#i thought he would be useless rather than harmful. my mistake

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha���s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[shadebloopnik]

Some really messy sketches on a small little AU with Carmilla as a Fallen Angel Warrior.

Different from the Exorcists who slaughter Sinners, and more dedicated to the actual protection of Heaven against the darker forces. The designs haven't been thought out much, but I like drawing the horns, so I thought it'd be a cool warrior hairdo, like how Exorcists wore demonic masks (I was really bored in class okay-)

Her daughters, Odette and Clara are there too. They looked pretty different even as twins, which were a bit of an oddity at the time. They were often made to dress alike, and act alike. Most viewed them as a package deal rather than taking time to understand their individuality.

Its why they're dressed so freely in hell, relishing in how different they can be whilst still having a great bond.

Her daughters are ultimately what causes her to fall. Drawing the half horn half hair down style looked a lot cooler in my head, but it was fun regardless.

Some secret regarding her daughters get found out, Heaven making her choose to either cast her daughters down or join them. Carmilla didn't hesitate.

More info on the AU/fic in the cut belowww:

I dunno if im ever gonna expand on it, but I loved the idea of making it Zestmilla. Maybe Carmilla met the old Overlord in one of her trips in hell, maybe fighting in a battle there? Or helping establish order? Anyway, she was alone when she met Zestial, and the two were quiet the enemies when they met. They fought, though didn't aim to kill, resulting in a close fight with Carmilla as victor. She wasn't an Exorcist warrior, and saw no need to immediately end this Overlord. She wasn't sent there to do mindless murder, and would like to avoid useless battles if she could. Besides, he was polite enough, and though she didn't trust him, he didn't grate on her nerves either. Zestial was quite taken with her, suspicious and quite murderous towards an angel, but liked her well enough for her wit and level headedness. Her grace and skill in battle was also admirable.

They bump into each other many more times, over the course of Carmilla's visits to hell, and with each meeting, they turn a bit more cordial, even striking an unlikely friendship, that blossoms into much more. It takes them about a hundred or so years(bc i LOVE relationships that REAAAALLLY take the time to develop and build on that trust and love) before they become romantically involved. They seem like the couple who would take it slow, being cautious and not rushing anything less it would harm the other.

And though Carmilla's trips to hell were halted, their love was not for naught as she gave birth to Clara and Odette. Her one regret was not being able to give Zestial the great news, he would've been an amazing father.

She manages to hide their identities for a good while. The two had rather angelic features, wings and all, and humanoid forms unlike their father's. The only thing that pointed to their demonic heritage were their eyes, whose sclera was the same shade of red as her iris. It was easily hidden with simple spells though. The two girls bore quite the resemblance towards her, even with some oddities, and were left fairly alone, being able to remain undetected for decades.

(I just left this post to sketch this out real quick lol, just to get the coloring in mind, not set on the design but I dont mind it.)

The peace couldn't last. After a while with Odette and Clara still being considered young as angels, their secret gets out. Maybe the spells wore off, or by a slip of the tongue, but for some reason or another it gets found out that they're half demons. They were attacked, and the daughters were stripped of their wings and sentenced to be cast down to Hell, left at the mercy of the next Extermination. Carmilla was given a chance to redeem herself and stand back, and let her "mistakes" be washed clean.

Carmilla fought back, her wingless daughters clutching to her own feathers for protection. She scooped them up, flying away to hell, less they get any more damaged. Try as she might, however, they didn't manage to escape unscathed. She plummeted into Hell; feeling the curses and painful burn of magic at her back, nipping at her form.

It was as if Heaven and Hell itself tore her apart with her descent, both pulling with reckless abandon, shaping her into what they wanted.

She couldn't even afford to lose consciousness; she had her daughters to protect after all. Both girls were weak and bleeding, their backs aching from where their wings used to be. Carmilla glanced at her own feathers, and felt her heart break. It looked just as painful as it felt. Her once sleek and razor sharp looking feathers were nearly singed beyond repair. She retracted them, less she attract more enemies with them in display.

She struggled to get up, carrying her daughters with her despite the weakness in her legs. She didn't even have her spear with her, weaponless except for the ballet slippers she'd forged herself with angelic steel. Her hair was down and unruly, all three of them covered in burns and cuts and bruises and bleeding wounds. The attack came out of nowhere. Her daughters weren't even given a chance to defend themselves.

Weaponless. It can't happen again.

She manages to drag her daughters with her, only one place she could think of approaching. Its been decades since she's been to Hell, she hopes the territories didn't change too much. She was hesitant in going to Zestial for help. After all, its been years, and she'd left without being able to say goodbye. He'd be justified in hating her, and she wouldn't hold it against him. At the least, they could hide somewhere in his territory. His lands were one of the best choices, the demons residing under his rule were fairly disciplined. In a place as dangerous as Hell, an environment that was fairly familiar to her gave some bit of comfort. Even if he didn't accept them, even if he was unaware of their existence, Carmilla was satisfied with simply a place to rest.

She needed not worry though. As soon as Zestial heard the slightest news about strangers in his territory, he rushed to meet them himself. He noticed the large crash just some hours before night fell, and couldn't help the spark of hope. He was greeted by the sight of a few dead bodies, 1 or 2 who thought they could get lucky taking advantage of a weakened opponent. He arrived just in time to see a third fall, bloodied heels clicking on the ground below. The figure stood tall, though was clearly tired and heaving deep breaths. He barely noticed the two smaller figures in the distance, his gaze focused solely upon the lone woman, whose silver hair was still so beautiful even with all the dirt and blood matting it. He stepped closer, the sound of it causing the woman to turn and-

It didn't matter how dark it was. It didn't matter how her sclera was now the same shade of red as her iris were, as if it were inverted. He'd recognize her anywhere.

Without caring that he'd get stabbed himself, he rushed to pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her freeze beneath his arms. He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling it even with the blood and dirt, afraid as though she'd disappear if he ever let go.

He felt her large hands wrap around him and for the first time since his existence in Hell, he felt as if he could cry. This was real. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor a result of insanity. She was here. After all these years she came back to him. He couldn't be happier.

He immediately takes her and the two girls back to his residence, letting them clean up and helping patch their wounds. When he found out the two were his daughters, he felt as if- yea no, he was crying, this wasn't just a feeling, he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as he hugged the two as firmly as he could without aggravating their wounds. He felt so angry for them, enraged that heaven could deal out such punishments for something the girls couldn't control.

He took them all in, preparing rooms for everyone. He prepared one for Carmilla too, not wanting to push his luck. It has been years after all, and he didn't want to force himself onto her should she decide she didn't reciprocate anymore. In the end, they all slept in the same room. Carmilla wanted to be with Zestial, feeling safer with someone else in the room to stand guard, and her daughters crawled back to her, far too afraid to sleep in such a new place alone after everything that happened.

So they all snuggled in the same large bed, Zestial keeping a respectful distance from the young girls as to not frighten them, all the while letting his webbed cloak wrap around Carmilla in comfort.

Carmilla fell asleep last, her thoughts running wild. It was all so much, but right now, here with her daughters in her arms and under Zestial's embrace, she felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

Glancing at the mirror across the room, she hummed at the changes in her eyes. The only thing she could think of was how was that she finally matched her daughters. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, she'd think, drifting off into sleep.

[babyblu3s-dolly]

Brief character descriptions of the TADITEau

Summary: An AU involving the omori characters. Everything is going the same other than certain areas of religious trauma, mentioned SA, Self-harm, and abortion.

Basil: such a stupid, selfish little girl. She probably liked the way the priest kissed her, held her face, and screamed at her for doing anything wrong. She probably knew it was wrong. It was disgusting and look where it led her. She would rather forget about that time, but the blood of her mistakes is still on her hands even after she tried to erase everything she once was, everything that ever happened. She has so many regrets, but maybe this would never have come to be if she wasn’t such a useless little girl.  Aubrey: Aubrey used to be a happy girl, always full of nothing but positive thoughts and good actions. After the incident she changed so much, so much rage inside her. What a doubt now, no wonder her father left her. Nothing but a stupid druggie now, she’d do anything for another fix. Kel: Everybody loves Kel! He's such a kind boy, very caring. He even plays sports and is the kind to buy the losing team flowers. So much hides behind his smile. If only he didn’t keep things bottled up all the time maybe then he would be able to cry, to be vulnerable for once in his life.  Mari: Mari. A straight-A student. Always her father's favorite. Who couldn’t adore such a beautiful young woman, the type to hold her books over her tits and give everyone a big hug. She was an amazing older sister, I always thought she should have been a mother. She should have been my mother. 

Hero: Who could forget hero? Mari’s perfect Boyfriend. He was an amazing cook, always helping Mari plan picnics for the others. Such a shame that he ended up now, if only Mari never killed herself, they would have had such a bright future ahead of themselves. His mother would have been proud. Sunny: the timid boy, never spoke much. Basil always spoke for him. He often buried himself in the colorful world of colored pencils and crayons. He was a wonderful artist. He should have made a career out of it. Although he never was able to face the truth, haunted by his actions, and locked himself away thinking it was better if he never existed. Everyone saw it coming, it wasn’t a surprise when he succumbed to his mind. Kel took it the hardest. Maybe even Aubrey cared, just a little. Apollo: Reborn anew. He’s no longer the person he once was, buried that girl along with her name so far underground that maggots and bugs now lay over the once delicate basil. He pleaded to be let in, but god denied him access and he was pushed into a rabbit hole darker than his mind. A shell of who he once was, a doll, an evil one full of nothing but malice and greed. He could never be alone though so he dragged everyone down with him in this horrid hell that he now rules. Wallace: He never liked the name, But Apollo did. So he changed, tried to be like him until he lost sense of who he once was. Hair as dark as night, never bothered to cut it, the only thing he ever cut was the paper-like skin he possessed. He never should have gone through that, he was just a child. Even now he's a kid and will forever be bound by a red string to the person he despises most.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations. 

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat,  “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

                                                ***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

                                             ***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

[fucklestat]

How do you see Loustat working out in the future? Will it be an equally open relationship where jealousy and control are no longer a thing, cause it seems like whatever Louis has with Armand is at least kind of open at least in the 70s (maybe living longer as a vampire makes you realize you can't be stuck with one person always)? Or will Lestat still maintain he doesn't ever wanna share Louis?

my first thought is: what does working out even mean for loustat? these two are never going to be healthy or stable in any capacity, and part of the tragedy (for louis in particular) is that they still love each other despite that. but unhealthy and unstable are on a different level than abusive, and if the series becomes about louis remaining for perpetuity in an abusive relationship it would be too bleak for me (and, i suspect, most of the audience) to handle, even for a show as dark as this one. so from a writing perspective, i think louis needs to either ditch lestat for good or lestat needs to undergo some serious change. not necessarily "redemption" but changing so as to make their relationship some semblance of equal. i suspect that he'll come back from the dump significantly weaker than he was, which could reduce some of the power imbalance between them--although, of course, the imbalances between them are way deeper than physical. on that note, for me to get behind loustat getting back together in a way that's not intended to be horrific, lestat needs to realize that his abuse of louis wasn't just physical. like i think he feels genuine shame for assaulting and dropping louis, but 1) he never actually apologizes or meaningfully changes his behavior so whatever he feels is useless to anyone but himself and 2) he falsely sequesters the physical violence in his mind as a one-off mistake rather than acknowledging all the other ways he's harmed louis. his "death" could be the wake-up call that makes him realize the myriad of other ways he fucked up. and maybe he'll realize that if he wants louis in his life he has to learn to take at least one other person's needs and experiences into consideration. that could include actually committing to monogamy if that's what louis wants, or only opening their relationship under very specific pre-negotiated circumstances. whether or not he's actually capable of that... we'll see.

with louis and armand: there are still SO many open questions about their relationship, which i trust and hope season 2 will get into. like was louis actually planning to have sex with daniel before the interview came up, or was he just going to eat him? i lean toward the former but that's not confirmed. and yeah they had their sexy exhibitionist blood-drinking session in front of daniel in the present, but with how closed-off their lives are from the outside world i don't see their relationship as being open at that point. but maybe hopefully daniel will change that.

[notsoheadless]

Remember Longcat, Jane? I remember Longcat. Fuck the picture on this page, I want to talk about Longcat. Memes were simpler back then, in 2006. They stood for something. And that something was nothing. Memes just were. “Longcat is long.” An undeniably true, self-reflexive statement. Water is wet, fire is hot, Longcat is long. Memes were floating signifiers without signifieds, meaningful in their meaninglessness. Nobody made memes, they just arose through spontaneous generation; Athena being birthed, fully formed, from her own skull.     You could talk about them around the proverbial water cooler, taking comfort in their absurdity. “Hey, Johnston, have you seen the picture of that cat? They call it Longcat because it’s long!” “Ha ha, sounds like good fun, Stevenson! That reminds me, I need to show you this webpage I found the other day; it contains numerous animated dancing hamsters. It’s called — you’ll never believe this — hamsterdance!” And then Johnston and Stevenson went on to have a wonderful friendship based on the comfortable banality of self-evident digitized animals.     But then 2007 came, and along with it came I Can Has, and everything was forever ruined. It was hubris, Jane. We did it to ourselves. The minute we added written language beyond the reflexive, it all went to shit. Suddenly memes had an excess of information to be parsed. It wasn’t just a picture of a cat, perhaps with a simple description appended to it; now the cat spoke to us via a written caption on the picture itself. It referred to an item of food that existed in our world but not in the world of the meme, rupturing the boundary between the two. The cat wanted something. Which forced us to recognize that what it wanted was us, was our attention. WE are the cheezburger, Jane, and we always were. But by the time we realized this, it was too late. We were slaves to the very memes that we had created. We toiled to earn the privilege of being distracted by them. They fiddled while Rome burned, and we threw ourselves into the fire so that we might listen to the music. The memes had us. Or, rather, they could has us.     And it just got worse from there. Soon the cats had invisible bicycles and played keyboards. They gained complex identities, and so we hollowed out our own identities to accommodate them. We prayed to return to the simple days when we would admire a cat for its exceptional length alone, the days when the cat itself was the meme and not merely a vehicle for the complex memetic text. And the fact that this text was so sparse, informal, and broken ironically made it even more demanding. The intentional grammatical and syntactical flaws drew attention to themselves, making the meme even more about the captioning words and less about the pictures. Words, words, words. Wurds werds wordz. Stumbling through a crooked, dead-end hallway of a mangled clause describing a simple feline sentiment was a torture that we inflicted on ourselves daily. Let’s not forget where the word “caption” itself comes from: capio, Latin for both “I understand” and “I capture.” We thought that by captioning the memes, we were understanding them. Instead, our captions allowed them to capture us. The memes that had once been a cure for our cultural ills were now the illness itself.     It goes right back to the Phaedrus, really. Think about it. Back in the innocent days of 2006, we naïvely thought that the grapheme had subjugated the phoneme, that the belief in the primacy of the spoken word was an ancient and backwards folly on par with burning witches or practicing phrenology or thinking that Smash Mouth was good. Fucking Smash Mouth. But we were wrong. About the phoneme, I mean. Theuth came to us again, this time in the guise of a grinning grey cat. The cat hungered, and so did Theuth. He offered us an updated choice, and we greedily took it, oblivious to the consequences. To borrow the parlance of a contemporary meme, he baked us a pharmakon, and we eated it.     Pharmakon, φάρμακον, the Greek word that means both “poison” and “cure,” but, because of the

limitations of the English language, can only be translated one way or the other depending on the context and the translator’s whims. No possible translation can capture the full implications of a Greek text including this word. In the Phaedrus, writing is the pharmakon that the trickster god Theuth offers, the toxin and remedy in one. With writing, man will no longer forget; but he will also no longer think. A double-edged (s)word, if you will. But the new iteration of the pharmakon is the meme. Specifically, the post-I-Can-Has memescape of 2007 onward. And it was the language that did it, Jane. The addition of written language twisted the remedy into a poison, flipped the pharmakon on its invisible axis.     In retrospect, it was in front of our eyes all along. Meme. The noxious word was given to us by who else but those wily ancient Greeks themselves. μίμημα, or mīmēma. Defined as an imitation, a copy. The exact thing Plato warned us against in the Republic. Remember? The simulacrum that is two steps removed from the perfection of the original by the process of — note the root of the word — mimesis. The Platonic ideal of an object is the source: the father, the sun, the ghostly whole. The corporeal manifestation of the object is one step removed from perfection. The image of the object (be it in letters or in pigments) is two steps removed. The author is inferior to the craftsman is inferior to God.     Fuck, out of space. Okay, the illustration on page 46 is fucking useless; I’ll see you there. (21) But we’ll go farther than Plato. Longcat, a photograph, is a textbook example of a second-degree mimesis. (We might promote it to the third degree since the image on the internet is a digital copy of the original photograph of the physical cat which is itself a copy of Platonic ideal of a cat (the Godcat, if you will); but this line of thought doesn’t change anything in the argument.) The text-supplemented meme, on the other hand, the captioned cat, is at an infinite remove from the Godcat, the ultimate mimesis, copying the copy of itself eternally, the written language and the image echoing off each other, until it finally loops back around to the truth by virtue of being so far from it. It becomes its own truth, the fidelity of the eternal copy. It becomes a God.     Writing itself is the archetypical pharmakon and the archetypical copy, if you’ll come back with me to the Phaedrus (if we ever really left it). Speech is the real deal, Socrates says, with a smug little wink to his (written) dialogic buddy. Speech is alive, it can defend itself, it can adapt and change. Writing is its bastard son, the mimic, the dead, rigid simulacrum. Writing is a copy, a mīmēma, of truth in speech. To return to our analogous issue: the image of the cheezburger cat, the copy of the picture-copy-copy, is so much closer to the original Platonic ideal than the written language that accompanies it. (“Pharmakon” can also mean “paint.” Think about it, Jane. Just think about it.) The image is still fake, but it’s the caption on the cat that is the downfall of the republic, the real fakeness, which is both realer and faker than whatever original it is that it represents.    Men and gods abhor the lie, Plato says in sections 382 a and b of the Republic. οὐκ οἶσθα, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τό γε ὡς ἀληθῶς ψεῦδος, εἰ οἷόν τε τοῦτο εἰπεῖν, πάντες θεοί τε καὶ ἄνθρωποι μισοῦσιν; πῶς, ἔφη, λέγεις; οὕτως, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὅτι τῷ κυριωτάτῳ που ἑαυτῶν ψεύδεσθαι καὶ περὶ τὰ κυριώτατα οὐδεὶς ἑκὼν ἐθέλει, ἀλλὰ πάντων μάλιστα φοβεῖται ἐκεῖ αὐτὸ κεκτῆσθαι. “Don’t you know,” said I, “that the veritable lie, if the expression is permissible, is a thing that all gods and men abhor?” “What do you     mean?” he said. “This,” said I, “that falsehood in the most vital part of themselves, and about their most vital concerns, is something that no one willingly accepts, but it is there above all that everyone fears it.” Man’s worst fear is that he will hold existential falsehood within himself. And the verbal lies that he tells are a copy of this feared dishonesty in the soul.

Plato goes on to elaborate: “the falsehood in words is a copy of the affection in the soul, an after-rising image of it and not an altogether unmixed falsehood.” A copy of man’s false internal copy of truth. And what word does Plato use for “copy” in this sentence? That’s fucking right, μίμημα. Mīmēma. Mimesis. Meme. The new meme is a lie, manifested in (written) words, that reflects the lack of truth, the emptiness, within the very soul of a human. The meme is now not only an inferior copy, it is a deceptive copy.     But just wait, it gets better. Plato continues in the very next section of the Republic, 382 c. Sometimes, he says, the lie, the meme, is appropriate, even moral. It is not abhorrent to lie to your enemy, or to your friend in order to keep him from harm. “Does it [the lie] not then become useful to avert the evil—as a medicine?” You get one fucking guess for what Greek word is being translated as “medicine” in this passage. Ding ding motherfucking ding, you got it, φάρμακον, pharmakon. The μίμημα is a φάρμακον, the lie is a medicine/poison, the meme is a pharmakon.     But I’m sure that by now you’ve realized the (intentional) mistake in my argument that brought us to this point. I said earlier that the addition of written language to the meme flipped the pharmakon on its axis. But the pharmakon didn’t flip, it doesn’t have an axis. It was always both remedy and poison. The fact that this isn’t obvious to us from the very beginning of the discussion is the fault of, you guessed it, language. The initial lie (writing) clouds our vision and keeps us from realizing how false the second-order lie (the meme) is.     The very structure of the lying meme mirrors the structure of the written word that defines and corrupts it. Once you try to identify an “outside” in order to reveal the lie, the whole framework turns itself inside-out so that you can never escape it. The cat wants the cheezburger that exists outside the meme, but only through the meme do we become aware of the presumed existence of the cheezburger — we can’t point out the absurdity of the world of the meme without also indicting our own world. We can’t talk about language without language, we can’t meme without mimesis. Memes didn’t change between ‘06 and ‘07, it was us who changed. Or rather, our understanding of what we had always been changed. The lie became truth, the remedy became the poison, the outside became the inside. Which is to say that the truth became lie, the pharmakon was always the remedy and the poison, and the inside retreated further inside. It all came full circle. Because here’s the secret, Jane. Language ruined the meme, yes. But language itself had already been ruined. By that initial poisonous, lying copy. Writing.     The First Meme.     Language didn’t attack the meme in 2007 out of spite. It attacked it to get revenge.     Longcat is long. Language is language. Pharmakon is pharmakon. The phoneme topples the grapheme, witches ride through the night, our skulls hide secret messages on their surfaces, Smash Mouth is good after all. Hey now, you’re an all-star. Get your game on.     Go play.

[robininthelabyrinth]

I saw you mention this in one of your posts and this sounds like a swell idea! Something where JGY figures out that NHS is The Scary One before he touches a hair on NMJ’s head. :D

on ao3

When his father said that someone ought to get rid of Nie Mingjue, that he was in their way, that he would never stop, Jin Guangyao’s first thought was about the Song of Clarity that Lan Xichen was teaching him – and the Song of Turmoil, that he’d taught himself in one of his secret visits to the Lan sect library. He’d long ago noticed the similarities between the two tunes, one to help and the other to harm; it wasn’t similar enough to fool anyone skilled in music, of course, much less in musical cultivation, but Nie Mingjue rather infamously wasn’t.

His second thought was: let’s wait and see.

Perhaps it was only that it had been a very long day, and Jin Guangyao was tired, feeling unusually surly and dissatisfied. But it occurred to him that it wouldn’t do his father any harm to have to actually ask for something from him, rather than merely hint at it and have Jin Guangyao run to do it for him before he even finished the sentence – a rather unpleasant comparison had been made between Jin Guangyao and a poodle earlier that day, and he was still sore.

So yes.

Let’s wait and see.

-

Waiting was not, it seemed, paying off.

His father’s hinting had grown all the more intense, although he had not yet actually asked, and as for Nie Mingjue...

Nie Mingjue had promised to try to trust him again, Jin Guangyao thought to himself with a sigh, but most days it seemed that the only thing he trusted was that Jin Guangyao was up to something.

He scolded and he scowled and he questioned, always looking for loopholes and tricks hidden behind every word and gesture, never giving him the benefit of the doubt on a single thing. Jin Guangyao thought nostalgically back to the days when Nie Mingjue would simply present him with a problem that needed taking care of and tell him to deal with it as he saw fit, trusting not only in his competence in dealing with it but also in his judgment of how things ought to be resolved.

They said that trust was like a priceless porcelain vase: once shattered, it would never be whole again, even if it was repaired.

Jin Guangyao supposed that he deserved it for letting himself get caught like that.  An amateur’s mistake, but you only needed one of those to ruin everything.

But if it couldn’t be fixed…

He was just contemplating the Song of Turmoil again as he walked through the halls of the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang unexpectedly tackled him around the waist, making him Jin Guangyao stagger back and nearly fall – poor cultivator or no, Nie Huaisang had some heft to him, and plenty of muscle from years of running from his brother’s attempts to make him train.

“You have to help me, san-ge!” Nie Huaisang said, eyes wide and pathetic in such a patently unauthentic way that Jin Guangyao had an immediate stabbing feeling of empathy, an affliction he almost never suffered from. What a little scoundrel you are, he thought, not without fondness. “Da-ge’s on my case again. Scolding and scowling and trying to catch me in some sort of trick – and I would never play a trick on him, never - not in a million years -”

It occurred to Jin Guangyao that perhaps Nie Mingjue really did treat him as a younger brother, and it was only that he’d incorrectly assumed that he’d be treated as being somewhat more capable than the man’s actual younger brother.

Who was, he conceded, probably equally untrustworthy when it came to the likelihood of playing tricks on his too-earnest older brother, even if the tricks Nie Huaisang generally played were significantly lower in both quality and importance than his own…

“Huaisang! Where are you – ah, Meng Yao. What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asked, blinking at him. “Anything urgent?”

“Ah – no?” Jin Guangyao said. “I came to play for you, da-ge, you remember – er-ge said –”

“Right, of course,” Nie Mingjue said, in the tones of a man who had completely forgotten. “Could I borrow you for something else while you’re here? Perhaps Huaisang will learn better if it’s not just me.”

“Of course, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao said. It was always better to do someone a favor than the other way around, to better use it later, and Nie Mingjue almost never asked him for anything. “What are you trying to teach him?”

“How to run a sect,” Nie Mingjue said, lifting Nie Huaisang by the waist. “No, Huaisang,” he added when the younger man whined. “You do not get a choice.”

With that said, he lifted the younger man above his head – Nie Huaisang, as mentioned, was not light, but Nie Mingjue didn’t seem to notice – and walked back towards his office.

Jin Guangyao followed, torn between wondering if this was the reason that the ceilings in the Unclean Realm were all so high and being unable to keep himself from doing the math: Nie Huaisang weighed more than Jin Guangyao did, being both heavier and thicker around the middle, so if it was Jin Guangyao that Nie Mingjue was holding, it could be estimated that he could hold him up for at least an hour, and even longer if he was braced against something convenient such as a wall –

He shook his head to rid himself of the useless thoughts. He would need all his cunning about him if he was going to embark on the difficult mission of trying to get Nie Huaisang to actually learn something, especially something as boring as sect management.

Questions of assassination were, comparatively, much easier.

-

The problem, Jin Guangyao discovered, was not, as he’d suspected, in keeping Nie Huaisang’s attention.

It was in everything else.

“ – and the sect leader is now requesting assistance,” Nie Mingjue concluded his summary of the situation behind the letter that they had received, laying out both the actual content of the letter, the implications behind it, and the background necessary to make a decision so efficiently that Jin Guangyao lost his head for a moment and imagined what life would be like if he could hire Nie Mingjue as his deputy. His life would be so much easier. “How do you respond?”

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh. “That’s obvious!”

It was. The request was far more than this particular sect really deserved, given its past behavior (rather despicable) and the moderately high chance that they were simply trying to get the Nie sect to pay for benefits that would later go to themselves or, at best, the Jiang sect, but granting the request would not seriously damage the Nie sect’s coffers and would lay the groundwork for a better relationship in the future –

“We write a letter that heavily hints about what we know that the sect leader did in the past, expressing our concern and indicating that we received the information from the Jiang sect in a moment of indiscretion,” Nie Huaisang said happily. “He’ll be so distraught at the thought of potential blackmail from them that he’ll beg us for assistance, and we’ll be able to extract additional benefits before finally agreeing to –”

“No, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, even as Jin Guangyao boggled at the sheer wretched cleverness of the idea. It would work perfectly to isolate the other party through their own paranoia, leaving them feeling that they had no other way out but to throw themselves on the Nie sect’s mercy – there wasn’t a limit to what could be extracted that way. “If he’s so untrustworthy as all that, we don’t actually want him, do we? He’ll just betray us next time he can. No, we write to him the way we would anyone who wasn’t our dependent and lay out our terms, free and clear; if he wants better ones, he knows what to do.”

“People don’t have to be trustworthy to be useful, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whined, and the infantile tone of his voice very nearly disguised the fact that he was saying something incredibly insightful. Not at all something Jin Guangyao would have expected to come out of the mouth of one of the Nie sect, much less Nie Huaisang, the most useless of them all. “They don’t even have to know they’re being used to be useful! I can think of at least three ways we could use –”

“The answer is no. Besides, I thought you liked Sect Leader Jiang?”

“Yes, but he’s far too direct to be dealing with someone like this – think of it as us ridding him of a pest! We could –”

“Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang sighed.

-

“ – but if you would only consider what we could achieve with just a little bit of bribery –”

“Huaisang.”

“But it’s such a small amount! I could do it with my own pocket money!”

“Huaisang.”

“Ugh, fine, have it your way, we’ll just ask, I guess…”

-

“Oh, wow, that’s a tough one. Uh…murder?”

“Huaisang!”

“What?! It was a reasonable guess!”

“It was not a reasonable guess!”

“We wouldn’t let anyone know that we were the ones that – I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Huaisang. You’re making it worse.”

-

“I’m guessing the answer isn’t going to be blackmail?”

“That’s correct.”

“And not it’s bribery, either.”

“No.”

“Definitely not beating him up…”

“Huaisang, are you trying to get the answer by process of elimination?”

“It’s a valid strategy to figure out the answers to test questions!”

“This isn’t a test question, it’s real life!”

“No, it’s a test, because if it was real life, I could use blackmail.”

-

“…you know what,” Nie Huaisang said after a couple of moments of serious contemplation. “I actually have no idea what I’d do in that situation. San-ge? Can I have an assist?”

Jin Guangyao had managed, over the past shichen or so, to get ahold of himself. He shrugged apologetically. “I must admit that I’m at a loss myself. It seems like an especially tricky situation.”

The situation in question involved the crimes of an extremely well-connected individual, with interests from all over the cultivation world deep in his pockets; he would be a difficult man to cross. Moreover, he was well known for his perfidy, rendering blackmail useless, and well-off enough to make bribes pointless; mere intimidation was also out, given his connections – he’d already gone through a “trial”, if it could be described as such, and he’d only used it to cleanse himself. In such a situation, Jin Guangyao would probably hang back out of caution, seeking further information and hoping that an appropriate situation would appear that he could take advantage, but Nie Mingjue had specified that there was a time limit involved…

Nie Mingjue groaned. “You’re both overthinking it: for once, murder is the right answer.”

“Wait, it is?” Jin Guangyao asked, staring at him blankly. “I mean - what exactly do you mean, murder?”

“The man slaughtered children in broad daylight! The evidence is unquestionable and undeniable; he should be executed immediately.”

“But – his connections –”

“That’s why there’s a time limit,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes on both of them. “If you do it quickly enough, it gets attributed to the hair-trigger Nie temper going out of control and everyone treats it like a casualty in the face of a force of nature – the same way you’d shrug off the death of someone who got in the way of a hurricane or tsunami.”

“Oh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I see.”

Jin Guangyao envied him: he most certainly did not see. Since when was outright murder a possible weapon in the Nie sect’s diplomatic arsenal?

“Speaking of which, I’ve already delayed long enough, trying to teach you something,” Nie Mingjue added. “Huaisang, can you host Meng Yao for dinner? I’ll be back later this evening.”

“Of course, da-ge! Count on me!”

Nie Mingjue nodded at them both and strode out without another word.

“…where is he going?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“Presumably to go murder someone,” Nie Huaisang said, as if it were obvious, and then laughed, presumably at Jin Guangyao’s expression. “He always makes me practice with real questions, you know, though he does save them up if he can.”

“That wasn’t what I was surprised about,” Jin Guangyao admitted, because he’d already figured out – possibly for the first time – that Nie Huaisang almost certainly already knew what he was like under the smile. “It’s just…murder? Really? Da-ge?”

“Da-ge’s righteous, not kind,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “Leave questions of mercy to the Lan sect! Here we believe that showing excess mercy to evildoers is itself committing a harm to their victims…ah, well, let’s not talk about it, shall we? If we do, I’ll just get another headache from trying to figure out the line between what I’m allowed to do and what I’m not allowed to do.”

“You know perfectly well what you’re allowed to do,” Jin Guangyao said, deliberately keeping his voice light rather than accusing. “You just want your brother to be a bit more open-minded.”

“He won’t be.” Nie Huaisang’s voice was fond. “He’s willing to pull those sorts of tricks when he has to – our exculpated murderer is an excellent example – but he’s never going to understand why anyone would pull a nasty trick if they had another choice…it’s just the way he is.”

He laughed, taking out his fan – a new one, Jin Guangyao observed – and lightly nudged Jin Guangyao in the side even as he hid his smile behind it.

“It’s fine, though,” he said. “Isn’t that why he has people like us?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said, following Nie Huaisang to the dinner table, thoughts running through his mind. The Song of Turmoil – it would still work, more than likely, because Nie Mingjue would let him play it for him and him alone, and even Nie Huaisang needed clay to build bricks. But if he did it, and Nie Huaisang ever found out…

He thought that he might not like being Nie Huaisang’s opponent. 

He wasn’t sure which one of them would win and which would lose, of course, and he rather thought he’d bet on himself, but in all honesty he wouldn’t like to try. 

“In fact,” he said casually, “Huaisang, if you don’t mind, I have another situation that I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on.”

“Not another one,” Nie Huaisang whined, but his eyes narrowed in blatant curiosity. “But all right, all right, just one more. Only for you, san-ge, and only because I like you so much.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “I appreciate it. Now, for the situation: assume there are two sect leaders, and one of them wishes to eliminate the other through underhanded means…”

-

“Murder, I think,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “No – most definitely murder. There is no other path forward. The only question is, I suppose: how much do you want your father to suffer during the process?”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

It was so nice to work with people that understood.

[honeybrulee]

A Fatal Mistake

Requested by @tatakae1tatakae ! ♡ Hope you like it, lovely!

Levi Ackerman x Reader

"I thought I was keeping you safe by letting you go. Now I see that was a mistake."

Warnings: descriptions of injury, broken ribs

The wooden boards creaked beneath your boots as you made your way up to Levi's office. He had told you earlier that day to meet him there once your duties were over, although he'd refused to tell you why, expression indifferent and stoic.

While this was the emotion plastered on his face at any given point of the day, it had never been directed at you, only normally reserved for his interactions with snotty cadets and grouchy higher-ups. With you it was different. He'd reveal himself from the stoic mask he hid behind in public, offer you gentle smiles and tender eyes, saccharine whispers and the graceful sweeping of his lips against yours.

Something was off with Levi. You could read your boyfriend like a book no matter how hard he tried to keep his feelings to himself, and you had every intention of finding out what was troubling him.

Rapping your knuckles against the solid oak door, you waited for him to welcome you in. His voice carried through, permitting you into his office as though you were another soldier instead of a partner.

"Levi, everything okay?" you spoke softly as you closed the door behind you, not wanting to worsen the already abnormal mood he was in.

"Take a seat," was the most Levi seemed to be capable of offering you, voice stern. An order. The man did not look up from his paperwork, scratching away with his pen. Black tendrils of hair hung down, shielding you from seeing his face.

You did as he said, perching yourself in the seat facing his desk reserved for business conversations.

Crossing your hands in your lap you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he had called you here, and why he was acting so cold. Nothing. The only audible sound was the scratching of his pen as he still refused to look at you.

"Levi?" you called out hesitantly.

He sighed, tapping his pen against the desk before placing it back in its holder. When he finally looked up to meet your eyes his face bared no emotions, the man in front of you performing his identity of Captain Levi rather than your lover.

"This relationship is unprofessional. I've already allowed it to go on for too long. From now on we're back to a working relationship of a Captain and his subordinate. That clear, soldier?" his voice was harsh and cruel, as though every moment you'd cherished together, every night spent in each other's arms meant nothing.

You choked, breath catching in your throat. What? He couldn't be serious could he? Why now, why after everything? You felt your heart plummet into your stomach, a stiffness strangling your muscles.

"H-huh?" was all you could bring yourself to reply with, shock setting in.

"You heard me, solider. We're finished. Now get out of my office."

You felt dizzy, all the breath drained from your lungs, tears pricking at your eyes in a painful sting.

"Levi-" you whimpered, the pain of the man you loved more than life itself pushing you away like a fling wracking your body.

"I said, get OUT!" he yelled, hands slamming down on his desk.

You made your way to the door on shaky feet, tears spilling down your cheeks. As your hand grasped the handle you turned to look at him over your shoulder. He was still leaning with his hands planted firm against the desk, teeth gritted and brows furrowed. His knuckles paled to a sickly white from the pressure he was putting on them.

"Does everything we've been through really mean so little to you?" you choked out, voice quiet, almost barely there.

"You mean nothing to me," was his heart-wrenching response, one which you had feared hearing but needed to hear for yourself. "You were nothing but a distraction, a way to release my stress. Don't think too hard into it. Now go."

And as you left, closing the door behind you, Levi finally let his facade fall. He collapsed back into his chair, breath shaky. He rested his elbows on the desk, burrowing his face into his hands as tears burned his eyes. They leaked down to his chin as he couldn't help but think about how big of a lie everything he'd just told you was, how desperately he was in love with you and just how much living without you would torture him.

Levi had to remind himself why he was doing this. If you weren't attached to him you'd be out of harm's way. You'd have no need to throw yourself into the face of danger to protect him if there was no connection in the first place. You'd fend for yourself and your friends. Making himself an enemy was the best way to keep you safe.

But stars, the look on your face had wrenched his heart in two. The look of betrayal and pain in your eyes was similar to the one he'd seen when you'd lost a friend on an expedition, as though you'd witnessed the cruelest of deaths. Less than 24 hours before, he'd held you in his arms as you slept, fingers brushing sweeping patterns over your back. He'd pressed kisses to your warm skin, tangling his fingers between your own. You trusted him more than anybody else in this world and he'd done nothing but hurt you.

Levi never went back to his bed that night, the thought of it cold and empty making him nauseous. Instead, he resigned himself to weeping silently against the polished oak of his desk until the sun broke through the night sky and it was time to start a new day.

----------------------------

- The next day - a scouting expedition outside the walls -

-----------------------------

The rain fell thick and heavy, obscuring everybody's vision. The formation was completely broken, and flares were useless in such extreme conditions, the smoke trampled by the rain. You could hardly see your hand in front of your face, leaving you and your two fellow scouts, Armin and Jean, practically shoulder to shoulder on your horses.

"I can't see shit, where the hell are we even going?" Jean called out.

Armin, ever the smart one, replied "We should turn around, head back in the direction of the wall. Commander Erwin will likely be headed back there, there's no way the mission won't be called off in these conditions!"

"Back to the wall it is, then!" you shouted, tilting the reins of your horse to lead it to turn, your friends following suit.

You felt your heart clench in worry at the thought of Levi. No matter what he'd said to you the night before, you loved him desperately. Normally he'd keep you nearby in the formation, somewhere you could look out for eachother. This time he'd positioned you on the outer flank, as far away from him as possible. You hated, more than anything, not being able to make sure he was safe. Levi's reputation as humanity's strongest had often lead him headfirst into danger, and the thought of him risking his life needlessly in these conditions sent a shiver through your spine.

The three of you could barely tell where you were, hoping that if you continued to ride in the general direction of where you came from it would lead you back to the others.

Unfortunately, before you could get any closer, the familiar sound of titans breaking into a sprint rang through your ears.

"Shit!" Jean yelled, "there's gotta be about seven of 'em! The hell did they come from?"

"We should split up! If we're all in the same place we'll have them gunning for us!" Armin spoke next, and with a nod from both you and Jean you carried out his plan.

You turned right, leading some titans away from your friends.

"That's it, c'mon, follow me," you spoke to yourself, looking over your shoulder as three titans tailed you at full speed. When you'd let them far away enough from your friends for them to not turn around and go for them you stood up on your horse, gathering your blades in each hand.

The strong winds didn't do much for your ODM gear, the hooks being turned away from their target each time. At the most crucial moment, just when you were about to sink your hooks into the shoulder of the tallest titan to get up to its nape, a wild gust of wind blew over the planes, sending the wires and the hooks shooting in the complete wrong direction. One caught onto the thigh of a different titan, sending you flying in that direction helplessly. Before you could collide with the titan, a large meaty fist grasped you, squeezing tight.

The large titan had caught you, and it groaned as it lifted you up towards its mouth. You couldn't lift your arms to slash at its fingers, arms pinned to your sides with the tightness of its grip. Panic set in, and you screamed as the titan lowered you into its gaping mouth, placing you down. It began to tighten its jaw, clamping your ribs between its massive teeth.

Just before the titan could crush you, your eyes, wide with fear, caught the outline of someone flying past in ODM gear, heading straight to the nape of the titan. A slashing sound rang out, and the next thing you knew you were plumetting to the ground, having just barely escaped death. Before you could hit the dirt, your saviour swung past and clutched you in their arms, carrying you down safely.

You groaned in pain, ribs definitely broken. The person carrying you fell to their knees, cradling you to their chest.

"Y/N!"

Levi? There was no mistaking it. That was the same voice you'd heard countless times, whether it was whispering sweetly in your ear, lauging melodically at something stupid, sharing late night conversations under the stars, it was definitely him. Levi was the one who had swept in and saved you from death.

"Shit, are you alright?" he asked, voice raised in fear and worry.

"Y-yeah, m'okay. Think my ribs are broken though," you coughed then whimpered at the pain that sent through your chest.

"Shh, shh, I've got you, love. You're alright. I'm here," he cooed. Levi sighed, guilt gnawing at his heart. If he had just been there this never would have happened in the first place.

Levi brought his fingers to his lips, whistling to beckon his horse over. Yours had been caught up in the fight, kicked away by a flailing titan.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'm just gonna lift you up onto the saddle. I'll be as gentle as I can."

He gathered you into his arms, carefully settling you onto the back of his horse. You groaned at the movement, causing Levi to press a reassuring kiss to your cheek.

"I know. Almost there, angel."

When you were finally up on the horse, Levi slid up in front of you, leaving you to wrap your arms around his waist. With a kick the horse was racing back in the direction of the wall. You rested your head in the nook of Levi's neck, taking in his familiar smell for comfort.

Upon reaching the wall you vaguely heard Levi call out for a medic, the adrenaline finally wearing off.

You knew you had been injected with a sedative to make you sleep so that you could be transported to the medical centre when you felt a scratch against your neck. As you faded out, you felt Levi's hand grasping yours tightly, and it was enough.

------

When you eventually woke, Levi was sat by your side, brushing his fingers up and down your cheek.

"Levi?" you spoke, throat dry and scratchy.

"I'm here," he replied calmly, although the guilt ridden look on his face betrayed him.

"You don't have to be, Levi. You told me how you felt, I get it. You can go. Thank you for saving me."

Levi winced, brows furrowing. He moved his hand to cup your jaw, carefully tilting your chin to get you to look at him.

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault," he sighed. "I thought- I just thought that if I distanced you from me you'd be safe, that you'd be out of harm's way and wouldn't have to jump in to protect me. I thought I was keeping you safe by letting you go. Now I see that was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake, worst I've ever made. You nearly died and it's all because of my stubbornness. I love you, like I've never loved anybody else, and that scared me. Made me afraid that I'll lose you like I've lost everyone else important to me - because I knew that if I did lose you it would break me. But all I ended up doing was putting you in danger. I wasn't there to look after you and you could've died because of it. I don't expect you to forgive me, not after what I said to you, but please just know that I didn't mean a word of it. It was all lies I crafted to push you as far away from me as I could. I truly love you, Y/N."

You gasped, tears building up in your eyes.

"You really mean that?"

"Yes," he looked down in shame. "I'll never lie to you again. I see now that it will always do more harm than good."

You were silent for a moment, thinking over everything he'd said. So it had all been one big lie that he'd thought would keep you safe. While it was clearly stupid, you understood where he was coming from, and the thought of him caring for your safety so deeply made your heart tighten.

"I forgive you, Levi."

He looked up at you and gasped shallowly, eyes wide.

"W-what?"

"I understand why you did it. Dumb or not, you had the best intentions. I've loved you for so long, Levi, and I don't plan on stopping any time soon."

Levi found himself at a loss for words, staring down at the being beneath him in awe. You were so perfect. How could a man like him ever deserve someone like you.

"Levi?"

"Mm?"

"Kiss me."

He felt breathless, like someone had sucked the air straight from his lungs.

Without any more hesitation, Levi leaned down, tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips to yours. A tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek, shaky breaths puffing out his nose.

He was no longer scared of love.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Oh man I was scrambling trough tumblr tag and I saw this LB quote about Aleksander: "The Darkling is beautiful, I wanted to create a leader who was charismatic, appealing, a dictator you could imagine yourself following, an antagonist you couldn't just dismiss. [...] The Darkling is beautiful and broken and had a rough childhood, but he's also a brutal, manipulative monster with no regard for human life. He's dangerous because he's seductive, because he evokes sympathy.

…I just don’t even know when to start with this? Can she come off as anymore ignorant and offensive by trying to sound so woke. I mean “beautiful and broken”?! Are you kidding me?!

(Book Spoilers. Trigger Warning: Trauma and Mental Health)

Hmm well I'm not sure you could really sum it up as a 'rough childhood' more like a rough life filled with alot of trauma that has left him isolated and struggling to form human connections. Also I'm not sure I like the term monster for someone who is made the way they are through trauma and also the line about him having no regard for human life is just false he has lines he wont cross which is why he didn't harm the grisha children in book 3 and he was never going to because he values their lives. To be honest though I had some issues with the way LB dealt with trauma and mental health in the books. Not just with Aleks either but with Sergei too, actually I found the way she treated Sergei and his mental health in the last book rather appalling. Sergei is established as being severely traumatised by losing Marie to the point where he struggles to function properly. I think out of all the characters in the trilogy he's depicted as having the worst trauma, all the other characters have bad dreams and what not but Sergei really does find it debilitating and he struggles with day to day tasks like eating, sleeping and even just walking/travelling takes its toll on him. But Alina's attitude towards Sergei at times was troubling. To be clear though I'm not blaming the character for this as it was just the way she was written but she seems to consider Sergei weak and his mental health a hindrance. Here are some extracts from R&R the first is right after Sergei accidently revealed Genya's real name to Nikolai:

I shot to my feet. “What happened?”

“Sergei let her real name slip. He seems to be taking to heights about as well as he took to caves.” I released a growl of frustration. Genya had played a key role in the Darkling’s plot to depose the King. I’d tried to be patient with Sergei, but now he’d put her in danger and jeopardised our position with Nikolai.

Sergei was nowhere to be found. Probably a good thing, since I didn’t have time to give him the pummelling he deserved.

And like I understand that this must have been a frustrating situation but Alina knows that Sergei is struggling with his trauma and that he didn't mean to cause anyone any harm. I can understand her frustration but I really don't like the line about the 'pummelling he deserves'. I just don't like the suggestion that a person who is clearly suffering from a mental health issue deserves to be punished for making a mistake because of his trauma. Here's another instance where Alina is annoyed at Sergei:

Sergei had slowed us during our fight with the militia. He was unstable. I could apologise, offer useless words, but I didn’t know how to help him, and it didn’t change the fact that we were at war. Sergei had become a liability.

Again I get the frustration but again I have issues with the suggestion that because they are at war Sergei should just pull it together. Or even this image that's being painted that people who have mental health issues are just a burden on those around them. People in real life who suffer with similar mental health issues like depression and anxiety often worry about feeling like a burden to their loved ones so this could be really triggering for them. Then there is this from Baghra:

“We came to find you. What’s the matter with that boy?”

“He’s had a hard time of it,” I said, leading them away from the tank room.

“Who hasn’t?”

“He saw the girl he loved gutted by your son and held her while she died.”

“Suffering is cheap as clay and twice as common. What matters is what each man makes of it."

This one really troubled me because its like LB is saying that you can control your own trauma or decide how the trauma is going to effect you. It's again this suggestion that Sergei is weak because he struggled with his trauma more than others did. But the part that actually kind of disgusted me when I read it and I actually had to stop reading the book for a bit because of how much it upset me is how the characters talk about Sergei after his death. Alina had sent Sergei away because she felt he had become a liability and he then went back to the darkling and told them all the information he had on Alina and co. This move was obviously one born of his trauma and was made out of desperation. On several occasions Sergei has said he is struggling with feeling safe and no matter how hard he tries he never feels safe. Alina even tells us that Sergei had gone back to the darkling looking for reassurance and safety which really makes sense, this man grew up at the LP the one place where grisha could be safe, he grew up under the protection of the darkling. Then he chose to stand with Alina and went through the trauma and grief of losing the woman he loved horrifically in an attack against the LP which was his original safe place. He then never feels safe again so it would make sense for him to go back to what previously had made him feel safe, the LP and the Darkling. But this is what the other characters say about Sergei after he is killed by the darkling:

I sat beside him, unsure what to say. I remembered sitting like this with Sergei in the tank room, searching for words of comfort and failing. Had he been scheming then, manipulating me? His fear had certainly seemed real.

Abruptly, Zoya said, “I should have known Sergei couldn’t be trusted. He was always a weakling.”

Though that seemed unfair, I let it pass.

“Oncat never liked him,” Harshaw added.

Genya fed a branch to the fire. “Do you think he was planning it all along?”

“I’ve been wondering that,” I admitted. “I thought he’d be better once we got out of the White Cathedral and the tunnels, but he almost seemed worse, more anxious.”

Abruptly, Adrik snarled, “I’m glad Sergei’s dead. I’m just sorry I didn’t get to wring his neck myself.”

Steel is earned. Adrik had that steel, and so did Nadia. She’d proven it again in our flight from the Elbjen. A part of me had wondered what Tamar saw in her. But Nadia had been in some of the worst fighting at the Little Palace. She’d lost her best friend and the life she’d always known. Yet she hadn’t fallen apart like Sergei or chosen life underground like Maxim. Through all of it, she’d stayed steady.

And yes again I understand why they feel betrayed but they knew that Sergei was struggling and instead of understanding that Alina is accusing him of manipulating her and Zoya is saying he couldn't be trusted and that he was a weakling. To be honest it kind of reminds me of the way people talk about the darkling. Instead of recognising their trauma and trying to understand they jump straight to well they were a bad, untrustworthy person who was manipulating me.

Then there is the last part where Alina is thinking about how Adrik and Nadia are strong because although they faced trauma they were able to keep going and keep fighting but not Sergei, Sergei was crippled by his grief and his trauma and this means he was weak. Maybe its because I have struggled with crippling mental health issues myself where I couldn't even get out of bed let alone do anything else but I just found this implication that Sergei was weak really offensive to those who do struggle that way. People deal with trauma in different ways and whilst some people can fight through it and will just have a keep calm and carry on attitude others can't, others just fall apart, but that doesn't make them weak. I also don't think this 'just carry on and push through it' attitude towards mental health issues is necessarily a healthy message. If you need help then you should ask for it and be able to have access to it. LB could have used this as an opportunity to show a character who is severely traumatised getting support and help to work through his trauma and heal. But I feel like nobody really helped Sergei and any comfort or support he got seemed to be grudgingly given and there was more of an attitude of I'll try to help you because your issues are a hindrance to me than because any of the characters actually cared about him and wanted to help him.

Sergei and the Darkling were both characters that were 'beautiful and broken' but neither one of them was given the support or help they needed. Instead they were painted as either weak or as a monster. So what kind of message does this send to readers who also struggle with trauma and mental health conditions?

[yandere-daydreams]

half-spider half-human yandere with a darling who has arachnophobia

I think I’ve just been in a Yandere!Monster mood this week - I don’t know how else to explain what I’ve been posting, recently. Can you blame me, though? They’re so easy to run from, so easy to be afraid of… It’s only natural that they make good Yanderes.

Title: Arachnophobia.

TW: Spiders, Dehumanization, Mentions of Injury, and Mentions of Death. 

~

It’d always been the legs, for you.

You weren’t squeamish. If it hadn’t been for the legs, you wouldn’t mind spiders at all. The uncharacteristic fuzz that coated their bodies, those unblinking eyes that were too big and too small at the same time, their distorted proportions and awful fangs and general wrongness, you could take all of that, even if you didn’t care for it. Their legs were the only thing that got to you, the only thing that made you fear the tiny, harmless creatures beyond all reason. You weren’t blind, you knew there were much worse things to be scared of, and yet, nothing sent a chill up your spine like the thought of an insect no bigger than your thumb crawling up the back of your leg or finding its way into your hair, its steps so light and silent, you wouldn’t know its there, not until it’s already made its fangs at home under your skin. It’s irrational, or, it was irrational, at least. It used to be.

Ikto wasn’t harmless. You didn’t have to tell yourself not to be afraid of him.

If anything, you should be more afraid than you’ve ever been. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given you a reason to be.

You cried out as you collapsed, the noise somewhere between a defeated sigh and a desperate scream, too quiet to do you any good but too loud to go unnoticed in the stillness of the darkened forest. It’d been childish to go into the woods alone, it’d been stupid, and you’d known that when you came up with the idea. Still, you hadn’t thought it’d been stupid enough to get you killed. The legends told of a creature who spun web like rope, who could string up a group of hunters in translucent silk so quickly, they wouldn’t have time to notice they were being trapped, not before it was too late to get away. You weren’t a hunter, though, and you didn’t mean him any harm. You’d told yourself that a glimpse would be enough for you to overcome your fear, all you needed to do was look at him, and you’d never think twice about the spiders in your garden or the dark corners of your home again. But, you’d tripped, made a mistake, stepped on the wrong branch at the wrong time and earned a throbbing ankle and the attention of a monster for your efforts. It was so hard to navigate through cobwebs when you were running. It was so hard to navigate at all when you were crying.

And, as you collapsed to the dirt, weak sobs still racking over your chest as pain shot from your heel to your knee like hot trails of pure fire, you began to wish he’d just killed you when you interrupted his meal. That would’ve been kinder than letting you think you might’ve had a chance.

After a moment, you forced yourself to grit your teeth, moving to push yourself up, but it was already a moment too late. Without warning, without sound, something tapered and unyielding dug into the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you flat against the ground and giving you a minute to fight back, only pulling away then you failed to struggle against its strength. You already knew what it was, what it had to be, but you still found yourself holding back a gasp as you were unceremoniously dragged onto your back, clenching your eyes shut in an effort to delay the inevitable. It was an exercise in futility, but you didn’t open them again.

Not until something soft and familiar brushed against your cheek, and your entire body jerked up involuntarily. You had to fight not to scream, the awareness of just how dead you were making the pangs of your injury pale, in comparison.

If Ikto had any intention of making your slaughter swift, though, you couldn’t tell. He simply towered above you, watching with four pairs of eyes as you scrambled back, using what was less of your courage to put an arm’s length of distance between you and your hunter. You had to wonder why you’d ever thought you stood a chance against him. Standing, you would’ve only come to his waist, to the junction where his grey, thick flesh faded into a black exoskeleton, so sleek and so impenetrable, you knew the tiny dagger you’d brought for your protection would be useless before it was even in your hand. You could barely see his face, but you didn’t have to. Everything, from the mocking tilt of his head to the way his shoulders tensed and bounced upward in a stifled laugh, made his amusement clear. His tone did little to aid your blossoming humiliation, the heavy drawl only making you bow your head, your fear nearly overpowered by misplaced embarrassment. “I thought you’d be faster, human.”

You bit the side of your tongue, but you were speaking before you could stop yourself. More to quell your own nerves than to get on his. “I thought you’d be a better hunter, beast.”

That earned a breath of a chuckle, so airy and so dry, you might’ve missed it if he had anything to compete with. Unfortunately, no animals skittered from tree to tree to distract you, no birds sang to divert your attention. You couldn’t blame the woodland creatures for making themselves scarce. You’d avoid Ikto too, if you had a choice. “Awfully brave for someone who just stumbled into my web,” He started, bringing a hand - a human hand, thankfully - up to his chest, pouting in an exaggerated show of his offense. Despite his size, he moved soundlessly, stepping between dead leaves and over obstacles in a slow, seamless circle around you as he continued. Evaluating you, only speaking to keep himself entertained. “I was having such a nice night, too. No heroes come to slay me, no champions shouting to face me to prove their worth, no interruptions. Just me and my prey.” This time, you got a sigh. A shake of his head. A step too close, a spindly leg coming just a breath too near, leaving you shaking and digging your nails into the dirt, trembling as he looked on. “And then you came along and ruined it.”

“I’m lost.” The lie was spat hastily, forced out too quickly to be believable. This time, when he edged closer, you brought your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself defensively. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t want to be here, I’m just… I can’t find my way home. I don’t know what to do. If you let me go--”

“If I let you go, you’ll get stuck in one of my webs and I’ll find you weeks later, starved and dehydrated and begging for my help.” He paused, pursing his lips, settling in front of you. When he crouched, his knees bending into jagged points and his arachnid stomach nearly brushing against the ground, you went tense, but you didn’t dare to move. You didn’t dare to look at him. You didn’t dare to think, not when it felt like he was prying into your mind a little more with every second he spent staring you down. “It might be nice. I’ve never heard someone plead for my help rather than my mercy. I try not to play with my food, but I wasn’t expecting something so small and so tempting to stumble into my territory. Certainly not something with the nerve to expect me to believe such a boring excuse.” A growl seemed to edge its way into his voice, absent of the primal reverberation it should’ve contained, full of something manufactured, painfully learned. You might’ve felt sorry for him, if he hadn’t been close enough for you to see the dozens of harsh, pointed teeth that prevented him from bridging the gap. “Are you that eager to get this over with, human? Do you want to die?”

You didn’t hesitate, shaking your head furiously as his smile returned. Unconsciously, your fingers twitched, ready to search the satchel strapped to your side for any weapon you could find, but in the blink of an eye, the burlap sack was speared through, flicked to the side with little more than a tear of fabric and the rattle of its content. “Please, I didn’t mean to--”

“I’ll compromise.” Again, he cut you off, standing to his full height, taking your wrist as he did so and dragging you to your feet, his grip not loosening when you winced, attempting to favor the foot that wasn’t trying to detach itself from your body. “I won’t kill you. I’ll take you back to my den, make sure you’re attended to, but you have to come with me willingly. Say you’ll behave, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to limp your way into the loving jaws of the nearest wolf.”

You didn’t respond, but you flinched, and that was enough of an answer for Ikto. With a sharp, sudden pull, you were off of your feet entirely, dragged against him and held there with one arm, his free hand pressing against the back of your head, encouraging you to lean into him, to be affectionate. You wanted to push yourself away, to tell him you didn’t need his pity, that you’d rather take your chances with the most rabid of dogs than with try your luck with him, but your ankle pulsed and your body ached and you needed his help more than you wanted not to. And when Ikto began to walk, when you caught a glimpse of a long, inhumane leg moving easily over the uneven terrain, you weren’t sure if you could even move.

You weren’t sure if running was an option, not if he’d be the one chasing you.

“It gets lonely, occasionally,” He admitted, his voice so soft, you almost didn’t hear him. You almost wished you hadn’t been listening, by the time he thought to go on.

“And I’ve always liked the idea of keeping a pet.”

[deaththesyd]

To The Brink Of Confession: Chapter 3, Trapped

Finally done! I think I got a little carried away with the length, but I just couldn't stop writing! Hope y'all enjoy the final chapter! Also, per request @mytanuki-kun

Summary: Trapped in her domain, taking on what was left to fester.

The day he had been dreading finally arrived, and he was forced back into her proximity with no place to hide. He still tried though, but when that didn’t work and she approached him, signaling him out of the group, there was simply no way to excuse himself without merely delaying the inevitable. He had been acting a coward, but was he really willing to risk running away? Causing a scene in front of his fellow Akatsuki members? He looked away from her only to meet the daring eyes of his partner, Itachi, who surely knew that he had been contemplating an excuse that would keep the wrath he could feel rolling off her in waves from unleashing upon him. Another moment of weakness and he turned away, and was caught off guard by the side glance he received from Hidan of all people. Kisame was trapped, and the woman in front of him was growing impatient with his lack of a timely response. He had no choice but to face the consequences of his actions.

Following her nervously to her room, he was both thankful to be out of the spotlight and wished to be as far away from her as possible. Staying away from her had felt like hell, yet stepping into her room and watching as she furiously slammed the door closed, he felt as though he had found a fate much worse. Wanting to look away, save himself the torment of watching her, but still yearning to take any scrap of attention she could give won out easily. Running a frantic hand through her hair, she was unable to stand still, her normal fidgeting increased under the stress of her emotions, she began to pace in front of him, quietly fuming and gathering her thoughts. The moment of silence didn’t last long enough in his opinion. “What the hell is up with you?” She spoke loudly, obviously not expecting a response. “At first, I just thought maybe you needed space, that you were tired or something! But then a month goes by and you’re ‘busy’ on a mission! What a load of bull!”

Kisame remembered when he had requested that she be placed with another pair while he and Itachi traveled, the excuse had seemed reasonable enough. It seemed as though she hadn’t bought it.

“And now that you’re here, you’re absolutely silent! Nothing to say?” She growled, the accusation sounded more like she was daring him to say anything, rather than an opportunity to give an explanation. “Of course you don’t, just like you haven’t for the past few months!” The pent-up anger was unleashed, and all he could do was stand awkwardly, gritting his teeth and wishing he wasn’t the one who caused all of this to happen in the first place. Even when she was venting her anger at him, pacing back and forth frantically, she was the one who made his heart ache with longing. “I thought we were friends! I thou-”

“We were!” He broke in, but he realized his mistake when she paused in her movements and turned to look at him helplessly before her anger masked the pain.

“Were?” She shrieked, “What the he-”

“Are! I meant are!” He cut her off to correct his mistake,” God, Woman, obviously, I didn’t-”

“Guess I’m just an irrational woman then,” she hissed, cutting him off in return.

Glaring down at her, his frustration was met with a fiery challenge that came from her own gaze.

But she turned away first, most likely to hide the tears that had collected along her waterline. He was glad she had turned away at that moment because seeing her cry because of him twisted his expression in a way he couldn’t hide. When she spoke again, if he hadn't seen her tears before, he would have known she was crying by the slight waver in her voice. “If we’re friends, why have you been avoiding me?” It sounded like she was trying to sound angry, but all he could hear was her defeated tone and the way she struggled to steady her voice.

“I haven’t, I was busy with a mission,” he tried to dig into the lie, but he already knew it was a lost cause.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She muttered, still cowering away, still trying to hide the tears that blurred her vision.

She wasn’t, he knew that, yet he kept his mouth shut.

“Am I just annoying?” She tried, pausing a breath to wait for a response, when he still didn’t say anything she continued, “Am I too emotional? Too hard to put up with, too needy? I’m not fun enough, or maybe I’m too loud, quiet? Am I too soft? So weak you can’t stand to be around me anymore?” Her emotion-filled voice rose with every new insecurity she listed and it didn’t seem like she was going to stop anytime soon. “You always have to take care of me, I’m sure it gets old, right? Spending your earnings on extra food, clothes, and supplies. Needing to break so often because a useless civilian like me can't keep walking day and night on a mission like a super-strong ninja like you. Giving up your own comfort so that I’m warm, throwing yourself in front of harm's way because I wouldn’t be able to survive even the wimpiest jutsu, wasting your energy on reassuring me that things are fine even when you’re fighting, it’s all too much and it’s all my fault.” Somewhere along the line, it seemed as though she wasn’t mad at him anymore, and the guilt hit full force when she turned to blaming herself.

“That’s not it,” he managed to say through gritted teeth, and she finally looked at him, angry tears running down her face. He could hear the scraping in his mouth from the amount of pressure he applied as he used all his strength to keep his face guarded and impassive.

“Then what is it about me that made you leave!?” She yelled, and he didn’t think about the words that came out in response.

“I can’t have you!” He yelled back, and suddenly the electric air that had crackled around them since the yelling had begun was no longer present. What had her tears dragged from him?

Raising his voice at her had been his last intention, right next to confessing his feelings, and he regretted it as she stepped back and pressed back against the door looking up at him in shocked bewilderment. The mix of her eyes on him, and his embarrassment at his loss of control made him feel like a pit opened in his stomach, and heat rushed up his neck as if to choke him. Right at that moment, he wished it would. Scaring her away wasn’t what he planned on doing, but for a second he feared that was what he had done. The initial shock wore off quickly though, and against the backdrop of tear tracks still fresh and glistening, her eyes became determined.

Pushing off from her spot against the door she took only a small step forward, but he stepped away, fearing what the look in her eyes meant. His whole life he had been a predator, but caught in her gaze he felt unsure if he was really the one to fear. Again she moved closer, and in response, he did the opposite. “What do you mean by that?” She asked quietly, once again closing the distance, and pushing him further away. “What do you mean you ‘can’t have me’?” She pressed, voice firm, her tone no longer angry. He wanted her to go back to being angry, that was better than the shame he felt now. He felt cornered, and when he ran out of space for retreat, the backs of his knees bent, forcing him to sit on her bed. Even with him sitting, she was just barely taller than him, yet he felt so small as she seemed to leer over him, blocking his exit. “Kisame,” she urged expectantly, “Tell me.”

He couldn’t break eye contact, not under this pressure, and the red puffy skin around her eyes was what made him give in. He had already said the worst thing possible, there was nothing else he could add to make her more disgusted. But was she really that disgusted if she could stand to be so close? The tiniest bit of hope managed to worm itself into his thoughts, and he couldn’t squash it when she looked at him so patiently. A lump had formed in his throat without him noticing and he gulped it down before he answered. “I can’t-” he started, then rethought, “I mean-” he struggled, not knowing how to tell her she was an unobtainable beauty for a murderous monster like him, that he was a subhuman beast that couldn’t ever hope to have her held in his arms, that she was meant for someone that was normal, and better looking, that he had spent the entirety of his life knowing that he was unlovable and that he was stupid enough to fall for her anyway. There were so many words that could have worked, but he couldn’t string together a complete sentence under the stifling atmosphere. The smallest part of him hoped she would give up on getting him to say anything, that she would give him some pity, but the rest of him felt this moment was a worthy punishment for the stupid desire he still had to hold her heart as she already did his.

So focussed on his sputtering attempts at supplying an answer, he jolted when her hand cupped his cheek, and he froze when she gently brushed her thumb along a gill slit. His eyes probably bugged out of his head in disbelief, but her own was glossed over in pensive thought. He didn’t dare move, and his head should have been spinning with thoughts, but instead, it was blank, nothing but the gentle warmth of her touching his face seemed to register. She spoke slowly, not meeting his questioning eyes, her thumb still rubbing back and forth along his cheek, “This was all because…” She focussed on him again, and he had no clue how he hadn’t seen the tears starting once again, “You have feelings for me?” Absolutely dumbfounded, he couldn’t speak, focussed on her teary gaze, he simply nodded. And then he was knocked backward.

It happened so fast, it took him a moment to process it all. The first thing he felt was the wet that seeped through his shirt, followed by the warmth of the sobbing woman shoving herself into him, fisting fabric as she buried her sobs into his chest. Another moment of half laying on her bed with her sprawled on top of him and he felt his arms wrap around her, gently, unsure if he should, if he was allowed, but she didn’t protest, and he felt too greedy to restrain himself. They lay there for what seemed like forever, but he still couldn’t find any words that were worth saying, and she was preoccupied with drenching his shirt. What possessed him, he had no clue, but one arm slid up her back and a hand began to comb through her hair carefully. She didn’t protest, and he momentarily noted that it was the only time she hadn’t when he touched her hair. It was soft, the tangles that caught on his fingers pulled apart without resistance, and if he focused, he could faintly smell the scent of her shampoo. It was nice, the sweet fragrance fit her. He felt creepy sniffing her hair like an animal, so he turned his head away from the tempting smell. The longer he played with her hair, the more her crying died down, until she stopped. The silence continued, only broken by her deep breaths as she tried to regain some composure. His hand still resting on her back began to rub firm circles in a way that felt natural. Once again, she either didn’t mind, or she simply lacked the energy to stop him, but once he started he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Especially not when the grip on his shirt lessened and she relaxed her tense muscles.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered, and it hurt, but it felt right to finally hear her rejection. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop his greedy hands from taking what they could. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t have you’?” She laughed humorlessly, and he was confused, didn’t she know? Ripping his hands away the moment they were met with resistance, he looked at her as she pressed up from her position on his chest. “You already have me,” she said, her voice gentle and reassuring, as she moved to hover over him, repositioning herself, before lowering herself to press her lips to his. Kisame had been kissed before, he wasn’t completely inexperienced, but the soft press of her lips to his was enough to make him forget to respond, and by the time he caught up with what had happened, they were gone. Caught off guard once again, he hadn’t closed his eyes, and he saw her eyes flutter open as she put space between them again, shifting her weight to tuck her hair behind her ear as she leaned over him, stunning him with the affection clear in her adoring gaze. “You’ve had me this whole time.”

It felt so unreal, all of his actions couldn’t have been his, yet who else’s could they have been? Greedy hands pulled her down, needy mouth pressed against hers, eliciting sighs that he wasn’t ready to accept were caused by him, running his hand through her silky locks again, taking advantage of the high chance that this would never happen again. But it did, they had to come up for air, but almost immediately she was panting against his lips, trying to force her tongue in between his sharp teeth, and how could he deny her? One of her hands tugged on his hair, while the other was too busy supporting her to join, an issue he fixed by pulling her into the center of his chest. Her technique was rusty, but the longer their kiss held, the more easily she could pull groans from him, her now free hand cupping his jaw for a better angle. What brought him back into reality was the heat that was beginning to gather in his groin, and he wasn’t about to push his luck. Holding her back caused her to whine, but she instead shifted her attention to his neck, peppering it with fluttery kisses, they tickled and he felt her shake as a laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” He asked, making her huff as she halted her affections to prop herself up on his chest to glare at him sternly.

“That can wait, first you have to deal with the consequences of your actions,” she instructed.

“And what might those be?” He asked, feeling uneasy at the threat in her words. She may return his feelings, but up to now, he had acted so unforgivably.

The evil smirk she attempted to pull off held only a fraction of a second before it softened and she pressed a gentle peck on his forehead, and another just above his brow, then along the side of his face, lips fluttering down till they met the corner of his own. “You just have to stay here while I smother you in my kisses,” she said before she began the cycle of kisses again along the other half of his face. A disbelieving breath of laughter left his gasping lips, it didn’t feel real at all, even as her lips trailed down to his collar and began to leave sloppy open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin, he had to be dreaming. His breath hitched as she found a sweet spot and she applied suction, swirling her tongue along what was sure to be a bruised purple later. The distraction that her promise had given him ended as her ministrations caused him to be reminded of a quickly rising issue.

Turning his head away from her he managed to sputter out a plea for her to stop. Reluctantly, she did, looking confusedly at him. “Too much?” She asked, trying to get him to meet her eyes, then more worriedly, “Was that not okay?”

Trying to reign in his breathing and slow his racing heart rate was taking more effort than it should’ve, but he forced himself to look at her, simultaneously appreciating the beauty that hovered above him, and cursing himself for making her think he didn’t want everything she could give. “Too much,” he confirmed, making her relax a tad bit, “It’s just a lot to handle all at once.” Giving him an understanding look she pressed off of him, moving to sit on the bed next to him. Feeling as though that was her taking his words as a cue to leave, he frantically sat up as well, ready to reach for her should she get up from the bed, but his fear of rejection was unfounded as she placed a calming hand just above his knee. Her warm touch grounded him and he forced himself to calm down. Funny as it was, the space she gave allowed him time to process what had happened without the near suffocating amount of feelings being fed into. Probably feeling similarly, she sighed in content, keeping her space, staying mostly quiet, but she never took her hand away from him as he took advantage of the pause in activity to think.

Now knowing his choice to try and save himself from the pain of being around her was one of the least helpful ways to handle his emotions, and that all along she had craved him in the same way, he felt like the biggest fool. Of course, he had noticed some of the more odd things she did around him, like how she seemed to be flustered by his touch, but he had always taken that as her disguising her disgust, not that the addictive warmth that lingered made her just as excited as him. The laugh he worked so hard to hear, the one that ripped snorts and unfeminine seal noises from her, the one that seemed to infect him with an unstoppable need to laugh as well, was music to his ears as his rough throaty chuckles were to hers. All the times he had caught her staring, it wasn’t because she had simply spaced out, nor was it because she was appreciating someone else’s looks, she had been admiring him. The anger and worry he gave her when he took a risk in battle were more than her fretting over him more because she thought he wasn’t strong enough, she chastised him because she couldn’t stand to see him get hurt while protecting her. Within only a few moments of collecting his thoughts and putting things together, it was so obvious now how his self-doubt had clouded his ability to see what was clear as day to everyone around him. She really had been transparent about her feelings this entire time, and he had simply waved them away, trapped in his self-pity.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Whipping her head to look at him, taken aback, she must not have understood what he was apologizing for. He didn’t let her worry a second longer, as he gently held her chin and lifted her lips to meet him for a soft kiss. It wasn’t long, only a few seconds, but this one eased her more than any of the ones before. Pulling away, he was gifted the sight of her eyelids slowly opening, revealing expectant eyes. Kisame hoped that was a common thing he was going to be able to see from now on. “I shouldn’t have run away from you like that, I was just…” He trailed off as he strained to admit the word he knew was right. Shifting closer, her other hand reached for the closest of his, encouraging him to continue. No matter what he said, she wasn’t going anywhere. Still ashamed, he finished, “A coward. Being around you always felt so bittersweet, it felt so good when you laughed at my jokes and fed into my antics, but knowing that I wasn’t worth anything more than someone to pass the time with to you was torture.”

Stupid as he felt confessing to her, she didn’t laugh, just leaned her head into his shoulder, squeezing affectionately his leg. He continued, needing to let her know why he had ever allowed himself to hurt her. “I’ve spent my life being nothing more than a monstrous weapon, even in a group like the Akatsuki, my appearance still stands out, and not in a good way.” Feeling her nuzzle into his arm, her way of showing her disagreement, he felt nothing but warm affection for her, thankful she was a rare outlier from the rest of the world. “Allowing myself to consider that I had a chance with someone as amazing as you hurt more every time I remembered just how much of a freak I am,” he chuckled when he heard her whine in response, but she didn’t interrupt further. “Eventually everything you did just made me upset that you couldn’t feel the same way, and I made up my mind to distance myself.” Getting his built-up feelings off his chest felt rather therapeutic. Having her pressed against him, entwining their hands made all of his pent-up worries ebb away.

“Promise that from now on you’ll talk to me instead of leaving me stressed and confused?” She pleaded when he stayed silent.

Leaning down to indulgently breathe in her scent as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, he promised.

Staying like that for a while, they simply took in everything that had happened in the quiet. At least that was what he was doing until she started giggling to herself. “What’s so funny?” He spoke into her hair, vibrating along with her cute laughter.

“Is that why you were so insistent that I stopped?” She said through her soft laughing. Startled, he pulled away and looked down at his lap, seeing the almost forgotten product of his earlier arousal outlined clearer than normal. Distracted by all the emotional stuff he hadn’t realized how obvious his need had become. Heat washed over his entire body in embarrassment as he sputtered an apology. Still giggling the whole time, his mortification only made her laugh harder. Despite his efforts to escape her hold, she pressed herself close once again, choking out apologies of her own. “It’s alright, I’m probably a mess down there too,” she admitted, making him choke on air, causing her to laugh even harder. The deepening blush that took over his face began to make him sweat, but he tried to relax. Clearly, she wasn’t upset. Recovering from her little giggling fit, she looked up at him shyly smiling. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, so I’m glad you stopped me,” she expressed, but with more confidence, she added, “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually.”

Just when he thought his body temperature couldn’t be raised further. He chuckled though, “I wouldn’t mind if you never were, as long as I can hold you,” he swore sincerely, making her snort, “But I look forward to the day when you’d let me take care of the mess I’ve made.” He teased, making her squeal before laughing again, hiding her face against his arm. As cute as her reaction was, his arousal was becoming too distracting. “I should go take care of this though,” He said reluctantly, making her shove away from him, ushering him towards the door.

“Go do that, you know where to find me when you’re done anyway,” she said, using her now free hands to fix her hair. He couldn’t resist reaching back to muss it back up before he left, laughing at her upset whine.

If only he had known of the teasing he would get from his fellow Akatsuki members who had heard the heated conversation loud and clear through the thin walls, he would have stayed and delayed the inevitable. But even though he was relentlessly teased, especially after Hidan noticed the stirring in his pants, at least he had her to look forward to from now on.

[hyenahunt]

Jun Sazanami - Sub Story 2: Curse of the Bastard Child

Writer: Akira

Season: Summer (ES!)

Characters: Jun, Jin

Proofreading: hyenahunt

Translation: royalquintet

Jun: You’re telling me my dad got his life ruined by this useless drunkard with a 5 o’clock shadow who gets smashed at his workplace?!

[Location: Teacher's Room]

Jun: ‘Scuse me~

Huh… No one’s even here. That’s pretty careless, y’know~? No one to blame but yourselves if anything gets stolen, alright? You coulda locked the door~!

(Oh…? Wait, looks like someone’s wiped out on the sofa over there?)

Jin: ...Yaaawn. Who’re you? That’s not our school’s uniform.

Ah… Right, you’re probably one of the kids in that joint event we have with Reimei. Well, welcome. Got some business in the teacher’s office?

Jun: Ah-- Uh, yeah. I came to turn in some forms and stuff.

Jin: Ohhh, good work.

Sorry ‘bout that~ It’d be a lot easier if we could just do it digitally. But we still have some old-fashioned folks here, so we have to do every little thing by paper.

Jun: Nah, it’s fine. It’s not like this was a whole lot of trouble or anything. Just a few papers.

But I had a few things I wanted to ask about…

We talked about the school who invited us--Yumenosaki Academy--paying for the expenses up to a certain point, but...

Are you really gonna be okay~? That idiot in my unit spends money like water, so I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a huge cost to you guys. For real, you know?

Jin: I dunno, really. Our resident rich kid apparently has a hand in the budget, so we’re probably fine.

Go wild, if you want. I’d rather you kids have a good time since you dragged yourselves all the way over here.

Though it’s not really my place to say, since I’m not in charge of that Summer Live thing.

Wait here, I’ll get Akiyan-- Uh, the teacher who’s managing the plan for it.

Lessee… Huh? Where’d I put my phone again? Crap, I can’t remember anything after I opened my third bottle of sake.

Jun: ...You were drinking on school grounds? Uhh, you are a teacher here, right? Not just some bum who wandered in?

Jin: Ahh, it’d be pretty bad if the headmaster or some other higher-up found out about it, so keep it a secret, okay?

I thought my secret stash was gonna get found out, you see. I panicked and tried to drink it all but then I guess I blacked out.

Jun: Damn… I can’t even imagine that happening at Reimei.

I heard Yumenosaki went through a pretty rough patch, but seems like corruption runs rampant among the teachers, too, huh?

Jin: You know, you shouldn’t say that when there’s a teacher right in front of you…

It’s all good, though. They’ll overlook it as long as I’m not doing anything illegal.

Not like I’m demanding a favor from them, but I did earn a lot of money for Yumenosaki.

I just want ‘em to be more forgiving about my stupid behavior, to a certain extent.

Jun: …?

Jin: Ooh, there’s my phone. Hellooo, Akiyan? It’s me! Jin~

Yeah, there’s a kid from Reimei here… Can you deal with him?

Jun: Jin…? Wait, don’t tell me you’re…Jin Sagami?

You look real different, so I didn’t see it at first, but… Ah, now that I look-- You’re actually Super Idol Jin Sagami, aren’t you…?!

Jin: Huh? Are you my fan or something? I thought young‘uns these days don’t have a clue who I am.

Ahaha, you here for my signature? Nah, just kidding...♪

Jun: Goddamn! Who’d want your signature, you murderer…!

Jin: Eeek?! Wait, what’s going on? Why are you mad at me? It’s the terrible teens…!

Jun: Ugh, right, as if you’d know… You wouldn’t have the slightest recollection of all the rabble you crushed underfoot, would you.

My name’s Jun Sazanami, by the way. Ring any bells for you, Jin Sagami?

Jin: Wait… Unh, what? Sorry, my head’s still half-asleep…

Jun: …"Jun" sounds kinda like "Jin." Does that remind you of anything?

Jin: Huh? What do you mean?

Oh no… Crap, I don’t wanna deal with someone claiming to be my illegitimate child or something! I don’t know how to raise a kid!

Jun: Seriously, how long are you gonna play dumb… I’m pretty sure my father sent you a video around springtime this year?

Jin: What? Ahh, that thing! That cursed video!

It was pretty creepy, so I had it burned at the Hasumis’ temple, but I remember it had my saboteur-- I mean, my rival in it!

Right, his name was Sazanami! Wait, you said he was your dad… You’re his son?!

Urgh, I had a bad feeling about this and it was right on the mark… So, is that what you’re up to? Out to get your dad’s revenge or something?

You’re an era too late for that, though~ The law doesn’t allow for revenge, you know?

Jun: As if? My dad’s been pretty messed up for as long as I can remember…

Didn’t even treat me like a human, no love or anything.

I’m not gonna waste my life getting revenge for a bastard like that…

But of course I got curious, and from the videos I watched back then, I might’ve even kinda admired you just a little.

My dad was done in by such an incredible guy… I thought he might’ve been even satisfied with that.

So I’d accepted it and even felt kinda relieved. But now...

Ugh, fuck! God dammit, this is worst…

You’re telling me my dad got his life ruined by this useless drunkard with a 5 o’clock shadow who gets smashed at his workplace?!

Jin: No, um, but, I’m usually a bit better put together than this?

I mean, yeah, I felt sorry for your dad, but… I didn’t mean any harm. It’s just how things were back then.

Just go easy on me, okay?

And don’t say anything weird to the students, even by mistake… If you’re gonna have your revenge, have it with me.

I won’t complain even if it stings me. I earned it, anyway.

Jun: I said I’m not trying to get revenge. My dad may have raised me and sent me to Reimei for that purpose, but…

My dad’s my dad. I’m my own person.

Though if I take down your precious students… It’ll be like punishing the kids for their parents’ mistakes. Maybe it’d even make me feel a bit better?

My dad’s idol career ended in utter defeat…

But I can prove that when it comes to raising idols…he’ll outdo Jin Sagami anyday.

Haha. Ohiisan had to drag me to this Summer Live thing, but...I’m kinda looking forward to it now~

Jin: Mmgh… Well, it’s great that you’re excited about it, I guess.

But I do feel like the stage is no place to bring your thirst for revenge, or any other motives.

It was from giving into those kinds of scummy, dishonest thoughts that both me and your dad wound up losing our way.

Jun: ……

Jin: And besides. You act like it’ll be such a breeze to take them down, but our brats here are pretty talented themselves…

They may still be little babies without much experience, but don’t underestimate ‘em.

If you let your guard down, you’ll be the ones getting eaten up.

You don’t wanna repeat your dad’s failures either, right?

Jun: ...Thank you very much for the advice. I’ll really take it to heart, Jin Sagami.

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

[mistaeq]

Tuesday, 29th December

Greek Mythology!Duwang Gang AU: Headcanons

TW // sliiight nsfw-ish or non-con hints in dionysus' part. come on it's dionysus.

Today I offer you these babies. Tomorrow who knows. Hope you enjoy, I had fun with writing these.♡

Greek Mythology AU: Duwang Gang Headcanons. [includes: Higashikata Josuke, Nijimura Okuyasu, Kujo Jotaro, Hirose Koichi, Yamagishi Yukako, Kishibe Rohan]

WORD COUNT: 2k

HIGASHIKATA JOSUKE as APOLLO

Seen as the most beautiful god, Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. One of the most important and complex of the Greek gods, he is the son of Zeus (Joseph) and brother of Artemis (Holly). As the protector of young, Apollo is concerned with the health and education of children.

He's seen every early morning, on his chariot, to bring the sunlight up in the sky, all over the Olympus. Josuke's the dream of many nymphs, who look at him from afar, singing songs for the god with their sweet voices, a sound so sweet, a sound so celestial... which is covered up by Apollo's voice fucking around the Olympus with young Dionysus (Okuyasu), pulling pranks on Poseidon (Jotaro) or getting drunk.

You're the most envied creature out of everyone in the Olympus, because Josuke only has eyes for you. Envious nymphs stare at you, and comment on you, trying to convince themselves that they're way better than you are.

"Don't listen to their envy and their insults, they don't know how to cope with the fact that I have clear preferences..." he'd say, caressing your cheek and neck. "This is what poisons relationships and romances... envy... jealousy... but we don't have these useless problems, do we, love...?"

His relationship with other gods on the Olympus is usually fine, but it's not like he cares about hiding his feelings. Almost everyone who knows Josuke, will get to know after not even a week that the god is crushing on you, and that he wants to marry you. You sure hope he's not gonna behave the same way he did to Daphne...

It seems that he has healing powers, and if you happen to not to be a deity, he'll gladly use them on you, Josuke wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

NIJIMURA OKUYASU as DIONYSUS

Surely not known for his capability to reasonate, Dionysus was the ancient god of wine, fertility, ritual madness, theater, and ecstasy. The god is shown to be a beardless, sensuous, naked or semi-naked youth. Though Dionysus was mostly a kind and generous deity, he could be cruel when he needed it. For some reason, Aphrodite (Yukako) doesn't want to get close to him. She looks scared.

He doesn't do much, during the day. Let's say his favourite thing are feasts. Not really chaste ones, to be completely true. Okuyasu's mind is almost totally hedonistic, and won't feel guilty just because he spent a day watching dancing maenads and had fun teasing them with his Thyrsus instead of caring about whatever mortal dude needed him on Earth. Most of the time he's drunk, but Josuke has his back for some reason.

Many say they don't envy you for being the god's favourite creature, but you don't really care. You enjoy lying down with Okuyasu, caught in a ecstatic feeling as he turns you on with his touch and teaseful words whispered at you.

"Tell me, is it embarrassing for you to be the only one to lie beside me during feasts?" He'd run his lustful gaze and hand all over your body as he asks so, and smirk a little. "No? It isn't...? Sounds like you really like it instead, to be completely honest. Good... really good, in fact. Kiss me now."

He doesn't really have a brilliant relationship with other deities, apart from Apollo. He sometimes sees Echo (Koichi), but not much more. Still, everyone knows it when he has someone he's interested in. The man becomes possessive, Okuyasu will make sure everyone knows you're his. He might give a demonstration during feasts.

He likes to feed you grapes, and in case you liked wine, Okuyasu would want to hold the glass for you as you drink. He likes to do this for you, and you don't mind letting him.

KUJO JOTARO as POSEIDON

Poseidon is the violent and ill-tempered god of the sea. He is nowadays known exclusively as a sea god, but in ancient times, he may have been the god of the earth and fertility or even the supreme god of the sky. His huge height and strength come from his Titan parents, Cronus and Rhea. What he can't acquire with romance and gentleness, he does with violence and craftiness.

He sometimes uses the sea as a coping mechanism for his tiring life. Jotaro doesn't find his ocean so bad to be in, he concentrates and spends his time doing stuff gods... do? What does he really do, is not clear? Apollo and Dionysus tried to stick their heads into the water to spy on him several times, without any result. It's not like he's so happy when mortals need his help, but he can't pull back from his duty.

Poseidon probably noticed you because you weren't bugging him for pointless stuff. He likes pleasures too, like most of the deities do really, he just needs to find the right creature for him. Jotaro doesn't enjoy partners who talk too much.

"Don't worry about being a bother for me. You're the first one who isn't truly bothering me, I take it as a goal by now." he'd say, after he closed you in a bubble in order to bring you under the sea with him. "I never dare to show my realm to people who I judge as annoying, remember that."

It's not like he doesn't have a good relationship with other deities, he basically doesn't really care. He'll just be happy with being under the ocean whenever he feels Josuke and Okuyasu approaching, or not to be there during Apollo and Calliope (Rohan) debates. Give him some deserved peace and an ocean and he'll be grateful forever.

If Jotaro lets you in his private place which is the ocean, consider yourself special for him, for he hates having people there, above all people who are there for him purposely.

HIROSE KOICHI as ECHO

Echo is a mountain nymph, or oread. The myth says that Echo offended the goddess Hera by keeping her in conversation, in order to prevent her from spying on one of Zeus' lovers. To punish him, Hera deprived him of speech, except for the ability to repeat the last words of another. Because of this, his good heart is often misunderstood, but he managed to be appreciated nonetheless.

Koichi would rather have no conversations, for he's not able to say nothing more than the last words his interlocutor said. But he's down to make people understand what he wants to say, by writing it down or through gestures. Apollo approached him once, and brought Dionysus along. He doesn't know how to feel about hanging with gods, but since his issue isn't a problem to them, he'll keep them around. Until they misbehave...

When he gets to know you and notices you aren't willing to exclude him for he doesn't talk properly, his heart melts. Echo wants to spend most of his time with you now, since you make him feel comfortable about the problem Hera caused him.

"I love you, I love you, love you, love you, you, you..." he'd repeat, after you told him that. When he wants to say something like this, you say it for him, so that he can repeat it and say it as well. "You're important to me... important to me... important to me... to me... to me... me..."

Look, he's trying his best, really. Deities aren't known for their inclusive ways, and when he asked you if it was because of his past, you quickly said it wasn't. Nobody cared about it there. Deities were like that with every nymph. Echo had a chance to build up a good relationship with Calliope (Rohan). The muse taught him a lot.

He has fun bringing you to places where your voice echoes, to make you judge who does it better between him and the nature. Needless to say, Koichi always wins.

YAMAGISHI YUKAKO as APHRODITE

Aphrodite was known primarily as a goddess of sexual love, beauty, fertility and even occasionally presided over marriage. Even prostitutes considered Aphrodite their patron. She's had many mortal lovers, and none of them should have ever dared to make her upset. She won't be down for forgiveness, she's really never been. Still, Aphrodite found herself often in trouble due to her personality.

Differently from many other deities, Yukako's real fun consisted in watching humans' love stories bloom and wither. Sometimes she was the reason, sometimes she wasn't. Mortals were so easy to play with. It was when she thought that playing gods was just as simple, that she got caught into a trap. Since that mistake, she decided she would have been amused enough to be happy by mortals' love stories.

Oh, Aphrodite's so used to creatures - above all gods - who tried to stick around her for her body only, so that when you give an appreciation for her intelligence, she'll remember it and love you forever. It's like you signed up a free trial to be loved.

"You know, it's difficult to make me feel love so strong I don't even think about the lustful part... but apparently you managed to do so..." she'd say, sitting in the calm forest as she hands you a flower. "It's good to know someone doesn't love you for your body only but for yourself as well."

Yukako's relationship with other deities and creatures is just... ambiguous? She may never judge what's behind everyone's gaze. Hatred? Love? Lust? Who knows. All she knows, is that the only sight of Dionysus makes the ground under her feet disappear in fear. Compared to him, she'll just be fine in everyone else's company.

Everything she does, it's for the good. If it happens to harm you, Yukako definitely didn't mean it. It'll be enough to tell her, and believe me, it won't happen again.

KISHIBE ROHAN as CALLIOPE

In Greek mythology Calliope is the muse who presides over eloquence and epic poetry. He's called the "Chief of all Muses". He's down to help every literate artist who needs him, gives inspiration and guides the mortals' talented hands, as far as they deserve his power. Calliope's used to be mentioned, and might happen to get upset if not. Even if he's only halfway a deity, he's known for his confidence.

The most famous out of the Muses, Rohan won't forgive anyone who's never heard about him before. He can be seen around Echo a lot lately, since he found the nymph's story interesting and won't hold back from inspiring a mortal with writing about what happened to Koichi. He's used to collect creatures' stories, in order to be written by someone who's talented enough to talk about them properly.

He probably got interested in your story first. Then, for some reason he grew possessive of it. Calliope won't let a mortal put their filthy hands on a story so pure. Let the Muse be the only one who can properly love you.

"This story of yours is so beautiful, I can never have enough... and it's mine only, is it, y/n? Is it?" he'd ask him forever until you answer yes, he'll find no peace at all. "Let me get inspiration from you. Let me be the only one who can properly appreciate your life... just like you deserve."

His relationship with other creatures and deities is... rather good? Rohan's used to have debates and discussions with Josuke, and most of the time they just disagree. Though, many envy his capability of being so creative and smart, mortal writers ask for his help several times. Aphrodite and him sometimes fight over Echo.

He'd write lots of poetries in order to edulcorate your feelings towards him and make you forgive him for his excessive possessiveness. Rohan often succeeds.

[staysaneathome]

This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 03

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!jungkook x reader x dragon!jimin / future!bts x reader

— genre: angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 6.0k

— warnings: orphan reader, insecurities, other members are still jerks but better here, insomnia, reader not eating, mentions of Jimin’s bad eating habits, emotional/physical health risks, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

The thorns grew and grew drastically over just one night.

A night filled with terror, of coldness, of the hard floor below you, and bars of rusted silver that kept you a prisoner of the dragons.

In the dungeon where no one could hear you, you cried your heart out without fear of being heard. No one would care anyway and you were sure that all along, they wanted to find some sort of excuse to keep you as a prisoner rather than a guest to their clan.

They got what they wanted in the end and there you were, sleepless nights passing by with little hopes of Jungkook visiting. But you knew that with the days going by and he had yet to come by, he was either still severely injured or he was already sort of healed and the princes denied him access to the dungeon.

Rather than a wall being built around you, they were the thorns that encircled at every angle from your sides, surrounding you everywhere and that, that was an even harder obstacle to escape.

Dealing with others was a little easier but to be kept alone with your thoughts in the dark and deep dungeon was the biggest mistake because you could easily be torn apart all from just you alone.

Everything around you, you became to fear. 

Silence, it was all silent. Even more silent than the silent glares and thoughts from the other dragons when you had once nested in one of Seokjin's medicine nests. And with that silence, your thoughts became the thing you feared the most.

"What's the point in giving you food when you're not going to eat?" The head of the guard, prince Jimin, scoffed as he came back for another round to collect the plate of untouched food in his hand. "This can fill our dragons yet we have to waste it on you. The least you can do is eat." And then, he walked away, footsteps draining from your ear with each step he took.

You couldn't eat. Not in that state.

What was the point of being a prisoner anyways? You'd rather rot away than to live on behind bars. It was something you never imagined would happen but things were changing and each day only got worse and worse. If only you lasted one more night without being a complete incompetent, then you would have left the dragon clan on your own will.

But fate really liked playing around with you, didn't it? After all, you were one of the few who didn't deserve a happy ending.

"Y/N?"

You gasped at the familiar sound of heaven, an angel coming to your rescue and the tears fell more and more.

From all that crying you had done the past week, you didn't think you'd have more to spear but there they were, spilling out from your eyes the second you caught sight of Jungkook who stood on the other side of the bars, wearing a white sleeveless v neck shirt and black jeans. The bandages on his left shoulder peeked out and you cried a little more because it was your fault again. Your fault he had gotten hurt.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and Jimin who stood a few feet away, hidden from your focus, blinked in confusion at your first words.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tears welled up in his eyes at the sound of your weak voice. The sight of you made him want to punch the thick walls out of frustration because if he hadn't said anything about that Jinyoung dude, you would have never gotten sent into the dungeons. Yet despite the position you were in, behind bars and haven eaten nothing, your pale complexion and the bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, the first words you asked of him was whether he was alright or not.

"Why are you asking me that?" His voice cracked as he reached out with hands that trembled to hold your face through the bars. You were selfless, the most selfless person he had ever met. Despite hurting on your own, you only cared about him. "You should be worrying about yourself, Y/N," he scolded you, drops of tears falling away as he brushed away your own tears instead. "You should be asking your own self whether you're alright or not and blaming me for putting you here in the first place."

But you shook your head, sniffling. "It isn't your fault. Jinyoung went after you because of me."

Jungkook's face crumbled in pain. "Will you stop blaming yourself for once?" He asked, hiccuping as he went, crying for you. "Will you start caring for your own happiness and health instead of everyone else's? Stop being selfless for once and care about your own self."

"I'm fine."

"You're dying and I can't do anything to help!" His loud voice bellowed against the walls as he punched at the bars, causing you to flinch back. Jungkook's cries followed him throughout the airy corridors of the dungeons, all of it Jimin was hearing.

What was so special about you that they had lost their maknae to? Why had the maknae cared so much to the point where he wouldn't speak to any of them anymore because they kept you locked up behind bars? Jungkook should've known that you were the threat and that they were only trying to protect him. But he was blinded for some reason and wouldn't listen to a word his hyungs were trying to get into him.

And it was all your fault. You changed Jungkook.

"You aren't fine, Y/N, nothing about this is fine," the man went on as he clutched the bars tightly, angry at the fact that he couldn't just rip them apart to reach you. The bars were far too strong for him. It had been built that way for the longest time so that any prisoner that was held in could never escape. If he could rip apart the bars, however, he'd want to hold you in his arms, keep you away from all harm and let you cry against him. But he couldn't do anything and could only watch as you stood there barely able to even stand due to the loss of energy and strength and that was what was killing him the most.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," he whispered, head leaned against the bars. "I was supposed to give you a home, not lead you to live behind bars. We weren't supposed to switch places."

Jungkook could still remember the first day you approached the silver bars he had been locked up into, a peppy voice that called for him, deeming yourself as the keeper of the dragon. No one had been brave enough to guard a dragon, only you. But perhaps it wasn't just the bravery that held you accountable, perhaps you had taken that job in order to escape the eyes of the villagers, in hopes of finding someone else who would accept you because he was also different.

Jungkook listened, each and every day, to your endless stories. Some of them were of you growing up as that brave child who fell at no one because even though she was a child with no parents, she wasn't going to let that define who she was. Sometimes the stories consisted of adventures outside of your village, your imaginations leading you so far as if you had indeed conquered all of the lands you could reach.

He could still remember those shiny eyes that glowed of a thousand starlights, the beaming smile, the giggles that were music to his ears.

But as he looked at you now, your light dimmed, giving into the darkness, frail and weak, eyes filled with glossy waterfalls waiting for the dam to break down so that it could flood away freely. He reached through the bars again, holding your face with gentle touches as if he was too afraid you'd break under his hold, as if you were made up of some delicate glass. And he cried some more for being the one to cause your smile to vanish.

"I'm so sorry," Jungkook whispered and Jimin could hear how broken his voice was, how Jungkook wished he could do something about it but not having enough power to do so, and his heart ached at just the sound his mate was making.

"One day we'll be happy again," he continued on, "one day we'll find that beautiful smile of yours again and you'll never have to cry again except for the tears of joy."

We.

Jimin's hands balled into a fist, knowing exactly how much his little maknae had fallen and he leaned away from the wall, stepping back and away, leaving. He couldn't hear it any longer. He couldn't bear to hear any more of Jungkook's silent love for you.

"Promise?" You asked of the dragon in front of you.

Jungkook nodded and a few more tears fell. "I promise."

.

.

"Eat."

You looked up at the presence of Jimin who knelt down in front of the bars where you sat on the other side, arms hugging your knees due to the coldness of the dungeon.

"Please," he said and your eyes widened, surprised. A part of Jimin wanted to just leave after placing the plate in front of you, he wanted to scoff at his useless plead and not see you for even a second more but the longer he stared, the harder it was to not care about how weak you had looked. There were no tears in your eyes but it looked as if you could topple over and break at any moment. He could see the signs of insomnia, the frail part of your arms where your dress was torn, and the eyes that looked dead. Dead but alive. And for a moment he almost felt bad for what he and the others had done to you.

But then he was reminded again of the reasons as to why you were locked up in the first place and he looked away, sighing with a bit of annoyance.

"Jungkook refuses to eat unless I report back to him that you've eaten and I can't lie to him. He'll know and I can never bear to lie to any of my mates."

Jungkook?

Your eyes fell at the plate of food provided for you. You had no desire to eat despite your empty stomach. You've learned to ignore your growling stomach the past few days but hearing the fact that Jungkook was going to refuse to eat for your sake, your stomach churned.

"You have to eat," Jimin said, "for his sake," and with a bit of hesitation, "and for yours."

When he came back a few hours later, the plate wasn't empty but he could see some clear signs of you haven eaten and left without a word after collecting the plate.

"You better not be lying to me," Jungkook glared at the man in front of him, a serious and firm tone set in his voice.

Jimin sighed and showed him your plate of food to which Jungkook was quick to smile at, only for it to slowly disappear as he stared at the amount that was still left on the plate.

"She didn't eat all of it," he uttered lowly with a bit of disappointment.

Jimin sighed, putting the plate away on an empty table as he began walking off. "You can't expect her to eat everything all at once after going on a fasting for days, Jungkook, that's not how things work."

"But shouldn't she be hungry? Why-"

"If she stuffs herself fully, she'll harm her health even more. She isn't going to be eating much for the time being, her stomach has shrunk."

"Shrunk...?" His voice whispered.

Watching his mate walking away without another word, Jungkook's eyes fell back down to the floor after being reminded that of course Jimin would know. He's starved himself before due to insecurities and the anxieties that ate him up.

A soft sigh left him as he was reminded that once again, he was no help to the ones he cared about.

"Who's Jinyoung?"

"Jinyoung?" You looked away with a bitter taste on your tongue as you said the name. "He was...an admirer."

"Admirer?" Jungkook's face scrunched up with disgust and a bit of anger at that distasteful word.

"He's the captain of the soldiers and, well..sort of found me attractive so he decided to try and win my heart."

"I'm assuming that didn't work out too well on his part?" Jungkook scoffed, wanting to laugh because no one would be worthy enough to win your heart. No one deserved you.

"He couldn't take the hint," you told him, eyes falling distant all of a sudden. "He kind of lusted over me and some days he'd try to follow me into the dungeon when I'd go to meet you but I always refused every advance he'd make. Every time we saw each other, he'd tell me that I should be happy someone wanted me because...you know...no one in the village really liked me."

Upon hearing your words, Jungkook held onto the bars with a tight grip as his jaws clenched tightly. "He has no right to say such a thing," the dragon growled. "I swear, if I see him again, I'll rip him up into pieces for saying such-"

"Jungkook." You touched his hands and that was enough for him to calm down, to remember that he was in front of you, a vulnerable human who needed all the hugs and love in the world.

"Sorry," he coughed a little awkwardly, sitting back down properly. He wondered why that little touch was just enough to have him blushing, why your voice and touch alone was enough to calm his mighty self down.

You giggled a little at the cute dragon in front of you and Jungkook's head shot up, eyes widened before he turned into a grinning sun.

"Keep doing that."

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Keep smiling, Y/N, keep laughing, keep being happy even if it lasts for one second."

"Jungkook..."

His eyes teared up again, throat clogging as he looked into your eyes. "I miss it," he told you, "I miss your smile so damn much. I miss the stories you'd tell me, the little laughs you'd give yourself because of something funny you'd say. I miss you being happy."

You could only stare at him for a second longer before your eyes fell to the floor because the both of you knew that if you were going to be truly happy, you'd have to leave the dungeons first.

.

.

"Jungkook," Namjoon's hands balled into fists as he watched the youngest of the seven getting up from the dinner table, "let me ask you something." The maknae paused in his tracks, taking his time as he took a deep breath before turning around to face his leader, asking him silently to go on. "What does that human mean to you? You seem to care more about her these days."

"It's only natural," Jungkook bluntly stated.

"What the hell do you mean it's only natural?" Yoongi growled. "Have you forgotten who we are?"

"We're your mates," Taehyung stressed.

"And she-"

"Isn't your mate."

"I didn't say she was," he glared at Hoseok before staring back down at the floor. "She's my friend, someone I care a lot about. Have you not been hearing anything I've been telling you?" The maknae asked, frustration clear in his tone as he looked up, challenging the others. "She saved my life and you're putting her in the dungeon, the same place I used to reside in yet you ask me why in the world I care so much. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be back here safe in one piece. She risked her own life for my sake, left a world that hated her to find a better place only to be hated on again for no apparent reason. Instead of blaming her for everything, maybe you should look past your stupid jealousy selves and see the truth in this."

And with that, Jungkook stomped away without letting any of them utter another word.

While the rest of them sighed in frustration, Jimin, on the other hand, sat there silently staring into a blank space. He didn't know what to do, but perhaps not everything had been your fault after all.

"Are you okay? You look a little frustrated." You looked at Jungkook with worry filling your face, a little pout resting upon your lips. "Did something happen with your mates?" You worried.

He sat there with his knees bent and a little spread apart, forearms resting against it and hands meeting to hold at the center. "I don't think we'll ever be truly happy again if they don't set you free."

Your heart fell for him, aching at how broken he looked. "I'm sorry."

"No," Jungkook shook his head, sighing, "don't apologize."

"But—"

"I'll fix it one way or another," he said cutting you off. "They're my mates, I won't lose them forever. I'm just angry at them for doing this to you."

"You shouldn't blame them, they don't know-"

"Which is why they should listen to me but they aren't!" He ran a hand against his hair and let out a grunt of frustration. "Sure I'm the maknae and they're older and wiser but there are some things that I know more than them, like being locked up in a dungeon against my will. It's lonely and scary and you've always helped by just being there which is why I try to get permission to come down here but because they resent you for no reason, I can't come here as often as I want to."

You looked at him with eyes of sympathy. Jungkook loved his mates and they loved him, they were made for one another, which was why no matter what feelings you had for Jungkook, you had to keep them away because he had his own soulmates. You couldn't ruin that relationship for them. So you decided that if you were ever set free, you'd leave the mountains and travel on your own for their sake. It'd save their relationship at least, you leaving. After all, the only reason why it had begun to fall apart was because of you.

"Don't get angry at them for too long, Jungkook."

Jimin, who was walking towards your cell after leaving the dinner table, paused in his steps at the sound of your voice and waited. Waited to hear what you were going to say.

"Try to understand them, listen to each other. They have their own reasons for things and if you only see that you're right in this, then it'll only frustrate them even more and you'll end up never resolving this problem. You're both alike in that sense, you're both wrong because of it. Don't think that everything you have to say is right because I'm sure they're hurt as well over the fact that you're refusing to listen to them. Face this challenge with a calm and mature talk and maybe then they'll listen to what you have to say."

"What if they don't listen to me?"

"They'll listen," you were sure of it. "You're mates, Jungkook, and they love you. But you have to listen to them first."

After hearing your words, the head guard took a step back as a small smile curled at the corner of his lips. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps that as soulmates, they should listen to one another before letting anger and jealousy get the best of them.

"Why don't you sleep?"

You looked up at the sound of Jimin's voice and blinked in confusion. Why was he awake in the middle of the night? (you assumed it was the middle of the night since the dungeon was nowhere near a sky that could tell you the time)

"You lay there awake every night," he said notably. "Are you insomniac?"

You sat up from the cold, hard floor with a bit of trouble due to your loss of strength. There wasn't much light in the dungeon, you could only see a little bit of Jimin's face after having adjusted to the dark room. It was lighter at daylight where some of the sun's light passed into the dungeon but the night made it completely dark.

"It's not that I can't sleep," you told the dragon, "it's just...it's scary."

"The nightmares?"

"That and..." You looked at the floor, a little embarrassed for yourself. "I can't sleep without some bit of light," you confessed, "the darkness scares me. It was easier sleeping in one of prince Seokjin's medicine nests because the moon shone some light but here, there are no windows. It's completely dark."

"Oh," Jimin whispered.

The room was silent for a long moment until you heard some footsteps walking away and you looked away disappointedly. Sure Jimin probably hated you but to have someone there to talk to you late at night had helped from thinking about the scary things at night.

You missed the light. So, so much.

Yet it was stripped away from you just like the light in your heart. If only you could have a physical light, if only. Because at least that would keep you a bit of company. The darkness was scary.

Your breathing became a little staggering at the scary thoughts invading your mind and you could feel your tears beginning to fall.

It was scary. So scary.

The thoughts, the darkness, every noise you could hear even if it had only been just the wind.

But then you heard the footsteps again, this time with a flickering light and your head was quick to look towards the source.

You crawled yourself over towards the bars, holding onto it to search for the light. It was just a little but something you wanted so badly.

It grew more and more until you caught sight of Jimin. Jimin who came walking towards you with a candle in his hand.

You watched him curiously, eyes following his every move even until the moment he stood in front of you.

"Will this help?" He asked, crouching down to your eye level with the candle in hand. The sight of your tears made his heart ache. Just a little. "It was the only candle I could find here," he said, looking away from you because he knew that those tears alone would weaken him. Jimin hated tears. "It'll burn away before dawn arrives but hopefully by then you'll be asleep."

"Thank you," you whispered into the silent night, voice a little broken as you sniffled and wiped away your tears. "Thank you so much."

He didn't know why but seeing you like that, hearing your voice, he wanted to take out his keys to unlock the door and pull you into his arms. To keep you from crying, to hold you so that you'd feel safe and secure despite your living environment.

"You shouldn't thank me," Jimin said shamefully, "I was one of the people who brought you here in the first place."

He sat the candle down and stood up, ready to leave you be.

"Even so," he stopped at your voice, "I needed a little bit of light and you gave it to me. So thank you, prince Jimin."

Totally different from what you had ever thought about, Jimin became the person that replaced Jungkook's safe presence.

He brought you a warm blanket and pillow, apologizing for the dungeons not having any beddings mostly because the only prisoners they've had had only been dragons, and he was there to make sure you had eaten. Even if that meant a little. Because a little went a long way and Jimin didn't force you to eat any more than you'd take.

Maybe he understood how it felt. Maybe he knew what it felt like to try and heal through the process of eating again. Whatever his reasons to try and make you feel comfortable in the dungeon, whether it was on his own will or because Jungkook had begged him to, you were nevertheless thankful for every kind gesture you never knew you'd ever receive. Thankful that it was he who had the role of the head guard.

The night became a little less scary with him there. He brought back a new candle each night, spoke to you and you'd make little conversation here and there until you fell asleep. Some part of you felt as if Jimin was there to make sure you'd indeed sleep rather than staying awake all night with thoughts that'd haunt you. His small conversations would keep you away from thinking about anything scary or bad, kept you distracted when night fell upon the clan. Some nights you'd worry because some nights were worse than others. You kept your tears away though, for his sake, and because of the fact that you didn't like crying in front of someone you weren't really used to.

He had a castle to return to, soulmates to sleep with, but kept awake doing his duties. You were probably the only prisoner at the moment and the reason why he stayed away late into the night, only leaving when you finally fell asleep. Some nights you'd pretend to sleep just for his sake, so that he'd be able to head home to his mates a little quicker.

And for every night he stayed up for you, you silently thanked Jimin who became that light source you never knew he'd be.

"Wow," Jungkook looked at you in awe as he sat down in front of the bars, a smile resting upon his face at the sight of you. "You've gained some light since I've gone."

"Have I?" You asked, touching your face gently out of curiosity. There were no mirrors in the dungeon so you had no idea how you looked but took his word for it. Jungkook never lied after all.

"Sorry, by the way," he apologized, head hung in shame as he pouted because he was ashamed he couldn't be there for you as often as he wanted. "You were there for me all the time when I was locked up but I haven't visited for a while."

"That's because I was the keeper of the dragon," you reminded him a little teasingly, "it was my job, Jungkook."

At the lightness in your tone, Jungkook beamed. "Thank goodness," he sighed in relief and his eyes glistened with a few tears but he was quick to blink them away. "Thank goodness I can hear this voice again."

You smiled a little and his lips widened.

"It was Jimin, wasn't it?" You looked at him with a bit of confusion and Jungkook looked away, chuckling a little to himself. "Jimin can't hate someone forever, that's just how he is. He never resents for a long time because his kind heart refuses him to. You can tell with that," he gestured at the blanket and pillow just behind you, "to keep you warm through the night and this," he held up the shortened candle that had melted from the fire the night before, "to keep you from being scared of the darkness."

"Ah.."

"When Namjoon sent you to the dungeons, a part of me was a little relieved because you'd have Jimin watching over you, I knew that he'd eventually come to care at one point or another. Sorry it took so long."

You shook your head, a tight smile on your face. "I'm better than I was, you shouldn't apologize for something you had no control over."

"Either way," Jungkook looked back at you, "I haven't even done anything and Jimin's already starting to care about you. Maybe that's your magic." You cocked your head to the side. "You're easy to like, Y/N, once they start looking past your history and see you for just you. You're easy to like."

To fall in love with, he wanted to say but refused himself to.

It wasn't right.

If only he was able to face the truth, if only he could understand the things he was feeling without feeling any guilt towards himself and the others.

But as Jungkook stood in front of his hyungs a few hours later, minus Jimin who held the responsibility of watching over the prisoners, he was conflicted on what to say.

"What we're worried about is the fact that...you've changed."

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes to try and keep himself calm and situated. He promised you that he'd listen to them, to try and save his relationship before things could get any worse.

"I've changed?" He asked Namjoon, wondering what part of him that they saw had changed.

"Ever since you've come back from the humans, Jungkook," the healer replied, "you've been more distant and worried every day about the human girl."

"I have a right to."

"Perhaps you do," Yoongi nodded though a little hesitant, "perhaps you feel responsible because she saved you."

"Or perhaps you're worried for a completely different reason."

He looked up at Hoseok, brows furrowed. "Why do you think that?"

"We're mates, Jungkook," Taehyung reminded him. "Seven mates. And because there's more than just two in a relationship, we can see and understand when the others are in love with one another. We've gotten used to it and so have you."

Jungkook couldn't deny that. He's seen the way one of them looked at his other hyungs, the soft smiles that would lift upon their faces at the sight of another returning home, the sigh of relief and worry for when one of them got hurt. It was always there, from the first moments they found love within each other. He knew that feeling, seen it since years ago.

"The reason why we're upset is the fact that we see that with you towards the human girl."

He gulped at Namjoon's declaration and a rush of guilt rushed through his body all over again. He was hurting them and as much as he tried to not think about you in such ways, Jungkook couldn't even if he wanted to.

"What's so special about her, Jungkook?" The eldest asked, his eyes filled with pain. "Why a human girl?"

"I know you all don't have good pasts with humans," the youngest acknowledged as his lips pressed into a thin line, nodding slightly. "I know that humans are vile creatures who see us as animals who has no worth but to be a slave. And maybe I would've still thought the same back in that dungeon after getting caught by them but..." his voice trailed off and the memories of your beautiful voice and smile walked into his mind. "When I said that Y/N saved me, I also mean that figuratively."

His voice began to soften but they could hear every word and perhaps that alone had begun to hurt each of their hearts, watching their littlest mate fall for another.

"The dungeon isn't fun, it's dark and scary and so, so lonely. I used to cry silently to myself because I regretted ever leaving without telling anyone, because I missed home, because I missed you guys. But Y/N walked in like a little firefly who gave me a little bit of light, a little bit of hope in freedom again. She'd go on and on about all sorts of stories, sometimes laughing to herself at her own jokes and dumbness. Sometimes I'd think to myself that if it wasn't for her voice and presence, I would have gone crazy staying there in that dungeon all alone without any contact with the outside world. She was the only one brave enough to stay beside a dragon all day long until her duties were over, returning every single time without missing a day."

"When I finally spoke and showed her my appearance, her eyes would be the prettiest stars I had ever witnessed, and her smile would glow of the brightest sun. She'd steal some clothes from her own villagers to keep me warm, stole their medicines in order to treat my wounds, and went against the rules to steal the keys and take me out of the dungeon despite knowing the price to pay was her own life. She took that risk because of me and that's why I brought her here." He looked up at them all, eyes filled with grief and tainted with tears that brimmed at his waterline.

"I brought her here because she never had a home back at that village. Everyone treated her like crap yet when she met me, she treated me as an equal even though she had never received love of any sort. I brought her here because I thought that you'd try and accept her for who she was, human and all, and give her a home she never had from the moment she was born."

You never gave up searching for love, any kind of love. Whether it was family or the love from a another. Despite the unfair treatment you'd get, the rude stares and nasty comments, you kept your head up and stayed being a kind pure soul who always gave back love despite never receiving it. It was something Jungkook always admired about you, the fact that being hurt several times allowed you to never stray away from giving kindness towards others.

You continued smiling for him to keep him from feeling lonely in that dungeon, to keep him smiling even when you wanted to vent all your problems to him and cry until you could cry no more. And then he began to realize that perhaps the smiles you had given him back in your villager's dungeon, they were filled with a broken story, the silent call for freedom and love in return. Silent tears he couldn't see because you hid everything so well.

For at least a day, Jungkook wanted to know how it would feel to see you genuinely smile and laugh and be a happy little girl who loved no matter how much the world hated her for the first time.

A part of the guys still felt rather jealous to hear Jungkook's soft words for you. He began caring a little more for you, sought for your attention, and was always so excited to visit you after his daily hunting patrols. You were a human, something they weren't too fond of due to the bad relations they had in the past. But maybe not everything had been your fault.

You did save their little prince, brought him back to them. They should have at least thanked you but it was their jealousy that drove them away from the gentle dragons they once were. Maybe you weren't at fault for everything but it was your people who captured Jungkook in the first place and had hurt him again.

Yet watching Jungkook in front of them, blinking away his tears so that he didn't have to cry, a part of them felt horrible for the way they treated you.

"Your highnesses!"

Their heads swerved over at the sudden doors to the throne room opening abruptly and a knight ran in rushingly. He knelt in front of Jungkook, a little breathless from running.

"Prince Jimin asked for you to come to the dungeons and wishes for Prince Seokjin's presence as well."

Jungkook's brows furrowed in confusion as he looked back at the eldest, their eyes meeting with the same unspoken question. But if Jimin called for a knight to send both him and Jungkook, then that meant that you were possibly at risk.

His eyes widened and a gasp left his lips. Without any more hesitation, Jungkook ran out the doors before anyone could stop him.

Running to you.

[gt-adventures]

Like A Good Neighbor (sfw GT story!)

A tale of the Mystic Woods

Featuring the “Evil” Giant Wizard Yonah HaEsh and Myran the Dwarf Witch and many other fun characters!

A story about bad first impressions and the start of new friendships! Lots of GT, and a cute little adventure at a magical farmer’s market!

Warnings: intense fearplay and mild harm involving an intimidation tactic with biting (no loss of limbs!). Yonah is a Fee Fi Fo Fum kind of “Evil” giant but it’s all an act. He’s just very convincing. And in this story he is still new to his Evil job. Also casual mentions of man-eating monsters/giants (no scenes).

For more detailed warnings go to THIS POST

---

“Did you hear?”

“Have you been told?”

“A new resident!”

“I haven’t checked it out myself! But Ms Zukkar told me-”

“A wizard!”

“Didn’t there used to be an old sorcerer there?”

“-new guy’s a witch!”

“So, hear about that new giant!”

“A giant wouldn’t fit in that tower! And wizards is all human!”

“A criminal, on the run they say”

“Maybe a magician? They like towers sometimes!”

“His Majesty wouldn’t hire a criminal!”

“-supposed to be evil?”

There were so many rumors being flung around that the dwarf witch Myran Gamadin decided to see for themselves and set out to investigate. Undoubtedly there was a new resident. The story was that he was a Mage, and a criminal, but also just expelled from The Academy of Wizardry. And a giant? That was strange, the old tower was much too small for a giant! Even if it was magic it was only 10ft taller than your average giant in the first place. However… they did hear about the trial of a giant recently… stuff that happened in the civilized court didn’t really concern those in the Woods.

“Why would you go to see a villain? You’re not evil!”

The World’s Largest™ Maine Coon cat trotted alongside the handsome young dwarf, looking more like an oddly fluffy pony than a cat.

“It’s important to know your neighbors! Even the evil ones!”

Siv flicked his tail up into his witch’s face.

“And he’s got to be just a young man! So young and the expectations on evil mages is so high! He will appreciate a friendly face!” Myran had done the math. If this Mage hadn’t even graduated from The Academy, he was at most 23. Unless he started his education late. But they doubted this.

“Why are we walking! You have your broom!” the cat complained.

“That’s for the tower, Siv. It’s one of those designed by assholes who think it’s clever to have the only entrance be the window at the top.”

“Hrfff,” said Siv.

“Do you think he will appreciate the house-warming gift? I didn’t really spend much time on it…”

“Fresh fish would be better.”

“Maybe if he were a cat. This is for a Mage.”

“Clippings of magical plants? Maybe for another witch. This is someone who was studying Wizardry.”

“Wizards use magical plants too!”

“Yeah, they buy them from witches!”

As the pair stepped out of the trees, they froze.

“I think he’ll like the gift,” Siv admitted as he And Myran stood in awe at the largest magical garden either of them had ever seen.

It wasn’t even finished yet! Plots of earth were freshly turned, and piles of wood, half built into beds that lay in patterns across the clearing. And massively spread apart. At least 3 meters between plots. And the finished ones. Well. They already had some amazing specimens. Even if they were just sprouting. Myran noticed the Twisted WyrmFern and harpy’s breath; delicate, but common magical plants that were being used to test out the soil. It was working great.

The garden did make Myran worry a bit.

Maybe this wasn’t a wizard at all! It could be a witch. And he could be very evil indeed. Even evil witches treated their gardens with the utmost care and attention.

But they had come this far. And the tower that looked over the garden was calling to them. Well. Not really. The green-black thorny vines screamed “STAY AWAY!” But when one had a flying broomstick, one didn’t need to heed such warnings.

Flipping their broom around like a baton, they sat side saddle and Siv hopped on the end, somehow managing to balance his prodigious fluff. They took off. And flew into the window.

“WOAAAHHH!”

It was like hitting an unexpected and large wave on a boogie board, but a magical one that flowed through the body! And Myran had never been to the ocean, so it made their brain swim.

The room, which from the outside looked normal, was anything but. The rumors of this being a giant were not just rumors.

This place was HUGE!

And yet, it was much too small.

Growing up, Myran had visited some giant villages with their family. They hadn’t been THAT much smaller then, but the houses and items in the village were definitely much larger. While giant mages certainly existed, they had their own traditions and made their own supplies.

This looked exactly like the workshop for a young wizard, with additions for the wizard being a giant. It was wild to see some of the common arcane tools at such an immense scale.

Flying over, Myran saw that the resident Mage had an ancient book under a magnifying glass, and had been translating it, with notes and commentary. Spell equations and diagrams were additionally copied in a dedicated smaller notebook.

While it was surely a fascinating read, they could tell at a glance the notes were somewhere in the middle of an involved spell, and they didn’t want to be the reason the Mage lost his place. The workbench had plenty of other diverting materials.

Siv had no interest in such things and curled up against the base of the magnifying glass. The sun hit the metal through the window, making it quite warm.

Myran put their broom down and explored the desk. There were several magical tombs! Rare ones! They flipped through and saw fresh handwritten notes tucked inside. Smart, this mage did not want to tarnish the original pages. There was also an open notebook and a few spell components laid out.

They stepped carefully back onto the notebook to get a better idea of what this wizard was up to. The notebook was written in giant, which Myran wasn’t fluent in but got the gist of. So this was indeed a giant wizard. Fascinating.

That’s what they were thinking until...

FEE FI FO FUM!

Myran nearly jumped out of their boots.

No longer fascinating. Very bad. Very dangerous! They’d heard stories that quoted these lines, classic, even amusing. However, hearing them bellowed by an actual giant nearly stopped their heart. These words were so loud and so immediately panic-inducing, especially when accompanied by thundering footsteps.

I SMELL THE BLOOD OF THE-

There was a pause and maybe a stutter

DWARVEN KIND!

The trap door off center in the room burst open and a giant with a mane of black hair, a trimmed goatee, and a wizard’s hat, climbed out. He was smiling, snarling, showing off impressive fangs.

USELESS TO FLEE, USELESS TO FIGHT, FOR YOU WILL BE MY MEAL TONIGHT!

Eat them!? Oh No. Myran scrambled to their feet as the giant advanced.

Siv had gone catatonic, or nearly, and fled behind the mirror. But Myran just stood there. The next thing they knew they were in the giant's fist.

Never had Myran imagined themselves in this predicament. Witches, as far as they knew, were not prone to being eaten by giants! Giants ate thieves, slayers, adventurers! Though... giants were known to occasionally eat random people that happened to be especially rude to them as they went about their business.

Myran had not been rude! They just hadn’t had a chance to be polite! This giant had no business eating them.

Not that any of this was actually going through Myran’s mind. Oh no. Myran’s thoughts were preoccupied with panicking about their impending doom!

They tried to get themselves free of the giant’s grip but like the giant said, it was useless to fight. Then the giant LICKED THEM IN THE FACE. Ugh it was so gross!! They sputtered.

Yonah sighed and pulled the dwarf away from his face just a bit. “It is rather disappointing, dwarves don’t taste nearly as good as most other smallfolk, but I’m not complaining”

He briefly loosened his grip and Myran took their chance to get an arm free. Big mistake. The giant hissed and caught the arm between his fangs!

YEOWCH!

Their arm was free but the giant still held them. Myran was barely paying attention, for the screams of the giant rattling their brain and the giants grip had intensified making it hard to breath.

Something bit his other hand and he waved it violently. Whatever it was released and smacked into the wall that the desk was up against. And crumpled into a motionless pile. Curious and momentarily forgetting his foe he investigated.

A cat!? And still alive but unconscious. Why had a cat attacked him? Then he saw the abandoned broom next to his notebook. And his stomach twisted.

“You’re— not a thief!” Technically he was a villain to anyone, he wasn’t restricted to adventurers. He was still figuring out what kind of villain he wanted to be. But now was not really the time for self exploration.

“I’m a witch!” He heard them squeak.

“A witch? Invading the lair of a wizard? Are you stupid!” He poked at their face. They didn’t like that.

“Let me go!”

The witch was shaking and wheezing, glancing at him with wide fearful eyes. Yonah loosened his grip to allow them to breathe properly.

“If you’re a witch then what the fuck were you doing in my tower?” Yonah demanded.

The witch was still in shock but recovered enough to speak. “I’m… Myran! I wanted to introduce myself!”

“A likely story! Why would anyone want to introduce themselves to me?” Yonah wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, but figured he could use the practice at evil banter.

“You’re… new to the forest” they coughed.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m your neighbor!” they said,

Yonah narrowed his eyes, “The forest is constantly moving, no such thing as neighbors.”

“I figured I’d try to be friendly!” they continued as if he hadn’t replied. “Everyone was talking about the new mage in the tower, but no one had any definitive stories.”

Another mistake. The giant snarled.

“You are a fool then! I don’t want any friends!” He hesitated briefly as he said it, not sure of the truth, but recovered fast. “But I don’t want you spreading rumors about my mercy either…” he picked them back up. Gripping them hard and getting their right arm between his teeth. He didn’t bite their arm off, but broke the skin with a fang and pinched their hand. They yelled.

“Stop! Stop! I won't tell! I won’t tell!”

He dropped them and they sat, crying, holding their bleeding arm and hand which was turning a plum purple. The cat instantly got up and ran to his witch. Alternating between purring and hissing.

“Good” he hissed steam in their face, scalding the skin red, as his eyes glowed a bright orange. “Now get the fuck out before I decide to actually eat youl!” He flicked the broom at them “And if you ever show your face around here again, I will”

Finally, they listened to him. They got onto the broom along with their cat and with a burst of magic kicked into the air and fled out the window. Yonah watched until they disappeared, then sat down. His hair hadn’t been smoking before but it was now. Additionally, his eyes still glowed.

His first visitor in months wasn't an adventurer and he’d traumatized them without a second thought! Stupid stupid! Stupid!

Maybe this was his destiny. For years he’d trained himself to be restrained. Keep his anger in check, Keep his half giant identity a secret and become a wizard. But that had all gone to shit when he’d been discovered not as just a half giant but as a half fire witch. Chased out of the academy but captured by the authorities of Orr.

Forced to sign a contract with King Ben to become his new pet monster! So why not be a monster!?

But he still wanted friends… his friends from the academy weren’t allowed to visit him. His tower of magic and wonder was so empty. He put his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands.

~chink~ his elbow brushed against something.

He looked down and saw a broken clay pot, the soup spilling out and a seedling now helpless and exposed on the desk.

Quickly yonah dipped his fingers into a pouch at his side and licked off the powdered fungus before saying a spell. With a puff of smoke he stood on his desk, a mere 8ft tall, and he knelt down.

With his more appropriately sized hands he gathered the soil and with a wave of his hand and another mutter the pieces of the pot shook and flew back into their original places. The pot was… functionally repaired. The proper repair spell required materials to fuse the pieces properly. So it wouldn’t hold water but it could hold soil.

As he scooped it back in a piece of paper fell from the loose soil. Curious he dug it back out of the pot and cleaned it off enough to read:

“Welcome to the Mystical Woodlands new neighbor! This seedling is from my own garden. A special cultivation of Frozen Thyme.”

The moment he read it he was instantly planning where this would go in his garden. But… this gift. Did he deserve it? He’d terrorized the one who brought it. He chased them away!

With a thump he sat on his desk, looking around him, trying to imagine what this experience had been from the witch’s perspective. Tried to imagine what it would be like to have a snarling giant loom over you and snatch you up, when all you wanted to do was say hello...

He couldn’t accept this gift but he couldn’t just let the seedling wither and die. It didn’t deserve that. And thus, his brain rationalized a way for him to keep the gift. So now what?

Yonah’s brain was too full of rage to do any proper work, so he decided to take it out on the garden, which was still in a state of construction. He’d already torn up old dead pieces of the overgrown mess left behind by the predecessor. Now he was digging spots for flower beds and what would hopefully be an orchard. There was even a designated spot for herbs.

The reason this was slow going was he refused to use magic. For the most part. Thankfully, being giant made digging and construction easier. Now that he had the thyme, he prioritized the herb beds.  It was with a sour pride that he completed one as the sun started to go down.

A large wooden box that curved in a lovely arc close to the tower. The wood was specially imported from his The Blue Sky Mountain Giants Tribe in the Implausible Mountains, the smell of it reminding him of home. The frozen thyme seedling was given enough space to grow. He even gave it some friends that he knew would be compatible.

With his mind a little more at ease, he managed to get himself to sleep.

And awoke the next morning with an ache in his heart and a new plan in his brain.

For the first time since he arrived in this prison of a forest, he ventured beyond the boundaries of his clearing. Yonah knew he was allowed, a certain distance from his tower, to walk the forest. It had just seemed pointless. Not wanting to draw too much attention, he wore his gardening outfit: a pink plaid button up and light blue overalls. He had a straw hat that he recently wove to be a wizard hat, as well as his wizard staff. He couldn’t really leave that behind.

The trees in the forest were shorter than back home, but still very large. Thankfully he didn't have to duck so much to avoid branches. In his mind was a list of ingredients he needed to find. Foraging in the forest might seem like a fruitless endeavor, but when you have the keen nose of a giant, tracking down wildberries was a simple feat.

What a bounty! A huge patch of bramble with perfectly ripe berries. He didn’t need a giant’s amount and they would just get squashed if he tried to pick them at his normal size so once again he shrank down. He retrieved a basket from his hat and started to pick berries.

About ten minutes in, the bush began to shift! A section opened up and out ran a gnome with a garden spade. It smacked into his hand mid berry pick.

“Stop! Thief!”

SMACK SMACK!

Yonah was so startled he backed away and returned to his normal size, the basket of berries spilling over.

The gnome yelped.  “Giant!” They dropped the spade. “Don’t eat me! Take berries! Don’t eat me or family!”

There was something satisfying about the gnome’s fear and Yonah grinned, “While you would make for a nice little snack,” he said, “I’m not in the mood for gnome today.”

The gnome shook and took up the spade again, pointing it at him as if that would help. From inside the bushes, Yonah heard rustling, and smelled more gnomes. This must cover their burrow.

“Put that away, or I might change my mind!” Yonah growled, showing his fangs. The gnome complied, tossing it aside.

“But you are also in luck. I am not interested in being a berry thief. I have more honor than that. If you would permit me to buy some of your berries, at a discount for me not making a meal of you and your family, I will leave you in peace”

The gnome gulped and nodded, “Am… sure we can make a deal.”

“Pick up the ones I already picked, will you?” Yonah ordered.

The gnome scrambled. “You will need more?”

Yonah nodded. The gnome whistled. And a troupe of younger gnomes carefully came out of the bramble.

“Kind giant has offered to buy some berries. Exchange for not eating us!”

The kids looked nervous and their fear didn’t spark the same kind of joy as the adults. But Yonah had a reputation to build! And he had to admit, it was still a bit fun.

He watched as the gnomes gathered berries until the basket was full and the adult gnome put it down in front of where Yonah had sat down. He picked it up and took off his hat, dropping it in and noticed the gnome’s eyes get wide. Storage space items were not uncommon, but storage hats were tools of professional mages, not common folk.

“That all?” the gnome asked.

Yonah stroked his beard thoughtfully, “Yes. I think so.” He reached into this hat. While he didn’t have a lot of money, Ben had supplied him with funds should he need them, and he had distributed the rings between his various pocket spaces. He got out a large wooden dowel upon which hung many metal rings. Small ones and large ones. With a pair of tweezers, yonah removed a few silver rings and one gold ring and put them into his palm, placing it up in front of the gnome.

Who did not take it.

“Do not insult me by refusing my payment,” Yonah insisted but the gnome did not move.

“More than we charge normally… You wanted discount: berries, a silver a pound!”

Yonah blinked. He still wasn’t good with smallfolk money. When purchasing as a giant, you purchased such large amounts it always cost at least a gold.

“Oh? Er-” he didn’t want to actually exploit these gnomes. “I'm not taking it back! Take the money Or I’ll eat you!” his voice faltered and the gnomes looked a little confused, and a little more relaxed.

“Leave us alone then, yes?” The gnome reached out a hand. Yonah nodded. The gnome finally took the money, giving each of the kids a silver ring. Any fear the kids had was gone as soon as they studied their rings and looked at Yonah with excitement. It was hard not to let the warmth in his heart at their expressions show on his own face.

“Actually!” Yonah announced as the gnomes started to back away into their burrow.

The adult stopped and looked nervous again. Yonah huffed. “I’m not going to eat you, I never was. I just have a question.”

The gnome ushered the kids away, not trusting Yonah, before turning back to the giant. “And if don’t have a good answer, you won’t eat… right?”

With a sigh Yonah shook his head, “No. I won't.”

“Then ask.”

Yonah took a breath, “I am... looking to get some ingredients. I… lashed out at someone recently and I very much regret it, and want to make some amends. I have giant ones back home but… giant sized ingredients do not taste as strong as small ones. Do you know where, or who, I might be able to look for?”

The gnome smiles, “Yes! Mystical Market. Sell our berries there. Open today, also gnome holiday.” They gave Yonah the instructions on how to find the market.

“Thank you- er…” Yonah put a hand to his chest and bowed.

“Kalle” said Kalle.

“Yonah,” said Yonah. The gnome bowed as well, “Don’t be flaunting riches, mysterious half giant. Marketeers take advantage”

Riches!? He did not have endless funds. He would have to be more careful with his spending.

“I am also looking for… Er... Shit!” he exclaimed and was glad the kids were no longer outside, “I don't know their name. Dwarf witch.”

Kalle considered, “Know them. Likes almond cookies. Sorry. Market easier find than people. That all?”

From their tone of voice, Yonah knew the gnome desperately wanted to get back to their family. It was a holiday after all. Yonah stood up and nodded, leaving without subjecting them to any more conversation.

Almond cookies? That changed things. He had only made almond cookies once! He needed a little more help. However, he did not backtrack to the tower. He knew that if he went back, he would lose motivation. Locating the market was his current task.

Unfortunately, it took some luck. According to the gnome, it was a special place that one happened to come across, just by wanting to be there. The more familiar you were with it, the better chance there was of that happening. Yonah really really wanted to be there. So he gathered his will and set off in a random direction.

After an hour of walking yonah felt a weird tingle all over his arms and legs. Like his hair was standing on end and all pointing in the same direction. Had he entered some magical field? No matter, he was fairly immune to passive magic.

Then he took another step and a jolt of magic electricity surged through his body, causing him to freeze up. Before he could collapse, he felt as if a giant hook had caught around his middle. There was no physical hook, but it still yanked him back, pulling in through the forest.

Eventually it stopped and finally Yonah fell over, breathing shallowly as his heart raced. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the trees.

“What’s the big idea!?” Someone kicked him in the side and he sat up. “You’re blocking the way!”

An elf!

Yonah frowned. “You’re so bold for someone I could crush with a finger!” To tease the elf, he poked them in the chest.

“YEOWCH!”

For the second time that day, Yonah got bitten. This time, it was the elf who sank their fangs into his finger, letting go before Yonah pulled away.

“Don’t get sassy with me! Messing with smallfolk isn’t allowed in the market, you'll be banned!”

Yonah looked around “The market?”

He had assumed it was the Mystical Market because it was in the Mystical Woodlands. But now he realized that the name was rather accurate. An entire marketplace incorporated into the forest itself. Stalls and restaurants built into the trees, with carts parked in between.  The trees here were also… there was no other word for it: majestic. Larger and older and, compared to the forest he had been exploring before, more deliberate spacing. He couldn’t even see all of it. The forest stretched on for a while, and thus was obscured by the very trees that made up the shops.

There were even buildings in the branches so that ogres, trolls, and giants did not have to bend down to make transactions. He even spotted a few trolls. Amazing! Trolls (and ogres) were much more likely than giants to eat smallfolk. Giants mostly threatened unless the person in question did something really, really stupid.

And yet, there was a troll, large with brown fur and green spots, purchasing a roll of fabric from the elevated section of a gnome shop.

“Yes you idiot, the market! And my cart won't fit through any other path! Move your giant ass or I’ll get the guard to move it for you!”

His elation at having found the market was in conflict with his pride that was being so insulted by this little creature.

“Apologize for biting me, and I’ll consider it!”

The elf looked indignant, “You threatened to squash me! MAGEN!!” they yelled.

Thunderous footsteps were heard and Yonah turned as a proper, full blooded giant, made her way through the shoppers, somehow avoiding stepping on anyone. She was maybe 17, but full grown and taller than Yonah by at least ten feet. Her skin was a light greyish pink and her eyes were a dark red. She wore a lovely headpiece of woven flowers and vines to look like hair, which full giants do not have.

She knelt “This man bothering you?”

The elf nodded. Yonah threw his hands up, “Hey! I don’t mean any trouble!”

“He threatened to squash me!”

The giant glared at, Yonah who glared back.

“How large folk deal with smalls outside of the market is their own business,” she said. “But inside the market we do not even threaten to squash, or kick, or stomp, or eat!”

“I did not intend to and I did not know I was in the market! I have never been before!” Yonah stood up so that he was not at such an extreme height disadvantage. Magen was a rather short mountain giant, only 35ft tall.

She nodded, “I can believe that.” She stood up. “I would have remembered you for sure.” She sniffed and said in implausible Giant: “You are from the blue sky tribe?”

“Yes! I am.” he answered, also in Giant. “I just moved to the forest. I was looking for the market but… I must have… hit something magic. I sort of fell into here”.

The elf took the opportunity to weave their cart around the giants’ feet, disappearing into the market.

“Ah, the seller seems to no longer push this issue. My name is Magen.” she introduced, bowing.

“Yonah HaEsh,” Yonah answered in return.

“HaEsh! I know the name. Fire man who helped save the Implausible Mountains from the Society of Wizards!”

“That’s my dad,” Yonah said, a little embarrassed.

“Mom told me the story! How exciting!”

Yonah brushed himself off and glanced around, “So... What are the rules here, then?”

Magen shrugged, “Just don’t start fights, alright? All sales are final, so don't go making a fuss if you haggled wrong or think you got cheated unless you believe your items are defective. There are ways to deal with fraudulent goods, but we cannot risk collateral damage.”

“Does that happen often?” Yonah asked, “I only mean to buy food, I can tell if that’s fresh”

“Oh, you have a giant’s nose then. Good. It does not happen often. Makes my job easier. And I usually manage to break up confrontations before they get out of hand.”

Knowing he could likely sniff out the stalls he needed, Yonah asked if Magen could show him around and help him find all the items on his list. She happily agreed. He had to walk behind her as there wasn’t room for two giants to be side by side.

As she carefully led him, she took glances back and down Yonah who was getting a little nervous. It had been a while since he encountered other giants. He was watching his feet to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone, and he was stopping constantly to look into the shops and stalls and carts.

“What is it like, being half giant?” Magen asked, who somehow managed to walk without looking at her feet very often at all. Maybe Yonah was being too careful and people here knew to stay out of the way of large folk's feet… Still, he didn't want to take chances.

“Er… I have hair, I guess?” he said.

“I was wondering if that was natural or a wig.” Magen brushed the vines spilling from her head.

“But mostly, things were just a bit inconveniently large for me. I still managed.” Then he countered. “What’s it like being a guard in the market?”

“The shopkeepers pool money to have me stand around, mostly. Smallfolk behave when an angry giant is within earshot.” She grinned with all her fangs.

“I thought you said giants couldnt mess with smallfolk here?” Yonah inquired.

“You can’t. It’s my job to interfere,” Magen retorted. “I haven't hurt anyone… badly. I’ve only worked here for a year. But I know everyone and everyone knows me!”

They stopped at a stand selling nuts and Yonah purchased the almonds he needed. The seller seemed a bit disappointed that he bought so few.

“Shopping for someone small?” Magen asked.

“Er- yeah.” Yonah said. They both had to back between trees to let a trio of trolls go by. One was only 10 feet tall and barely came up to Yonah’s waist, but another was nearly 20 feet! They carried baskets and bags on their furry backs, and even had some tied to their tusks!

Before they continued, two elves leapt from the tree nearby and onto Yonah’s shoulders! He was about to brush them off when Magen stopped him.

“Don’t! They are just hitching rides!” At that, he spotted more elves on her head. “You need honey, yes? I know the best shop!”

He followed Magen around the market, which was much larger than he had realized. The elves had no qualms about leaping on and off him and other largefolk shoppers and eventually he ignored them. Magen even helped him avoid making a bad deal for oat flour, saying she couldn’t believe the nerve of the shopkeeper trying to take advantage of a new resident.

Before Yonah left, he wanted to properly thank Magen. “If there is anything I can do to show thanks. Perhaps er-” he looked around.

“You know, the juice stand behind that tree has new flavors I’ve wanted to try. How about you buy me a drink? You should get one too. It’s very refreshing!”

“They make them giant sized?” Yonah asked.

“Oh, they are made by ogres!” Magen replied, rounding the indicated tree.

Ogres, kin of trolls and even more dangerous due to their magical powers. Typically smaller than trolls, but that was not the way to tell them apart.

An entire family of ogres were operating a massive open storefront. Jugs hung from branches or were strapped to the trunks of trees and fruit swung in baskets. Behind the counter was an elaborate prep station operated by two large ogres. Around the entire display were platforms sticking out from the nearby trees. Smallfolk sat on stools enjoying drinks and food at an elevation that made it easy to be served by the ogres. Magen walked up to the counter, which was not at an ideal height for her but was easily manageable. She spoke to an ogre with straw colored fur, blue spots, and large horns.

“Edna! I’d like two passion fruit smoothies please! One giant sized and one…” She glanced back at Yonah. “Full Troll sized!” She stepped aside and pointed at Yonah. “He’s paying”

Edna nodded and passed on the order.

Yonah stepped forward. Bowing “Yonah HaEsh”. She bowed back, “Edna Baneclaw. That will be a gold bracelet for the giant and half for the full troll”

Yonah’s heart nearly stopped. A gold bracelet and a half !? He looked at Magen who flashed her fangs mischievously then back at Enda.

Edna smiled as well. “We don’t have enlarged passion fruit, not in high demand by largefolk.”

With another glare at Magen, Yonah fished into his hat. He didn’t have gold bracelets but he had rings. 10 silver to a gold. Rings to Rings. Bracelets to Bracelets… 10 gold rings to a silver bracelet… 10 silver bracelets to a gold ring. That’s 100 gold rings to a gold bracelet (he had really overpaid the gnomes for the berries... A holiday gift he supposed), but this was not money to spend on frivolous fruit drinks!

Too late, however. The drinks were ready, and he carefully removed golden rings from silver bracelets. 50 gold rings and 10 silver bracelets exchanged for two smoothies. They came in wooden cups with bamboo straws.

This better be fucking worth it. Yonah took a sip.

His eyes widened as the cool icy tart concoction hit his taste buds and he took a long drink. Finally, he looked at Magen and then Edna. “This is incredible!” he exclaimed. Magen grinned and sipped hers as well. “Yeah. Too bad we’re the last two to have some for at least a month!”

“What do you mean?”

“That took all the passion fruit we had,” Edna informed. “Won't get more for a while”

“Worth it! Suck it smallfolk!” Magen teased the people on the platforms, a few looked a bit annoyed, but most didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to care either.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Yonah. I hope to see you again. Oh, and by the way, you can return your mug to the ogres for a silver bracelet, even if you take it home today!”

Yonah glanced at his drink. “Oh! Thanks for letting me know. But where are you going?”

Magen sipped at her smoothie loudly before answering. “This was my break, silly, I need to go back on proper duty now, and you have all your things.” Magen held out her free hand and Yonah shook it, bidding her goodbye. It was getting late in the day now and he wanted to get to work on the almond cookies.

Wait… which way was back to the tower? How could he be so stupid wandering off like this!? His mom taught him better than that. Forest ranger rule number 1: DON’T GET LOST. ...okay, so that wasn’t really a rule. It was supposed to imply that you paid attention to where you were going so you could get back. This was not so easy in the Mystic Woods.

The moment he had walked far enough away from the market, he turned forward and then back, and it was already gone. He had nowhere to go but forward.

It was to his great surprise that only a minute later, he exited the dense trees and found himself in the clearing. The tower was on the opposite side. While he was elated to have made it back safely before dark, there was a distinct absence of any gladness to be home. This was not his home, after all. It was his prison.

Yonah HaEsh climbed up the tower and back into his prison. He took off his hat and sat down at his desk in the workshop, staring into the reflection on the large, ornate mirror that rested upon it.

To do this right, he needed help. Professional help. So he activated his mirror. Or at least… tried. He stared at his own reflection, then spoke. “Mirror Mirror on the desk,” he faltered, “Could you please connect me to Shoshana at the academy?”

The mirror snorted. “You think politeness will work after all this time? I don’t make exceptions. This is why your friends think you’ve forgotten about them! Put in the effort! Ask me properly or don't at all.”

“They’ve called me!!” Yonah insisted, but the mirror said nothing in response. Just like he would do when he got calls from his friends. Yonah growled and snorted back at the mirror, fogging it up. “Mirror Mirror, oh magical vanity, I wish to call Shoshana, at the wizard academy”

There was a whistle from the mirror. “Now that’s how you do it!” it praised. The fog cleared and for a brief moment, he saw his own face again before the reflective surface turned grey. Another moment and the face of his friend Shoshana emerged.

“Yonah!!!” she exclaimed. “You called! I cannot believe it!”

Yonah’s face turned a bit red. “I’ve… been distracted.”

Shoshana waved her hand, stopping any further excuses. “You’ve been through so much! I was worried! Since we graduated, you haven't called at all!”

/I never called before either... / Yonah thought. /It was always you.../ When Grand Master Sean reinstated him as a wizardling student, his friends would call regularly to work on homework and their theses, as he wasn’t allowed to actually attend the school in person. And while he attended the graduation…

That wasn’t a happy memory at all and he didn’t want to think about how he sat behind all the students in the amphitheater in magic chains looking more like a beast one of the adventuring tract students had wrangled for their final than a student.

“I need a recipe!” he said.

Shoshana raised her brows “That’s it!? First call in over a month, and it’s to get a recipe! You don’t want to catch up at all?!” Yonah’s eyes flickered and Shoshana backed off. “Alright, I can see you’re not in the mood. But please, we’re all missing you so much. We’d assumed you embraced the evil hermit wizard life.”

“I… haven’t meant to. But it’s surprisingly easy,” he admitted, grinning awkwardly. “I’d rather not go full hermit, of course.”

“Well, then dont go a month without calling your friends!” Shoshana chided. “Or make some new friends! The forest is full of interesting people, right?”

Yonah looked away, but his eyes were probably glowing orange now.

“This… is for that.”

“Oh!” Shoshana exclaimed, “I should have figured! Of course, I will give you whatever recipe you’d like.”

Yonah got out his ingredients to show Shoshana and explained what he wanted to bake. She nodded and made some suggestions for ingredients and spices to really make these cookies great. He did not have all the supplies she suggested, which led to some back-and-forth as Shoshana pointed out some substitutions for what Yonah bought or already had in his tower.

“Got that all down?” she asked, as she watched Yonah scribble out the final lines to the recipe.

“Yes!” Yonah exhaled in relief. “Thank you so much, Shosh!”

“Next time, we will catch up properly, but I had fun designing this recipe!” Shoshana chirped. “What a challenge. I wish you had called first, before just buying random ingredients.”

“I was already in the forest, Shosh.”

“I know, I know.” Shoshana blew Yonah a kiss and the mirror flickered back to his reflection.

It was time to bake! Which he did after shrinking down.

By the time he was done baking his jam print almond cookies, it was past midnight. He needed sleep and didn't think finding the witch at night was a particularly wise idea, especially since he was getting tired. That meant he was extra likely to be grumpy and irritable. So he placed the cookies in a special cooling rack to keep them magically fresh, then went to bed.

It was right after breakfast that Yonah HaEsh left the tower and, for the second time, entered the forest.

Once again, he had no direction, not that one could in the Mystic Woods. It wasn't even possible to have a map unless it was incredibly magical. Still, he was determined and willing to wander the forest for days if he must! But he’d do so at his full size, which would allow him to cover more ground.

That’s… That’s a witch’s hut! He hoped it was the correct one. It was more of a mound than a hut, with one side covered in rocks and moss and the other a more sheer side with windows, plus a flatter side with a door.

As he approached, a garden came into view and he heard a yelp before watching a small figure dart into the hut and close the curtains. The door opened briefly and a hand hung a sign that read “NO SOLICITORS”

That was the evil giant! Why was he here!? Why did the forest let him find the hut!? Was he here to eat them?! To finish the job!? Could they take on a giant fire witch?! Myran was a damn skilled witch, and at least 15 years the giant’s senior by their estimate, but they were quaking in their boots.

A knock sounded at their door. It didn’t sound forceful enough to be a giant.  Siv was in front of them, hissing at the door. Thinking it better to be safe, they peeked out the window, then ran to open the door. Just a crack.

Red faced and holding a basket was… the giant. Only he wasn’t giant. Not exactly. He now stood at about twice Myran’s height. A little less actually. Right. Wizard. Giant wizard.

“May I come in?”

“Depends… what’s in the basket?” They narrowed their eyes. “I don’t want any nasty surprises.”

The wizard’s face got redder as he removed the cover. They opened the door and stood aside. They took the basket with their right hand… Yonah hesitated. Their arm had a massive scar from shoulder to elbow, but the hand was unbroken. The Dwarf noticed and gave him a hard look as he crouched low to get through the dwarf sized door, Siv still hissing at him in warning.

Myran put the basket on the kitchen table and motioned to the couch. “Please, sit.” Yonah did. The couch was small for him but it took his weight. “I’m going to be honest.” Myran leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms. “This is quite the unexpected visit.”

They leaned against the kitchen table and crossed their arms.

“Oh?” Yonah said, of course it made sense, he threatened them, bitten them, chased them out, why would he then try to find them again.

“You bit me! You broke my hand! And You said if you saw me again you would eat me!”

/Ohhhh/

Yonah’s breath caught before managing to say “I did… didn’t I.” He looked down at his feet.

They sighed.

“Yep. Though eating me at your current size would be an impressive feat. So- What the fuck are you doing here? Besides bringing me cookies to fatten me up.”

“I’m not-!” He looked back up to defend himself and saw their cheeky grin. “I didn’t come here to eat you…” they raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief.

“I want to apologize. For chasing you away like that. I was so angry. I still am, though mostly at myself. I shouldn't have hurt you, you weren't an adventurer. It wasn’t right.” He was almost crying. Dammit, he’d gone nearly a month without crying!

The witch raised both eyebrows now, genuinely curious as to the workings of this monster’s thoughts.  “Youre sorry for chasing me away!? You threatened to eat me!”

“It’s my job! It’s my job to terrorize people, Especially those who enter my tower unannounced. It’s part of my job! And… and I like it!” He startled himself with that statement. He liked his job? He didn’t even want this job!! He was forcefully employed by the King under threat of more conventional imprisonment! Being evil had never been his plan and he didn’t want that. Didn’t he?

The witch didn’t look completely satisfied with this answer. But they didn’t get to inquire further as Yonah’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Er- your hand…”

Myran smiled “It was rather mangled by your jaws yesterday. Luckily, I am a very good healer, and well-known in this forest. If you had killed me, you would have had a lot of angry forest residents after your head.” Myran began preparing a pot of tea as Yonah Processed that statement.  “You’re a lucky giant aren’t you?”

“What?” Yonah voiced. “For not killing you and putting a target on my back?”

“Yes, exactly. And that was curious. It is rare that evil giants are merciful.”

Yonah looked away, “I’ve only been evil for a few months. I… you’re the third person I've faced as my er… villainous self. And I haven’t… I dont plan on... eating anyone.”

That surprised Myran. “I guess I do not know the frequency that giants normally encounter adventurers…”

“You said it yourself, Evil Giants eat people…” Yonah pointed out, “But it comes with a cost… I am worried… even if I don't... It’s only a matter of time before slayers come after me.”

“Most evil giants kill their victims. Right?” they asked more directly.

Yonah shrugged “I met another one once. Said it depended on his mood.”

“Fascinating… though if you keep up your merciful streak, perhaps you are less likely to attract slayers?”

“Perhaps…” Yonah had not considered that. He just felt he wasn’t ready to kill anyone yet, but maybe there were other perks than just his own conscience to continue to let his victims go.

“Cracked some sort of code then? Getting to be a villain without attracting too much attention?” Then they added “Not that this would stop all slayers. I expect you would kill a slayer?”

Yonah wasn’t really listening to Myran any longer. There were other things on his mind. Things he had spent the entire walk over here mulling over, and he had to voice them sooner rather than later.

As tears welled in his eyes he couldn’t look at Myran any longer. He closed his eyes and turned his face away.

“I know I said I didn’t want any friends. But I do! I need them. And I know I can’t be your friend. You came to me and I fucked it up. But I beseech you to not tell everyone else in the forest to avoid me. I already went to the mystical market and-“

“You… how did you find out that I liked almonds!”

Yonah looked up. They weren’t looking at him but reaching into the basket for another cookie. They munched on it thoughtfully, not a crumb falling into their beard.  The tea was ready and Myran poured it with magic, leaving their hands free to hold more cookies.  They walked over to Yonah, the tea cups floating with. He took the larger one out of mid air. It was very hot! And he drank. It was… It tasted like tea he’d had at home. His village had alway gotten various teas from the dwarves. New tears came to his eyes.

“You alright?” Myran asked, offering a handkerchief. “You’re a very emotional evil giant.”

Yonah took it and dried his eyes. “The tea is… really good.” That wasn’t the real reason but right now he couldn’t process all of his emotions.

“It’s my grandma’s blend,” Myran said. “I’ve tried to replicate it using my garden, but you just can’t replicate those tunnel grown fungi.”

They dipped one of the cookies into the tea. From their expression, it wasn’t really a mistake but likely didn’t improve the experience. Still they munched thoughtfully.

“I’ll be your friend.”

Yonah’s jaw nearly hit the floor and he almost dropped his tea. It was a few seconds before he managed to pick his jaw back up. Were they serious? They walked over to him, placing their much smaller hand over one of his. Then they smiled most disarmingly.

“Just don’t eat me!”

Yonah smiled.

“I think I can manage that”

[FIN]

——

(You can imagine that Yonah got to hug Myran before he left, probably a little too tight but dwarves are tough!)

[THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REBLOG/GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I CRAVE IT!]

Big thanks to my editors @j0hnnymouse and @vixen525