I guess objectively… I mean… He’s pretty good-looking.”

You agreed “and he’s funny as well. And… best part–” you made a dramatic pause “–he’s madly in love with you.”

She shook her head in disbelief, with a smile plastered on her face anyway. But then she decided to turn things around “What about you and Sirius?”

You snapped your head towards her “What’s with me and Sirius?”

“Well, after that summer he met you he was all mopy for months. He told me a lot of things about you, you couldn’t even get him to shut up. And then he started going out with girls and dumping them shortly after. I think he was trying to get his mind off you,” she said “and… I don’t know, he said you were the one to kiss him first, which is why assumed you liked him.”

“I did.”

“Did?”

You sighed “It’s hard not to fall for Sirius Black,” you said, “he’s exceptionally charming, not to mention beautiful.”

Lily shrugged “If you like the prince-y type.”

“Well,” you said with a frown “I am weak like that, can’t help but like beautiful people,” you said dramatically “And he’s so playful, and when he gets riled up, he looks adorable too, it’s fun to tease him.”

“So you still like him,” Lily replied, matter of factly.

“Well even if I did, last time I acted upon my feelings things didn’t end well. I was heartbroken, and I thought he had completely forgotten about me. All that’s in the past obviously, and I know he didn’t mean to ghost me, but I… It’s just that… It took time to get over him.”

Lily nodded, she knew just how complicated Sirius could be “Personally, I think if he likes you, and you like him, you should just start dating.”

You laughed at that “Look who’s talking.”

“I mean… You and Sirius would make a fantastic couple.”

“Yeah, you and Potter would make beautiful babies,” you retorted.

She lightly hit you with the back of her hand, “Enough boy talk.”

You laughed, it was so easy to see Lily’s newfound feeling for James, you just loved to tease her, she’d get red and flustered and she was adorable. And objectively speaking, as she had said herself, you really did think she and James would make a wonderful pair.

Fifteen minutes later you were already on the doors that lead outside. You looked up, the moon was already in the sky, looking majestic as ever, stars shining brightly. The wind was blowing your hair and robes, so you took a deep breath of the crisp night air and smiled

Hogwarts at night carried an even more magical air to it than it did in the mornings. You were walking behind Lily when you heard a distant howl that made you shiver, your hair flowing still, strong wind blowing towards the distant trees. “Did you hear that?” You asked her, walking closer, it was the same type of howl that haunted your dreams.

“Heard what?” Lily asked, playing dumb. She knew what it was, she had figured Remus was a werewolf a couple of years back, and she asked him about it when he seemed ready to tell her, they had a really nice conversation that day, it was probably around the time they became really close.

“The creepy howl?” You said with a frown, was it possible it was all in your head, maybe something about the book Nina gave you had permeated your head enough to cause mild hallucinations, maybe it was sleep deprivation. All though, you didn’t really feel like you were much sleep-deprived.

She shook her head, and you continued walking beside her. Once you were in the greenhouses you both grabbed some gardening tools and walked towards the fluxweed. You grabbed a small shovel and started to carefully dig around the roots, to avoid hurting them, while Lily gently pulled the plant from the top, and lit up the area with her wand. Eventually, you put on a pair of gloves and started digging with your own hands. You heard another howl, this one was sharper and not as deep as the first, it also sounded a lot closer.

“You surely heard that one, didn’t you?” You asked, a chill running through your spine, the hairs from your arm standing on end.

Lily couldn’t deny it, it had been very obvious, and if she did, you may start thinking you were crazy yourself. So she did the most logical thing she could, and lied. “Must be Fang, Hagrid’s dog.”

“A dog? So loud?” You asked.

“You should see him,” she replied, not wanting to get deeper into the lie.

You nodded and continued to pull the fluxweed together. “Who’s Hagrid, by the way?”

“Oh that’s right, we should probably introduce you to him. I guess you didn’t come on the boats like the first years. He’s the gamekeeper, you’d like him.”

You finally managed to dig out all the roots, Lily grabbed the plant and carefully placed it on a satchel she’d brought. You then went for the second plant. A couple of minutes later you were done. And the two of you smiled satisfied, walking towards the closet and leaving all the tools carefully in their place.

You heard another howl, the deeper one this time. The two howls could not possibly be from the same animal. But you realised you sounded paranoid, so you decided to drop the subject and avoid mentioning them anymore.

Once you were done the two of you started walking back to the common room, as you crossed the long stone hall that led you back to the castle you saw something move, it was back in the forbidden forest. You turned, trying to see what was happening better, but the wind was making your hair get in the way, you only managed to see 3 dark figures, running very, very fast through the edges of the forest. Those night vision glasses that you considered designing for your magical theory class, seemed like they would be awfully useful now, maybe you could make more than one of the things you’d thought of originally.

Lily looked at you nervously, she could tell the boys were trying to keep Moony in check by the way some of the shadows pushed onto the others. Something was happening, and she knew it was best to get back to the common room as soon as possible. So she grabbed your arm lightly and pulled you from the window’s arch, “Come on, I’m kind of getting cold.”

“But Lily, didn’t you see those figures?” You asked her as you let her guide you towards the castle.

“It must be the centaurs from the forbidden forest,” she said, as casually as she could, picking up the peace regardless “Sometimes they come out of their hiding spots to talk to Hagrid.”

“Really?” You asked, not sounding too convinced.

“Yeah, totally,” Lily said, basically dragging you through the big doors.

Once inside the castle, the two of you walked back to the dorms. And after setting your fluxweed on a little string to dry, the two of you went to your respective beds.

That night the nightmares came again, you running from the wolf, the howls, the dark tunnel. It was even worse than before, it felt so real that when you woke up you were drenched in sweat. Your light cotton shirt felt soggy and gross. You took a deep breath and looked at the bright green clock on the wall, it was 4am but you sure as hell did not want to go back to sleep. So you went into your shared bathroom and cast a silencing spell, as not to wake the girls up.

You started running a hot bath for yourself. Perhaps that would help you relax from the nightmare. And you remembered you had a bath potion somewhere in your bags. Something that was meant to be relaxing, so you cast a footstep-silencing charm too and went out to get it. As you were rummaging through your bag Mary woke up, and saw you there, which made her frown “You ok love?” She whispered.

You nodded “Just having a hard time sleeping,” you whispered back. She didn’t seem convinced but decided to give you some space, she knew you’d ask for help should you need it.

Once you had your potion, you gave her a small smile and entered the bathroom again. The water was already halfway filling the tub and you lightly poured half of the potion on it, turning the bath water a light blue colour, it shimmered and smelled like the sea. You closed your eyes and delighted in the already calming smell. You played with the water and after a couple of minutes peeled off your sweat-drenched clothes and submerged in the tub. As you continued to toy with the water you felt your ring slip off. You fished for it lazily and set it near the sink. As you relaxed in the bath, you dozed off, waking up as some soft dawn rays hit your face directly from the small window. You woke up with a gasp, you had fallen asleep, but… there had been no nightmares. You wondered what time it was, you had to be ready for flying, so you got out as quickly as possible, unplugging the bath with a wave of your wand, not even bothering to check the time. Once outside you started putting on some thick clothes for the cold morning ahead.

Marlene had gone into the bathroom shortly after, and just as you grabbed your broom, she called for you “Hey, (Y/N)!” She said, “You forgot this.” She handed over your ring.

“Oh, thanks!” You said to her and smiled. Before waving goodbye and running out. By the time you were down at the common room, it was already 6:00. You always flew at 5:30 on Saturdays, so when you saw neither Sirius nor James, you assumed they had gone off without you so you walked outside.

“Good morning (Y/N)! Going alone today?” Asked the lady from the portrait.

You turned to her with a frown “Haven’t the boys left already?”

“Hmm…” she said “I’m not sure, I don’t think I’ve seen them since yesterday actually.”

“Yesterday?”

She nodded “Have you seen them, Charles?” She asked to another painting.

“Not at all,” said the tall wizard in the painting as he poured a bit of potion into a vase.

“Perhaps they’re out doing their pranks,” said the lady as you looked at her, still frowning.

“Yeah, probably,” you agreed, still frowning. You'd guess James would have told you he wasn’t going to fly this morning, maybe they forgot, or maybe their prank was so top secret he couldn’t. You waved the portraits goodbye and walked towards the courtyard with your broom in hand.

From there you took off and started flying around the castle until you saw a big black dog, lying near the entrance of the forbidden forest. You looked at it with concern, and flew towards it, hovering a few metres above. The dog looked dazed like it was fighting between consciousness and sleep. It had a light cut over his shoulder, and there was a lot of bIood surrounding him, but it didn’t look like his own. You took a deep breath, you had to help him. This dog may be Fang, Hagrid’s dog, the one Lily told you about yesterday, and you wouldn’t want anyone’s dog to be lying there unconscious, but you also knew you had to be cautious, The dog was so big it could easily bite your hand off.

So, after some quick thinking, you decided to slowly, and steadily land, a little far from the dog, you let your broom fall on the ground, as you carefully walked towards the creature. The dog itself was stunning, it had dark thick fur, and stunning light blue eyes. “Hey buddy,” you said, trying not to sound as nervous as you were. “I’m here to help all right, please don’t bite me.”

The dog seemed to look at you lazily for a second, fixing his gaze on your face, before letting his face fall to the ground again, tired. Well, he wasn’t going to bite you, that was good. You finally leaned in close enough to touch it, and you carefully placed your hand over his head. He was cold, very cold, he might have been lying there for a while. You quickly took off your sweater and placed it over him. It was the same thick sweater Sirius’ had altered the colour off weeks ago.

“You must have had a pretty rough night, eh?” You told him softly, digging on the ground lightly in front of his snout, doing it slowly, so as not to scare him “aguamenti,” you said, filling the little hole you dug with water for the dog to drink “Where you the one howling so desperately?” You said, as you grabbed a handkerchief from your pocket and dipped it in some water to clean his wound. The dog flinched as you placed the cloth on his open gush, but it didn’t become aggressive.

You didn’t know much about caring for hurt animals, but you remembered reading somewhere that calendula was good for open wounds and decided to test your luck “Accio Calendula?” a small plant with orange flowers came flying towards your face, you managed to catch it with your hands and quickly started pulling the petals from the small flowers. You then used some nearby rocks to grind the petals, adding a bit of water to turn the mixture into a paste. There wasn’t much of it, but you figured it would be enough. “All right Fang,” you said “This may or may not hurt like hell. Please don’t bite my face off if it does, m’kay?”

After taking a deep breath you grabbed the paste with your finger and placed it right over the dog’s wound. The dog growled, protesting, but did not attempt to move away from you. Once you were done, you wiped the stickiness of your fingers on the grass. And the dog nudged your hand, softly moving his head beneath it. Did he want you to pet him?

You complied, running your fingers through his head, scratching near his ear carefully, he seemed at ease. At some point the dog placed his entire head over your lap, enjoying the way your hands ran up and down his fur. When he looked better, you nudged him slightly “Don’t you think we should go to your owner? I’m sure Hagrid’s worried about his dog missing.” Instead of standing excitedly at the mention of his owner, the dog sank deeper into your lap, nudging you with his head, so you didn’t stop petting him. “All right, big boy,” you said, “I suppose we can stay here a bit longer.”

As you lay in the grass with the dog, you started feeling your stomach rumble. It must already be breakfast time, you thought, and then wondered if the dog was feeling the same way “Aren’t you hungry?” You asked him, as if he could understand. And the dog, the bIoody dog, nodded! You were shocked, it must have been a coincidence, or maybe Hagrid’s dog was magical somehow. “Well then buddy, I’ll go get the two of us something to eat all right. I’ll be quick, I promise.” You said, carefully standing up and running towards your broom.

Once you landed back at the courtyard you ran towards the kitchen and you bumped into James, who looked dishevelled and tired “Sorry!” You said as you saw him “You ok?” You asked with a frown “I… kind of expected to see you in the morning.”

James nodded “Sorry about that, we had a long night.” He told you, and shook his nose a little “Were you with Sirius?”

You shrugged at the question, “No, I… haven't seen him since yesterday,” you answered honestly, but James could smell Sirius on you. “I guessed you’d be with him.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod “We were together, but… uh– we lost him at some point, I was hoping he’d gotten back to the common room.”

“Was the prank successful at least?” You asked kindly.

James looked at you with a frown and raised his eyebrows when he realised what was going on, you thought they’d been out planning a prank, so he nodded “We… had some mishaps.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” you said, placing an understanding hand on his shoulders “Anyway…” the sense of urgency was strong, and you had to go back to check on the dog “I’ve got to run, I’m trying to bring some food for Fang, he was badly hurt, I found him while flying.”

“Fang?” James asked with a frown.

You nodded, already a few metres away from him “Hagrid’s dog!” You clarified, running towards the kitchens.

“Hagrid’s dog?!”

“Big black dog, stunning specimen, a little threatening from afar?” You said last.

“Oh… Fang… right.” James said. So, you had been with Sirius after all, you just didn’t know it.

Once you got to the kitchens you spotted Nimbletwist and you politely asked her for something with meat on it. She nodded and quickly wrapped some food up for you.

“Thank you,” you said kindly “You’ve always been willing to help me.”

“It’s ma’ pleasure to help ye’ Master (Y/N),” she said with a smile, as she handed it over.

Once you held it secure, you ran towards the courtyard again, grabbing onto your broom, which you’d left lying on a corner there, you took off and quickly flew towards the place you’d found Fang, but he was gone. You walked around the place in which you’d found him, even walking a few steps inside the forest, but the dog was nowhere to be seen. Assuming he’d been feeling better, you took a deep breath and flew back to the castle.

You walked towards your room and changed into your uniform quickly. Sliding on Remus’ thick sweater to keep you warm, since you were almost shivering from flying so fast, and Fang had kept your sweater.

Once you were downstairs you found almost everyone already having breakfast. Sirius was sitting next to James, hair messy and looking as worn out as his friend. They really must have had a wild night, you thought. Peter was there too, he didn’t look as tired as the boys, but he did look mortified, and a little exhausted, like he’d been running all night, it made you wonder what kind of prank they had been planning to all look so depleted.

You finished eating as fast as you could, since you knew you had Apparition in like 15 minutes and Professor Dumbledore did not like it when people were late. Especially since it was the only class he taught. It was barely your second class, so it was all theory, inside the castle. Everyone in your friend group had taken the class, knowing full well how useful it could be, so you all walked together to the classroom that you unfortunately shared with Slytherins.

As you walked in, and class started you leaned towards Peter, “Where’s Remus?” You asked him.

“He’s not feeling good, he was hurt last night,” he whispered back, “he decided to skip the class, he’s at the infirmary.”

You looked at Peter surprised, he said it with such ease, like it was something that happened all the time, which was actually true, even if last night had been harder on the boys. But you, having met Remus for only a couple of weeks, did not expect him to just get randomly hurt and skip classes, especially since you’d seen how much he cared about them. Even you had skipped a class or two, and he’d been the one to pass you the notes. So you decided you’d return the favour, copying the majority of what Dumbledore was explaining in class, as neatly and orderly as you could.

After Apparition, you had four hours of care for magical creatures. You spent the first half of the class learning all about the nifflers before being taken into a room full of them. Professor Kettleburn had asked the MCZ (Magical Creatures Zoo) to borrow them for a month, and the students would be in charge of their care; naturally, everyone was fascinated with them. As you played with one of them, you started drawing him, letting another one play with your left hand. The scoundrel was carefully working his way to remove your ring when you noticed.

“Hey little guy!” You reprimanded “Not that, here…” You took out a golden coin from your purse, “take this one instead.” The little niffler seemed pretty satisfied. Once you were done you went to the kitchens for the second time in the day and asked Nimbletwist if she could get you some chocolate. She nodded, and a few minutes later showed up with 10 bars. You laughed at the excess but thanked her before placing them in the pockets of your robe. They might be useful later on, anyway.

As you ran through the halls you spotted Alexander Wood, and stopped, you had been hoping to find him. “Hey Alex!” You told him with a smile. “Mind helping me duplicate my notes real quick?” You asked him kindly.

He nodded “I can teach you the spell if you want to, I’ve got the book right now in fact…”

You smiled “I’d love that… but- I’m sort of on my way to see my friend, he didn’t go to classes because he was feeling bad and… I wanted to help him with my notes since he always lends me his.”

Alex nodded and walked with you “Then I won’t take much more of your time,” he said as you handed over your papers and he duplicated them with ease “By the way, will you come to Hogsmeade tonight? I heard Marlene and Holden are coming.”

“I… probably,” you told him with a smile “I’ll see you then, maybe?”

He nodded in response, and you waved goodbye to him “Thank you for the papers!”

“My pleasure,” he said before continuing his path.

That’s when you walked towards the infirmary, knocking on the door quietly in case anyone was sleeping. Madam Pomfrey was there “Is there something wrong darling?” She asked you with concern.

You shook your head “Can I uh… I’m actually here to see a friend.”

“Remus?” You nodded, and she let you in. “Poor boy, I gave him a drought for pain, he won’t stay awake for much longer, so you better hurry.”

“Thank you,” you said with a smile and walked towards the area she had pointed out. When you opened the curtain you were shocked. Remus was shirtless, his entire chest bandaged as if he had a massive gash underneath it, “Rem?” You asked worried “What the hell happened last night? The boys already look like shit, but you look like you’ve been run over by a truck.”

“(Y/N)? Is… is that you?” He asked, distraught.

You nodded and sat down beside him “Of course silly! I Brought you some chocolate.” You said pulling out a bar, and opening it up for him “Have you eaten anything? Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

He shook his head, he was more sleep than awake, but he grabbed the chocolate bar and munched on it “Why are you here?” He asked.

You were taken aback by that, “because I’m your friend? Peter said you were feeling bad, I’m actually surprised the boys aren’t here too.”

“Last night was… they must be feeling pretty bad too.”

“They looked rough,” you agreed, and leaned in closer to him, trying to identify how bad his wound was. He looked paler than normal, like he had lost a lot of bIood. “Rem… are you sure you’re ok?”

“I heal fast,” he said as he gave another bite of his chocolate “and Madam Pomfrey knows how to take care of me too.”

You leaned in on the bed, letting your arms fall next to his and resting your head on top of them. He flinched when your silver ring brushed over his skin, but you had quickly accommodated it closer to your face than his arm. Remus was already close to falling asleep “I brought you my notes, so you don’t miss any of what we did today,” you said “Apparition was just theory but, we also got to meet some nifflers.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, baby nifflers,” you said with a smile “They’re adorable.”

“Bet.”

“You know…” you said, tracing circles around your own arm with your fingers, “I had a rough night last night too.” Remus hummed in response, “Not like you, not at all… but… I had the worst nightmare I’ve had in my life, it was so vivid I didn’t want to go back to bed.”

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled. You made a gesture to move away from the bed and back into your chair but he placed a hand over your arm “Don’t… you smell nice.”

You chuckled at that “I must smell of sweat and wet dog,” you said “I found Hagrid’s dog outside, and helped him, he looked like he too had had a pretty bad night. He had a gash on his shoulder and I was running around between the kitchens and the dog, freezing since I gave it my sweater,” Remus looked at you with worry, what if Moony had hurt Fang? “He’s very pretty, isn't he?”

“Fang?” He asked with a frown, incredulity dripping from his tone. He certainly wouldn’t use pretty to describe the dog.

“Yeah, so big and those bright blue eyes,” you said “I’ve never seen a prettier dog in my life.”

Sirius. You hadn’t helped Fang, you’d helped Sirius. Remus wondered what on earth had made you assume Sirius was Fang. He wondered too if Sirius had heard you call him Fang when you helped him, he would definitely tease him about it when he was feeling better.

“You smell nice anyway,” he said. You smelled like Sirius, and you smelled like you at the same time. Remus might not know why he felt that way, but he knew one thing for certain: he didn’t want you to pull away, he could smell that mixture of scents for the rest of his life and he’d be at peace. Maybe it was a wolf thing, he didn’t care, he was also so drunk on painkillers that he wasn’t at all thinking properly.

At some point he placed his fingers over your head and started playing with your hair, you delighted in the feeling of his fingers running over your scalp. You were glad you’d found such an amazing friend in him, so caring and compassionate. He was hurt so bad, and yet, he’d decided to comfort you as much as you comforted him. With Remus’ fingers running through your scalp, you dozed off again. When you woke up, it was already dark outside, and your stomach was rumbling, you hadn’t properly eaten at all that day. Madam Pomfrey was looking at you from the curtains with a smile.

“You make him feel at ease,” She told you, “He rarely stays long with me nowadays,” she said with a bit of longing in her voice. You frowned, was it common for him to go to the infirmary? “All right love,” Madam Pomfrey said with a soft smile “I’ll take care of him, off you go.”

You looked at her and nodded, finally standing up and walking towards the exit “Actually…” you said turning towards her “Is– Is there anything I can take to prevent nightmares?”

She bit her lip and nodded “It depends on the type of nightmares you’ve got, but I can give you an anxiety-reducing potion… do you think that could help?”

You shrugged, you didn’t think the nightmares were anxiety-induced but you nodded “I’d like that.”

“If it doesn’t get better, just come back to me love, I’m sure we can figure something out together.”

You nodded at her with a smile, thanking her as she handed you the small vial. It was the same droplet vial that Remus and you used on your fireworms. Shit, the fireworms! Remus had asked you to feed the fireworms, you thought as you ran out towards the passages, speeding through the dark as fast as you could. If you were too late, they could literally explode, you had to be there on time. When you reached the little nook where you’d left them you finally relaxed. They were both fine, so you took out some food from your pockets and left it on their makeshift feeding plate.

Thankfully Remus had asked you to feed them since yesterday. You might have forgotten about it all together with the hectic day you had.

Hold up, Remus had asked you to feed them yesterday. Almost as if he’d known he’d be feeling bad the next morning, but how was that possible? Was he expecting something to go wrong while he was planning the prank? Then why would he go ahead with it anyway? Or maybe he was just thinking ahead, taking into consideration how complicated the prank was, and decided to make sure the fireworms would be all right. Yeah, that made a lot more sense.

Remus was clever, he knew the prank was dangerous and decided to have a contingency plan. That was the most plausible explanation. And as the Occam’s Razor principle would say, the explanation that requires the least assumptions is usually correct. Remus was not some kind of divination master, he was just really good at thinking ahead. There was a reason he was a Prefect after all. The teachers probably knew how forehanded he was, and that’s how he’d gotten the little badge.

Once you’d settled your thoughts, you walked back to the common room. Passing by the kitchens for the third time that day to get yourself a decent snack. Nimbletwist was more than thrilled to see you and asked you about your day as you asked her about hers. You told her all about the crazy day you’d had and she made sure to prepare you the biggest sandwich you’d seen in your entire life.

“Ye must nourish yourself properly if ye be wishin’ to carry on with yer castle adventures master (Y/N).”

“I wouldn’t call them adventures, maybe mishaps,” you said with a smile but Nibletwist shook her head.

"Me's been keepin' me eyes on ya," she squeaked, her voice full of concern. "Since the day ya arrived 'ere, ya was wearin' sadness on yer face, lookin' all tired and such. But now, oh me goodness, there's a gleam of mischief in yer peepers! Ya's all brimmin' with excitement, even if ya be wearin' the exhaustion on ya. No doubts 'bout it, ya's livin' through a grand adventure, ya is!" She said finally, handing you over your massive sandwich.

You smiled at her “Thank you, Nimbletwist,” you told her with a smile. And she waved goodbye to you before disappearing. You stood there, maybe she was right, you were genuinely happy about being in Hogwarts, it was fun, and you’d made so many amazing friends already. So you smiled to yourself as you walked towards the common room. Greeting the lady of the portrait as you went inside.

James was sitting on the single couch, “Hey (Y/N)!” He greeted “Didn’t you go to Hogsmeade?”

You gasped, suddenly remembering Alex had told you a lot of your friends were actually going earlier that day. You looked at the clock, It was already 7:00 pm, they were all probably on their way back. Since they had to be at the castle before 9.

“I… totally forgot about it,” You said plopping out in the double coach next to Sirius.

“She was with Remus,” Sirius said simply.

“Yeah I…” you agreed, but then snapped your head towards your friend “How do you know?”

You smelled like medicinal herbs, chocolate and werewolf. A little of himself too, ever so faintly at this point. But Sirius couldn’t give you that as an answer, so he made something up quickly “Peter said he told you Remus was feeling bad.”

You nodded “I guess yesterday’s prank didn’t go as planned.”

“Certainly not,” James replied, rolling his shoulders back, as if he was trying to ease some tension on them.

“Pitty,” you said, finally leaning towards the table to grab a slice of your sandwich. “I was excited to see what kind of prank you made. I’ve heard a lot about your pranks, and the rain on the first day was fun.”

“Thanks!” Said James proudly “It was actually my idea.”

“But I perfected the spell,” added Sirius.

“Moony helped you a lot…”

“Naturally, he’s brilliant!”

“Do you boys want some of my sandwich?” You offered “I wanted something to eat, but after telling Nimbletwist I had skipped almost all of my meals she gave me this monstrosity.”

Sirius shook his head, but James nodded, leaning in to grab the half you’d left on the cloth. “Why didn’t you go to the great hall instead?”

“It was dark outside, I thought it was already like 9 or something, I accidentally took a nap when I was with Rem, lost track of time,” you said before giving a bite of your sandwich.

“You went to visit him, and napped?” Sirius teased with a raised eyebrow.

You finished munching on it quickly. “Well, technically we both fell asleep, he was pretty dumbed out with painkiller draughts.”

“Do you mind?” Sirius asked, after letting his head fall over your lap and placing his boots over the armrest. You gave him a look, eyebrows raised.

“You always ask after you’ve done it.”

He shrugged “It’s just to be polite, I’m sure you don’t,” he said, giving you that utterly charming grin of his. I really am weak to beauty, you thought as you stared at Sirius’ sprawled hair over your lap, lashes thick as he looked at you with his smug little expression.

You shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. James, from his side, was too focused on the sandwich to notice the way Sirius and you were staring at each other. “Dude,” he said as he finished his first bite. “That elf loves you, this sandwich is killer!”

You nodded in agreement, “It’s really good, right? I think she’s really nice. Our house elf isn’t nearly as nice.”

“And you never met Kreacher,” Sirius said “He hates me with all his guts.”

James nodded, he’d visited Sirius in his house once, after the second year break, and Kreacher was definitely something. “He’s awful! Thankfully Sirius won’t have to live with him again.”

“Is he leaving?” You asked casually.

“No. I did.” Sirius responded. Your eyes widened, jaw dropping at the same time.

“You left home?”

“He moved in with me,” said James with a smug smile.

You smiled brightly “That’s amazing!” You said “I mean… I’m glad you’re finally free of your parents.”

Sirius chuckled lightly at your excitement. Only people that’d met his parents had a similar one, “I’m happy I got rid of them too, unfortunately now, I have to deal with this bloke,” he joked, pointing at James.

“Shut up Pads, you love me!” Replied James while he shot a small cushion towards Sirius’ legs since his face was still on your lap, and he didn’t want to throw your sandwich.

They both laughed, and you were delighted by the soft sounds. James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, really had the kind of friendship you could only dream of.

You took another bite of your sandwich and remembered you still had chocolate in your pockets, so you took it out and hovered it over Sirius’ face “Want some?” You asked.

He nodded and motioned to grab for it, but you pulled it up slightly, out of his grasp, just to tease him “Hey!” He complained.

“What?” You asked, playing dumb.

He narrowed his eyes at you and went to grab for it again. You pulled it just the same “What are you playing?”

“Me? Nothing, you’ve got slippery fingers.”

“Slippery fingers my ass,” he said. He went to grab for it again and you pulled it upwards one last time “Come on (Y/N)! I’m not a dog!” He said.

James straight up laughed at that, and you looked at him with a smile “See? Even your best friends think you’re like a Puppy!” You laughed for a bit, and then opened the chocolate, holding a small block to his mouth, he took a bite from it, looking rather displeased “Good boy!” You praised, causing James to burst into a fit of laughter, Sirius almost choked on the piece he was eating.

“Hold up!” You said in a completely serious tone, and looked at James preoccupied, who somehow managed to stop his laughs to pay attention “Aren’t dogs supposed to be… allergic to chocolate?”

James looked at you with surprise, breaking quickly into a smile and even more laughs, you were absolutely hilarious, it was as if you had a hidden talent to tease Sirius. And you didn’t even actually know he was a dog, you just teased him about it because of the nickname you’d given him years ago. Sirius on the other hand, took the chance to pull the chocolate bar off your hands and started munching on it while looking at you with apprehension, half expecting you to take it from him again, but you didn’t.

“Want some?” You asked as you pulled out another bar and waved it in the air for James to see, he nodded, and you threw it at him.

“Ah, so James can have the chocolate without any teasing then?” Sirius asked, a little miffed.

You shrugged “James doesn’t lay on my lap without asking for permission like others.”

“Yeah well, James’s stuck up!”

You laughed “Look who’s talking!”

Sirius took that as a personal challenge, running his tongue through his cheeks before asking “Are you by any chance… ticklish?”

Your smile was gone in an instant, you looked at him with worry “No.” You said in a warning tone.

Sirius’ smile grew bigger “Sure? I just thought I’d show you how stuck up I am.”

“Not funny Sirius,” you said “James?!” You added looking at your friend pleadingly, you were aware once something was set on Sirius’ mind, there was no way of stopping him.

James just raised his hands up in surrender. The motherfucker wouldn’t intervene. “James,” you pleaded again, as Sirius’ grin grew.

“You’ve been teasing him all night,” James said with a shrug “I’m afraid I cannot intercede for you.”

You looked at him with despair before you felt Sirius tickling hands on the tender side of your stomach, a burst of laughter erupted from your lips. You were extremely ticklish. “Sirius,” you pleaded in between laughter “please!” His smile widened in response to your begging, his eyes cherishing the sight of your laughter. You looked lovely like that. Another peal of laughter escaped, your breath quickening as the tickling persisted. Sirius shifted sitting up from your lap to gain better access, he was standing even closer to you than before “Sirius!” You exclaimed once more, laughing still, you were sure tears were running down your cheeks already.

When he didn’t stop you tried grabbing onto his hand and tickling him, but you barely managed to graze him before he quickly grabbed onto your arm with one of his hands to hold you still. You tried to use your other arm, but it was useless, Sirius was stronger. You wouldn’t get out of it with strength. So as you continued laughing you started trying to find another way and quickly realised he had one leg bent on the sofa and the other he was using for support, so you extended your leg and used the back of your shin to bend his knee over, pushing him back at the same time. But Sirius was still grabbing onto you so he ended up pulling you along, the two of you ended up on the floor. James looked up from the book he’d grabbed and when he figured everyone was fine he went back to it. Not bothering to give a second glance, Sirius could have his fun.

You used your arm to pull yourself up, grazing over Sirius’ shoulder, causing him to wince, but you assumed that had been from the fall. You stared at him catching your breath for a second, Sirius looked so pretty with his hair sprawled out over the floor that it took all your will not to kiss him right there and then, but you managed and rolled to the side, pushing the centre table slightly as you did.

“Truce!” You exhaled. “Please Sirius I need to– I need to breathe.”

Sirius turned to you for a second, a smug smile on his face, how was it possible that you were even prettier than when he met you? Shaking his thoughts, he looked up again, noticing for the first time the starry night on the ceiling and seeing the shooting star close to his constellation. He wondered when those stars had appeared. He was also breathing heavily when he said “Take back what you said about me being stuck up!”

You laughed incredulously “You’re right Sirius, you’re not stuck up,” you said as you stood up “You’re just a little pretentious,” you smiled, before running off to your room.

Sirius had tried to stand up to catch you, but the roughness of last night had taken a toll on him, his arm still hurt when he finally laid back on the couch.

“When are you planning to admit to yourself that you like her?” James asked, still looking at the book.

Sirius sighed, closing his eyes “I know I do. But I doubt she likes me still.”

“That’s a lot of crap.”

Sirius shook his head with a smile, deciding to change the subject “How’re you feeling? I’m pretty sure Moons was hard to push around when I was knocked out.”

“A little sore,” James replied, allowing Sirius to change the subject, for today. “I had to gore him, there was a lot of bIood and he woke up with a huge gush. Peter and I had to drag him back before Madam Pomfrey arrived. You?”

“Just a small cut, he clawed at me accidentally. Any idea why he was so aggressive?”

James shook his head “We asked him, he had no clue, just a vague idea of having the urge to run to the greenhouses.”

“The greenhouses? Is that where he was trying to go?” James nodded, even if Sirius wasn’t looking. “It was rough, hopefully next full moon won’t be as harsh.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want (Y/N) to find Fang hurt again.”

“Ughhh…” Sirius complained, “You know about that?”

“At first I thought you’d snogged her,” James replied “She stank off you.”

“I don’t stink!”

“Off-topic. We have a more important question: Why the hell did she assume you were Fang?”

Sirius shrugged, “She just called me that when she found me.”

“We must be more careful, she may end up connecting the dots, especially since she gave us the animagus recipe.”

Sirius incorporated quickly, snapping his head to James “You said you’d found them in the restricted section!”

“Oh right…. In September that year I received a letter, it wasn’t signed but I connected the dots when she was back here and mentioned you’d never replied to any of her letters. Anyway, it was from her, she sent the parchment.”

“So you’re saying I could’ve contacted her through you, all these years?”

James seemed to think about it “I suppose it would’ve been possible… but to be honest, I just assumed it had been Regulus.”

“Reg?” Sirius asked with a frown.

James nodded “You didn’t talk to him at all that summer, he wrote me several times, asking me to put him in contact with you, to give you notes or something, you always rejected anything that came from him, so I assumed he just didn’t want it to be evident he’d be the one to get it, so you’d actually take it.”

Sirius sighed loudly, Reg and him had taken very different paths, and Reg had stopped trying to contact him “What a miserable family.”

James gave his friend a pitying look, thankfully Sirius would not have to go back to them. He was free now. Free to do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life, “You’re with us now, we’re your family.”

Sirius smiled, James was right, you, The Marauders, Lily, and the rest of his friends, they were his family.

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cuubism · 1 year

Note

No worries if the prompt doesn't inspire. I just want it out of my brain:

When Dream is captured, his ruby automatically goes to Hob, who is suddenly in charge of the Dreaming. He has to figure out what he's doing, realize his Stranger is missing/rescue him, and try to get answers on why the Dreaming chose him.

this could absolutely be a 100k epic, which... i just don't have the energy for right now, but here's a potential scene:

Hob's been to more than a few castles in his long life. Hob's as old as more than a few castles. He's seen them from afar, and in more prosperous times he's been in them, majestic old forts and comparatively modern palaces bursting with color and finery and legions of staff.

And the thing about castles is they're busy. It takes a lot of staff to run a castle. The only castles Hob's seen that were empty were the ruined ones, fortresses that predated even Hob, were nothing but crumbling remnants by the time he ever set foot inside.

More like tombs, those castles. Relics. Memorials.

The palace he's in now feels more like that.

It hasn't crumbled, still has all its glass intact, its draperies and rugs not yet moth-eaten, the strong pillars of the throne room still reaching up to an infinite sky. It's beautiful, fine stone and intricate carvings, stained glass murals and impossible bridges--but desolate. And quiet. Quiet enough his soft, bare footsteps echo loudly on the flagstones as he walks towards the empty throne at the end of the long room.

It's so empty. He hasn't seen a soul yet. Twilight falls through the stained glass, casting patterns of red and orange at his feet. Winding stairs meander up to the throne, nearly lost in the gloom. Melancholy blooms in his heart, like he knows, through some instinct, that this place should be different. The feeling of standing in ruins of stone and thinking, this was grand, once.

The ruby glows in his palm, pulsing steadily.

Hob slowly ascends the stairs, unsure exactly what he's looking for. Answers? A way to revive this place from its steadily deepening torpor? He just climbs, and he reaches the throne, and runs his hand over the hard cut stone. Imposing, unforgiving, and no trace of its master. The king's gone.

For all his many careers, Hob's never been any sort of king. It's not something one just becomes.

He wanders behind the throne, just below the high stained glass windows. The ruby warm in his palm. When he steps into the shadows, they change, and a new room appears around him. A softer, more enclosed room, for private musings rather than public audiences. A bedroom. The king's bedroom.

Morpheus's bedroom.

Hob startles, grip closing around the ruby. He doesn't know how the name comes to him. Only he holds the ruby, and he feels it.

The room is simpler than he might have expected of a king, almost sparse, as if little time is spent there. The draperies are dark, the bare stone floor cold underfoot, and the massive window looks out over twilit fields and mountains, an entire kingdom below.

Hob almost walks over to it, but his attention is diverted by the robe that lays strewn across the bed, disrupting the otherwise untouched lines of the linens. He picks up the hem of the long, black cloak. The fabric flows like mercury between his fingers for all that it's heavy and thick like a shield. Like a shroud.

Hob gathers it up in his arms, a quiet gasp escaping him. He knows such black clothing. He knows this ruby. Only he hadn't seen it before. Hadn't seen that he was dreaming.

Morpheus. His stranger. A king and he'd never said.

He'd always had that bearing, though, Hob thinks as he twists his hands in the impossibly soft fabric of the coat. He'd never have let Hob in here, especially not after how they'd left things. He'd never have given Hob his ruby, which Hob can now feel isn't just an expensive trinket but actually some sort of powerful object. If they'd even reunited, if his stranger had returned, Hob had expected at best concessionary forgiveness for his bluntness, and possible just sullen silence. Not an invite to his inner sanctum.

A space which his stranger is conspicuously absent from.

Hob doesn't like the feeling of what it adds up to.

He takes the cloak, and the ruby. Lays a hand indulgently on the bedspread, imagining his-- his friend, he'll be determined about it, sleeping there. Not he seems to sleep much, from the look of things.

Then he leaves Morpheus's bedroom be, and goes to see if there's anyone left in this abandoned kingdom who can tell him what's happened to his friend.

#dreamling #hob gadling #my writing #ask #silverdrip

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dmitriene · 1 year

Text

— divine temptations.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«things on your chest» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«you need to confess» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i will deliver» ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ «you know i'm a forgiver»

summary: Leon Kennedy is a beautiful personification of the holy father — and you are a beautiful personification of his main weakness for sin. content: priest re6 leon kennedy x fem reader tags: fluff, comfort, maybe a bit of possesivness, nsfw, smut, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, marking, little communication, mentions of sin and sensitive topics for theists. author's note: well, hello there! i've seen couple of work's about priest leon but didn't actually think that someday i'll come with an writing about this topic too, but here i am, thanks to the one of the many best writing's that belong to @lipglossanon and that inspired me, hope you'll like this work! enjoy your reading) ⛪ (18+ warning)

Leon Kennedy was the epitome of an exemplary priest, with an aura of unwavering devotion and honesty.

Tall and majestic, he had a striking appearance that immediately aroused the respect of others, his dark hair was always neatly combed, framing a face that carried both the burden of responsibility and the kindness of a benevolent soul.

There was a depth in his cerulean eyes that seemed to reflect the vastness of heaven itself, as he spoke, whether from the pulpit or in private council, his words carried the weight of wisdom gained from years of unwavering dedication, his voice, rich and sonorous — had a reassuring effect, like the gentle reassurance that comes from knowing someone who has found their purpose and lived it to the fullest.

He wore his priestly robes with grace that spoke of his devotion to his calling, the white collar of his cassock was a symbol of his sacred duty, connection with the divine, which he wore with humility and pride, the dark fabric of his clothes absorbed the cares of those who sought his guidance, as if he willingly carried their burden on his shoulders.

Leon's actions were evidence of his unwavering commitment to his convictions, he tirelessly cared for the needs of his flock, providing both spiritual comfort and practical help to those in need, his days were often filled with visiting the sick, comforting the mourners and listening to those who sought advice, his hands, accustomed to to the weight of the Bible and the touch of the rosary, carried a gentle power that left an indelible mark on the lives he touched.

In the sacred walls of the church, his presence radiated a sense of holiness, as he led the faithful in prayer and delivered sermons that spoke of the human condition, his sincerity shone, he was a beacon of hope, a guiding star for those who overcome the difficulties of life's problems.

Respected and recognized by the community, Leon's reputation was built on a foundation of unwavering ethics, he never shied away from difficult conversations, addressing the complexities of faith and morality with a balanced approach that encouraged thoughtful introspection, his openness to discussion and willingness to meet people where they were. contributed to a sense of trust and inclusion within the congregation in their spiritual journey.

In a world that often seemed uncertain, Leon remained an unshakable pillar of faith, his life was a living embodiment of his convictions, an example of how to overcome the difficulties of the modern world while remaining true to eternal principles, he was more than a priest — he was a mentor, a confidant and source of inspiration for those who have searched for meaning in their lives.

The church has always exuded an air of eternal reverence and holiness, a quiet silence reigned in the air, as if the walls themselves held the echoes of centuries of whispered prayers and solemn vows, sunlight filtered through intricate stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns of colored light on polished marble floors, the air was saturated with a delicate aroma aged wood, candle wax and a lingering scent of incense, creating a sensual symphony that transports visitors to the realm of devotion.

High vaulted ceilings rose overhead like evidence of the divine, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting biblical scenes in vivid detail, soft choral music played softly in the background, its soothing melodies floating in the air like a gentle embrace, rows of benches lined the nave, each was decorated with intricate designs, their austere beauty offering both comfort and a sense of the sacred.

Candles flickered on ornate candelabra, casting dancing shadows on the walls and creating a serene atmosphere contemplating, rows of prayer candles stood guard, their gentle flames representing the hopes, fears and aspirations of those who came in search of solace.

The altar, bathed in warm golden light, was the center of the church, its elaborate decorations and ornate crucifix a reminder of the sacrifice and grace at the heart of faith, and the scent of incense hung in the air, a fragrant offering that rose to the heavens with every slight rise and fall of the censer.

As you walked through the church you could almost feel the weight of history in the very stones under your feet, the atmosphere was filled with reverence and quiet introspection, a space where the burdens of the world could be cast aside and the connection with the divine felt palpably, it was a refuge where souls could find respite from the restless outside. a world where prayers whispered in the shadows met with a sense of understanding and acceptance.

In this sacred space of the church, the stories of generations were preserved, imprinted on every pew, stained glass windows and carved reliefs, it was a place where people sought guidance, redemption and the comfort that comes from knowing that they are not alone on their spiritual path, the atmosphere embraced all who entered , inviting them to find their connection to the divine and explore the depths of their faith in a haven of calm and serenity.

And just at the moment you entered Leon's field of vision, there seemed to be a change in the atmosphere, the very air was filled with an energy that was both inspiring and unsettling, but as you stood there, dressed in the sacred robe of a nun, a soft, unearthly fabric seemed to shimmer with its own light, casting an otherworldly glow around you.

Your presence was a mesmerizing contrast to the solemnity of the church, like an enchanting angel descending to Earth, your appearance evoked a sense of wonder that seemed to go beyond the ordinary, the pure white color of your clothes was a canvas on which innocence and faith were painted, a visual representation of devotion that you kept deep in your heart.

But it was your eyes that really caught his attention, wide and bright, they shone with a hint of childlike innocence, in their depths he could see the source of unshakable faith, faith in something more that radiated out like a beacon, those eyes carried wisdom that contradicted your youthful appearance, as if you were in touch with the divine, which was unique to you.

A soft smile played on your lips as you approached, and his thoughts seemed to scatter like leaves caught in a gust of wind, as if your presence had the power to silence the cacophony of his mind, leaving only a quiet, gentle resonance that echoed with your closeness, the weight of his duties and convictions suddenly seemed distant to him, replaced by a strange longing which he never allowed himself to acknowledge.

He devoted his whole life to his faith, unwaveringly adhering to his convictions, the idea of crossing certain boundaries never visited him, he never allowed his thoughts to be distracted by the desires of the flesh, kisses, hugs or the warmth of soft touches.

But you, with your innocence and intimacy, broke down those carefully built walls.

Your soft smiles and innocent questions about how his day went shook his composure, your chirping voice is like a sweet melody, shattered the facade of restraint that he so diligently maintained, as if your very presence was an irresistible temptation testing the limits of his composure.

And then, in the moments when his patience wore thin, he found himself struggling to maintain his priestly detachment, your closeness became a magnet that drew him, his fingers yearning to touch, to hold, to feel the warmth of your presence — your skin next to his.

A struggle raged within him between vows he had taken and desires he had never allowed himself to acknowledge.

A dichotomy unfolded in your mere existence — the embodiment of purity and faith that you represented, and the turbulent whirlwind of emotion that your presence aroused within him.

The atmosphere has changed with you — the subtle dance of innocence and desire has left both his beliefs and his heart in a state of conflict he never expected.

᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ━━━━✙━━━━

There was a palpable tension in the quiet solitude of the empty church, a palpable tension in the air, the blazing candlelight casting dancing shadows across the polished marble floors — creating an intimate atmosphere of breathless anticipation as you stood at the pulpit, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of cloth as Leon approached and gazed at you.

— «Forgive me» he began, his voice a low murmur that carried the weight of his inner struggle — «I must confess that my thoughts were occupied with the most undesirable distraction»

Your eyes met his, the innocence in your gaze contrasting sharply with the turmoil that simmered beneath his calm exterior — «Father Leon» you whispered, and here was both understanding and a bold hint of something more in your voice — «Do you believe that God has created desires in us?»

Vulnerability flickered in his azure eyes, a crack in his armor revealing the inner conflict he was fighting — «I believe that our desires can sometimes lead us astray from the path of righteousness» he replied, his tone laced with a mixture of restraint and anguish.

Your smile was both knowing and gentle, soothing enough to make his heart tremble — «But isn't it possible that God also created these desires so that we could experience the fullness of our humanity?»

He hesitated, caught between the teachings he held dear and the feelings you awakened in him — «My child» he muttered in a fragile thread of voice — «This is the fine line we walk between the sacred and the profane»

In the midst of this delicate conversation, his resolve crumbled right before your eyes, the distance between you evaporated and you were at the podium, your breath mixing in a tense atmosphere.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out and touched your cheek gently, his touch as fragile as a whispered prayer.

— «Maybe..» he admitted in a heavy from surrender voice — «There are times when the divine and the earthly intersect»

The air seemed to vibrate with tension pulsing between you, his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, the struggle within him was evident in every wrinkle of his brows, and then, as if driven by forces beyond his control, his lips met yours in a kiss that contained in himself a deep anguish, which he had denied himself for so long.

For a moment, time seemed to stop, as the boundaries separating him from the desires of the flesh blurred and became insignificant, his arms hugged you, pulling you closer, his touch was a paradox of tenderness and perseverance.

The sacred space of the church witnessed this intimate communion, the union of souls that transcends the physical world.

In that stolen moment when his lips met yours, Leon's attachment to God and his devotion to his vows faded into the background, the dichotomy between the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the carnal dissolved in the face of a common passion that flared up like a flame, long contained, in a silent sanctuary in an empty church, he indulged in the depths of desire he had denied for so long and found a connection that seemed both forbidden and divine.

You feel a wave of desire coursing through your body, fueled by the forbidden nature of your connection, despite your shared devotion to your faith, you find yourself unable to resist the charm of each other's touch, and you return his kiss with the same fervor, your lips meeting his with a hunger that matches your own.

As his hands slide over your body, you feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine, even though you're still dressed in a modest nun's robe, his touch lights a fire in you, your body reacts instinctively, pressing closer to him, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

Your hands gliding over his broad shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscular body, the tension between you intensifies as you explore each other's bodies through the fabric of your clothes, the anticipation of what lies ahead intensifies with each passing moment.

Leon's hands, driven by his insatiable desire, penetrate the folds of your monastic robe, the touch of his fingertips on your skin is electrifying, his explorations are careful, but at the same time filled with the desire to explore every inch of your body.

As his hands move, he breaks the connection between your lips, his lips greedily rest on the soft skin of your neck, his breath passionately touches your skin and he leaves a trail of kisses and nibbles, marking you as his own in a fit of desire.

The combination of his hands caressing your body and his lips teasing your sensitive skin causes waves of pleasure to run through you, your breath hitching and a low moan escapes your lips as you succumb to the intoxicating sensation.

Leon continued to pay attention to your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of teasing sensations, he enjoys the quiet moans and whimpers escaping from your lips, his desire is fueled by the sounds of your pleasure.

As his fingers find their way to your clothed cunt he feels warmth and wetness betraying your arousal, a mixture of anticipation and lust coursing through his veins as he gently presses at the cloth, teasingly exploring your most intimate area.

Your reaction is immediate — a sharp sigh escapes your lips as you bury your face in his shoulder, looking for comfort and a place to drown out your moans, the combination of his skillful manipulation on your neck and the teasing touch of his fingers on your clothed cunt threatens to undermine your self control.

Leon finds in himself the pleasure of the power he has over you, the control he has, pushing the boundaries of your desires, in this moment you are lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and sin, unable to resist the intoxicating charm of his touch.

— «P-please, father… m-more» your voice is a desperate plea among the quiet walls of the temple where only your sighs are heard.

He grins into your neck, his lips touch your skin and he listens to your plea for more, he enjoys the sound, enjoying his power over your desires, Leon lifts his head slightly and kisses your cheek gently, his breath passionately against your skin.

He takes your request as a signal to move on, to sink deeper into the sinful passion that consumes you both, with a deliberate and calculated movement, he bends down and pushes your panties aside, exposing your smooth folds.

His fingers, slippery with your arousal, slide over your wetness, teasingly probing your tender entrance, and with a slight pressure he slowly but firmly inserts one finger and bends it to find the point that makes you sigh of pleasure.

The feel of his finger inside you, combined with the constant attention he pays to your neck, sends waves of pleasure through your body, you find yourself indulging in sinful pleasure, your moans grow louder and desire reaches its climax.

Leon feels your body tremble at his touch, your grip on his shoulders tighter as you struggle to gain a foothold in the consuming pleasure, the feel of your nails scratching his shoulders through the fabric of his robe only heightens the tension of the moment.

As he inserts another finger, your walls instinctively tighten around his fingers, seeking to pull him even deeper into the depths of your cunt, the combination of his skillful movements and your heightened arousal brings you to the abyss of ecstasy.

A scream of pleasure escaped your lips as your orgasm engulfed you, your body trembling in his embrace, the intensity of your release engulfing you, leaving you breathless and completely lost in the sinful pleasure that none other than Leon awakened in you.

He enjoys the sight and sound of your pleasure, enjoying the control and dominance he holds over your desires in this moment, and in this moment of vulnerability and ecstasy you are both consumed by the depth of your sinful connection.

Leon's fingers on another hand is slide gently through your hair, a touch of tenderness amidst the tension surrounding both of you, his actions dramatically displaying a fleeting moment of complete softness.

But the respite is short lived as he leads you closer to the pulpit, forcing you to hold on to it for support, he moves behind you, his strong presence radiating as he takes control of the situation.

His hands slide along the edge of your monk's robe, slowly lifting it up, exposing the seductive curves of your body and grabbing your panties with his fingers, the fabric falling off, piling up around your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

With a deliberate and measured movement, he leans down and unbuckles the belt on his trousers, anticipation soars in the air, the sound of unbuckling the belt echoes through the quiet church, reminding you of the forbidden nature of your meeting.

As the belt falls to the ground, Leon's desire takes over again, his eyes filled with lustful hunger, the intensity of his gaze leaving no doubt about his intentions as he steps closer, ready to fully accept the sinful pleasure that awaits both of you.

His desires are at their peak as he steps behind you, his throbbing cock pressing against wet lips of your cunt, anticipation palpable in the air as he teases your clit, causing you to whimper in pleasure.

With a slow, deliberate push, he begins to penetrate, his powerful form filling you completely, the feeling of his cock's firmness stretching you, causing a mixture of pleasure and painful desire to flow through your body.

The sinful act when he entered you in the sacred walls of the church only increases the tension of the moment, the air is heavy from the weight of your desires, the echo of your whines is mixed with the quiet silence of the holy place.

Leon, driven by his primal urges, sets a relentless pace, his movements are firm and commanding, each push brings you closer to the edge of pleasure, your body reacts to his every touch, to every blow of his hardened cock.

In this moment of undisguised, forbidden passion, you surrender completely to the sinful pleasure that Leon delivers, getting lost in the overwhelming sensations that consume you.

As Leon continues to sink into you, your body arches towards him in search of deeper connection and pleasure, endless moans escaping your lips filling the air with your symphony of ecstasy, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tight as you lose yourself in sensation.

Your nails scratch at the pulpit, a desperate attempt to gain a foothold amid the all consuming pleasure, and sensing your need for restraint, Leon gently intertwines the fingers of his hand with yours, providing a tether to prevent any unintentional harm.

He gently slows down, his movements become more controlled and gentle, he treasures the vulnerability that you have entrusted to him, making sure that every touch and stroke is filled with care and attention.

The intensity of your connection remains, but Leon adjusts his rhythm according to your desires, he seeks to prolong the pleasure, to enjoy the moments of intimacy shared between you, in this moment you both find comfort and release, embracing passion.

Leon feels a tremble in your body as your knees buckle slightly, all consuming pleasure threatening to consume you completely, light sobs escape your lips — a mixture of pleasure and the impending release that awaits you.

He leans in and kisses your cheek gently, his lips giving a brief respite from the intensity of the moment, his touch soft and soothing, a reminder that even in this sinful act there is a moment of comfort.

He understands the power of your impending orgasm, the power that will soon overwhelm you, he enjoys the knowledge that he has led you to this abyss, that he has kindled a fire of pleasure within you.

As your walls clench around him, the stranglehold of your orgasm grows, Leon remains steadfast, his movements become more measured and precise, he wants to witness your orgasm, to feel your body convulsing as you surrender to an consuming ecstasy.

At that moment, you are both teetering on the edge, your desires intertwined in an intricate dance, and Leon is here, ready to take you through the waves of pleasure, to catch you as you fall into the abyss of your orgasmic release.

And then your body reaches its peak, the tension inside you subsides and you emit a final whine of pleasure, your legs trembling, threatening to give way as the waves of orgasm hit you, leaving you feeling sluggish and empty for a moment.

Feeling your orgasm, Leon continues his powerful thrusts, rapidly approaching his climax, the combination of your walls squeezing him tightly and the abrupt intensity of the moment pushing him over the edge.

With a guttural moan, he finds his way out inside you, his hot cum spilling deep into your cunt, the intimate connection as he fills you only enhances the sinful pleasure that runs through your bodies.

Both of you remain trapped in this moment of shared bliss, bodies trembling and hearts pounding, your joint orgasms echoing through the empty church, the air scented with the passion and consequences of your union.

At this moment, you gain a temporary respite from the chaos and darkness that often surrounds you, holding your breath, tangled in each other's arms, you both understand that this forbidden meeting has left an indelible mark on your souls.

As Leon's feelings return to him, his attention shifts to the aftermath of your passionate encounter, he zips up his pants with his usual neatness, regaining his composure and with a gentle touch he straightens your disheveled clothes to make you look as collected as possible.

Gently he lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his office with purposeful but soft steps, walking, he steps over drops of cum on the floor, acknowledging the evidence of your mutual intimacy, and showing attention, he picks up your discarded panties from the floor and discreetly puts them in his pocket not to be left behind.

A thought crosses his mind, reminding him that he must mop the floor to erase all traces of your meeting, he makes a mental note to do this task later, making sure no trace of your forbidden connection remains.

Before entering his office Leon pauses, and his eyes reflect a mixture of desire and affection as he leans down and kisses the top of your head gently, a quiet gesture of comfort and connection, at which point he acknowledges the complexity of your relationship and the importance of the choices you both made.

With confident yet gentle determination, he carries you into his office, ready to face the consequences and walk the uncertain path that may lie ahead, while he enjoys the weight of your warm body in his arms.

Now he has his own angel.

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#[ ✒️july writing ]#resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy comfort #leon kennedy fluff #leon fluff #leon fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy re6

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keehomania · 1 month

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savior (구세주) — park jimin (박 치민)

✧.* 18+

in the depths of forgotten realms, where the line between myth and reality blurred into a tapestry of whispered legends, you wandered through the veil of the supernatural. the air around you shimmered with an ethereal light, pulsating with a rhythm that seemed to beat in sync with your own heart. you felt it—an invisible thread connecting you to forces beyond mortal comprehension.

ancient trees, their gnarled branches twisted into elaborate patterns, whispered secrets of the ages. the leaves, imbued with an otherworldly glow, rustled softly, their sound a melodious symphony of enchantment. as you moved through this enchanted forest, you could almost see the faint outlines of fae folk flitting among the shadows, their delicate wings catching the moonlight like threads of silver.

water nymphs glided over the surface of tranquil lakes, their laughter like the tinkling of crystal chimes. fire spirits flickered within the hearths of ancient stone cottages, their flames casting a golden hue that warded off the encroaching darkness. in this realm, every creature possessed a touch of the extraordinary. the wolves that prowled through the underbrush had eyes that gleamed with intelligence far beyond the mundane, their coats shimmering with a spectral light. the owls that hooted from the treetops were the keepers of ancient wisdom, their gaze penetrating the veil of time itself.

you sensed the pull of ancient magic in the wind, a reminder of the great forces that shaped the world. enigmatic sorcerers and enigmatic beings, cloaked in robes woven from stardust, drifted through the shadows, their presence as profound as it was enigmatic. their eyes held the secrets of the universe, and their gestures wove spells of incredible power, shaping reality with a mere flick of their fingers. in this space between worlds, you felt an intoxicating sense of belonging and awe. the supernatural was not a distant concept but a tangible reality, intricately intertwined with the fabric of your existence. you had become a part of this timeless dance, where every element held the promise of wonder and every shadow whispered of ancient powers waiting to be discovered.

in the midst of the extraordinary realm, where every breath seemed to carry a whisper of magic, you stood as an anomaly—a solitary figure in a world brimming with the supernatural. the ties that bound you to this place were both intricate and fragile, like threads of silver spun in a tapestry that only partially embraced you.

you were acutely aware of your lineage, a lineage steeped in power and mystery. your parents, figures of reverence and awe, possessed abilities that transcended the ordinary. your mother could call upon the wind to shape it into messages of hope or warning, her voice an incantation that stirred the very air. your father wielded fire with a mastery that painted the night sky with flickers of crimson and gold, a spectacle of elemental artistry that held the gaze of all who witnessed it.

your brother, too, was a being of remarkable gifts. his capacity to shapeshift was the stuff of legends—one moment a swift and agile wolf, the next a majestic eagle soaring high above the treetops. he moved effortlessly between the forms, each transformation seamless and imbued with an elegance that spoke of deep-rooted connection to the magical forces that surrounded you.

yet, in stark contrast to the vibrant tapestry of powers that wove through your family, you stood untouched by the same magic that defined their existence. you were a paradox in this world of wonder—an individual deeply connected yet profoundly separate from the mystical realm. the very elements that danced and mingled around you, so effortlessly embraced by those you loved and admired, remained just out of your grasp.

your attempts to commune with the elements were met with a disheartening silence. you reached out to the wind, hoping to coax it into carrying your wishes or messages, but it responded with a benign indifference. the fire that roared in the hearths, so eager to share its warmth and secrets with others, seemed to dance with a will of its own when you approached, leaving you merely a spectator in its fiery embrace.

the animals, with their eyes aglow with ancient wisdom, regarded you with a curiosity that quickly faded into disinterest. they would not heed your calls or acknowledge your presence in the way they did with those who shared their magical affinity. it was as if an invisible barrier kept you on the fringes of their world, a reminder of the chasm that separated you from their effortless communion with nature.

in social circles where enchantment was the norm, you felt like a shadow among vibrant colors. conversations often revolved around feats of magic—stories of teleportation, shapeshifting, and elemental manipulation. you listened with a mixture of longing and resignation, acutely aware of your exclusion from these extraordinary experiences. it was as though you were a spectator in a grand performance, unable to participate in the very essence of the spectacle.

you had learned to navigate the space with a grace borne of necessity. you played your role with quiet dignity, offering support and companionship to those whose powers you admired from a distance. your place in this realm was a testament to the intricate balance between presence and absence, between connection and separation. in a world where magic defined existence, you were a poignant reminder that even among the most enchanted, there could be those who, despite their ties, remained untouched by the very forces that shaped their reality.

in the quiet of your room, illuminated by the soft, flickering light of a single candle, you faced your brother with a heart heavy with questions. his figure, a tapestry of shifting forms and shimmering energies, stood before you, embodying the very essence of what you yearned for. the silence between you was filled with the weight of your unspoken doubts.

“why don’t i have any powers?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. the words felt like an intrusion into the serene harmony of your brother’s existence. you watched as daehyun sighed, his gaze softening with a compassion that only deepened your sense of inadequacy.

“it’s not something you can control,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “powers manifest in their own time. maybe yours just haven’t surfaced yet.” you nodded, but the words did little to alleviate the gnawing sense of unease that had settled in your chest. the promise of future potential did little to comfort you in the present. as the conversation waned, you sought solace from your mother, her presence a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold uncertainty.

she embraced you with a tenderness that spoke of unconditional love. “i want you to know,” she murmured softly, her voice imbued with a quiet strength, “that not having powers doesn’t change how much i love you. you are just as precious to me as anyone with magic in their veins.” her words, though well-intentioned, only deepened the chasm of your sorrow. you tried to draw comfort from her assurances, but they felt hollow, like a beautiful painting covering a void. you couldn’t shake the feeling that her love, though unwavering, was a pale consolation in a world where power defined worth.

when your father came to you, his usual fiery demeanor was softened by an uncharacteristic melancholy. “i wish,” he said, his voice laden with a rare vulnerability, “that i could understand what it’s like for you. i sometimes wish i could be like you—free from the burdens of power.” his sentiment was meant to be reassuring, a gesture of empathy from one who knew the weight of extraordinary abilities. yet, his words only seemed to underscore the isolation you felt. his struggle to relate to your condition, while empathetic, highlighted your distance from the very world he inhabited.

as the day turned to night, you found yourself alone once more, your frustration boiling over into a silent plea. you gazed at the star-studded sky, your eyes searching for any sign of a higher power that might offer you some measure of solace or change. you groaned inwardly, your heart heavy with a silent prayer, begging for anything—an inkling of magic, a spark of potential, anything that might bridge the gap between you and the world you so desperately wished to be a part of.

unbeknownst to you, your mother, too, was engaged in her own private prayer, her heart aching for you in a way that transcended words. her plea was not driven by disappointment but by a deep-seated concern for your well-being. she feared the dangers and betrayals that could come from those who wielded power—the same dangers that had once threatened her own family. she prayed fervently, hoping that some semblance of power or protection might come to you, not out of a sense of inadequacy, but from a desire to shield you from the harsh realities of a world where power could be both a gift and a curse.

the hallways of the school were a continuous cascade of shimmering lights and crackling energy, each corner alive with the potent hum of supernatural power. it was a place where every student and teacher was marked by their own unique abilities, a realm where magic was as common as air. the walls, lined with ornate murals depicting epic battles and mythical creatures, seemed to pulsate with the essence of enchantment. amidst this tapestry of abilities, you were an anomaly—a solitary figure navigating a world of extraordinary talents with no powers of your own. the disparity was stark, highlighted by the whispers and sidelong glances that followed you through the corridors. everyone knew your status as the exception, a reality that was as inescapable as it was uncomfortable.

despite this, the teachers maintained their professionalism, treating you with the same respect they afforded every student. you were here because of your family’s legacy, a fact that some found difficult to overlook. you often felt like a mere shadow among the bright lights of your peers, your presence a reminder of the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary.

haesoo was your singular solace in this enchanted world. she, too, had powers, though her ability to see into the future provided little in the way of physical prowess. this limitation made her just as vulnerable to the harsh judgments and insults as you were. yet, despite the ridicule, she remained steadfast in her friendship, a source of empathy amidst the sea of scorn.

you leaned against your locker, the cool metal offering a small measure of relief. haesoo approached, her eyes filled with a gentle concern. ahe took your hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. as she closed her eyes, you could sense the familiar yet elusive sensation of her power at work. you watched her face for any sign of revelation, your skepticism palpable. then, with a sudden gasp, haesoo’s eyes snapped open, her grip tightening on your hand. “what’s wrong?” you asked, a note of apprehension in your voice. “what do you see?”

“there’s a savior in the near future,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and uncertainty. “expect the unexpected.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in mild exasperation. “the unexpected? like you ripping my hand off?”

haesoo’s eyes widened in realization as she noticed the firmness of her grip. she quickly loosened her hold, offering you a nervous laugh. “sorry about that. i didn’t mean to—” you chuckled, though your smile was tinged with weariness. “it’s fine. i just wonder if i’ll ever get any power at all.”

from behind you, a voice cut through the conversation with a sneering edge. “you could only dream of it.”

you turned to see taehyung, a smirk playing on his lips. his disdain was well-known; ever since he had learned of your lack of abilities, he had made it his mission to taunt and belittle you. you offered him a thin smile, trying to mask the sting of his words. “thanks for the encouragement.”

taehyung’s smirk widened. “wanna see something cool?” you shook your head, not in the mood for more of his antics. “not really.”

ignoring your response, taehyung used his telekinetic powers to lift you off the ground. you yelped in surprise as he began to sway you through the air, your feet dangling a few inches above the floor. haesoo’s face flushed with concern, and she called out, “taehyung, put her down!”

his eyes sparkled with mischief as he replied, “or what? you’ll read my future with a fortune cookie?”

the bell rang, and he reluctantly set you down, patting your head with a dismissive chuckle. “it never gets old,” he said, walking past you. you watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over you. the insults and jabs had become a constant, an unwelcome backdrop to your days at the school. despite your hopes for a reprieve, it seemed the mockery would persist as long as you remained a strong contrast to the powers that defined your peers.

the classroom buzzed with an energy that felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity shaped by the collective powers of its occupants. each student seemed to manipulate the environment in their own unique way, creating a whirlwind of distractions that made focusing on anything else nearly impossible.

to your left, a girl with flowing dark hair effortlessly levitated her pen, guiding it through the air as if it were an extension of her will. she reached out with her mind, making the pen dance gracefully across her notebook. nearby, another student with a calm demeanor simply tapped her temple, and answers to the professor’s questions appeared on her paper as if by magic. her telepathic ability allowed her to glean the answers directly from the professor’s thoughts, a skill that left you feeling distinctly out of place.

you sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of your own inadequacies. you knew that while others could summon and control elements with ease, or glean knowledge without effort, you had to work diligently to achieve even the most basic understanding. the constant comparison to your peers’ effortless mastery of their abilities was a persistent reminder of your own limitations.

the professor, a stern man whose presence demanded respect, looked around the room with a discerning gaze. his eyes settled on you, an unspoken challenge evident in his expression. “what do you believe causes dreams?” he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of telekinetic murmurs and mental projections.

you furrowed your brow, trying to concentrate amidst the chaos. the hands of those with telepathic abilities shot up eagerly, but the professor's focus remained solely on you. taking a deep breath, you began, “i believe dreams are a result of the subconscious mind processing thoughts and experiences. they are influenced by brain activity, which creates a narrative from our emotions and memories.”

the professor’s eyes softened, and he nodded in approval. “a thoughtful answer,” he said. “correct.”

you felt a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sneer you noticed from the girl who had been so eager to demonstrate her telepathic prowess. her expression was one of disdain, a silent judgment that seemed to cut deeper than any spoken insult.

as the day drew to a close, you found yourself in the bathroom, seeking a moment of solitude away from the relentless buzz of the school. you stepped out of the stall, your thoughts still lingering on the subtle sneer you had seen earlier. the bathroom, typically a place of mundane quiet, felt charged with an unsettling tension.

as you turned to leave, a girl blocked your path. her face was one you recognized from class—one of the telekinetics who had been demonstrating her powers with such ease. you looked up at her, a sense of dread mingling with resignation. “what do you want?” you asked, your voice betraying your unease.

ahe smirked, her eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. “i had an itching to use the toilet,” she said, her tone dripping with malice. without waiting for a response, she pushed past you and into the stall.

you stepped aside, gesturing for her to proceed. but before you could react, everything happened in a blur. she spun around with surprising speed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards her. your heart raced as you tried to break free, but her grip was unyielding. you flailed helplessly as she maneuvered you towards the toilet. the cold, harsh reality of the situation hit you as she dunked your head into the bowl. the frigid water engulfed you, sending a shock through your system. panic surged through you as you tried to gasp for air, but the water swirled around you, making it difficult to breathe. the world spun in a chaotic whirlpool of muffled sounds and blinding wetness.

she pulled you up only to slam your head back into the toilet, holding it down longer this time. the sensation of being submerged was disorienting, and your head spun in a disorienting dance of pressure and damp. the mixture of the cold water and the overwhelming sense of helplessness left you disoriented and gasping for breath when she finally yanked you up again. “maybe if you had any powers,” she said with a sneer, “you could get out of this one.” her voice was mocking, her tone a harsh reminder of the gap between your abilities and those of your peers. she left you there, dirty, wet, and sobbing, the pain and humiliation of the encounter settling heavily on your shoulders.

as the door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone in the bathroom, the reality of your situation washed over you in waves. you were left with the lingering sting of her taunts, the sting of being powerless in a world where such power was the norm. the echo of your sobs and the coolness of the bathroom tiles were the only witnesses to your silent plea for solace in a place that felt both foreign and unforgiving.

the journey home was a blur of muted colors and heavy steps, each stride a reminder of the day’s harrowing events. as you walked, the chill of the wet clothes clung to your skin, and the weight of your soaked attire seemed to anchor you to the pain and humiliation you had just endured. the evening air, cool and unyielding, did little to soothe the ache in your heart or the cold dampness against your body.

you finally reached the front door, the familiar warmth of home contrasting starkly with the cold dread that clung to you. as you stepped inside, the sound of your wet shoes squelching on the hardwood floor was the only indication of your disheveled state. your mother was in the kitchen, her back turned as she prepared dinner. the comforting aroma of her cooking wafted through the air, but it did little to lift the gloom hanging over you.

she turned as you entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in your appearance. “what happened?” she asked, her voice filled with concern. her gaze traveled over your dripping clothes and disheveled hair, her maternal instincts flaring into action. you met her eyes for a moment, the weight of your ordeal pressing heavily on your shoulders. the words you wanted to say seemed to catch in your throat, and instead of responding, you simply retreated to your room, your silence a painful testament to the day’s emotional toll.

the door to your room closed behind you with a soft click, and you sank onto your bed, your sodden clothes leaving damp impressions on the sheets. you stared blankly at the ceiling, the oppressive silence of your room amplifying the turmoil within. as you sat there, you could hear the muffled sounds of your mother’s distress from the other side of the house.

in the kitchen, your mother’s cries were heartfelt and raw. she confided in your father, her voice trembling with anguish as she spoke of her wish for you to be able to defend yourself. “why can’t they leave her alone?” she wept. “i just wish she could stand up for herself. it breaks my heart to see her suffer like this.” your father’s response was calm and comforting, his steady voice a balm to your mother’s fears. “it’s not her fault,” he reassured her. “she’s doing her best in a world that doesn’t make it easy. we’ll find a way to help her, i promise.”

you could hear his words faintly through the walls, a bittersweet reminder of the support that was available to you. but in your isolation, it felt distant, almost unreachable. when you finally gathered the strength to rise, you made your way to the bathroom. the cool, tiled surface felt refreshing against your heated skin as you undressed and stepped into the shower. you turned the faucet, allowing the warm water to cascade over you, mingling with the remnants of the day’s grime and tears.

as the water poured over you, you let out a shuddering breath, the steam and warmth offering a fleeting sense of solace. You sank to the floor of the shower, the water continuing to flow over you, masking the tears that streaked down your face. each droplet that hit your skin seemed to carry away a small fragment of the pain, but it did little to quell the deep sorrow that enveloped you. you wept silently, the sound of the water mingling with your sobs. the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you, and you found yourself praying for a way out of the cycle of torment and helplessness. your whispered pleas for change, for the chance to be more than a spectator in a world of power, were drowned by the relentless rush of the shower.

that night, as you lay in bed, the exhaustion of the day’s emotional and physical toll was awful. the darkness of your room enveloped you like a shroud, offering no comfort against the cold fear that gripped you. you pulled the damp sheets around you, seeking solace in their weight. your thoughts continued to swirl as you drifted into a restless sleep, your mind haunted by images of the day’s events and the painful realization of your own vulnerability. the hope for change was a faint, flickering light in the depths of your dreams, a fragile ember that you clung to as you cried yourself to sleep, wishing for a future where you could finally find a place where you belonged.

the morning sun filtered through the school’s grand windows, casting elongated shadows across the hallways as you trudged through the familiar corridors, still feeling the weight of yesterday’s events. the usual hum of conversations and bursts of laughter filled the air, but today, the vibrant atmosphere did little to uplift your somber mood.

you glanced around, searching for any sign of hana, the girl who had humiliated you the day before. her absence was conspicuous, her usual spot in the classroom glaringly empty. you took a seat beside haesoo, the comforting familiarity of her presence offering a small measure of solace amidst the school environment.

haesoo looked up from her notebook as you settled in. her eyes, bright with curiosity, took in your demeanor. “have you noticed? hana isn’t here today,” you said, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

haesoo’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. she shrugged nonchalantly, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “maybe the cops got to the bitch,” she said, her tone light but edged with discomfort. after a brief pause, she shuddered slightly and added, “i’ve got a bad feeling about this. something doesn’t sit right with me.” you stared at hana’s vacant seat, your thoughts racing. the possibility that something sinister had happened crossed your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. she could simply be ill, or perhaps she was skipping school. the pragmatic side of you struggled to push aside the gnawing sense of unease.

as the lesson began, you tried to focus on the professor’s lecture, but the absence of hana and the eerie implications of haesoo’s comment lingered at the edge of your thoughts. across the room, hana’s friend, mina, sat with a palpable air of hostility. her glare, sharp and unrelenting, made it clear she bore a grudge. you averted your gaze, feeling a familiar pang of discomfort. when the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, you stood up, gathering your things with a mixture of relief and trepidation. as you walked down the hallway, the bustling student body seemed to press in on you, the noise and movement creating a dizzying effect.

suddenly, you stumbled, your foot catching on something unseen. you brushed it off as a momentary lapse in coordination, but the next step was less forgiving. your legs gave way entirely, sending you crashing onto your back with a jarring impact. you winced as pain shot through your body, the hard floor feeling like a relentless punishment.

turning your head, you saw mina standing nearby, her lips curled into a smirk of malicious satisfaction. “why did you stop walking? do you wanna die?” she taunted, her voice dripping with derision. ignoring her taunts, you struggled to your feet, the effort exacerbating the ache that had begun to settle into your bones. you started to walk again, determined to reach your next class despite the throbbing pain in your head and the sting of her cruel words.

but as you continued down the corridor, an unexpected force slammed into you from behind, propelling you against the wall with a jarring thud. the impact was so forceful that you felt the wall tremble, a low crack resonating through the hallway. pain exploded in your back, sending waves of disorientation through you.

amidst the haze of agony, you heard mina’s laughter, a cruel, incoherent sound that mingled with the throbbing in your head. she sauntered over to you, her presence looming as she leaned close, her voice a chilling whisper. “that must hurt,” she said with a mocking tone, her eyes gleaming with a cold satisfaction. she didn’t wait for your response before turning on her heel and walking away.

the corridor seemed to spin around you as you pushed yourself upright, your head pounding with a relentless intensity. each step you took was a struggle, the pain radiating through your body with every movement. you made your way home, the journey feeling endless as the throbbing in your temples grew more insistent.

once you reached the safety of your room, you collapsed onto your bed, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you. as darkness settled over the room, you tried to force yourself into a restless sleep, hoping that the respite of slumber would dull the ache and offer some escape from the torment of the day.

the pain persisted, but with each passing moment, sleep began to claim you, a dim, fleeting hope that tomorrow might bring a reprieve from the relentless cycle of suffering. as the world around you faded into the comforting embrace of sleep, you clung to the fragile hope that the dawn might bring change and relief from the unrelenting shadows of your daily struggles.

the next morning, you approached the school with a knot of unease settling in your stomach. the events of the previous day had left you feeling on edge, and the emptiness of the hallways seemed to mirror the unsettling silence that enveloped you. as you walked to your classroom, you found yourself scanning the crowd for any sign of mina or hana, but there was nothing—only the usual bustle of students chatting and shuffling to their next class.

you entered the classroom and took your seat beside haesoo, whose presence offered a small measure of comfort. the usual buzz of activity was noticeably absent, and as the minutes ticked by, the growing absence of hana and mina began to weigh heavily on you. you leaned in close to haesoo, trying to keep your voice low. “this can’t be a coincidence,” you said, your tone tinged with anxiety.

she squinted at you, her brow furrowed in thought. “it isn’t,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of uncertainty. she hesitated, her eyes darting around as if seeking something just beyond her grasp. “but i can’t get a clear message,” she added slowly. “it’s almost like it’s out of reach.”

before you could ask her to elaborate on what she meant, the classroom door swung open with an authoritative creak. two officers stepped into the room, their presence instantly commanding silence. the room fell into an uneasy hush, the only sounds the shuffling of papers and the occasional murmur of curiosity.

the lead officer, a tall man with a stern expression, cleared his throat before speaking. “good morning, students. we are conducting a search regarding two of your classmates, oh mina and jung hana.” his words carried a gravity that made your heart skip a beat. the room buzzed with whispers as the announcement settled over the students.

the officer continued, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “both girls have been reported missing by their families. they have not come home, nor have they been seen anywhere in the vicinity. we urge anyone who may have information about their whereabouts to come forward immediately.”

the murmurs grew louder, a mix of shock and curiosity spreading through the classroom. your eyes widened in disbelief as the reality of the situation sank in. the officers concluded their announcement and exited the room, leaving a tense atmosphere in their wake. you turned to haesoo, who was looking at you with a mixture of concern and suspicion. “do you have anything to do with this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you rolled your eyes, a mixture of frustration and indignation bubbling within you. “are you serious?” you replied. “you know i wouldn’t—”

she shook her head, cutting you off. “no, it’s not that,” she said quickly. “it’s just, i got a chill when they mentioned it. i’ve never felt anything like it before. it’s unsettling.” her words only deepened the sense of unease that had settled over you. as you left the classroom and made your way home, the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily upon you. the mystery of mina and hana’s disappearance loomed large, and you couldn’t shake the nagging sense that something was profoundly wrong.

when you finally arrived home, the house was quiet, the usual warmth of your family’s presence replaced by an anxious tension. your brother, who was usually the epitome of calm, met you at the door with a grave expression. “did you hear the news?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. you nodded, feeling the day’s events catch in your throat. “yes, the police came to school. they were looking for mina and hana.”

your parents, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, exchanged startled glances. your mother’s face turned pale, her eyes reflecting a mixture of shock and a cold, hard resolve. “think of it as a blessing,” she said, her voice lacking warmth. “those girls were nothing but trouble.”

the coldness in her voice cut through you, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. the idea of them being missing was unsettling, but your mother’s reaction felt almost dispassionate, as though their disappearance was a matter of indifference rather than concern. you could sense the undercurrent of relief in her words, a stark contrast to the unease that plagued you.

you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. the disappearance of the two girls who seemed determined to make your life a living hell, combined with the cold detachment of your family, created a turbulent whirlpool of confusion and unease. the hope for answers seemed as distant as ever, and as sleep finally claimed you, it came with a heavy heart, filled with unanswered questions and a lingering sense of dread. the night enveloped you in its quiet, oppressive embrace. you stirred from a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as the day’s events replayed in your mind. with a groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and padded softly to the kitchen. the cool, dimly lit room offered a brief respite from the swirling thoughts that plagued you.

you poured yourself a glass of water, the clear liquid offering a momentary sense of calm. as you took a sip, the coldness of the water seemed to contrast sharply with the heaviness in your chest. you returned to your room, hoping that the soothing effect of the water might coax you back to sleep. instead, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the darkness of the room filled with your racing thoughts. “will i ever get powers?” you mused aloud, the question echoing in the quiet of the night. “why can’t i just be like everyone else?”

a voice, soft but clear, sliced through your self-reflection, startling you. “are you still thinking about that?”

you whipped your head around to see a man standing in the corner of your room. his presence was unsettling, a contrast to the soft illumination of the moonlight that filtered through your window. his face was partially obscured by shadows, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling amusement. you gasped and scrambled backward, your heart racing as you screamed. the sound was strangled, caught in your throat as your mind struggled to make sense of the intruder’s presence. he remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he watched you with a hint of a smile.

moments later, your brother burst into the room, his face etched with concern. “what’s wrong?” daehyun asked, his eyes scanning the room. his gaze passed over the man without a hint of recognition, as if the figure were nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

you quickly composed yourself, forcing a shaky smile. “i thought i saw a bug,” you stammered, trying to sound casual despite the pounding of your heart. “it must have been nothing.” daehyun gave you a skeptical look but shrugged it off. “alright, if you’re sure. call me if you need anything.”

as he left the room, you turned back to the man, who remained where he was, his presence an eerie constant. “who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

he regarded you with an amused glint in his eye. “i’m your savior,” he replied smoothly.

you blinked, confusion clouding your features. “what do you mean? are you going to hurt me?”

he scoffed lightly, a sound that seemed to carry its own form of amusement. “hurt you? no, i’m not here to hurt you. do you recall the people who were bullying you?” you nodded, the memory of their taunts and cruelty still fresh in your mind.

the man’s smile widened slightly. “i got rid of them,” he said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.

panic surged through you, and you stumbled over your words. “you didn’t kill them, did you?”

“no, nothing so crude,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “i sent them to the underworld.” the terms normal people were exposed to were biblical, accurate, generic. heaven and hell. in your world, the underworls existed openly. it was an alternate dimension, one that wasn't as bad as hell, yet seemingly just as bad. those who were sent were sent alive, bodies and souls intact, where they'd be repeatedly punished—over and over and over—for their wrongdoings.

your heart pounded as you tried to process his words. “why? why would you do that?”

he shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that seemed to make his words even more chilling. “because they were bothering you.”

you gaped at him, unable to comprehend the connection. “and what does that have to do with you?”

he raised an eyebrow, as if considering how to explain something very simple. “you should be familiar with having supernatural powers, shouldn’t you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life without any powers,” you retorted, frustration mingling with fear. “what does that have to do with you helping me now?”

“this is your power,” he said, his voice taking on a serious tone. “i’m from the underworld, and i can attach myself to whatever i choose, giving them any power they need.”

your eyes widened with disbelief. “why me? why did you choose me of all people?”

he paused for a moment, a contemplative look crossing his features. “i did it because i wanted to. and,” he added, his voice taking on a mysterious quality, “nobody else can see me unless i want them to.”

you stared at him, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your shoulders. the reality of the situation seemed almost too surreal to grasp. he chuckled softly, the sound a darkly pleasant note in the stillness of the night.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a grin. “my name is park jimin. and (y/n) (l/n), i’ll be seeing you around.”

before you could react, he vanished from sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of his presence. you knew he was still there, an intangible shadow in the room, but his form was now invisible to you. the chill of his departure settled over you, and the eerie silence of the room seemed to close in.

your mind raced as you lay back in bed, trying to make sense of the strange encounter. the idea of possessing a power, of having someone from the underworld attach themselves to you, was both terrifying and fascinating. you felt a strange sense of anticipation, mixed with fear, as you stared into the darkness, the night pressing in with an oppressive weight. sleep came fitfully, but the presence of jimin lingered in your thoughts, an unsettling reminder of what you could only assume was to come.

the morning light peered through your curtains, casting a pale glow over your room. as you slowly awoke, the memories of the previous night were still fresh in your mind, but jimin’s unsettling presence was gone. you scanned the room, half-expecting to find him lurking in the shadows, but there was no sign of him. a wave of slight relief washed over you, though it was accompanied by an uneasy thought—he could be anywhere, hidden from view, and you wouldn't even know it.

you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to you. your mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence of the early morning. “how did you sleep?” she asked with a note of concern in her tone. forcing a smile, you replied, “just fine.”

daehyun scoffed as he entered the kitchen. “you screamed like you were being gutted last night,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of annoyance and curiosity. your father looked up from his newspaper, his brows knitting together. “what happened?” he asked, his tone indicating genuine concern.

you hesitated, then shrugged as casually as you could. “i saw a bug. it was nothing.” your father’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he seemed to accept your explanation. “alright then,” he said, turning back to his newspaper. the conversation moved on, but the undercurrent of unease persisted, as if the previous night’s events had left a lasting imprint.

you walked to school with a heavy heart, the weight of the unknown pressing down on you. as you approached the school gates, you noticed the usual crowd of students, their faces a blur of familiarity and anonymity. the absence of hana and mina remained a topic of conversation among the students, but the discussions were tinged with a mixture of gossip and indifference.

inside the school, the hallways seemed more tense than usual. you found yourself at your locker, trying to go through the motions of your day, when haesoo joined you. she leaned against her locker, her face drawn into a thoughtful frown. “it would be a shame if they weren’t such sluts,” she muttered, her voice low. she closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to push away a troubling thought. curiosity piqued, you asked, “what’s the matter?”

ahe shivered slightly and shook her head. “i just got a chill,” she said, her voice uncertain. she seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around as if searching for something elusive. you watched her, puzzled by her sudden shift in demeanor. “what are you talking about?” you asked, but she was silent, her gaze fixed on something you couldn’t see.

suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stared in shock. you followed her gaze, your heart skipping a beat as you saw what had caught her attention. there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was park jimin. he was dressed in the school uniform, his appearance disturbingly casual. his smile was both enigmatic and unsettling, a contrast to the surrounding confusion and chatter.

your breath caught in your throat. the sight of him, so out of place in the school environment, was jarring. his presence seemed to draw the eye of everyone in the hallway, though he appeared to be a spectral figure to most, his gaze focused solely on you and haesoo. his eyes locked onto yours, a glimmer of amusement dancing in their depths. he stood with an air of effortless confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. the contrast between his calm demeanor and the chaos of the school around him only served to heighten the surreal quality of the moment.

haesoo’s expression was a mix of disbelief and fear, her earlier chill now palpable in her wide-eyed stare. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as jimin’s smile grew, as though he enjoyed the effect he was having on you both. in the midst of the busy school hallway, where students milled about oblivious to the strange encounter, jimin’s presence seemed to create a pocket of stillness. you felt the weight of his gaze on you, a reminder of the enigmatic power he had claimed to possess.

the bell rang, breaking the spell and drawing the attention of the students back to their daily routines. his figure slowly faded from view, his presence slipping away as the normalcy of the school day reasserted itself. haesoo turned to you, her face pale and her voice trembling slightly. “did you see that?” she asked, her words barely audible. you nodded, trying to steady your racing heart. “yes,” you said, your voice tight with unease. “i saw him.”

the classroom rang with the usual chatter as students shuffled in, preparing for the day’s lessons. you took your seat, your mind still preoccupied with the unsettling encounter with jimin from the previous day. the door creaked open, and the noise in the room gradually subsided as the professor stepped in, his usual demeanor composed but with a glimmer of something unspoken in his eyes.

“good morning, everyone,” the professor began, his voice commanding attention. “we have a new student joining us today.”

you looked up, curiosity piqued. as the professor gestured toward the door, your heart skipped a beat when him stepped into the room. he wore the school uniform with an easy grace, his presence immediately drawing the eye. his smile was as enigmatic as ever, a contrast to the standard school attire that seemed almost to constrict the rest of the students.

jimin walked to the front of the class, his every step measured and confident. “hello, everyone,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a pleasant yet unnerving calm. “i’m park jimin. it’s a pleasure to be here.”

a murmur of surprise rippled through the room, but it was taehyung’s scoff that caught your attention. from his seat at the back of the room, taehyung’s disdain was palpable. “so, what’s your power?” he called out, his tone dripping with skepticism. jimin’s eyes met his with a chilling intensity. “anything you want it to be,” he replied, his voice a low, deliberate drawl.

the room fell silent, and you could feel a shiver run down your spine as the weight of jimin’s words settled over you. taehyung’s expression shifted from confusion to curiosity, but before he could respond, something extraordinary happened. with a fluid motion, the empty desks around the room began to levitate, their wooden forms moving in a synchronized dance. the desks flew through the air, converging on taehyung and trapping him against the wall. the desks pressed around him with a force that was firm but not painful, effectively pinning him in place without causing harm.

taehyung’s eyes widened in alarm as he protested, his voice muffled by the barrier of desks. “what? let me go!” the professor, typically the picture of professional composure, allowed a faint smile to curve his lips, clearly amused by the display. jimin’s gaze remained fixed on taehyung, his expression one of calm detachment.

“if you say so,” he said, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. with a flick of his wrist, he used his telekinetic abilities to lift taehyung into the air. the desks followed suit, returning to their original places as taehyung was gently deposited on the other side of the room, away from the wall.

jimin’s smile widened as he turned to the class. “never gets old,” he remarked, the lightness in his tone belying the impressive display of power he had just demonstrated.

laughter erupted from the students, a mixture of relief and amusement at the unexpected demonstration. you found yourself caught up in the laughter, unable to suppress a grin as you locked eyes with jimin. his gaze held yours for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you. he took an empty seat beside you, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. the room gradually settled down, the buzz of conversation resuming as the class prepared for the lesson. you leaned in, trying to keep your voice low amidst the chatter.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, your tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension. jimin’s smile remained as he leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “i told you i was your savior,” he whispered back, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

his words hung in the air, carrying with them a promise of further intrigue. as the professor began the day’s lesson, you found it difficult to concentrate, the encounter with him dominating your thoughts. the reality of his presence in your school, the display of his powers, and his cryptic assurances all melded into a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation.

the cafeteria was a hive of activity, alive with the usual din of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of trays and cutlery. the scent of various foods filled the air, mingling with the chatter of students as they moved through the line and found their seats. the vibrant atmosphere of the cafeteria was heightened today, the energy buzzing with heightened excitement and curiosity following jimin's display of power earlier in the day.

as you and haesoo made your way to a table, you noticed the crowd around jimin had only grown. groups of female students swarmed him, their faces alight with admiration as they offered him water, food, and even the best seats in the house. jimin declined each offer with a charming smile and a graceful wave of his hand, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something.

your gaze met his across the bustling cafeteria, and for a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours. your heart skipped a beat as haesoo let out a surprised yelp. “is he really coming over here?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. indeed, jimin was making his way toward you, his smile unwavering as he approached your table. he stopped in front of you, his presence commanding attention despite the chaos around him. “may i join you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

you nodded, still trying to process the surreal turn of events. he took a seat across from you, his posture relaxed yet assertive. the commotion around him seemed to fade into the background as he focused his attention on you, his smile never faltering. the surprise of his arrival was short-lived, however, as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. two hands settled heavily on your shoulders, and you turned to see taehyung’s smirking face looming above you.

“what do you want?” you asked, trying to maintain a tone of annoyance despite the flutter of unease in your chest. taehyung’s smirk widened as he replied, “i haven’t bugged you in a minute. besides, i have unfinished business here.”

before you could react, taehyung shoved you to the side, claiming the seat next to you with a casual disregard. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his grip firm and inescapable. you tensed, trying to wriggle free, but his hold was unyielding. “did you have fun humiliating me earlier?” he asked jimin, his tone taunting. his eyes were fixed on him, his smirk never faltering.

jimin’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “not enough,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of menace. he leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto taehyung. “let go of her.” taehyung’s grip tightened instead, pulling you closer into his side. “we’re good friends, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

you turned to jimin, desperation in your eyes. he stood up abruptly, slamming his fork onto the table with a clatter that drew the attention of everyone nearby. he approached taehyung with a purposeful stride, his expression serious. “get up,” he ordered. taehyung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he remained seated, continuing to pick at his food as if unfazed. jimin, however, was undeterred. he reached out and grabbed the collar of taehyung’s uniform, lifting him effortlessly into the air. the cafeteria fell into stunned silence, the usual noise abruptly ceasing as students gasped and murmured in shock.

taehyung dangled in the air, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. “how can you do everything at once like that?” he demanded, his voice quivering. jimin’s expression remained composed, his gaze fixed on taehyung with a mixture of mockery and disdain. “would you like to be put down?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

taehyung hesitated, his pride warring with his fear, before he finally nodded. jimin, with a casual flick of his wrist, threw taehyung back down onto the floor. the impact was jarring, the sound of him hitting the ground echoing through the cafeteria. you watched in awe as jimin returned to his seat with a casual grace. the room was abuzz with whispers and murmurs, all eyes focused on the spectacle that had just unfolded. your own gaze was fixed on him, unable to hide your amazement.

“how did you do that?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. jimin’s smile broadened, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “already so impressed?” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “you should be.”

as you trudged home, the crisp evening air provided a slight reprieve from the sweltering heat of the day. the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set, casting long shadows along the deserted sidewalks. the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed against the quiet streets, a comforting metronome in the solitude of your walk.

suddenly, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. you spun around sharply, your heart skipping a beat, but found only the empty street stretching behind you. you frowned, brushing off the sensation as a trick of the mind, and turned back around to continue your journey. however, the sight that greeted you made you catch your breath. jimin stood there, his presence like an unexpected burst of color in the dimming light. his sudden appearance was startling. you exhaled sharply and muttered, “stop doing that.”

a mischievous grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you’re pretty like that,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, only to find that he was no longer there. the sudden emptiness where he had been left you feeling slightly disoriented.

you turned around quickly, and there he was again, standing behind you. his grin was unwavering, his eyes filled with playful mischief. “like that,” he repeated, his voice echoing in your ears.

you frowned in exasperation, your patience wearing thin. “stop scaring me,” you demanded, though the hint of amusement in your voice betrayed your frustration. jimin chuckled softly, his laughter a gentle ripple in the quiet evening. “it’s amusing,” he said, his voice lingering in the air as if he were still beside you.

just as you were about to respond, you felt yourself stumble, your foot catching on an uneven patch of sidewalk. before you could fully lose your balance and fall, jimin was there, catching you with effortless grace. he held you steady, his smile warm and reassuring. “but saving you is much better,” he whispered close to your ear.

you looked up at him, a mixture of annoyance and relief in your eyes. “you’re insane,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of gratitude. “i was fine on my own.”

jimin scoffed lightly, his gaze playful. “how did you like the taste of toilet water?” he asked, his tone laced with a teasing edge. your eyes widened in shock. “you saw that?” you gasped, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

he rolled his eyes as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “i see everything,” he said dismissively. you quickly covered yourself, feeling a surge of indignation. “pervert!” you exclaimed, your voice a mixture of mortification and anger.

jimin’s eyes widened in surprise, his expression turning thoughtful. “a pervert?” he repeated, as if he were considering the accusation seriously. after a moment, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “would you like to be sent to the underworld?”

you shook your head vigorously, the thought of such a fate making you shiver. “no!” you said, your voice filled with urgency.

jimin smirked, his expression one of satisfied amusement. “that’s what i thought,” he said, his tone light and mocking.

by the time you reached your front door, jimin was nowhere to be seen. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath, “i know you’re there.” the familiar thwack against the back of your head, like an invisible slap, confirmed his lingering presence. you opened the door and stepped inside, where your brother daehyun was waiting. he looked at you with a skeptical expression, his eyes narrowing slightly. “who were you talking to?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion.

you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “just talking to myself,” you said with a casual wave of your hand. saehyun stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “maybe you really have lost your mind,” he said, shaking his head in awe.

you playfully smacked him on the head, his reaction a mix of surprise and annoyance. “shut up,” you said with a grin, before heading toward your room. as you passed by the kitchen, your mother called out, “you seem to be in a better mood today.”

you paused for a moment, contemplating her observation. it was true that something had shifted within you, a glimmer of unexpected excitement mingling with the confusion. you turned to her and gave a small, genuine smile. “yeah,” you agreed softly. “maybe i am.”

as you closed the door behind you, the click of the lock seemed to echo in the quiet room. you leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a deep sigh as you tried to shake off the day’s events. the room was dimly lit by the slant of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting long, ghostly shadows that danced across the walls.

when you turned around, you gasped. there, leaning casually against the edge of your bed, was jimin. his presence was both startling and oddly comforting. “i told you to stop doing that,” you said, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

jimin rolled his eyes with a dramatic flourish, his expression one of amused exasperation. “you’re easy to scare,” he replied with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat. he tilted his head slightly and added, “you must not be used to having men in your room.”

the comment struck a nerve, and you scoffed, feigning offense. “i’ve had plenty of experience,” you retorted, though the blush rising to your cheeks betrayed the unease you felt.

jimin’s eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter, his lips twitching into a smirk. “yeah, right,” he teased, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. he paused and then added, “i’ve seen it all, you haven’t gotten laid in eighteen years.”

the jibe made your face flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “i’ll kick your eyes,” you threatened, your voice edged with frustration. jimin raised his hands in mock surrender, a look of exaggerated fear crossing his face. “really?” he asked, his tone a perfect blend of feigned terror and mischief.

you nodded decisively and reached out to slap him, but his reflexes were impossibly quick. he caught your wrist effortlessly, his grip surprisingly firm. you tried to free your hand, but he held it fast. he smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “like that?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing murmur. stunned, you raised your other hand, only to find that he was already there, catching it with equal ease. his strength was undeniable, and no matter how much you struggled, you couldn’t pull free. “don’t hit me that hard,” he said with a teasing lilt, his smile widening.

you were about to retort when he suddenly moved with a fluid, almost predatory grace. before you could react, he had you pinned against your closet door. your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart race as his face came dangerously close to yours. the proximity was overwhelming; his scent was intoxicating, and the heat of his body pressed against yours made it hard to think.

his smile was both captivating and unsettling. he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “why’s your heart beating so fast?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear.

you gulped, your gaze unable to tear itself away from his striking features. his eyes were mesmerizing, and his closeness made you acutely aware of how pretty he truly was. “because you’re scary,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

jimin scoffed lightly, releasing you with a dramatic flair as if your words had wounded him. “scary? you’re scarier,” he said, feigning offense as he took a step back, allowing you to breathe again.

you rolled your eyes, grateful for the distance, and waved your hand dismissively. “leave me alone. i have homework,” you said, trying to sound authoritative despite the lingering blush on your cheeks. his smile softened as he observed you, his gaze lingering on the flush that had crept up your neck. “homework, huh?” he mused, his tone carrying a hint of mock sympathy. he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heartbeat, and it only seemed to please him more.

you settled into your desk, the weight of the day's events still lingering in your mind. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your desk lamp, casting a warm, amber hue across the pages of your textbook. you had spread out your notes and textbooks with meticulous care, determined to tackle your calculus homework despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. the air was heavy with the quiet hum of concentration, punctuated only by the occasional scratch of your pencil against the paper.

as you jotted down what you hoped were coherent notes on differential equations, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see jimin’s mischievous grin. but the room remained empty, save for the clutter of your textbooks and papers. just as you resumed your scribbling, a voice broke the silence. “what are you working on?” jimin’s voice was smooth and casual, yet it carried a hint of amusement.

you jumped, nearly knocking over your pencil. “calculus,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you continued to pretend to write notes. the subject matter, filled with complex equations and symbols, seemed even more daunting with his, once again, unexpected presence.

he strolled over with a lazy grace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform jacket. his eyes roamed over your paper with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “do you actually have any idea what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern. you glanced up at him, attempting to maintain a facade of confidence. “yes,” you said firmly, though a hint of uncertainty crept into your voice.

jimin’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “are you lying?” he asked, his gaze narrowing as if he were scrutinizing every word you said. you hesitated, caught off guard by his directness. “yes,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, unable to maintain the pretense any longer.

he sighed theatrically, shaking his head with an exaggerated air of disappointment. “lying in the underworld is punishable, you know,” he said, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “people get their tongues cut out for that.” your eyes widened in alarm, and you gasped, “are you serious?” the very idea of such a gruesome punishment sent shivers down your spine, and you could hardly believe he was being genuine.

jimin stifled a giggle behind his hand, clearly finding your reaction amusing. “oh, absolutely,” he affirmed with a mischievous glint in his eye. you sighed, your shoulders slumping as you muttered, “i can’t wait to go to heaven.”

he raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “you’d never see heaven’s gates,” he said dismissively, a hint of derision in his voice. your eyes flashed with indignation as you retorted, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

jimin’s smirk widened. “you’re right,” he admitted, but his tone was far from apologetic. he glanced at your paper, his expression shifting to one of mild interest. “by the way, the answer to that equation is supposed to be squared,” he said, pointing at a particular spot on your paper with a casual air.

you let out a nervous laugh, feeling a wave of relief mixed with embarrassment. you quickly reached for your eraser, smudging out the scarily wrong answer you had previously written. with a trembling hand, you scrawled the correct answer in its place, hoping it would salvage your assignment. jimin watched you with an amused glint in his eye, seemingly delighted by the small victory of having helped you. his presence, though unsettling at times, had a peculiar way of making the mundane aspects of your life feel more bearable.

the clock on your desk ticked slowly as you fought against the drowsiness that tugged at the edges of your consciousness. your calculus homework lay spread out before you, the equations blurring together as you struggled to keep your eyes open. jimin’s presence was a faint, unsettling comfort in the periphery of your awareness. his earlier antics had faded into the background noise of your weary mind.

as you dragged your pencil across the paper, your eyelids grew heavier, and your head bobbed forward in a half-sleepy state. you mumbled aloud, your voice barely more than a tired whisper. “what are you doing here, jimin?”

a soft chuckle came from him, a sound that seemed to curl around you like a warm blanket. he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur that brushed against your ear. “do you really wanna know?” he asked, his tone laced with both curiosity and amusement. you nodded groggily, barely managing to keep your eyes open. “yes,” you managed to mumble, your voice trailing off as another yawn overtook you.

hia gaze softened, and he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of your desk. “well,” he began, his voice gentle and contemplative, “i’ve always wanted to live my life as a human, in the human world. i get to do that as long as i’m watching over someone.” you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes, the details of his face still fuzzy but recognizable. “why me?” you asked, your voice slurring slightly with exhaustion.

there was a moment of silence as jimin’s expression grew thoughtful. he seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. “guess you were the chosen one, they sent me to you,” he said softly, as if the weight of the words carried a hint of destiny. his lips curled into a faint smile, though there was a touch of irritation in his eyes. “i wouldn’t have picked you if you weren’t so pretty,” he said with a hint of teasing in his voice. “all you do is cause trouble.”

you let out another yawn, your head nodding forward. “sorry,” you murmured, the apology barely audible as you fought to stay awake. you groaned softly, burying your face in your arms on the desk, too tired to respond. the relentless pull of sleep was too strong, and within moments, you succumbed to it, your breathing evening out as you drifted into a deep, much-needed slumber.

jimin watched you with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. as your breathing became steady and rhythmic, he let out a soft sigh, his gaze lingering on you with an almost wistful expression. he knew it was invasive, to watch you sleep like this, but he couldn’t help himself. there was something undeniably captivating about the way you looked when you were so peaceful and unguarded.

gently, he extended his powers, lifting you with a delicate touch of his mind. the process was effortless for him, and he guided you gently off the desk, ensuring you remained undisturbed. with a subtle concentration, he levitated you through the air, carrying you with the same care one might use to handle a fragile, precious object. he maneuvered you softly through the room, avoiding any obstacles as he floated you to your bed. as you were lowered onto the mattress, he took a moment to adjust the covers around you, tucking them in with a tender touch that belied his usual mischief.

he stood by the side of your bed, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze. you were curled up beneath the covers, your features relaxed and serene. the sight of you, so vulnerable and tranquil, stirred something within him—a curious blend of protectiveness and admiration. despite his role as a being from the underworld, tasked with watching over you and perhaps even unsettling you at times, he found himself captivated by your presence. the way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest with each breath, it all seemed to weave a kind of magic that he hadn’t expected to encounter.

as you trudged to school the following morning, the familiar hustle and bustle of the crowd provided a modest comfort. the sky above was a muted shade of gray, clouds hanging low as if mirroring the heaviness in your chest. the air was brisk, and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, feeling the chill seep through despite your layers.

upon arriving at school, you approached your locker with a sigh, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the lingering unease from the previous night. however, as you reached your locker, you were startled to see jimin leaning casually against the row of metal lockers, his gaze fixed on you with a playful smirk. he seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his presence as striking and unanticipated as ever.

“slow for someone so thin,” he remarked with a teasing lilt in his voice. his eyes gleamed with mischief, a contrast to the gray morning. “do you ever eat, or is breakfast a myth for you?” you rolled your eyes at his casual tone and retorted, “i had breakfast this morning.” the words came out with more force than you intended, a small, defiant edge in your voice.

jimin’s smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “liar,” he said, his voice dripping with playful derision. “I can tell you’re lying.”

the truth of his statement was a bitter pill to swallow. you hadn’t felt the pangs of hunger as acutely in recent days, and your appetite had waned significantly since the bullying had started. the constant stress had left you feeling hollow, both physically and emotionally. the comment stung more than you’d care to admit, but you forced yourself to look indifferent.

his gaze didn’t waver as he continued, his tone now carrying an edge of mock seriousness. “there goes your tongue,” he said suddenly.

your heart skipped a beat at his words. Instinctively, you raised a hand to your mouth, your fingers pressing against your tongue as you felt a wave of panic. you bit down hard, testing to make sure your tongue was still there. the sharp, familiar pain confirmed it was, and you sighed in relief, though the discomfort of his words lingered. jimin’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling mix of amusement and mystery. “is it still there?” he inquired, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded vigorously, though the movement was almost imperceptible due to your anxiety. his sigh was almost theatrical, filled with a mock sorrow that didn’t match the amusement in his eyes. “it won’t be for long,” he said cryptically, and without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the school building.

you called out after him, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “what do you mean by that?”

jimin merely waved a hand over his shoulder in a dismissive gesture, his smirk remaining as he walked away. the gesture was both casual and enigmatic, leaving you with more questions than answers. his cryptic remark about your tongue gnawed at your thoughts as you stood by your locker, the sudden absence of his presence leaving an unsettling void despite the childish teasing.

as the class droned on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus, the remnants of last night’s exhaustion pulling at your consciousness. your pen had been moving on autopilot, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep, your head resting heavily on your desk. the soft murmur of your classmates and the occasional rustling of papers seemed far away, a distant backdrop to your restless slumber.

suddenly, a loud voice jolted you awake. “homework, everyone.” the professor announced, his tone authoritative. you gasped, the realization hitting you like a cold splash of water. the panic set in as you scrambled to recall where you had left off. the professor began walking down the aisles, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

when he reached your desk, you fumbled with your notebook, your movements clumsy and disjointed. you retrieved it with a mix of shame and dread, handing it over to him with trembling hands. the professor’s eyebrows knitted together in surprise as he flipped through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment.

“did you really do all of this?” he asked, incredulous. his eyes were wide as he scanned the pages filled with neatly written answers, each question meticulously addressed and correctly solved.

you blinked, equally puzzled. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to piece together what was happening.

the professor pointed to your notebook. “you’ve completed every single problem correctly,” he said, his voice a mix of amazement and disbelief. “this is impressive.”

you glanced down at the notebook and saw, to your shock, that every question was indeed answered accurately. a wave of confusion washed over you. you hadn’t remembered doing all this work, and the sense of accomplishment felt both foreign and surreal. as you tried to process the unexpected turn of events, you caught sight of jimin across the room. his gaze was fixed on you, and he offered a sly smile. he mouthed the words, “you’re welcome,” with a mischievous glint in his eyes. relief mixed with curiosity bubbled inside you.

the professor congratulated you, his expression softening with approval, and handed your notebook back. you muttered a thank you, still trying to shake off the disorienting sense of having accomplished something you didn’t remember doing.

at lunch, you headed to the cafeteria, hoping to sit with jimin. as you approached the table where you usually met him, your heart sank when you saw taehyung sitting there instead. he looked up as you arrived, and you could see a smirk forming on his lips. “what do you want now?” you asked, your tone weary but guarded.

he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “i promise i won’t do anything,” he said, a hint of playful mischief in his voice. “actually, i was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.” you were stunned into silence. the unexpected proposition caught you off guard, leaving you at a loss for words. before you could find a response, haesoo opened her mouth, but her words were cut off by a commanding voice.

“move,” jimin said sharply, his voice cutting through the noise of the cafeteria like a knife.

all three of you turned to see him standing there, his demeanor suddenly shifting from relaxed to intense. his gaze was fixed on taehyung, and he took a step forward with a steely resolve. taehyung’s smirk faltered slightly. “go around,” he said dismissively, “i’m in the middle of something.”

to your shock, his expression darkened. he slammed his tray down on the table, the clatter of metal against plastic loud and jarring. he grabbed taehyung by the collar and pulled him close, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “unless you wanna be in the middle of nowhere, walk away.”

the tension in the air was palpable. taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise, and without another word, he backed away, his earlier bravado gone. he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving the space around you suddenly quieter.

you were left in stunned silence, your heart racing. jimin’s transformation from the charming, playful figure to someone so intimidating and cold was jarring. his capacity for sudden, intense aggression scared you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. you tried to ignore him, focusing on your food and conversation with haesoo, not wanting to attract his attention or fall victim to whatever mood he might switch to next.

the walk home was eerily quiet, the usual chatter and clamor of the bustling streets muted by a heavy silence. the afternoon light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly along the pavement. you could hear the rhythmic patter of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, but jimin’s presence beside you added an unusual tension to the otherwise tranquil surroundings.

he had been walking silently next to you for a while, his stride effortlessly matching yours. his presence, though subdued, was impossible to ignore. he seemed to be waiting for you to say something, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you with a hint of curiosity. finally, he broke the silence. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying edge that suggested he was genuinely interested.

you gave a dismissive wave of your hand and forced a small smile. “nothing,” you assured him, trying to sound more confident than you felt. jimin’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance. “you must think i’m stupid if you’re gonna brush it off like that,” he said, his voice laced with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. “i was just thinking. thanks for doing my homework, by the way.” jimin’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “you’re welcome. i’m nice like that.”

you paused, considering his words. “but there was no reason to be so cruel to taehyung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. jimin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “really? were you actually gonna go on a date with that asshole?” he asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

you contemplated his question, trying to remember how you’d felt about taehyung’s offer. “maybe,” you said jokingly. his eyes widened with incredulity. “your tongue’s on the verge,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

you gasped in mock horror and instinctively placed your hand over your mouth, as if to shield it from his prying. “stay away from my tongue,” you pleaded with a blend of annoyance and playfulness. jimin merely chuckled. “no promises,” he said, his tone light and teasing. this caused you to walk with your hand still covering your mouth, a futile gesture that did little to ease the odd sensation his presence brought.

when you reached your front door, you felt a sudden tug on the hand on your mouth. you spun around to confront jimin, ready to give him a piece of your mind. but as you turned, he was gone. the sudden absence of his presence was startling, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion.

“asshole,” you muttered under your breath, the word barely escaping your lips as you glanced around to make sure he wasn’t lingering nearby. the street was empty, save for a few stray leaves skittering along the sidewalk, and there was no sign of jimin. with a resigned sigh, you pushed open the front door and slipped inside, the familiar warmth of your home a welcome contrast to the unsettling events of the day. you walked straight to your room, the encounter with jimin still fresh in your mind. the door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep breath.

the room was cloaked in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, casting long shadows that danced gently on the walls. the steady hum of your ceiling fan created a comforting backdrop as you sat on the edge of your bed, your thoughts tangled in a web of confusion and disquiet. jimin’s unpredictable behavior had been gnawing at you. one moment, he was charming and helpful, and the next, he was cold and menacing. the abrupt change in his demeanor was unsettling, and the weight of it made you uneasy. you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off the troubling thoughts.

with a resigned sigh, you turned on the tv. the screen flickered to life, and you absentmindedly began channel surfing, your mind not fully engaged with the images flashing before you. but then, a news anchor’s stern face filled the screen, and you were abruptly pulled into the broadcast. “—tragedy that has shaken the community. the bodies of oh mina and jung hana, two missing students, have yet to be found, and authorities now presume them dead. the search continues, but their families are left in agonizing uncertainty.”

you froze, your heart sinking as the anchor continued with a detailed recap of the events. the broadcast went on to describe the search efforts, the emotional pleas from their families, and the growing sense of despair that had settled over the community. the words felt like a physical weight pressing down on your chest, and a surge of guilt began to eat away at you. mina and hana had been cruel, yes, but no one deserved this. the thought of their families—worrying, grieving, and facing a future without their loved ones—made you feel sick. you found yourself grappling with the dissonance between their past actions and the very real, very human suffering unfolding now.

as you absorbed the gravity of the news, a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, chilling and disturbingly calm. “they got what they deserved,” jimin’s voice said, as though he had materialized out of thin air. he stepped into view, leaning casually against the door frame, his gaze fixated on the tv screen. “it’s a shame they aren’t actually dead.”

you turned to him, your eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “how can you say something so cruel?” you demanded, the hurt and anger evident in your voice. “how can you be so heartless?”

his expression hardened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s always been an eye for an eye,” he retorted coldly. “they were awful to you. why should they get any sympathy?”

a surge of frustration erupted within you. “and what about their families?” you asked, the words coming out in a rush. “do you have any idea how they must feel?”

jimin snapped, his tone edged with bitterness. “they should’ve raised them better,” he shot back. “maybe then they wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”

you were taken aback by his callousness. “you’re awful,” you said, unable to keep the scorn from your voice. “i can’t believe how heartless you really are.”

jimin’s demeanor shifted abruptly. he walked over and sat down beside you on your bed, his movements deliberate and measured. he looked at you with an intensity that was almost palpable, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “i did it for you,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its earlier bite. “because i cared for you.”

you looked at him, struggling to reconcile this softer side of him with the cruelty you’d just witnessed. “i don’t need a savior,” you said quietly, shaking your head. the weight of the day’s events and jimin’s complex personality were starting to feel overwhelming. his face softened, and for a moment, his expression was filled with a kind of sadness that seemed almost genuine. he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and almost tender. in his eyes, you saw something akin to heartbreak.

“okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “if that’s what you say.”

without another word, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dim light of your room. the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the echoes of the harsh words and the complexities of his character. you sat there, feeling the weight of his absence and the lingering discomfort of his presence. the room seemed emptier now, and you were left with a tumult of emotions and unanswered questions.

the night stretched long and restless as you tossed and turned beneath your tangled sheets, your mind an endless swirl of confusion and disquiet. your bed seemed to have become a cage, its confines growing tighter with each passing minute. the darkness of the room was punctuated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting fleeting shadows that danced unsettlingly on the walls.

you reached out in the darkness, searching for the comforting presence you had come to rely on. but tonight, there was nothing. no whisper of jimin’s voice, no flicker of his enigmatic smile—just an overwhelming silence that pressed against you like a heavy blanket. you called out his name, your voice barely more than a strained whisper in the stillness of the night. “jimin?” you croaked, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet.

the silence that followed was deafening. It seemed to stretch on forever, growing thicker and more suffocating with each passing moment. you strained to listen for any sign of him, but there was nothing—no rustle, no breath, no hint of his presence. desperation clawed at you, and you forced yourself to close your eyes, willing yourself to sleep, hoping that he would return with the dawn.

morning came, but with it, there was no sign of jimin. you woke with a start, the emptiness of your room a reminder of his absence. the space beside you on the bed was untouched, the air still and untroubled. you groaned, the reality of his disappearance settling heavily upon you. the morning routine was carried out on autopilot, the small tasks seeming to blur together as you prepared for school.

arriving at school, you felt the weight of his absence more acutely. the hallways, usually bustling with energy and life, felt hollow and empty. you walked through them with a growing sense of dread, your eyes scanning the familiar faces for any sign of jimin. but he was nowhere to be found. not in the crowded corridors, not in your classroom, not even in the places he had been known to linger.

you approached haesoo at lunch, a flicker of hope driving your steps. you needed to know if anyone else had seen him, if there was any chance he would reappear. “hey, haesoo,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety you felt. “have you seen jimin today?”

she looked up from her lunch with a puzzled expression. “jimin? no, i haven’t seen him. why? you two seemed pretty close. he was kind of like your protector, wasn’t he?” you shook your head, trying to quell the gnawing worry in your stomach. “he isn’t,” you said, forcing a casual tone into your voice. “he’s my savior.”

the rest of the school day passed in a blur of gray and disinterest. the absence of jimin cast a shadow over everything, and you found it difficult to focus on the lessons or the conversations around you. It was almost as if the world had lost some of its color without him. when the final bell rang, you walked home with a heavy heart. each step felt like a step further away from the fleeting hope you had clung to. you tried to convince yourself that his absence was due to the lack of need, that perhaps he was simply giving you space. but deep down, you knew it was more than that. you had made him go away, whether intentionally or not, and the realization left you feeling hollow and uncertain.

as you neared your house, you saw haesoo walking beside you, her expression bright and expectant. “so, what do you think?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “wanna hit the club tonight? it could be a lot of fun.” you considered it for a moment, your spirits lifted slightly by the prospect of distraction. “sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, trying to push aside the nagging emptiness you felt.

when you reached home, haesoo followed you inside. you found your mother in the kitchen, busy with the evening’s preparations. “mom, is it okay if i go to the club with haesoo tonight?” you asked, attempting to sound casual.

your mother glanced up from her task, her face thoughtful. “if she’s going,” she said with a dismissive wave, “you can go to the underworld for all i care.”

the words struck you like a chill, freezing the air around you. the mention of the underworld made your blood run cold, a sharp reminder of the dark and mysterious presence you had grown to both fear and depend on. you exchanged a look with haesoo, who seemed to notice the change in your demeanor but chose to remain silent. you forced a smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “thanks, mom.”

the evening was a muted whirl of apprehension and fleeting hope as you prepared for the night out. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, casting warm hues over the meticulously arranged wardrobe. you stood before the mirror, scrutinizing your reflection as you adjusted the sleek black dress that clung to your frame. it was a classic choice, understated yet elegant, but tonight, it felt lacking—an empty vessel yearning for validation you could not quite grasp.

you turned this way and that, trying to find satisfaction in your appearance. the dress, with its delicate fabric and subtle sheen, was perfect in its own right. but it felt as if something crucial was missing. your mind wandered to the image of him, the elusive presence that had once been a source of comfort and assurance. the empty space beside you in the mirror seemed to echo with his absence, and the longing for his approval gnawed at you with an intensity that left you feeling hollow.

with a deep sigh, you slipped your heels on, their click against the hardwood floor a sharp contrast to the muted sense of resignation you felt inside. daehyun’s voice broke through your reverie. “call if anything happens,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of concern. you nodded absentmindedly, giving him a half-hearted smile before heading out the door.

the night air was crisp and cool as you caught a cab to the club. the city lights blurred by the window seemed to race past you, each passing moment amplifying the sense of anticipation and uncertainty that clung to you. when you arrived, haesoo was waiting outside, her excitement palpable as she greeted you with a bright smile.

the club was alive with an electric energy, the pulsating lights and thumping bass creating an intoxicating atmosphere. haesoo led you inside, her hand firmly clasped around yours as you navigated through the crowd. “loosen up,” she urged, her voice barely audible over the music. “have a drink. it’ll help you relax.”

you allowed yourself one drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat and momentarily easing the tension in your shoulders. you clutched the glass tightly, savoring the brief reprieve it offered as you observed the throng of bodies swaying rhythmically on the dance floor. the music was a relentless beat, each pulse a reminder of the vitality you felt slipping away. as you sipped your drink, a tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. you turned around, half-expecting to see jimin’s familiar, mischievous smile. instead, you were met with the gaze of an unfamiliar man. he had a confident demeanor, his eyes appraising you with an intensity that set your nerves on edge.

“you’re a gem,” he said, his voice smooth and insistent. “would you like to dance?” you offered a polite smile, shaking your head as you replied, “no, thank you. i’d prefer to stay here.”

undeterred, the man pressed on. “come on, don’t be shy. it’ll be fun.” you declined again, but his persistence quickly turned into forcefulness. before you could fully react, he grabbed your hand with a firm grip, pulling you towards the dance floor. you resisted, trying to free yourself from his grasp, but his other hand reached out to grab your jaw. his touch was rough and invasive as he forced you to look at him. “you’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

panic surged through you, but before you could cry out for help or struggle further, the man was abruptly thrown backward. he collided with the wall across the room with a violent thud, the impact reverberating through the space. the music abruptly stopped, plunging the club into a stunned silence as gasps spread through the crowd.

your heart raced, but as you watched the man slump against the wall, his head hanging limply, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you knew—had always known—that he was still there. the subtle, yet unmistakable, presence that had become so familiar to you was now unmistakable in the man’s sudden, forceful removal.

the crowd was a sea of shocked expressions, their murmurs rising in a crescendo of disbelief. you stood amidst them, your gaze locked on the spot where the man had fallen, feeling a profound sense of relief and, oddly enough, satisfaction. you could not see him, but his protective presence was unmistakable, the unspoken assurance that he was watching over you even now.

the night clung to you like a heavy blanket as you made your way home, the darkness of the streets mirroring the turmoil inside your heart. the taxi dropped you off at the curb, the hum of the engine fading into the background as you stood before your front door, fumbling with your keys. your hands trembled slightly, the chill of the midnight air seeping into your bones, and you struggled to fit the key into the lock. after what felt like an eternity, the lock finally clicked open, and you pushed the door open with a soft creak.

the house was enveloped in silence, your family long since retired to bed. the only sounds were the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the darkness and the quiet thud of your heels against the wooden floor as you hurried up the stairs. excitement surged through you as you reached your room. with a flick of the switch, the room was bathed in warm light, but your excitement quickly turned to crushing disappointment. the room was empty.

the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the breath leaving your lungs in a quiet, defeated sigh. you had hoped, prayed even, that he would be there, waiting for you as he always had been. but the room was devoid of that familiar presence, and the weight of his absence settled heavily on your chest.

you let the door swing shut behind you as you sank onto your bed, the soft mattress barely registering beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. the tears came unbidden, spilling down your cheeks in hot, silent streams as you whispered into the empty room, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for making you go away.”

the words broke the silence, and you felt the sobs rising within you, shaking your small frame as you struggled to keep them quiet. you pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. the pain was too much, too raw, and it poured out of you in ragged breaths as you continued, “i’m sorry for saying i didn’t need you. i do, i really do, jimin.”

the room remained still, the silence that followed your confession only deepening the ache in your chest. you felt like you were falling into an endless abyss, the darkness and loneliness closing in around you until it was almost suffocating. you cried harder, the tears blurring your vision as you clutched your knees to your chest, rocking slightly as you tried to find some semblance of comfort.

and then, just as the despair threatened to consume you entirely, a voice—familiar and tinged with amusement—cut through the silence. “you’re ruining your makeup.”

your head snapped up so fast you almost felt dizzy, your heart leaping into your throat as you searched the room with wide, tear-filled eyes. and there he was, standing by the window, the corners of his lips curled into that playful smile that made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t help yourself. you were off the bed and across the room in an instant, throwing yourself into his arms with such force that you nearly knocked him over. he let out a soft laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

“you must’ve really missed me,” he teased, his voice a gentle murmur against the top of your head. you nodded against him, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming relief that washed over you. “i’m so sorry,” you managed to choke out, the words coming out in a rush, desperate to make him understand. “i didn’t mean it, jimin. i didn’t mean any of it.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall. there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache, but his next words were laced with playful teasing, “i don’t know if i can forgive you,” he said, feigning hurt. your frown deepened as more tears pooled in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling as you whispered, “i’m sorry, i’ll do anything, jimin. anything.”

he peered at you from the corner of his eye, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he pretended to think it over. “anything?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes watching you intently. you nodded without hesitation, willing to do whatever it took to make things right between you.

a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he pointed to his cheek. “give me a kiss.”

you didn’t hesitate. you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way that nothing else could. but before you could pull back, he turned his head, and your lips met his in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. he smiled into the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile too, the weight of your earlier sadness lifting as you melted into him. the kiss was soft and sweet, a silent promise that you had been forgiven. but there was an underlying intensity that made your heart race, a sense of longing that neither of you could ignore.

when you finally broke the kiss, you looked up at him, your eyes searching his as you whispered, “don’t go anywhere ever again.” his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he replied, “i won’t, i promise.”

the words were barely out of his mouth before his lips were on yours again, this time more urgent, more demanding. you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the kiss deepening until you were both breathless. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him as the intensity of the moment grew. the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a world of your own creation, where nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against yours, and the unspoken connection that bound you together.

breathy gasps filled the air as the kiss became more intense, more desperate. his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer as the world around you continued to disappear. on that moment, nothing else mattered—no doubts, no fears, no regrets. there was only him, only you, and the undeniable pull between you that refused to be denied.

his fingertips trailed down your sides, reaching the hem of your shirt, and with one smooth motion, he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside to expose your braless tits. your nipples pebbled at the sudden coolness of the air, and jimin’s eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. “so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

you reached for the button of his pants, fumbling with the zipper as you felt his hands move to the back of your neck, tracing the skin with his nails, his eyes feasting on your naked tits. his gaze was hungry, and it made you feel powerful, desired. without breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself to your knees, your heart racing as you took his hardening cock into your hand.

his breath hitched as you leaned in, your hot breath ghosting over the tip before you took him into your mouth. jimin’s hands found your hair, his grip tightening as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around him, exploring every inch of his length. you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him and making his knees tremble. his moans grew more intense, his words a mix of praise and demand as he guided your head, pushing deeper into your mouth.

his eyes never left yours as he watched you, the way your cheeks hollowed out, the way your tongue danced around him. “so good to me,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure. “but i know what you really want, don’t i?” you pulled back, panting, and nodded. you knew exactly what he wanted. without another word, you stood up, and together you moved to the bed, his hand never leaving the small of your back, guiding you, claiming you. your heart raced as you felt the mattress dip beneath you, his weight pressing you into the softness.

his hands were everywhere, exploring your body as if it was the first time, because it was. every touch felt new, every kiss a revelation. he pulled your panties down, his eyes never leaving yours as he exposed your vulnerable pussy to him. your cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and nerves. he leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever have you like this.”

his mouth found your clit, and you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to lick and suck. the sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but buck your hips against his face, desperate for more. he chuckled against you, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “you’re so eager,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “it’s almost obvious you're a virgin.”

you moaned in response, unable to form a coherent argument as he worked his magic. your body tensed, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable, and then with one slick thumb sliding into your ass, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the waves of pleasure, feeling him licking up every drop of your arousal as your pussy spasmed around his thumb.

when you finally opened your eyes, jimin was hovering over you, his own pants and boxers a discarded mess on the floor. the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, and he smirked down at you, his eyes full of mischief. “came for me just like that, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. you nodded, unable to form words, and he pushed inside you with a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. you were tight around him, your body untouched by anyone else, and he took his time, savoring every inch as he filled you completely.

his hips began to move, slow and deliberate, and you could feel him stretching you, filling you in a way that was both painful and exquisite. he leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss as he whispered, “i’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, you know that?” you didn’t care about the pain. you only cared about the way he felt inside of you, about the way his kiss made you feel alive. you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing more of him as he broke through your barrier with a gentle but firm thrust. a gasp tore from your throat, but it was quickly followed by a moan as pleasure began to overtake the initial discomfort.

jimin’s eyes never left yours as he began to move in earnest, his hips sliding in and out of you with an ease that belied the tightness of your grip on him. you could feel your body adjusting to him, stretching and clinging to him like a second skin. the filth that left his mouth grew more intense, his words a filthy litany that had you squirming and whimpering beneath him. “fuck, i love you. only mine, no one else's.” he growled, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

your orgasm built again, more intense than the first. your pussy was slick with arousal, and with every thrust, he hit that perfect spot deep inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch. he was relentless, his mouth moving from your lips to your neck, nipping and sucking as he claimed you in every way possible. and then, just as the tension was about to snap, he slammed into you, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, and you were coming apart, your body shaking with the force of it.

you felt him swell inside of you, his cock pulsing as he reached his own climax, filling you with his warmth. he groaned your name against your neck, his entire body tensing as he emptied himself into you. the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a mix of pleasure and possession that had you clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

when it was over, you lay there, panting and trembling, your body still fluttering with the aftershocks of your orgasm. jimin kissed you softly, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “no one else will ever touch you like this, remember that.” you nodded, your voice a mere whisper as you promised, “only you, jimin. only ever you.” he pulled out, and you felt the sticky warmth of his cum trickling down your thighs.

he lay beside you, pulling you into his arms, your bodies entwined as the last of the adrenaline slowly drained away. your heart was still racing, but it was a good kind of scared, the kind that came from knowing you had just given yourself to someone who would protect you with every fiber of his being. you knew he was from the underworld, that he had come to protect you, and in that moment, you had never felt safer.

after a few moments of quiet, he smirked and broke the silence with a question that took you by surprise. “was that really your first time?” his voice was low, slightly teasing, but there was an edge of genuine curiosity there that made you raise an eyebrow. you scoffed lightly, still feeling the lingering warmth from the kiss. “yeah,” you replied with a hint of sarcasm, “my first time just happened to be with a demon from the underworld.” the words were meant to be a joke, but the moment they left your lips, you realized how bizarrely true they were.

jimin propped himself up on his elbows, feigning offense as he stared at you with mock indignation. “how could you be so cruel as to call me that?” he asked, his tone playful but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made you want to tease him further just to see where it would lead.

you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension from earlier easing into something lighter, more playful. “you’re right,” you conceded, your voice softening as you leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. the brief contact sent a familiar warmth through you, and when you pulled back, you locked eyes with him and continued, “you’re not a demon. you’re my savior.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. for a moment, you both stayed like that, the intensity of your earlier exchange lingering in the quiet space. his gaze softened, the teasing glint fading into something more serious as he studied your face, as if committing every detail to memory. he sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing a gentle path down your cheek before coming to rest under your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “your savior, huh?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something almost sad in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that you rarely saw from him.

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you held his gaze. “yeah,” you whispered back, your voice filled with a sincerity that left no room for doubt. “you’ve always been there for me, even when i didn’t want you to be. you saved me, jimin.” the admission hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you both. you saw the way his expression shifted, the playful mask he usually wore slipping away to reveal something raw and unguarded beneath it. his eyes darkened, the intensity in them making your breath catch in your throat.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with everything you had left unsaid. then, finally, jimin leaned in, closing the small distance between you as he captured your lips in a kiss that was softer, gentler than before. there was no urgency this time, no desperation—just the quiet, undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “i don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone again. you understand that, right?” you nodded, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name as you whispered back, “i understand.”

he smiled at that, a small, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “because i’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.” you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you let the warmth of his presence envelop you, the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand grounding you in the moment. and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace—like you had finally found the place where you belonged.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. eventually, he shifted, pulling you closer as he lay back down, his arms encircling you protectively. you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a sense of calm. as you lay there, your thoughts drifted back to everything that had happened—the confusion, the fear, the overwhelming sense of loss when you thought he was gone for good. but now, in his arms, all of that seemed to fade away, replaced by a certainty that you couldn’t quite explain but knew to be true.

jimin was your savior. and as long as he was by your side, you knew that you would be okay.

✧.*

a/n: this was so cute can't wait to go back to jackson wang cameos and angst

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