#never again will he watch as his king and best friend be manipulated or tricked by high ranking nobles who seek nothing but power

[fluffypotatey]

S5 Dark Merlin is very "mark me down as sad and horny" bc Merls bby no, but also yisssss.

I can very much see him as being mostly beyond all that moral agonising he used to do and now just goes straight for the most efficient solution, and if that happens to be murder, oh well. But at the same time he's still has a sense of morality.

Like, if he found out a lord or whatever was abusing his wife, Merlin, basically an assassin and a physician in his own right, would just poison the mf

s5 dark merlin is something that can be so personal

[helplesspupet]

The Gang x LBDs Child! Reader

Warning : Mentions Of Manipulation / Possession

×××

You have done it. You have tricked them all, you're manipulation skills are just as if not better than hers now here you were, at your home made shrine of her. "I will avenge you Mother... I will make sure your destiny is fulfilled... They trust me Mother... they all do, even... the Monkey King. Now I just need one more person..." The girl said, no one knew you her daughter. No one apart from The Mayor, It was only natural you would go to him and restore his power with your own abilities. After all... Evil with always live on. You used your mist to go the place with the pilgrim satatues. There he was, The Mayor. The was mumbling to himself about being left tied up to die but you would change that.

"How dare they just leave me like that... I'm THE MAYOR!" He stated in anger "Indeed you are, Mother left you to gain the control of Sun Wukong. But I promise I will not do that, I Have my own plans for you....  Baigujing." You said with that menacing smile of yours

"Lady Y/n.... What honour do I have to see you again?" He said almost happy to see you again.

"I am here to restore your power, and you can help with fulfilling my mothers destiny." You said as you broke him from his bonds and restoring him to his full power. "So my lady... what took you so long?" He ask slightly curious on why he waited so long for you, "My apologies Baigujing but you must understand that I had to gain the trust Mk and his low life friends. I would've come much quicker if they didn't know who my mother is."

-

"Hey Y/n, Mk and I going to the arcade wanna come?" Mei ask you, she's actually grown to like you it going to be such a shame when you betra her. "U-uhh... sure of course!" You had never cared for video games or anything of the sort but since you have to keep up the appearance of needing them to trust you, you have no choice but to join them. You just watch while Mayor rebuilds the mech, at one point you just stare at Mei.

-

"The Samadhi Fire.... it is weapon that will help me refordge this world... wouldn't you agree My Daughter?" Your mother, The Lady Bone Demon had said to you "Yes Mother... It will help you make this meaningless world perfect." You answered back, you had looked up to your mother. What child didn't, but you were unusually quiet "Is something the matter Y/n?" The Bone Demon asked noticing your odd behaviour you are silent for a few seconds before you reply "Yes mother I am alright." "Good... Now stay hidden until I'm done with Sun Wukong. I sense he will be here soon."  She tells you, you do as you say and hide until you're told otherwise.

-

You open your eyes after the flashback. As you look over at Mei again you were determined to get the samahdi fire,you're weren't going to wait like your mother did but you were going make her use it as you see fit by taking it forcefully.

Even if you knew it was a risky plan you were going to fulfill your mother's destiny one way or another.

-

It has been a few months and it is finally done. The mech has been rebuilt "Soon, my mothers destiny will be complete. Bring the monkey king his friends to me Baigujing." You had said to him as he chuckled and bowed "Of course My Lady.." He said sinisterly as he left. Now it was a waiting game for them to arrive.

It's been almost an hour now and finally they have arrived "Y/n, what are you doing here?" Mk asked in surprise "For the same reasons as all of you." You replied with that emotionless tone you usually held, "I don't know how it is in working condition but someone's planing something.. evil." He said trying to sound convincing, even got Monkey King to follow which was in your opinion... Perfect.

They have been debating on how to properly destroy it before they agreed on using the samadhi fire would be the best option. You grinned as she prepared it, everything was going perfectly in your favor.

"Ok..." Mei said as she prepared the fire to destroy it, when she released it the mech powered on and began sucking the fire out of the dragon girl her screams of struggle where something you took pleasure in. They were all in shock and confused on what was happening.

By the time it was done Mei was out if it she could barely stand.

They were still wondering how this happened until they heard a laugh a rather sicking laugh they turned and saw you smiling it soon became clear to them that you were responsible for this they had never felt such betrayal

"Did you realy think I wouldn't follow in my mothers footsteps?" You taunted them "With the samahdi fire I can fulfill my mothers destiny!" You had stated as Wukong went in for the attack, but no one said it would be easy for them.

You teleported away quickly and grabbed Mk and went high in the sky "Continue to attack and I will." You said you weren't going to hesitate to drop him. Even if it was cheque it would be an unfortunate ending him, The Monkie Kid. Unless... An idea came to mind. Mk was weaker than Monkey King, you knew that even if it was by a small fraction. You could use Mk against them. Monkey King was unsure of what to do but he paniced once you through him towards the mech used your power you possess him.

The shock and pain on their faces was utterly beautiful for you. Mk was going to need a great pawn in this game.

They didn't know what to do, especially Monkey King, as Mk has his staff.

For now... all they can do is hide and think of a plan but with Mk and the fire.

But it there options are slim as You have the fire and a mortal.

×××

[kenpxchi]

@keikakudori​ - death drabble

There was little doubt that Aizen was peerless. Butchering his way through the Captains and Visored alike during the Winter War, attaining further evolution with the Hōgyoku, ascending to an utterly singular being. Now, at the end of a war a millennia in the making, he has returned, radiant and terrifying. With Ichigo incapacitated in the wake of the Quincy King’s death, only one being is left to face the nascent divinity. Looks like Aizen will be getting his wish after all: to become the Soul King. Unfortunately, that includes all that comes with it; to be butchered and imprisoned in a gilded cage.

They stare at each other, knowing what’s to come. Two of them, both listed as Special War Potentials, both from the outskirts of the Rukongai, both of them having fought their way to the top, one way or another. And here, in the ruins of the Seireitei, they face each other down. One, an immortal genius, a paragon of all arts of death that Soul Society can conjure. The other, bearing a blade that can carve through anything, battle flowing through his veins. He’d always been eager to fight Aizen. Having been ordered to fight him, though, is something different. The foundations of reality are already cracking around them. Time is short.

The power of Kanzen Saimin is a very, very difficult opponent for Kenpachi to face. Due to Aizen’s insane amount of reiatsu, Kenpachi isn’t able to simply overpower the effect like Aizen did for Soi Fon’s Nigeki Kessatsu. The best manipulations are always subtle, making a blade aim a few centimeters off course. Bolts of Kidō sear his flesh, and false sensations of agony wash over his body. It’s tricky to adapt against. However, he seems to have found a catch.

It’s like fighting Tōsen, in a way. Being robbed of one’s senses and being tricked by them aren’t so different. You simply need to parse through the sensations and determine what is real and what is false. Therein lies the difference between them. Aizen was unassailable, utterly in control from the very first moment, untouchable. Kenpachi, on the other hand, has been carved apart, slaughtered again and again, his power sealed away for centuries. In that time, weakened by his own fear, he has come to know pain as an old, true friend.

Aizen, whose power works by conjuring a sensation finely controlled to his own designs, has not known pain as intimately as Kenpachi, and he can use that to determine what is real and what is not. However, there are a few times he almost mistakes the illusory pain for the real thing. He watched as his body dissolved, eaten by a corrosive poison. That one felt real, but he knew it couldn’t be. So, now he knows when to dodge and when to fight. His instincts can tell him. The war of attrition with an immortal can continue. It’s impossible to bind him; his Shikai carves apart the Kidō and frees him. Last-second dodges allow him to evade Hadō. Though Aizen had been listed as a War Potential for his reiatsu, Kenpachi had been the first among them for his sheer battle prowess.

His opponent must have been eager to end the conflict, because he feels a bare hand pierce through his chest, furious fingers reaching for his heart. He feels it, and recognizes the reality of that pain... He reaches out, as he did to Kaname all those years ago. Fingers clamp down hard at blinding speed, as a word falls from his bloody lips.

“ban... kai.”

The demon awakes, slavering for divine blood. Despite the countless injuries inflicted on him, despite his body being burned, blasted, stabbed and sliced, and now impaled, he still stands. He is the Kenpachi, after all. No matter how many times he is cut, no matter how many deaths he endures, he will never fall, never again. Unohana promised him that, and with this act, he will earn her pride.

The cleaver falls like an avalanche, a canyon forming in its wake as the blade sinks through the shoulder, down at an angle, severing his legs and leaving him with one arm. Muscles tear themselves to bloody shreds as he howls in blind, instinctive fury, tearing the hand out of his ribcage and rushing forward, his exposed heart beating so hard it starts to burst. With a whirling blow, he severs Aizen’s other arm, but then, the instinctual beast turns a third time, beheading his foe.

Kenpachi roars, not paying any mind to Kirinji jumping in, lightning-quick, to retrieve the body. He stands, maimed beyond belief, still somehow alive, blood pouring from his mouth and the hole in his chest. It would be a scene fit for a painting if it weren’t so catastrophic. His roar seems to echo through the World of the Living and Hueco Mundo, shaking the very foundations of the worlds. It’s as if the coming apocalypse has been given form, barely bound and restrained in shattered limbs, intent on destroying all, consuming everything, a bloodthirsty demon of the sword.

He stands at the edge of the crevasse that used to be the Seireitei and screams to the heavens with shredded lungs. He screams, because despite all conscious thought being stripped from him, despite the agony, despite his body fraying at the seams, he is angry. He is sad. In that battle, he recognized the soul beneath all the illusions. It is a soul that he recognizes, one driven to isolation due to the curse of power. He has saved the world, but he has doomed himself and that same lonely soul to an eternity of isolation. His vicious screams crack the sky as his own voice cracks, the final notes of his eulogy to the defeated foe.

[nkogneatho]

"Promise me forever"- Fushiguro Megumi x gn!reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, action | I do not own the character.

Wc: 1.9k | Requested by @unabashednightmarepizza

Warnings: mentions of death, heavy angst, mentions of blood, jujutsu fight style, hyperventilation, mentions of depression and anxiety, bringing human back to life.| A/n: I did it finally. It took me long time. If anything above triggers you, please don't read it. I am still new to fics and stuffs so please be kind and don't send hate.

SUMMARY <-

The only people who ever understood you were your parents so processing the fact that they are no more wasn't really easy for you.

You inherited both infinite void and six eyes technique and some different abilities due to mutation to although they weren't very reliable. But for several reasons, you're mother asked you to keep it hidden. You really wanted to feel normal but the clan started gossiping about you and how helpless you are.

"Why are you showing pity towards me? I am strong. It's just that I can't show you. I promised my mother. Why are you behaving like that?", unfortunately these were the only thought running in your head.

Gojou saw you and couldn't take it anymore. The way the clan verbally abused you made his blood boil. You were his precious cousin and he didn't want you to get hurt so he took you to Tokyo along with him while enrolling in school.

You felt safe in Tokyo. It's like that was the place you belong although you had to keep up with your cousins antics but watching him getting his ass whooped by the principal is fun.

New semester, new first years joined in. Your days before were so busy and traumatic that you didn't even have the time to think about dating.

Gojou took this opportunity to introduce you to the hottest single guy.

"Y/n, this is Fushiguro Megumi. Megumi, this is my cousin Y/n", Megumi bowed and greeted you, you did the same. The white haired bitch ran leaving you two in an awkward state. Well you did propose a conversation and turned out you both had similar interests. Two of you eventually started dating. It was nice to have a boyfriend. The feeling was very different maybe because you never felt it before.

"Ah! What are you doing baby? You should be more careful", he helped you get up when you slipped. A little O's leaving everyone's lips watching Megumi so caring.

He always held your hands from onwards. The little squeeze he does when he feels insecure about losing you when you guys go on a date or twirling you around with the support of your fingers as you sing and dance on empty streets at night. "We'll stay like this forever. Promise me", he sneakily slipped a ring up your finger as you were busy singing. "Yes", you smiled.

You gasped later when you took notice to it and then immediately hugged him. Before you didn't even know what a promise felt like and now you had it with a person you love the most.

Never have you ever felt so content with anything in your life. Guess good things come to an end.

Being close to the group, Sukuna sensed the potential and power in you when you fought the cursed womb. Well yes, the team was there but you panicked and lost control. Your powers were now visible to both Sukuna and Megumi. He was shocked at how his strong attacks still left you unscratched. Your rage got the best of you. Some of it was the frustration of all the taunts you heard.

You were sure that Megumi wouldn't want to see this monstrous version of you. Growing up alone, scared as if you didn't belong to the family, you never got the chance to control or monitor on how actually your power works. Although Gojou did help you grow enough. But the thought of him hurting your friends was enough to make you snap. Being the monster he is, he wouldn't let this chance slide.

"You're a beautiful bud y/n. You just didn't get a chance to bloom. Seems like it's not too late", he tried so hard to lure you in but the only thing on your mind was now to tear him apart. Sukuna did retreat or should I say Yuuji made him. Fushiguro ran up to you two as you were there with Yuuji's heart in your shivering hand, blood raining down on floor.

"You guys are the best buds I ever had", the last words leaving his mouth as he tumbled on the floor. Your hands were shivering. Even though Megumi knew how to handle such situations, you didn't. Losing a friend? You didn't even have a single friend in the first place but now? You were the one who thrusted his heart out.

"Y/n. It's not your fault.", he tried to convince you. "I am a monster. They were right. I shouldn't have come here. I was good, rotting in a corner in that place. I am helpless", breathlessly blaming yourself.

It took you a few days to finally calm down and think about what was actually going on. Not to mention you were badly injured after the fight. Megumi and Nobara were there the whole time taking care of you when you were recovering.

Gojou after some days took you to somewhere, a place you weren't aware of.

Shocked to very own core you ran towards to hug your friend Yuuji who was alive.

"Y-yuuji.....", not sure what to say afterwards.

"It's okay y/n. It was not your fault. Plus the good thing. I AM ALIVE", he was so excited to see you, that was clearly visible. You both stayed up late and watched movies though Gojou gave you major spoilers so he got kicked out of the room. Gojou warned you to not speak about Yuuji being alive, yet.

A few days later when you were with Yuuji and Junpei at his school, Mahito arrived.

Turns out the reason behind Junpei's whole brainwashing was this man. You tried to snatch Junpei but before you could, Mahito manipulated his body and he was converted into a curse.

"I just wanna have a conversation", he said but you both ignored his shit talk and punched him but seems like it had no effect. Your moves focused on finding his weak point or atleast holding him until Yuuji brings Junpei back.

"Sukuna. Do it."

"No.", the entity inside him denied. A shock hit Yuuji. How did you guys did not expect this? They both are curses in the end.

"Why me?", Junpei tried to ask, fingers clinging on the hem of Itadori's shirt.

"Yuuji, switch with me", you ordered him. You were aware of what Mahito was trying to do and you let him do it. How fool of him to think he can enter and have a conversation with Sukuna. Sukuna striked a blow on his arm causing him to collapse on the ground.

You brought Junpei back to life with all the strength you had left, it didn't work perfectly because his body was still wounded. Sukuna witnessed your Potential and was impressed. He switched with Yuuji, tricking him that he wanted to help you and he will do anything for his friends so he agreed.

Sukuna's fingers brushed throughout your face, as if he was analyzing each and every single cell of it while you pant, brain hazy. "How long are you planning on staying on the good side? Hm? Don't worry. I am going to steal you anyways", his hands cupped your face but soon was cut off.

"HANDS OFF THEM", Megumi passed a blow, voice raging, the vein on his neck was visible.

"Ah. This is good. Two of my adored humans. I'd have you both for me".

"Dream on. There's no way you're having them", he spat.

"No. There's no way you're having any of us", you balanced yourself on your palm, eyeing the curse in front of you.

"I won't ma-make the same mistake again", you were still pretty beaten up, although you had to save everyone. Yuuji tried his best to control but he won't faze. The lust for your power grew more and more and made it unstable for Itadori to tame him.

"Megu-mi. Do as I say".

"Are you sure y/n you can fight?", the one trait you always liked about him was that he never ignored your dedication and just supported you instead of saying "You are weak now." Or "You should rest".

You blew a punch making Sukuna fall back so now you had a calculated distance from him. Your lover joined, standing beside you.

"Trick him into thinking that we are losing in combat and bring him closer", he wasn't sure what were you upto but this was your only resort.

He summoned the Shikigamis one after another and delivered continuous attacks on him. Of course it was useless. He won't concede just like that. Afterall he is the king of curses so he decided to play along with you two for a while. In the end, you both are coming to me anyway or so he thought until......

Your image swiftly appeared in front of his eyes at which his pupil dilated, forehead bleeding, jaw clenched. The bloodlust was clear in your eyes but now it had a different look. Almost as if you earned a control on your powers.

"I told you, didn't I? I won't make the same mistake again", you latched your palm on his chest where Yuuji's heart was.

It's okay, if it's just for a bit it's okay, you convinced yourself.

You stopped the heartbeat for a couple of second with your ability to send shocks and control organs of the body, sort of reakted to body manipulation, causing Sukuna to loose control.

"Yuuji. NOW!", he took the chance and switched back. His torso tumbled down as a fear hit you causing you to fall too. Maybe you made the same mistake again. Megumi approached you two apace.

"Itadori! Y/n! Get a hold of yourself".

"I guess I did it again.", you cupped his face. "I count myself lucky that I me-met you. I am so.....s-sorry. I love yo-", your arms slowly lost velocity and thud the ground.

"No. Atleast learn to complete your words before you stop", megumi fisted his hands in nothing but air.

Later Gojou and others arrived, immediately taking you and Yuuji to the Jujutsu medics.

Luckily, Yuuji switched back at the right time. Thanks to you he was alive.

Your eyes gradually opened up and wandered around the room for a bit until they caught Fushiguro's. (You thought you can die leaving Megumi alone? SIKE!)

Mind still hazy, but was able to comprehend what happened before.

"Where's Yuuji?",you suddenly rose from the bed. Your voice was soft and low but will never go unheard by your lover. He wanted to scold you at how selfless you were. All beaten up yourself but still asking for someone else.

"He is fine and perfectly alive. To be honest it's a surprise since Gojou told me he was alive all this time. He is so annoying that even death doesn't want him", he chuckled lightly making you too. The smiled on your face faded when you saw a tear fall down from the edge of his eyes. His hands squeezing yours a little tighter than before.

"Don't ever do that again.", he was trying hard not to burst out the water from his eyes.

"I won't. I promised you forever. Remember? There's no way I am going to leave you alone.", you stroked his cheekbones.

"Yes. Otherwise there won't be no one to annoy me"

"Hey!", you slapped his chest lightly but he gripped your hand.

"Complete your sentence. Now."

"I love you", three words left your mouth after recalling what you left him hanging on. Megumi sighed in relief and the placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too. Forever.", you embraced each other for the rest of the night.

Taglist: @1-800-teddybear @kenmathepuddinhead

©All the written contents above belongs to nkogneatho2021. Do not modify and repost.

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” “Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 1/4: Assassins

“Eda! King, Willow, Gus, Amity and I are going to the Knee for some training! Be back in a few days, love you!”

“Bye! Watch out for coven scouts!” Eda called back, watching Luz and King walk out the door and down the path. The instant they were gone, she whipped out the scrying potion Lilith had given her, and her crystal ball. “Liliiiiiiii!”

Lilith’s face appeared in the crystal ball. “Edalyn! I finished drawing those maps of the keep. Have you managed to…?”

Eda sighed. “Not one single BAT left. I was hoping maybe there was one or two I never met, but nope. Raine really did decide that they would take down the throne with three teenagers.”

“And you.”

Eda felt her face heat up. “Lot of good that did them. Ugh. You’re sure Belos didn’t tell you anything else?”

“Not a single thing. I think he was always planning on replacing me with the Golden Brat as coven head, he just wanted me to get that portal first.”

“Alright, what do we know? Day of Unity bad, but Belos needs all of the coven heads to do it. So we take one out. Same plan as before, just this time we get one alone. You and I can handle one measly coven head, especially since I’ve learned a few feathery tricks since last time.”

“Which one? The Golden Guard? He goes out on missions alone a lot, it wouldn’t be hard to ambush him.”

Eda’s eyes narrowed. “Hold that thought, Lilith. I can think of another one who I’d really like to get my hands on. We might be able to kill two birds with one stone.”

“What’s that?”

“Darius. He likes to talk, and he’s a prissy coward. Not to mention, he was the last person who I know saw Raine. If we go after him, we might be able to find out where Raine is, and if we can rescue him, then we’ll have a coven leader dead AND more information on the day of unity.”

“I’ve always wanted to kick mud on him and his stupid fancy cape. Watch that scrying potion, and call me the next time Belos sends him out. We’ll have to move fast. Will you be bringing Luz along?”

Eda shook her head. “No. The fight Raine started—it’s my fight. She needs to focus on her schoolwork, and on making her portal home. Plus Luz, she… ah, she has a big heart. And most of the time, that’s a good thing, but when it comes to an assassination… I don’t think this is a part of my life I want to share with her.”

“Alright. The two of us should be able to handle it on our own. Just say the word, sister.”

Xxx

Hunter knelt before Belos’ throne. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Ah, yes. It has come to my attention that there will be an attempt on Darius’ life.”

Hunter nodded. “I’ll assign him a protection detail immediately.”

“No.” Belos leaned forward. “I want you to protect him. Personally. And… discreetly. Darius will know that you are protecting him, of course, but I want you to stay hidden, so that the assassins will not know you will be there. Catch them if you can, kill them if you can’t. Above all else, I need Darius alive. Don’t let him die.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Yes, sir.”

Xxx

“Ready?”

Eda nodded, pulling up a scarf over her face. “Watch out. His abomination form can be a real pain.”

Lilith threw a potion to the ground in front of Darius, and it erupted in a haze of smoke. Eda shifted into her harpy form, and Lilith grabbed onto her talons. Eda flew them down, dropping Lilith and dive-bombing Darius, her talons ripping at his skin.

He shifted into his abomination form at the last second, coughing from the smoke. Lilith came up behind him, slapping a glyph paper onto him. It glowed, and the goop he was made of started to freeze, stopping him in his tracks.

“Tell me where Raine is!” Eda demanded.

Darius rolled his eyes. “This is ludicrous. You aren’t going to win.”

“You seem awfully confident for someone who’s about to freeze into a popsicle,” Lilith snarled.

Eda felt, rather than saw, the attack coming, and she yanked Lilith out of the path of a little blur of gold. “Oh, great.”

Darius broke free of the ice by shifting back to his witch form. “Nice of you to turn up.”

The golden guard didn’t respond, instead launching another attack at Eda, singeing one of her wings. She growled, tackling him, but he zipped out of the way, sending another blast of magic that she just barely managed to dodge.

Lilith slapped a glyph combo on the ground, and vines burst out of the ground, surrounding Darius and Hunter in a wide circle, and then lighting on fire. “Nowhere to run.”

Eda dove once again for Darius, snatching his shoulders in her talons and ripping through his cloak and skin, but another blast from Hunter made her flap backwards to avoid getting hit. Lilith froze the ground, turning her ring of fire into an ice rink as well, melted on the edges. Her sister had strapped fire glyphs to her feet, allowing her to melt the ice and create a stable place to stand wherever she stepped. Eda flapped up, then dove again, this time aiming for Hunter. He zipped to the side, but almost immediately slid on the ice, nearly slipping into the fire ring. Eda dove again, smacking him to the side with one of her wings. He skidded across the ice into Darius, who was fending off attacks from Lilith, back in his abomination form.

Lilith tossed a piece of paper up to Eda, and Eda dove back down, slapping it on Darius’ shoulder. It was the ice glyph again, and the coven leader started to freeze.

Lilith whipped out another glyph. “Nowhere to go, Darius,” she taunted.

She activated her glyph, and Eda soared up out of the way as a blast of light and fire shot out of the glyph.

Darius was half frozen, but he shifted back to his witch form. It happened almost too fast for Eda to catch, but as Lilith’s spell raced toward him, Darius grabbed a dazed Hunter as he struggled to get up and whipped the guard around in front of him, using him as a shield.

The spell struck them, hitting Hunter square in the chest and sending both of them flying backwards. They crashed into Lilith’s flaming wall, breaking the vines and skidding into a tree.

“No!” Eda yelped as Darius rolled to his feet, pushing Hunter off of him and racing away. “GET BACK HERE, YOU COWARD!”

Lilith caught her leg as she started to fly after him. “Edalyn! We got what we came for!”

Eda twisted back to look at her sister. “What are you talking about?! He’s getting away!”

Lilith nodded to the limp golden guard on the ground. “He’s the head of the emperor’s coven, Eda. Coven leader. We got what we needed.”

“You didn’t…”

“Kill him? Doubtful, I designed that glyph with the intention to blast Darius’ abomination form apart so he’d be forced to return to his witch form.”

Eda landed next to Hunter’s limp form. His helmet had been cracked hard enough to fall off. Beans. Despite the fact that her wing still stung from his attack, it was hard to remember how dangerous he was when he looked like this. He was just… some kid. If it weren’t for Belos, he might even be one of Luz’s friends.

“Well? Finish it. This is how we stop Belos!”

“He’s just a kid, Lili. I can’t kill him.”

“I can.” Lilith stormed forward, holding an ice spike. She held it pointed right over Hunter’s heart. “Goodbye, Golden Brat.”

Eda waited. Lilith didn’t make another move. Her sister’s hand was shaking on the ice spike. “Soooooo, are you going to do it, or…”

Lilith tossed the spike to the side. “Alright. Fine. I can’t kill a kid either, even a brat like him. But we blew our shot with Darius, what else are we supposed to do?”

Go figure that her sister had no problem trying to kill Luz, but now, when child-killing was a skill she needed, Lilith had decided to be a better person. “Lili, how do they appoint new coven leaders?”

“There’s an initiation—”

“No, like, what about the old coven leaders? What do they do to them? If they specifically need coven leaders, what do they need about them?”

Lilith frowned. “I… I’m not sure. Darius, he can turn into an abomination. Eberwolf has an extra beast form. The leaders before them had the same abilities, if memory served. But they didn’t have them before becoming leaders.”

“Okay, what about the old leaders?”

“After the old leaders retired, they lost those abilities.”

Eda snapped her fingers. “It’s passed on. From leader to leader. Belos never intended to keep you as the coven leader, so there was no need to keep you around to switch coven leaders. Whatever it is that makes the head of the emperor’s coven special… he’d already given it to Hunter, I’m betting.”

Lilith crossed her arms. “Of course.”

“Lilith, can we leave the self-depreciation for later? I think I’m onto something. Belos needs the old coven heads to pass on the powers—I don’t know what happens if one of them dies, but if the old coven leader is alive, they’ll need that coven leader to pass on their power. So if we just keep Hunter…”

“He’s minus a coven head!”

Hunter groaned and stirred on the ground. Lilith yelped and bashed him over the head with her staff. “Stay asleep!”

Hunter went limp again, and Eda grinned. “Yowch, there, Lili.”

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m… not certain that keeping him prisoner is the best idea, Edalyn. It’s a lot harder to hold someone against their will than it is to kill them. Especially the golden guard.”

“From what I’ve seen out of Kikimora this far, it might be just as hard to make him stay dead.” Eda glanced down at Hunter. “And besides, I… I want to ask about Raine.”

Lilith sighed. “Oh, Eda. The emperor… he’s not a merciful man. You might not like the answer.”

“Please, Lili. We can tie him up in the basement, Hooty can hide the door so that Luz won’t find him on accident when she comes back, and if you help me keep an eye on him, he won’t get away.”

“And how long are you planning on keeping him in your basement? Until Belos dies? Until you die? You can’t just keep someone tied up for their whole life, it would be kinder to kill him.”

Eda rolled her eyes. “Fine, if I promise to take him for walks, and buy all of his toys with my own money, and housetrain him really well, can I keep him, Mom?”

“This isn’t a joke, Eda! You are planning on keeping a dangerous individual in your home! He will try to escape! I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you on his way out!”

“Day of Unity, Lilith. I think… I think it may be a one-time event, a chance that doesn’t come around often. We just have to keep him until then. If Belos ramping up his wild-witch catching is any indication, then it must be coming soon. Help me? Please?”

Lilith sighed. “Fine. But when something goes wrong—”

“When? Geeze, put a little more faith in me, Lili!”

“Yes, when something goes wrong, I am absolutely going to say ‘I told you so.’”

Xxx

Darius knelt before Belos’ throne. “My lord!”

“Darius. Where is the Golden Guard?”

“You were right. There was an attempt on my life. The Golden Guard stayed behind to ensure my escape.” No need to mention that it hadn’t exactly been of his own free will.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I would have stayed, but I know how important it is for the day of unity that all coven heads are present, so I’m afraid that I had to retreat.”

Belos leaned forward. “I’m sorry, what was that last part?”

“I… know that all of the heads of the covens must be present?”

“Interesting. And what, pray tell, is the Golden Guard, other than my right hand?”

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Darius’ neck. “The… head of the… emperor’s coven?”

Belos stood up, his eyes flashing that terrifying glowing blue. “Exactly. So, what, pray tell, does that say about the Golden Guard?”

“That you… need him to be present on the Day of Unity?”

Darius didn’t see him move, but in an instant, Belos was right in front of him, staring into his eyes with those creepy flaming blue ones. “So you can figure it out.”

“My Lord, I’m sorry—”

Belos put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just tight enough for it to hurt, and steered him out the throne room door. “You will go out there and correct your mistake. You will go back to where you left him, and you will find out what became of him. Oh, and Darius?”

Darius gulped. “Y-yes, my lord?”

Belos released his shoulder. “Don’t bother coming back without him.”

Ch 2

[its-monster-mash]

Wild Thing: Part 2

Paul (The Lost Boys) X Michael’s Ex!Fem!Reader Imagine

Content Warnings: She/her pronouns, Canon Typical violence/weed/Alcohol/Lite Vampiric Manipulation/Blood

Part 1

This is really long so it’s going under a Readmore

• It’s a miracle all of you made it in one piece; the boys had played a nasty trick on Michael; and he damn near went over the edge of Hudson’s Bluff. Normally it took a lot to rattle you, but in that split second before Michael was actually able to stop, you practically felt your heart stop. It wasn’t every day you watched your best friend nearly fall to his death. You can feel Paul’s abdomen tighten beneath your arms as he laughs. It’s a cruel sound, and you’re not sure if it’s at Mike’s expense or yours. David nods toward him, and he turns to look back at you, grinning like the fox in the henhouse. “Oh come on babe, lighten up.”

• As soon as he catches his breath, Michael lunges at David, understably furious. You’re pissed as hell yourself, but when you try to climb off of Paul’s bike to give them all a piece of your mind, he grabs your thigh, keeping you in place. You open your mouth to tell him off, but he interrupts you. “Shhh girlie, just look, s’all cool.”

• You’re about to argue with him when instead of knocking David’s lights out or storming off, you notice Michael talking to him, Star looking entirely uncomfortable between them. “How far are you willing to go, Michael?” Your jaw practically drops in surprise when you see Mike nod, getting back on his bike. It worries you, this is so unlike him.

• Paul smiles down at you, no trace of his cruelty from earlier. He jostles your leg playfully. “See? It was just a little joke, everything’s cool.” You can’t help but lose yourself a little in his beautiful blue eyes, there is just something about him that makes you want to relax. “Cool,” you repeat back to him, sliding your arms around his midsection again. “Atta girl.”

• The rest of the ride is pretty uneventful, and you come to a stop at the mouth of a cave, with no shortage of signs warning of the dangers within. “Oh please tell me we’re going in there,” you say with a grin; this is absolutely up your alley, and Michael shakes his head at you with an exasperated smile. How many ill-thought-out adventures had you dragged Mike on growing up together? You can’t help but recall the time you found that creepy old military bunker and accidentally locked yourselves in...the two of you ended up finding an alternative exit that opened up into the library basement of all places...

• Paul helps you off the bike, tugging you against his chest so he can whisper in your ear. “It’s your lucky night babe.” You can’t help but grin like an idiot as your heart races. He presses a teasing kiss to the side of your head and you feel yourself begin to melt.

• “We’re not seriously going down there, are we?” Mike pipes up, catching your attention much to Paul’s annoyance. “Mike wants to know if we’re seriously going down there,” Marko repeats, circling the cavern. “I dunno Marko, are we seriously going down there?” Dwayne asks, joining him. “We understand if you can’t hang, Michael,” David mocks with a false tone of sincerity. Paul wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against him. “Yeah Michael, you don’t need to worry about (Y/N), I’ll keep her nice and safe.” “Stop it!” Star scolds him, taking Mike’s arm. “Don’t listen to them Michael, you can still back out if you want.” David stalks toward the edge of the cavern, his expression foreboding and mischievous. “It’s time to make a decision, Michael.”

• “Well, Either way I’m going in,” you say, getting a little impatient. You were never one to wait around while everyone else danced around a decision. “I’ll help you down,” Paul chimes in a bit too eagerly. He slides his arm around your waist, holding you tightly hip to hip before he jumps down into the cave.

• You gasp, very much expecting to break an ankle or something with the way Paul just leaped down in, but are surprised when your feet touch the ground almost feather light. “How did you DO that?” You whisper in astonishment. “Baby, I am all kinds of magic.” “What are you, the fucking Goblin King?”

• He laughs, watching you squint in the pitch darkness of the cave. “Hey I’ll take that as a compliment, Bowie’s hot as fuck.” “So are you,” you say, trying to reach for where his voice came from, but he leans away from you with a smirk, watching you stumble. “You know what the difference between me and Jareth is though?” You turn around to face him, gasping when he presses you into the cold cave wall. “I’m gonna get the girl.”

• You wrap your arms around his shoulders in excitement. It’s too dark for you to see him, but you part your lips and let your eyes fall shut, expecting a kiss. He doesn’t kiss you just yet though, holding back a moment to drink in the sight of you, beautiful and ready to give yourself to him. His lips only barely touch yours before you’re startled by the sound of several more pairs of feet hitting the ground. He groans with disappointment. “Guess we’ll have to put a pin in this,” he whispers, grazing his teeth ever so delicately against your ear. You shudder.

• Your eyes sting a bit as the cave is suddenly illuminated as Dwayne circles the room, lighting improvised trash bin braziers as he goes. Your jaw drops as you admire the sheer aesthetic of the place. Paul smiles with pride at your positive reaction.

• “What is this place?” Mike asks, climbing down from the ladder you probably should have used. David claps a hand on his shoulder, before moving to circle the cavern. “It was a Hotel once,” David says, gesturing to the now faded and ruined wallpaper. “The Jewel of Santa Carla, really.” He sounds wistful and nostalgic, almost as if he had seen the hotel in its heyday. He goes on to talk about the events leading up to its destruction, but you can hardly pay attention with the way Paul’s fingers trace little patterns against your exposed skin.

• You notice Star staring at you, almost like she’s worried...about what? Michael looks down at her, brow creasing as he follows her concerned gaze to see you standing all cozy with Paul. His eyes widen and he looks away, swallowing awkwardly. David seems to notice, and he looks straight at the pair of you. “Paul, it’s your turn to pickup dinner.” “But-” He protests, squeezing your arms just a little too tightly to be comfortable, but is cut off by the look of finality on David’s face. He sighs in deep frustration, releasing you for just a second before he startles you with a deep and forceful kiss. You barely have a chance to actually enjoy the kiss before he’s pulling away, looking at you with just the sweetest smile that makes you melt. “Wait up for me, okay?” You nod in agreement, blushing furiously. You hardly notice him side eyeing Mike as he turns to leave. “I’ll be back soon.” Just as he sets foot on the ladder, he suddenly turns around, jogging back to place another quick peck to your lips. “Okay, I can go now.”

• “Why don’t you go with him, Star,” David says, causing both Mike and Star to stare at him. “Or else we’ll end up with nothing but fortune cookies and chinese doughnuts.” Star looks at Michael apologetically, staring David down while she moves to exit the cave.

• You look over at Mike, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of your neck. “Friendly guy,” he teases you, trying to cut through the awkwardness. David laughs, moving to clap a hand on Mike’s shoulder and yours. “What are the odds, huh? The two of you ending up lured into our little family.” Mike cracks a grin. “(Y/N) never could pass up an adventure.” David’s own face splits into a wide grin. “And what about you, Michael? What made you decide to follow us after all the crap we gave you?” “I go where she goes,” Mike says, crossing his arms defensively. “Really? Kinda looks like she’d be entertained plenty without you,” David nods toward you. “Paul’s taken quite a liking to her...that bother you?” “No,” Mike says a bit too forcefully; he never was very good at lying. “Hey, back off.” The words come out of your mouth before you even think about it. David looks at you with stunned amusement. “Yeah, back off David,” Marko mocks you. Dwayne shoves him a little.

• You take a deep breath; Mike tended to close himself off, but you were never very good at holding your tongue when you got upset...still, you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries in the boys’ own territory. “Look, Mike and I were together for a lot of years. Of course it’s weird to see each other with new people-” “You don’t seem too bothered to see him with Star,” Dwayne says from his seat on the old moth eaten couch. David grins, looking between you and Mike. He claps his hands together. “I think maybe these two could use a minute to talk things out, what do you boys think?” Dwayne nods in agreement, and Marko makes kissy noises; Dwayne gives him a light smack to the chest, before the three of them go chill in the other side of the cave to give you and Michael a little space.

• You and Mike stare at each other awkwardly; you gesture to the floor by the fountain. “You wanna sit?” “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice a little hoarse as the two of you take a seat leaning against the fountain. You sit quietly for a bit, awkwardly picking at your fingernails, before Mike breaks the silence. “I’m not upset that you’re moving on.” You turn to face him, and he continues. “I’m trying to move on too...it’s just-” “What?” “Him? (Y/N)? How did you even meet these guys?” You scoff, a little offended by the contempt in his voice when he mentioned Paul, it’s the same way his dad’s family talked about you when Mike first started bringing you around as kids. “He saved me. I was being harassed by a group of guys off the boardwalk, and Paul scared them off.” His gaze turns to his feet, partly ashamed at pre-judging Paul, and oddly ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You scoff humorously, patting him on the back. “Mike, it’s not your job to protect me, I can look after myself.” “What would have happened if Paul hadn’t shown up?” You laugh, flashing him the knife tucked discreetly into your boot. “Like I said, Mike, I can look after myself.” He lets out a deep sigh, smiling at you sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

• You give him a friendly smack to the shoulder, lightening the mood a bit. “And what about you, Mr. Badboy, with your leather jacket and fancy earring,” you tease. “What happened to the goodie-two-shoes I grew up with?” It’s Mike’s turn to scoff, he grins at you. “Wow, it’s almost like having my first love leave me for being too much of a Goodie-Two-Shoes right before my parents get divorced fucked me up a little, huh?” “Mike...I-” He laughs, giving your arm a playful shrug. “Hey, no, in all seriousness you were right. I never really pushed the envelope growing up unless I was following you. I just thought with the move that maybe it’s time for me to reinvent myself, you know? Explore what I want for a change.” He’s smiling, and you smile back at him. “She’s beautiful,” you say. “I think she likes you too.” A blush creeps up on his face, and he can’t keep himself from smiling. “Well I’m not sure if Paul likes you,” he teases, trying to draw the attention away from himself. “He might just kiss everyone like that, we don’t know.” You can’t help but laugh, shoving Mike. He decides to be dramatic, falling over onto the floor like you actually pushed him. He sits up on his elbows, smiling at you like he used to when you were kids. You return the favor.

• Unbeknownst to you, Paul stands in the entrance of the cave, his chest tightening as he watches you laugh and smile with Mike. He walks over to you quietly, so he can startle you when he drops to the ground to sit next to you. “Easy there, Mikey. You had your chance,” he says with thinly veiled contempt as he throws his arm around you. He hands you a carton of takeout. “You seem like a beef and broccoli kind of girl, hope that’s alright.” You smile up at him, cradling the hot container carefully in your hands. “It’s my favorite, thank you so much.” He smiles back, very pleased with himself.

• Star calls Mike over, handing him a carton of plain rice. She apologizes, saying she wasn’t sure what he’d like. She doesn’t quite believe him when he insists that it’s fine. “He means it Star, he hates chinese food, the rice is all he’ll eat,” you clarify. David perks up, stirring a carton of noodles. “You hate Chinese food? Jesus Michael, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong?” “Guess not everyone likes flavor,” Paul taunts, skewering his General Tso’s with his chopsticks. “‘Least I know how to use chopsticks,” Michael spits back, earning dramatic ooos from the boys. “He’s always been shit at it, doesn’t have the patience,” Dwayne says. “Not me,” Marko pipes up. “I can catch a fly midair.”

• “Oh fuck off, (Y/N) doesn’t care if I can use chopsticks or not, do you babe?” He asks, leaning in for a kiss. You take advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch a bite of his chicken...with your chopsticks. He gasps in mock offense at your sneakiness, and you quickly press your lips against his to make up for it. “Nope, I think it’s cute.” He’s smiling ear to ear, his big blue eyes locked on you, and your smile.

• David makes an exaggerated gagging noise, staring at the two of you and thoroughly ruining the moment. “Mind wrapping it up? Some of us are trying to eat here...Speaking of which, how are your maggots, Michael?” “Excuse me?” “Maggots, Mike, you’re eating Maggots.” Mike rolls his eyes, humoring David and looking into the cartoon. His eyes go wide and he instantly drops the carton, spilling rice all over the ground as he gags. The boys all laugh, and you look at Mike with concern. “What the hell Mike? It’s just rice.” He looks at you like you’re crazy, pointing frantically to the carton. “(Y/N) are you crazy? Look, it’s-” He looks down to see nothing but rice...certainly no maggots. “It’s...rice.” He looks up at David. “What the fuck did you do to me?” Paul laughs, pulling a positively ancient altoids tin from his jacket. “Take it easy, Mikey, you need to calm down,” he says, popping open the tin to reveal a collection of hand rolled joints.

• Your eyes light up, it’s been a while since you’ve smoked, and it’s always good with Chinese food. You look at Mike, being consoled by Star. “Could be the stress, Mike. When was the last time you even slept well since...” You don’t mention his parents’ divorce in front of the guys. That’s Mike’s business, not yours. He nods, catching your meaning. “...Yeah, yeah I’m in.” Marko jumps down from his perch, smacking Mike on the back. “Atta boy, Mikey!”

• Paul tosses Marko a joint, pulling out another and slipping it between your lips. “This one’s just for us.” He lights the joint, and you inhale deeply. “Romantic,” you say, blowing smoke at him. “I try,” he says, leaning in for a kiss as he takes the joint from your fingers. He pulls away just far enough so he can press the tip of his nose against yours. He takes a long drag, holding the smoke in as he leans in for another kiss. You inhale the smoke from his lungs, trying hard not to cough and ruin the kiss; this was the first time you were on this end of the shotgun. Your chest begins to heave, and he pulls away with a grin so you can cough in peace. “Wow, you take my breath away,” you squeak out between heaving coughs. He laughs, not a mean sound this time, but with genuine delight. “Damn babe, I think I might end up falling for you,” he jokes, hand on his heart.

• You planned on sassing him back, but you find yourself lost in his big beautiful eyes. You swallow, hard. Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the excitement of the night, but you can’t help but think that sounds...kind of nice. You glance around the cave, at the guys, and back at Paul. Would it be so bad to stay here forever? You’re broken out of your trance by a musical tinging sound, you and Paul both look up to see David clinking an old spoon against the gaudiest decorated wine bottle you’ve ever seen. Oddly; Paul tenses beside you, his hand on your knee almost trembling.

• David turns to Mike with the wickedest look on his face. “Join us, Michael.” Star grabs onto Mike, looking even more tense than Paul does now. “You don’t have to do it, Michael. It’s not too late to back out,” she urges. “What is it?” “Blood,” she says. You laugh at the obsurdity, and Mike shakes his head at her, knocking back the bottle and drinking deeply. The boys cheer, and David turns the bottle to you. “(Y/N)...drink, and be with us forever.”

• Before you can reach for it, Paul holds his hand out to David. Unfortunately, it slips out of his hand, the bottle shattering at your feet, spilling wine over your shoes. David shoots him the nastiest look, and Paul puts his hands up in apology. “Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry; I’ll clean that up,” he says, dropping to his knees. You drop down beside him, and his eyes go wider than you’d ever seen them. “(Y/N)-” “I can help.” “No, You don’t need-” Suddenly he winces, and you instinctively grab his hand. “Fuck,” he grunts, watching the blood well up in his palm. He puts his hand to his mouth, trying to cover the bleeding. “Shit, Paul, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” “Maybe you should kiss it better,” Marko taunts. “I’m fine, (Y/N), really.” He gazes at you soothingly with those eyes of his, trying not to wince as you blot at his bleeding hand with your shirt. “You’re bleeding like crazy-” you start to argue, before noticing that his hand is hardly bleeding anymore. How could that be? He flexes his hand gingerly. “See, I told you I’m fine,” he smiles at you, his eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t mind that kiss though.” You smile back at him, taking his hand to your lips. You taste the blood still wet against his hand, and strangely, it tastes almost sweet. You wonder if maybe it’s the weed smoke on your tongue, or maybe the chinese food, that’s making his blood taste so strange. You stare up at him sheepishly, thankful he can’t tell what you were thinking just now. He caresses your face softly in his hand, and you melt into the tenderness of his touch. “You’re so cute when you’re worried about me.” He presses his lips against yours, and you’re immediately hit by the sweet taste of his blood again. Part of you is horrified with yourself; you know you should pull away, but it’s just too good. You think you might die when he slips his tongue into your mouth. All too soon he pulls away, looking more than satisfied with himself, a breathless glee in his eyes. He strokes his thumb across your mouth, coming back bloody. “Looks like we made a mess.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “And it looks like you liked it.” Your body tenses, mortified at being caught, but he runs a comforting hand down your back. “Don’t worry babe, it’ll be our dirty little secret.”

[smokedstorybara]

I have so many bnha fanfic ideas, they’ve just been popping into my head every few days for weeks now

So I’m just gonna share them all on this one post instead of making a million new fandom posts out of nowhere (ok, it’s closer to, like, ten - but still!)

If any of y’all want me to actually write any of them, don’t hesitate to say so - or if you just want to ask questions and talk about the ideas I’d be totally down for that too

Also, if any of them inspire you to write or draw something, please send me a link when you’re done!

(under a readmore cause it’s long and also there’s spoilers)

Fae courts AU

Nedzu - Spring King

U.A. / The Spring Court - also known as the Court of Lost Children, all members of the Court were once human children or children of one of the other Courts and they view it as their duty to care for the lost, neglected, and abused children of the world (one of two child stealing Courts)

All Might - Summer King

All For One - Winter King

Objectively, the Summer and Winter Courts are not as different as they like to believe - a Summer fae is just as likely to trick or turn on you as a Winter fae, they just prefer to play at benevolence while Winter fae make no secret of their nature

Shie Hassaikai / The Autumn Court - used to be more like a lesser version of the Summer and Winter Courts, until Overhaul put the King to sleep and made his research into humanity the Court’s focus - they’re now the second child stealing Court

Eraserhead was once human but has made enough deals over the years - most notably with Nezu himself - that he’s practically fae now

Deku and Kachan are human children who were taken in by the Spring Court, though Deku only after catching the attention of All Might

Endeavor - High Fae in the Summer Court - wants to become Summer King but knows he’s not powerful enough to overthrow All Might, married a High Winter Fae in hopes that combining their powers would make one of their kids powerful enough

Dabi fakes his death and eventually becomes a High Fae in the Winter Court

Shouto seeks sanctuary in the Spring Court’s halls

(I don’t actually have a plot for it, but I’m enjoying figuring out the world and stuff)

Evil All Might AU

The underworld knows that young Yagi Toshinori is a con-artist, and a very good one

The kid’s quirkless, and from a bad neighborhood, so of course he gets involved in shady dealings to get by

But he never ever gets caught

See, he’s mastered the eager, innocent, “I know I’m quirkless, but it’s my dream to be a hero! To fight crime! To be someone people can look up to, put their faith in! To be a… a symbol!” act, he’s been running that con any time he’s found in the wrong place at the wrong time since he first started walking - no one with even a single good bone in their body ever questions it

He gets involved with AFO, who’s like “I could give you one of my lesser quirks in exchange for your loyalty, or you could do a long undercover mission for me and get one of the most powerful quirks in existence out of it”

His mission: pulling his signature con on Shimura Nana, being given One for All, becoming a hero, becoming the Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace and the singular pillar holding up hero society, maintaining that status for long enough that everyone grows a little complacent, finding a weak and manipulable child to pass One for All on to, setting them up to fail, and then retiring

(I’d either have this one be All Might-focused and end with the reveal, or have it be Izuku-focused and give it a happy ending where All Might totally chose the wrong kid, cause nothing about Izuku is weak)

Commission analyst Izuku au

Member of the commission overhears him muttering/catches a glance at his notebook while watching a hero fight, strikes up a conversation

The commission tracks him down, shows up at his home with a similar offer to the one they gave Hawks - but instead of a hero they want him to be an analyst for them

Like Hawks, they take away his name, only calling him something like Eagle Eye or something (I’d go with Hawkeye but Hawks already exists so it might be weird?)

(Basically this fic idea is just an excuse to have Izuku and Hawks as the ultimate team, and helping each other get out from under the commission’s thumb - maybe revolutionizing hero society along the way)

Canon rewrite w/ Monoma as main character, somehow

All I have for this one so far is just:

Monoma copies afo, uses copied afo to steal afo, AFO is now defeated

After getting better at controlling her quirk, Eri rewinds Kurogiri back into Shirakumo Oboro

But he’s the age he was when he died

So he joins the current class 2-A

As in Izuku’s class

Basically it’s just his old best friends having to teach him and him making friends with all Aizawa’s problem children

Time travel

(I have multiple cause I really like time travel)

Aizawa-centric time loop fic

Loop stretching from day before Oboro’s death to towards the end of the liberation war (diverging from canon in at least the first loop cause he fucking dies during the fight)

At first he thinks maybe he just, like, dreamt up those 14(?) years

But then things are happening the same way and so he starts changing things and he dies and wakes up the day before Oboro’s death again

He experiments a lot with the loops, figuring out that they’re definitely not time based - unless it’d loop back at the end of the liberation war even if he survives? Requires further testing

Details he changes throughout the loops (culminating in a loop in which he successfully changes all of them):

Oboro’s death

Shimura Tenko being taken in by All for One, All Might’s injury(?), Izuku accepting One for All, and more I haven’t fully decided on

Time travel fic where Pro Hero Deku accidentally time travels back to just before Aizawa’s first year as a student at ua and somehow gets hired as a teacher

Gonna be a two-parter

Part one: Izuku has to teach teen versions of his old high school teachers, channels their future selves a little

Part two: Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama have to teach the teen version of their old favorite high school teacher, and end up channeling his future self - in different ways

(I’ve come across a couple different “Izuku gets accidentally sent back in time to when his teachers were students” fanfics and they keep making me think about how Aizawa & co would react to meeting him in canon timeline after meeting him in high school and then I took the natural step forward from there to “let’s parallel their nostalgia, make him their high school teacher so it can really hit hard”)

Izuku is related to rooftop trio aus

(I’ve come across a bunch of “Izuku is the biological son of at least one member of the rooftop trio” aus but only one acknowledges that in canon he’s only 15 years younger than them and that one has a very angsty explanation, so I wanted some that fit with canon and also aren’t too heavy - cause like, sure you could go with the complex extremely angsty trauma reason or you could go with the “these 13-16-year-olds(idk Inko’s canon age and as long as I never look it up I can pretend I’m not going against canon by making her only 2-ish years older than them) did what teenagers do and went to a party and made some relatively innocent mistakes and ended up with a pregnancy”)

Dadoro

Oboro and Inko have been neighbors and best friends their whole childhood, despite being a couple years separated in age

The fall before Oboro starts high school, Inko takes him along to a party with her high school friends

They get drunk and sleep together

Inko gets pregnant

They talk it through with each other and their families and agree to keep the baby (they’re both actually pretty excited to be parents) and raise it together platonically

Some months into first year (maybe second), Oboro tells his friends about his kid

Spends the rest of his life gushing about Izuku to all his friends (sorry for the word choice fjdhshshx)

Oboro dies and his friends make pact to help Inko take care of Izuku once they have steady income and stuff

But Inko’s family has moved and she’s married and they can’t find her

They keep searching, for roughly 14 years

And then Midoriya Izuku enrolls in UA’s hero course and his big green eyes and curly green hair match the pictures Oboro used to show them and his smile is identical to their old friend’s

And his mom’s name is Inko

But they’re not sure (His quirk doesn’t match Oboro’s nor his Inko’s after all)

Not until after the first term and the summer training disaster camp and Kamino, when All Might and Aizawa go house to house talking to parents about the dorms and All Might tries to insist on visiting the Midoriyas alone but Aizawa insists right back cause this is the closest he’s come to confirmation

and then he’s face to face with a woman he’s only ever seen in photographs

And then they talk about everything or something idk I haven’t got that far

Dadzawa and Dadmic (trans!aizawa)

A year and a half before he starts high school(I know I changed the timeline a whole year here but shush, how’s he supposed to get into U.A.’s hero course while pregnant?), Aizawa’s middle school and one or two others have a Joint Event, at which he meets a loud but cute blonde who keeps flirting with him

They hook up

He gets pregnant

His dad insists he get an abortion but he doesn’t want to and his mom supports his decision, they convince his dad to let him go through with the pregnancy on the condition that he gives the baby up for adoption immediately

He has twins, both boys (one with green eyes like the blonde’s(but darker) and the other with purple like Shouta’s mother’s)(that’s right, Shinsou is also their son in this, you’re welcome), and he gives them up for adoption to separate families

But with conditions

No one from his blood family is allowed to initiate contact with either boy without the kid’s knowing consent (he’s terrified of his father changing his mind, tracking them down, and hurting them)

With the one exception being that he’s allowed to send each one a birthday present and card every year

Which he does

Then he starts at UA and then gets into the hero course and there he is… the blonde… the father of Shouta’s children… who does not recognize him now that he’s started transitioning

This time Shouta’s the one who flirts - or tries to, the kid’s a little too oblivious

Of course they do eventually get together, and even end up married! (Haven’t decided if they get together during high school or after they start teaching there or what(probably the latter, for plot reasons))

The first time Midoriya Inko contacts Shouta is after Izuku is diagnosed quirkless - she knows the young man loves her son as much as she does and might be able to reassure him where she already failed

His next birthday, Izuku’s mystery card says he can be a hero even without a quirk; it makes Izuku’s year

Hitoshi’s parents also contact Shouta that year, the boy struggling to make and keep friends ever since his quirk came in; Shouta’s birthday card to him isn’t much different from Izuku’s, really

The Shinsous get in an accident and Hitoshi is placed in foster care and suddenly Shouta can’t send him his yearly gift and card anymore cause nobody will tell him where the boy is now because of the contact portion of the adoption contract

They also won’t tell Hitoshi that he was adopted and his birth father is out there looking for him, so Shouta’s pretty sure they’re trying to hide that he’s being mistreated wherever he is

Inko continues to contact Shouta now and then whenever she thinks Izuku will need extra encouragement come his birthday (she never tells Izuku about being adopted - even after he enters his teen years - cause after his diagnosis, everyone but her left him and she doesn’t want him to internalize the idea that his birth parents didn’t want him - Shouta’s not happy with the decision, but he understands)

Then one year he sends Izuku a Present Mic figurine and she writes him to share how excited the boy was and how Present Mic is one of his favorite heroes and he listens to his radio show all the time and Shouta simultaneously melts and has a minor breakdown at the realization that he hasn’t told his husband that they have sons, he can’t tell Hizashi that their son listens to his radio show regularly when Hizashi doesn’t know Izuku even exists

So of course, being the rational man he is, he finally tells Hizashi about Izuku and Hitoshi

Hizashi freaks, of course (in a good way(mostly))

And then, one of the worst days of Shouta’s life

He’s on patrol and sees a figure on a rooftop and rushes to get there - just in case it’s a jumper - and it’s his son, his Izuku

They talk(it doesn’t breach the adoption contract, he didn’t know it was Izuku when he approached and the kid spoke first) and Izuku tells him “everything” about his encounter with All Might, Shouta tells him to tell his parents - they’re there to support him - and also that All Might’s full of shit and a quirkless hero is totally possible with the right training and enough willpower

Then after they leave the rooftop his kid gets in trouble again, rushing in to save a classmate from the same sludge villain that attacked him earlier that day

Of course Shouta swoops in and pulls the kids out of danger before All Might arrives to “save the day”

This time Shouta insists on walking Izuku home to make sure he actually gets there safely

But then All Might shows up again wanting to talk to his kid privately and he wants to tell the man to fuck off but he’s not legally allowed, really, so when Izuku says it’s fine he reluctantly leaves

Inko asks to meet him just days later

She tells him that Izuku told her everything about what happened that day - including what Shouta told him - and she tells him that she’s realized she needs to properly support her son in pursuing his dream

She understands that Shouta wouldn’t feel comfortable training him one-on-one with the kid not knowing who they are to each other, and she’s still not ready to tell him yet, so she asks for a list, for him to help her get in touch with people who can train Izuku or ways for Izuku to train on his own, ways for her to help

He puts her in contact with seven pro heroes (Midnight, Gunhead, the Wild Wild Pussycats, and - somehow - Sir Nighteye) and a vigilante team (the Naruhata Crawler and his team), all of whom he talks into helping - and has to tell about his connection to this boy they’ll be teaching

(Each have something important to teach him: Midnight - using words and body language to throw off opponents, Gunhead - martial arts, Wild Wild Pussycats - stamina, teamwork and use of your environment when out in nature, Sir Nighteye - analysis and planning, the Naruhata Vigilantes - use of gadgets and weapons, use of your environment when in the city, having the heart of a hero, and - most importantly - that quirkless people can be fucking strong and skilled and terrifying and certainly aren’t weak or useless (they were trained by a quirkless vigilante after all, they’re bound to have a different perspective on the idea of a quirkless hero than anyone else, a perspective Izuku could really benefit from))

Ten months later, Izuku passes UA’s entrance exam and is placed in Shouta’s class (he’s pretty sure Nezu did that on purpose)

When the school year starts, he and Hizashi discover that Izuku isn’t the only one in one of their classes - Hitoshi is in Hizashi’s homeroom

They are, of course, fucking extatic

They just need to, y’know, figure out how to tell him that they’re his parents and maybe possibly would love custody of him if he wants

(Again I haven’t gotten any further than that yet)

(Also, if you can’t tell, in this au Izuku turns down All Might’s offer of One for All, cause Eraserhead said he could be a hero without a quirk and was honestly a lot kinder and more responsible (like, making sure the kid got home safely instead of leaving him on a roof) and stuff than All Might and honestly might be his new favorite hero)

[loki-darkprince-odinson]

King Loki, I apologize for the rant but I would like some advice.

My father always makes me feel like complete garbage. He is always putting me down, never appreciates me, and makes my depression so much worse. I'm fixing up a house to move in with my friends but I'm still stuck at the house since my parents won't help me get my license or a car, much less a job. I cook, do dishes, take care of the pets, take out the trash, get the mail, do my laundry, wash towels, and help with their laundry. I also take care of my sick mother and while I'm currently on summer break, I'm going to college to become a clinical psychologist. Even then, my father will point out other things that I don't do, and expects me to clean the entire house every day. He always talks about how he needs to do everything around the house yet all he does is sleep, play video games, and watch television. He also says he works hard yet on many occasions he says he sits on his ass all day on his tablet. He also yells so much. I get scared every day when he starts yelling because I worry he may leave us, which he has threatened before, or he may actually hit us. He never has hit either my mother or I yet, and says he never would but he slams and throws things when angry at us so it's his way of showing us how much he wants to hit us, even if he doesn't realize it. However, not only do I have many responsibilities, My depression makes it difficult for me to do much, and he makes it worse. Even when I do try to clean the house he always makes comments such as: "About time." or "How long until it gets cleaned next time?" or "This was half assed, you didn't do it right." I have tried so hard to have a connection with him but I'm so tired of fighting for a relationship that he doesn't care about. I can't address my concerns with him because he will threaten to not take me to college and pay the bills. Do you have any advice to help me deal with my father until I can escape?

Best regards, Catrina.

“Catrina,” Loki drawls, in his smooth resonate voice. “I firstly must commend your good work. For caring for your ill mother, minding the household needs, and that you get up in the morning even if your soul is weary and your bones ache for a rest; that you keep on living even if you do not know how to anymore. Secondly, you have my deepest sympathies for your grievances. I am all too familiar with what it is like to seek the approval of a parent; only for there to be none in return.” His eyes were completely unfocused, yet his pallid features bore the most intense concentration as memories flowed unbidden.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, something in the edge of his mouth—and the corner of his eyes—resembled the ghost of a sad smile.

“Those whom I knew and called my mother and father are dead. That much is beyond dispute. They were not my real parents, but they raised me as their own. I daresay they loved me. That had been in dispute, at least in my own mind for awhile. I found out very late that my identity was a lie. Not Asgardian, not a son of Odin, I was completely unmade. That was how I felt when I learned of my true parentage. I was a fraud, a monster; it explained so much. It explained why I never felt like I fit in, why I would never be my brother's equal, why I would never get what I'd been promised my whole life.” His voice was soft, hoarse. Intent.

Loki raises his left hand and rests his forefinger against his lips as a line forms between his own eyebrows in thought.

“I have lingered around Midgard long enough to come to an understanding of how your minds tick. I shall do my best to give advice where I can.

Try, if you will, to put things into perspective. The most loving parents commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force one to destroy the person they really are: a subtle kind of murder. Even the most loving parents damage their children with the best intentions—to protect them, to guide them, to better them. In most cases, it would appear they do it by imprinting their own fears and prejudices on them.

The point is, parents are mere, imperfect people.

They have flaws, struggles and impaired judgement. They have both emotional and intellectual handicaps. Regardless of their parental role, they are afflicted by personal blockages and limitations.

But most of all, they are people who make mistakes, and who are terrified of being judged by their children.

Learn to see your difficult parent as just that; human. Learn to see their emotional immaturity as a type of disability.

With that in mind, you would do well to keep your expectations of them low.

In many ways the effect a difficult parent has on ones self is fueled by their feelings of injustice and the belief that things could be different, or ought to be different.

In other words, your expectations dictate how you feel.

You need to let go of your expectations and accept your parent for who they are.

You cannot expect someone with, say, a narcissistic personality, to act with empathy and kindness. No more than you can expect a scorpion not to sting.

Difficult parents are much easier to deal with when you accept that they will not change. So do not expect of them more than they are capable of, and you will not be disappointed or hurt.

Do not fall into the illusion of guilt, Catrina.” He warns. “A difficult parent loves nothing more than to make you feel like you’ve hurt them. Or, in a different scenario, like you’re a bad person if you do not do something they ask.

Do not fall for it. If they’re setting a guilt trap, calmly tell them that you do not appreciate being emotionally manipulated, and you will not tolerate it anymore.

Manipulators, and I should know, detest being called out on their dirty tricks.

If they continue to harass you, reiterate that you cannot do what they’re asking you to do this time, and you need them to respect that.

The trick is agreeing with everything they’re saying (how can they argue when you agree with them?) and re-stating your decision over and over again.

Now this part I find to be… far more easier said than done. You must let go of the need for your father's approval, Catrina. It goes without saying that every child needs and wants their parents’ approval. It is normal to want it, and it is normal to receive it.

Yet so many have to accept the fact that this is not going to happen. For whatever reason, their parent has chosen to withhold their approval. Some difficult parents do it as a form of punishment. While others hope to influence their child in the “right” direction.

Most likely, your father loves you, but they have a very warped idea of what parental love is.

In their misguided quest to make you into a version of themselves, they missed the chance to get to know you. And so they cannot appreciate you for the wonderful being that you are.”

He shrugs elegantly. “It is their loss. When you realize this and let go of the need for their approval, you will be able to start living your life in a whole new way.

When confronting your father, be direct and calm without expecting a specific response. That is the part you cannot control. The part that is within your control is letting your thoughts and feelings known, which is empowering.

Stick to the facts and use “I” statements such as, “I feel like my words do not matter to you when you constantly interrupt me” or “I feel scared and misunderstood when you yell at me”

Remember that manipulative parents are not known for their empathy. They will try to confuse you, go on the offensive, or assume the role of a victim.

Do not allow them to bully you into submission by invoking guilt or pity. State your case in a calm and polite manner, and stay cool regardless of their response.

Your goal is to be honest about your feelings, and to make it clear that you will not tolerate certain behaviors.” He softly clears his throat.

“Last but not least, an unhappy alternative is forgoing the relationship that is too harmful. I know, a parent is not someone you can so easily cut out of your life. But if all else fails and your father continues to cause you psychological harm, then this may very well need to be taken into considerable consideration; at least for the foreseeable future. Sometimes it is the only logical recourse.

A parent that is fundamentally incapable of showing love and support, unable to see the error of their ways after numerous attempts to communicate how their behavior or words affect you, consistently dismissive, demeaning or critical, manipulative in a habitual manner, punishing and cruel whenever you disobey, are disrespectful of your boundaries and using threats and intimidation to get what they want is a destructive force that will continue to tear you down until you put a stop to it.

It is not an easy feat, my dear. The parent-child bond is hardwired into the brain, which means children get attached to even the most awful of parents.

But consider the cost of having that toxic relationship in your life—stress breeds anxiety, depression, internalized feelings of inadequacy, and failed personal relationships.

I wish you all the best, Catrina. I truly do.”

[doorsclosingslowly]

Someone, Broom in Hand

Kaz died before he turned sixteen. That’s the story. When he reappears, it’s at the side of the Dark General, wearing the thin fluttering robes of the Sun Summoner. Jesper travels to the Little Palace to punch his fucking teeth out.

Kaz[/&]Jesper | 7.5k | content note: nonlinear narrative, past and offscreen abuse

The purple kefta is too big for Kaz. Jesper doesn’t want to think about why he dumped his coat over Kaz’ head, except that Kaz looks weird and cold in his ugly fancy yellow paper taffeta shirt, his one layer that he’s wearing apart from the underpants that leave his knees bare.

That he looks uncomfortable at all should be nothing but a trick of the violent light: there are two separate lit fireplaces in the bedroom, so awkwardly placed that they were probably retrofitted by a Fabrikator. It might have been David, though then Jesper would surely have heard a treatise on the stones used to erect the Little Palace, or Gaz, or Lizaveta or any of the other Materialki Jesper’s been bunking with but—but anyway, if Kaz felt like wearing more, he could order an attendant to fetch another shirt or two. Unless there’s nothing he owns that isn’t thin and revealing and fucking yellow. Unless he’s not allowed… Unless he can’t even dress himself anymore without a gaggle of attendants. Man moves up in the world and forgets everything he knew: tale as old as time.

“Just like you forgot us,” Jesper mutters, less viciously than he should.

The Kaz-doll makes no comment. No protest. No further manipulation of Jesper’s old affections. No snide mockery for Jesper passing his kefta on to the man that less than an hour ago, he tried to kill.

He just pulls the coat on. With his odd bare fingers—no claws after all, just thin and human—he closes button after button, including the top four that Jesper’s never once used, struggling to pull the material over the bone-tines sticking out of his chest. (And who back home would believe that Dirtyhands has ordinary fingers and a totally fucked up chest?) It would be easier to leave it open, but Kaz, even now he’s a sunny lapdog, doesn’t do easy. When he drops his arms, the too-long sleeves fall down over his hands, and with his thumbs he traps the fabric there. Sad little improvised half-gloves, more than Jesper’s seen him wear in the month since he let himself get conscripted into the Little Palace. He looks back at Jesper.

There’s no Thank you—Kaz Brekker never knew that word, and it seems in the two years they had him, whatever else they forced on him the Ravkans failed to teach him any more manners—but there is something new in his glare. It’s not just the purple washing the colour off his smooth—his way too smooth face. No. It’s something old: defiant, and angry, and scheming, just barely breaking through the placid paint and the rust beneath it.

Bit by bit, as he buttons up Jesper’s kefta Kaz simultaneously pulls on the moth-bitten coat of Dirtyhands he’s kept way back in the wardrobe of his brain, the ruthless killer, Bastard of the Barrel, Dregs lieutenant and future gang boss unless he gets murdered first. And it didn’t stick the first time. Pulls it over whoever it is that he was before. Over the doll beside Kirigan.

Over that person in the corner, that cornered boy, brittle and alone and stripped of armour and weapon and self, and Jesper wants to kill every single fucker in the Little Palace.

“Back home, you had a plan for everything,” he says instead. “I’m not assuming it’s a B or even a Z or a Q squared, but I know you. I know you’ve considered it. What do we do now your beloved long-lost friend’s shown up to help you steal the Sun Summoner?”

☼

Yesterday, Kerch accepted the terms of the Ravkan crown. Ex-crown. Dark fucking empire. Whatever. Test all children and send the Grisha to the Little Palace, conscript some people into the First Army—though what they still need an army for when they have the Fold is anyone’s guess—send food, booze, and, worst of all to the fastidious greedy Kerch, pay tribute without receiving anything at all in return. It was in the mouth of every paperboy on the streets, every mercher, every gang boss. By Ghezen how could we just surrender? they moaned, and Do you want to end like West Ravka? and Didn’t you see him? Kirigan’s going to crown himself king of everything. He’s unstoppable. And that boy next to him, the Sun—

Honestly? Jesper doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s paying fifty kruge just to sit on Inej’s bed for an hour and braid her hair. Ketterdam can burn to the sopping wet ground for all he cares. The world can rot. Like the Dregs did. Like everything Jesper cared for.

Inej, though, watched it.

“I had to see,” she’s whispering into Jesper’s ear, barely moving her miserable red-painted lips even though his hair should block out most lines of sight already. Inej’s smart, though, and desperate: if Jesper keeps returning to the Menagerie as nothing but a smitten small-time gangster with an incredibly vanilla hair fetish, he won’t catch attention. Tante Heleen will have fewer reasons to raise Inej’s rates. Jesper can barely pay for a visit a month as it is, and even those he allows himself mostly because he’s given up the hope of ever paying off her indenture unless he wins big.

“I snuck out yesterday. I had to see. Heleen got a new girl from Ravka six months ago, and she believes, too. Had a cheap pamphlet with her, last thing she had, of the new Saint. The illustrations… they looked just like Kaz.”

“Fu—” Inej elbows him. Jesper presses his lips into the braid over her ear. “Forget about Kaz Brekker. You’re the only one who matters now. He died, and you ended up here.”

She’s trapped in the Menagerie now because Kaz disappeared into the harbour like so many orphans before him; because he didn’t tell Jesper jack shit about Inej’s situation that might have helped him keep her safe in the Dregs; because he allowed senile Haskell who knows the names of all his five hundred thousand miniature boats and literally nothing else to stay in charge of the Dregs instead of killing him as soon as possible, which allowed Haskell to let the payments for Inej’s indenture lapse, which meant three months after Kaz just disappeared from his life Jesper got back to the Slat to find that Inej, too, had gone without a trace, and it was only luck and a pervert old Dreg that Jesper soon afterwards ‘accidentally’ shoved off a roof talking about the girls at the Menagerie that meant he found her again. Found her, only to realize he can’t help her at all.

Inej pulls Jesper’s ear back to her mouth. “I saw him, Jesper. I saw Kaz. Kaz is alive. He was there. I saw him.”

“You what?!” A sharp elbow darting out of her red sad nightgown that would have slipped right in-between his ribs if it was one of the knives she still mourns, and he’s not even given anything away. Heleen’s a hell bitch, but what use would she get out of random surprise?

“I saw Kaz. He’s the Sun Summoner. I was far away but—it was Kaz, standing next to General Kirigan, holding his hand, when the Merchant’s Council signed the terms of surrender. It was Kaz. I’m certain. Sankt Kaz.”

“I—” Jesper burrows his face into Inej’s hair. “You didn’t happen to have a knife on you, did you? A really tiny one she couldn’t confiscate. A super lethal one. Might never get as good a chance again.”

“Jes—”

“Fuck him sideways with a rusty shovel. That traitor. Did you forget how you ended up here? He left us. Saw a bigger pile of cash and skedaddled, I bet. He always wanted to be king. Guess becoming the Darkling’s queen was the next-best option.”

Inej doesn’t even defend Kaz. Jesper pulls away from her so he can look at her face. She always looks sad these days, unless she has specific painful orders to perk up, but it’s deeper now. She’s not doing the gesture, not holding her hand against her chest. Faith, now, is just one more thing Kaz Brekker took from her. Jesper can’t blame her, even though he never believed. Not even when Ravka’s new ‘Sun Summoner’ started gaining them the whole continent. Power’s power, though, no matter whether the stories around it are true. If Kaz truly is the Sun Summoner, then it’s not just Kaz Brekker who sent her back to the Menagerie—but one of her Saints. Fucking asshole.

He buries Inej in his arms. It’s all he can do now, to hold her until this month’s hour is up, because it’s not like he can just murder the Ravkans special weapon in retribution, can he? Can…

“This changes nothing,” he whispers. “The only priority is still paying off your indenture. Kaz quit the Dregs. He left us, and that means he’s nothing now. Less than nothing. I have a good feeling about the Makker’s Wheel at the Emerald Palace this weekend. Lots of pigeons there for the ‘Fete of Unity with Mother Ravka’ or whatever, and the minder thinks I’m hot. It’s risky, of course, but if I do this right—”

☼

Jesper’s just about to crawl right back out from under the bed—weapons raised, since hell knows what Kaz was planning back there, and fuck Jesper for apparently still harbouring enough trust in the guy to follow his lead two years after he deserted—but then, a series of clicks and rumbles heralds the opening of the door. Footsteps, and it slides shut again.

Shit, that was close.

And Kaz wasn’t bluffing, after all. Well, well… it certainly means something that Kaz, beloved Saint and Sun Summoner and ally to the Darkling, just told his attempted murderer slash old friend and-or stooge to hide. Kaz never did anything without a motive, be it profit or power or vengeance, and even this degraded, polished version surely isn’t so far gone as to engage in ideas as base as altruism. Ergo, Kaz will want to use Jesper for—something, though what is there he wants when he’s basically a prince of—but he isn’t, is he? He’s in a cell. A cell Jesper can unlock.

Three pairs of footsteps move around the room. One of them might be Kaz, but without his limp, it’s hard to recognize him. None of them says a word, which… it probably means this is a routine visit. Whatever’s going on, they all know their role.

Two pairs stop moving, while the third one—circles around them, it sounds like, and then someone else stumbles a little and catches themselves. Jesper hopes they’ll hurry up. He’s in mortal danger, technically—Kaz can still choose to reveal the intruder inside the Sun Summoner’s private room and-orprison, but, prison. Jesper’s far more useful alive, and so, hiding under the bed is fucking boring.

There’s not even anything interesting in-between the slat frame and the mattress. It’s the only place where you could hide anything—that Jesper can think of, at least, but there’s just nothing there at all, and Kaz used to be a real magpie. It’s a gaping void, just like everything else in this room. Like everything else in this palace, a chasm painted over with gilt and power. Unless—something’s stuck to the underside of a cross brace. Jesper slides a fingernail under the edge, and it comes loose easily enough. Not exactly a cache worthy of Dirtyhands, and anyway, it’s just a… a mangled piece of paper. A paper that looks like it’s been chewed on and spat out—and an entire corner actually torn off, or bitten, maybe—and whatever used to be printed onto it mostly rubbed off except for a couple of letters here and there, RAV. Curved lines and tiny hats. What would Kaz need to hide in his room? Apart from weapons he doesn’t have. Other people’s jewellery, dito. The only thing that Jesper knows about him now is that he’s trying to open the door. Trying to leave. It’s probably a map, then.

Which means an escape is planned, and Jesper’s just providing the desperately sought means. Good. That means he should have even more leverage here.

Somebody stumbles again, this time taking two steps to catch themselves. Almost as if they’ve jerked away.

“You’re falling behind,” slimes the smooth, rich voice of the Darkling. “On second thought, our people would miss you at the celebration. I’ll inform the staff that you wish to dance, all night long.”

☼

“You’re hanging around here because you heard that General Kirigan and the Sun Summoner are due back this hour, aren’t you?” The woman in a tidemaker’s kefta that just sidled up to Jesper speaks unaccented, high class central Ravkan. Even if her dark skin is an indication of Zemeni heritage, she came to the Little Palace long before the Darkling’s recent territorial acquisitions. She’s no ally, just like the rest of the crowd that surrounds them: an old-school Grisha, veteran Second Army, not someone whose loyalties may yet be pliable. Not someone like Jesper, whose skin started crawling the moment he showed his skills to a Ravkan occupation officer so he could sneak into the Little Palace. She’s friendly, though, and looks at Jesper’s face with clear appreciation. “You must be new. Hi. I’m Nadia.”

“Jesper,” he says, throwing a flirtatious grin like a blanket over his nerves and anger. It’s almost fun, playing the suave infiltrator assassin Grisha. Except Inej’s still in the Menagerie. And Kaz is still a piece of shit. “Yeah, I just got here! They didn’t test for Grisha ability in Novyi Zem when I was little, so I barely knew who I was… but once I heard about the Darkling, about this place, I crossed the True Sea as soon as I could!”

“That must have been so hard. So lonely. This place is…” She grimaces. “This place was our sanctuary. You’re lucky you’re Materialnik.”

“Why?” It’s the first time since his arrival that anyone’s had even a neutral opinion of Durasts, let alone good, and granted, it’s not like he cares that much about the ability his Ma died from, and he’s only talked to a dozen people since arriving yesterday, but…

“Listen, I know you want to see the Sun Summoner, and don’t tell anyone I said this but…” Nadia pulls Jesper a few paces away from the crowd on the training grounds, into a corner formed by two enormous bales of hay. Well-chosen: he can barely see the crowd that just surrounded them peek out behind the yellow stalks. “You’re sweet—”

“Listen, you’re gorgeous, but we just met—although, on second—”

“No!” She laughs, but it’s bitter. “You’re cute, but no. It’s my duty, to her, to protect you. The new ones. You’re Materialnik, so you’re not combat, so you’re not going to actually meet the Sun Summoner. Ever, if you’re lucky.”

“He’s that bad?” Kaz was always a dick, if Jesper’s honest—it was part of his charm—he was just a charming magnetic one, and back with the Dregs Jesper hated his ruthlessness just as much as he admired it. He was worst to his fellow Dregs and his enemies, though: he could charm a mark when needed. So it’s a tad unexpected that Kaz earned himself the hatred of a Grisha indoctrinated from childhood to see him as her Saint and saviour. Apparently, he’s just that talented. That obnoxious.

Well, Jesper’s not complaining. That makes his plan much easier.

“He killed my best friend,” Nadia whispers urgently. “The last time I saw her they were taking a walk, and then I found her, blisters and burns all over her body. Who else? There’s a reason he’s not allowed to have weapons. I heard the Darkling doesn’t let him go anywhere alone, or he would murder us all. He killed Baghra too, I’m sure—she was our teacher, but she disappeared two years ago. Just stay away from him, alright? He looks harmless, but he’s a rabid dog. Oh. There he comes.”

Jesper barely manages to whisper, “Thank you,” before she pulls away from him and returns to her previous place. Back to the crowd of Etherealki and Corporalki on the training field, but she finds her place in the last row, standing—hiding—behind two men much taller than her.

Jesper follows into the crowd. No need to alert Kaz that the past is hot on his heels, and then—

Well. There he is.

There someoneis, anyway.

If Jesper trusted Inej just a hair’s breadth less, he’d have cursed her and sneaked back out of the Little Palace the second he sees the person holding General Kirigan’s hand. Sure, the Sun Summoner is male, with dark brown hair and dark eyes and pale skin, and just a little bit taller than Kaz was at fifteen, but that’s where the similarities end. Dirtyhands had his impeccable mercher’s suits in a grim mockery of Ketterdam’s upper class, and gloves to feed the rumours, and a cane to walk and kill. His hair managed to be at once floppy and severe; just like his gaunt face, in the right light, made him look utterly captivating and not just like an annoyed scheming rat. He looked exactly like the Bastard of the Barrel should. Not pleasant or easy, but the person Jesper once would have followed into any lion’s den.

This—this Sun Summoner, on Kirigan’s arm, is beautiful. Healthful. Pristine.

Barely even a fucking person.

It’s the face, mostly.

You could never tell what Kaz was thinking, just looking at him, because he was, after all, thinking in layers upon layers of incomprehensible schemes at all times of the day and then went to bed and dreamt about ploys and deceptions. Jesper could barely follow him the three times total he deigned to explain part of his plans. But you could always tell that Kaz was thinking. Planning, scheming, plotting his greedy bloody vicious way out of and into every possible house on every possible street.

The Sun Summoner looks empty. He’s staring straight ahead, but he’s not even doing thatwith any kind of purpose. He’s like a pet on the Darkling’s arm. He looks more airheaded than all blackout drunk heirs and heiresses in Ketterdam combined.

It’s incredibly eerie, because now he’s searching for it Jesper can sort of read Kaz Brekker back into the Sun Summoner’s face. This face is much smoother, without the marks of past firepox, plumped and rosy-tinted, but that might partially just be a testament to the quality of Ravkan cooks—or, how skint the Dregs always were. He has a normal haircut. It probably suits him better, unless your standard for beauty is Dirtyhands, and unfortunately Jesper—anyway. The Sun Summoner doesn’t have a cane, either, and he doesn’t need one, apparently, because he isn’t limping. Ravkan royal healthcare, but honestly, Kaz could have pressed a Grisha healer into service back in Ketterdam only he always insisted—well, whatever. Fuck his words of wisdom. Fuck him. Fuck Kaz. Jesper shouldn’t even be remembering that snake.

Kaz Brekker betrayed Inej, left her to rot in the Menagerie, so whatever role he’s playing right now in whatever scheme this is—because it has to be a scheme that put Kaz into the yellow robe he’s in right now, so thin it’s translucent, and sleeveless too in the Ravkan winter. The Dregs tattoo on his arm is gone. Two Inferni are flanking him and the Darkling, their hands perpetually on fire just so Kaz can parade about in a robe no Menagerie slave would go outside in, but still, it’s Kaz. It’s definitely Kaz Brekker. Jesper can see it now.

Fuck him. He traded the Dregs for this. He abandoned them to Haskell’s mismanagement and let Inej go back to the Menagerie. He betrayed them all.

(Of course, Jesper abandoned Inej now too, and without a word, but—after that last catastrophic loss in the Emerald Palace, there’s a zero percent chance the Dime Lions wouldn’t have strung him up by his own entrails—or sold him into indenture, trying to make back at least a fraction of the fifty thousand kruge he owes—so really, he had no choice. It’s the next best thing, right? If he can’t help her anymore, at least he can kill the bastard that started all their troubles.)

Kaz just walks off, hand in the Darkling’s grasp, towards the Little Palace. Carelessly following the other man’s lead.

The old Kaz would have noticed Jesper.

☼

Footsteps and then, a series of clicks and pieces of wood and metal rubbing stones. The door. Kaz’s legs, taking steps backwards to the bed in a perfect, healthy gait. The rich soft creaking of the bed as he sinks down again, and in front of Jesper—the same two muscular, pale, bare, identical hairy calves. Like the legs of a statue, or one of those de Kappels he used to like, except the right leg is trembling finely. Barely noticeable if it wasn’t right in front of Jesper’s face. Those Ravkans maybe aren’t so crafty after all.

Then: nothing.

After what feels like an hour in which Jesper doesn’t dare move, even though the Darkling must have left already, a hand drops off the edge off the mattress. Middle and index finger erect, then crooking twice in quick succession. It takes a moment to connect. Jesper hasn’t seen those signals in such a—move, path clear. Yes. That’s what it was.

Jesper wriggles out from under the bed, annoyingly free of dust. Pristine. Empty, just like everything else.

“Didn’t think the Sun Summoner needed to use our secret code, boss,” he drawls up at Kaz from the floor. Kaz, with his barren black eyes and his new porcelain doll face, picking at the wide open collar of his yellow shirt.

“Never drop a tool you can still use,” Kaz says. A beat. “Didn’t think I was your boss anymore.”

“You aren’t.” Jesper turns his head away, looking at the spotless floor and the intricately painted walls from his low vantage point. Exquisite, imposing, empty: a Saint’s cage, as beautiful and terrible as Inej’s room in the Menagerie. The bare wall hiding the inaccessible door. “That guy really fucking hates you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. Jesper turns his head back to watch him again, even though that won’t give him anything more: Kaz used to be willfully inscrutable even back in the Barrel, but after whatever Grisha surgery they did to him, there are only traces left of the real person trapped inside him. Dollface, Jesper thinks again. Who’d have expected they’d turn fucking Dirtyhands into a dollface?

It’s Kaz who turns away, fingers clawed into his neckline. His voice is rough, even if it’s a shadow of the damaged rasp that used to be him. “I thought about it sometimes, back then. The first time.”

Every fibre of Jesper’s being wants to interrupt with, What are you talking about? I don’t speak cryptic anymore. I’m out of practice. He should get off the floor, raise his guns, resume—but whatever it is, whether it’s some stupid new Grisha power, whether it’s zowa, or his memory of Kaz is just coming back, he doesn’t—

“It was like this. I was on my bed already, usually, when it grew hard—and I thought you would be up for not being on the bed, and there wasn’t much else in my room. I imagined watching you. I didn’t touch it. That was better.”

Uh. What.

“He probably knows I threw up after we—I tried to hide it. I thought I could manipulate him into seeing me as his partner, I thought I’d healed, that I’d practiced enough—but he just saw that I was still weak. He saw he could control me. But if he didn’t do it again because I threw up, I’m—”

He was right. Jesper would have stayed on the cold hard floor back then for him. Even now, Jesper would crawl around like a worm jerking off for the fucking asshole he got himself trapped in the Little Palace to murder, if that meant Kaz never had to—

Kaz pulls the neckline of his flimsy thin single ugly yellow shirt closed. The shirt that doesn’t protect him. The shirt he didn’t choose.

☼

Jesper’s imagined the Sun Summoner’s quarters, of course. Most of the Grisha in the Little Palace are wretched gossips—or Jesper’s been charming as many people into spilling as many secrets as possible to him so he can plan his attack, same difference—and anyway, he needs a backdrop for his imagined kill shots. It’s Kaz Brekker, after all. Dirtyhands. The ex-Bastard. You’d want to rehearse that death. Think of some witty one-liners.

Nadia said it was gorgeous inside, like a dollhouse. Lizaveta, who Jesper’s been told to shadow so he can learn how to become a proper Durast, insisted it’s totally empty. Grzegorz said there were live kittens inside, so the Sun Summoner could sate his lust for innocent blood, Sayyna thought there was a giant swimming pool, and a lovely naïve boy from the edge of the permafrost up at the former border insisted it was just like the quarters of all other Grisha, except with a little more privacy. Since they’re all siblings fighting for a world that will be kind to Grisha.

Jesper, privately, imagined a few stolen paintings and a mishmash of furniture. Because he’s an idiot.

This is just like—

If it is the Sun Summoner’s bedroom at all. It should be. Jesper did his homework: he followed the Darkling and his Sun Summoner creature that wears the skin used to house Kaz, and a variety of Materialniks, to the end of this specific corridor, five times in total. Watched the Materialniks unlock a hidden mechanism, and then the two most powerful men in Ravka—in all charted countries, ruling everything this side of the True Sea but pockets of Shu Han and even that’s a matter of time—they walked inside, hand in hand. The Darkling always left, after a while, alone, and so it only made sense to assume that the hidden room that Jesper just snuck up to and unlocked is, in fact, the Sun Summoner’s room. Kaz’ room. It’s the best time for breaking into it, too. There’s going to be a party in two days, so hopefully everyone’s too busy, and even if the Sun Summoner’s out doing preparations then Jesper can just hide in here and kill him in an ambush. That’s probably easier, actually.

First, though, he locks and hides the door again, because… yeah, he went to Ravka expecting to get caught. At some point. This is a suicide mission for revenge, after all—suicide is in in the title. But it’s no fun if he gets caught before the gory glorious revenge part. Before Kaz admits he was a piece of shit. Both guns cocked and ready, he turns around, and actually inspects the room he broke into.

No. Nothing changes, even when he blinks and blinks again. That wasn’t a faulty first impression.

The room still looks like a fucking prison cell.

A fancy, clean cell, but a cell nonetheless. It’s empty except for the bed, and Jesper owes Lizaveta more money than he has on him (though to be fair, technically, Jesper’s fifty thousand kruge in debt anyway, so does it really make a difference at all if he’s a few Ravkan coins more in the red), and even the windows—Jesper’s had enough training now that he can look at the windows and see the subtly reinforcing mesh inside the glass. No curtains. No curtain rods. Nothing—there’s a subtle mesh inside the bedclothes too and the frame of the bed looks far too sturdy to be torn apart by anyone who isn’t a skilled Materialnik. There are meshes in front of the fireplaces.

Nothing in here that can be used as a weapon.

Not against others, and not against oneself.

No escape.

There’s nothing in this stark white massive room but a person, acting like he never did before and still looking more like himself than when he was walking through the training grounds. It’s probably the distance from other people. He’s got his back to Jesper and he’s in the furthest corner from the door, which should be a tactical misstep because he can’t escape from there but really—it’s as good as any other location, in this room. There’s nothing of use to anyone left, not even to someone as shrewd as Dirtyhands used to be before he lobotomized himself into the Sun Summoner. Or before he was—

Kaz pushes himself up from his kneeling position using the walls he faces. He mutters, “I beg your forgiveness for keeping you waiting, Aleks.” His voice sounds odd.

“Are you crying?”

“Jesper?!”

Kaz turns so quickly he has to brace himself against the wall again lest he fall over. His translucent shirt ripples. His dark eyes in his weird new too-handsome face trace over Jesper, again and again. If they were fingers, Jesper would feel like he’s being caressed. No, that’s the wrong thought. A thought from a book he won’t admit he’s read. Jesper’s got his guns out. He came here for a reason. A bloody, glorious reason.

“Inej wouldn’t want me to do this, but she’s locked up in the fucking Menagerie,” he announces, just to see whether Kaz can feel even a shred of guilt. “Just so you could be a Ravkan prince in ugly yellow lingerie.”

“Just follow my—”

No, then. Or maybe it’s just the new face Jesper can’t read. Not that it matters. “Shut up. Do you remember what you told me when I joined the Dregs? About what you’d do to traitors? Well, I have added a couple of my own ideas.”

“Shut up, Jesper. You can monologue when we’re done, but—”

Jesper aims right between his weird, smooth pebble eyes. “When you left us, you knew it would all go to shit. Inej’s in the Menagerie, and there’s no way to get her out again. Haskell let the Dregs collapse after you disappeared. No Dregs, no kru—”

Kaz flinches. “Quick. Get under the bed. Now.”

Whether it’s surprise, a sex instinct, or—far worse—a lingering sense of loyalty, Jesper obeys instantly.

☼

“We’re lost,” Jesper moans. They’ve been surrounded by trees for four days. He’s not even sure they’re trudging vaguely southwards anymore. Everything looks the same. What wouldn’t Jesper give to be back in Ketterdam already, with its lovely street names and pedestrians and garish landmarks (and gangsters about to string him up), or at least somewhere in Novyi Zem where he sort of understands the landscape. Or what’s left of Shu Han, so Kaz can unclench.

“We’re not lost,” Kaz rasps. “Keep going.”

“How do you—the map.” The half-chewed-up map hidden under Kaz’ bed, the map he snuck into his coat—Jesper’s kefta, whatever—even though he probably already knows it by heart.

“Yes. The map.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me to choose where we’re going if you’re memorized the map?!” What an asshole. Jesper just clean forgot what a piece of shit Kaz is. He forgot it so utterly he’s helping him break out of Ravka, without even extracting anything in return. He’s a fucking idiot. “Is it so you can blame me when we get caught?”

Kaz, the dick, rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t I rather not get caught at all? Think, Jesper—what’s the one advantage you have over me?”

“I’m prettier,” Jesper shoots back. “My winning personality. I have a better tolerance for hard liquor. Fashion sense. I’m funny. No, wait—I’m a much more generous lover.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Kaz hisses, making the pronoun sound even more slimy than the guy it’s referring to, which is honestly quite a feat. “Do you think this is my first attempt? He’ll send people to every single route out of his core territory that poses any advantages. He has enough soldiers for that. What he doesn’t have, though, is enough soldiers to watch every route your bird-brain might pick at random.”

And then, he stalks ahead viciously. No. Limps ahead.

It’s been growing much more pronounced over the days. At first, even without a cane he walked just like any person with two healthy legs, and that’s what Jesper expected. The Ravkans healed their Saint’s leg, didn’t they? That’s what they would do. Only Kaz can think around enough corners to make his bad leg into an advantage. But with every passing day, Kaz’ gait has grown closer to what Jesper remembers from back before the world went to shit. Kaz was touchy about accommodations back then, though, or people being nice in general, so Jesper hasn’t even brought up improvising a new cane. All he’s dared to do is slowing down his own steps to what he remembers would have matched Kaz, back then.

And insisting on taking breaks. Like he does now.

“It’s almost night, you refuse to make light despite being made of sunshine, and I’m hungry,” he complains.

“I’d assume that Ketterdam has made you soft,” Kaz rasps, “o cherished crown jewel of crime and commerce, and what’s the difference.” He limps back to the fallen tree that Jesper has chosen as their camp site, though, so he must be a just few steps short of utter collapse.

Jesper unwraps the two woollen blankets he’s been carrying on his shoulders. They didn’t get a chance to steal much, mostly because Kaz was a prick about it and didn’t even let Jesper go back to his room: apparently there was time for Kaz to fold up a paper bag into a facsimile of an envelope and write an address in Djerholm onto it and have Jesper talk a stable-hand into riding out to deliver it, right now, but no time to search anywhere else for supplies. They took just whatever they found in the stables, which amounted to extra coats, some boots, the blankets, and horse feed. And gloves. Kaz declared it was time to run as soon as he’d found gloves.

Balefully, Jesper chews on his oats. Even wrapped in his blanket, the night is cold, and Kaz—who’s still wearing nothing but underpants besides the robe/gloves/Jesper’s kefta/stolen coat combo and ill-fitting boots without socks—is shivering violently.

“We should steal you some real clothes from the next house we see,” Jesper mutters. “And some decent food.”

“We’re not stealing anything until we’re in Shu.”

They’ve had this argument before. Jesper shouldn’t be as thrilled about that as he is. There’s no way to resolve it, until they find the border—or until Kaz keels over from hypothermia, because then even his rational fear of detection won’t keep Jesper from finding some trousers. For the time being, though—

“I’m going to sit closer and steal your body heat. In exchange, you can wrap my blanket around your legs.”

Kaz glares. He can do it masterfully again: just like the limp snuck back as soon as he left the Little Palace, his face over the days grew thin and pockmarked. Vicious. Jesper’s commited it to memory, in case Oily, Tall and Dark steals it again.

“If you freeze to death tonight, this was all for nothing. I could be sleeping in a palace right now. Well, a dingy side house, with the other Materialniks, but joke’s on them. This whole escape would have been much more complicated if I’d been a Squaller. Or a Sun Summoner, who refuses to even use his power to warm us up.”

“Leave it.” Kaz runs a finger roughly over where his collarbone should be, and he shudders. The temperature, or something worse, some new pain he’s not revealing—but carefully, he leans his blanketed side against Jesper, and allows Jesper to throw his own blanket over him, too.

“I’ll make you a new cane tomorrow. With a head, too, if we can scavenge enough metal from the buttons. Not a crow. You haven’t earned that until we free Inej, but maybe… a worm.”

“That’s just a stick,” Kaz mutters. “Go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say: Kaz is taking the first watch, and so he’s not balancing on a fallen log in the cold without a blanket, trying to fall asleep sitting up while leaning against Kaz’ shoulder with as little contact surface as physically possible. After some hours or minutes, though, Jesper’s suffering is too much for even Kaz to handle. Who knew there was a limit! Who knew Kaz had heard of mercy! Maybe he just doesn’t like Jesper wriggling next to him. He fists a lock of Jesper’s curls and pulls his head down into his lap.

“I didn’t help you because I want to fuck you, just so you’re aware,” Jesper jokes, because this is actually—it’s actually almost comfortable curling up on the fallen tree with his head on the blanket on Kaz’ thighs, even though there’s the remnants of a branch digging into his hip and they’re on the run from all Grisha in the world and also the new, expanded Ravka that covers nearly every country on this continent and Inej’s still imprisoned and if they actually manage to get back to Ketterdam, Jesper’s going to be in so much shit. And still, it’s… “I mourned you, you know, when Haskell told me you’d died. I wasn’t just angry because the Dregs were a shambles without you.”

Kaz is quiet. Jesper sort of wishes he’d touch his hair again, or his shoulder—and he never seemed to have any trouble touching the Darkling, so what, is Jesper not good enough—but he also looked like a void back there, like in order to endure it maybe he had to smother—

“That’s not why I mentioned that fantasy back there,” says Kaz, lyingly. Sure. He just happened to invoke Jesper’s obvious past crush for no reason whatsoever. The awfully convenient infatuation Jesper didn’t have sense nor skill to hide back then. Kaz is exactly the kind of person who’d exploit someone’s first love. The person who’s realize, long before Jesper did, that maybe, he’s not actually completely over—but maybe that wasn’t the important bit then. It went on. And that story about the Darkling—

“You thought I’d help you out of pity?” Jesper would have done, if he hadn’t been so angry—if he hadn’t been already so freaked out by the placid expression, the clothes that looked expressly designed to torture the Kaz he knew, the cell… It wasn’t pity. What is it you feel when a person you knew—maybe not his secrets or his past or his thoughts or what trouble he just dragged you into because he’s a secretive dick, but still, you knew him, it was burned into your heart, his movements and the codes he taught you and just when a heist was about to trigger one of his fears he’d never mentioned and you needed to get him out now… What do you feel, when that person comes back from the dead, and comes back wrong. Like a stag with too many tongues inside its mouths and its hands locked behind its throat. Except the other way round, because Kaz Brekker was terrifying, and what he was made into or what pretended to be was only scary because it wasn’t. Anyway. Kaz is a manipulative commandeering asshole again, so it doesn’t matter. “You despise pity.”

“It’s a tool, just like everything else. One he couldn’t take. And pride just gave me—pity got me out of the Little Palace, didn’t it?”

“Something did.” Jesper tips his non-existent hat, and Kaz slaps the top of his head to make him stop wriggling. He keeps the hand there this time, knotted tight in Jesper’s hair. It stings, but it’s also… Jesper closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep before inevitably, it’ll leave.

“Pride. It was my fault.” Kaz’ voice almost sounds the way it did back home. Harsh, vicious—and damaged. Human. “I thought I could bear it. He was—the Sun Summoner could have no weaknesses, he said, nothing for our enemies to use, and I allowed myself to think… ‘our’ enemies. I practiced. It was easier, after a while, to bear touch. I thought—it seemed like the best option, to stand at his side, and to make him see me as his partner I should… I was tired of being a prisoner. I thought I could use him.”

That’s bad enough, but… “But you’re limping again,” Jesper hisses. “If he’s forming you like a clay doll to make you his perfect Sun Summoner, he should have started with healing you.”

“They did, when I first came to the Palace. I didn’t want—but I learned to accept it. After my first escape, he broke it again, personally. Had it tailored over, afterwards, every few days. Incentive for cooperation.”

There’s nothing Jesper can do to fix this stagnant, lifeless voice. He could hug Inej, at least, but this—

“It’s what I would have done, too. He was just better than me, and he didn’t need another one, so he had to change me.”

“By dressing you up and making you look like a doll. If you tell me it was a sex thing, at least I could—no, still couldn’t relate. His taste’s shit. That beauty was pretty ugly,” Jesper mutters into Kaz’ thighs.

Kaz pulls at his hair again—probably a rebuke, but the sting travels down Jesper’s spine to—well, it’s time to change the subject rather quickly. What’s there to… oh yeah, his head’s on a blanket. That’ll do. “I just had a great idea,” he says, and—yeah, his voice is still completely normal and steady. A little loud, maybe. Kaz hasn’t moved his hand away, though, so it can’t be too obvious.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off, my bright idea of breaking into the centre of Grishadom to kill you in a murder-suicide attack because what else was I going to do, let the Dime Lions grind me between millstones to press out the fifty thousand kruge I may perhaps still owe them—”

“You what?!”

Jesper powers on, because that’s really a conversation best left for when he’s not lying in a forest with his head in Kaz’ lap and trying to forget, desperately, the way it felt when Kaz pulled his hair. The way it feels when he does it again. “I’m just saying, it saved you. You’re welcome. So anyway. We only have one pair of trousers. I was going to suggest we alternate wearing mine, but we both know I wouldn’t get them back.”

“Your so-called idea is… interesting,” Kaz mutters, voice almost pulled asunder trying for both disturbed and mocking. “But I’m far more interested to hear about the fact you skipped out of Ketterdam without paying your debts. A crime punishable by death in every gang. Every gang in Ketterdam, the city where you want us to go.”

And yeah, that’s occurred to Jesper, but… “That’s a problem for later. You’ll think of something, boss, if we make it that far. You always have a plan. For now… I wouldn’t—well, I would carry you if your legs freeze off, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of us, so… You sewed yourself up constantly back home, and I’d wager sewing is just like swimming. Once you know, you can never forget.”

“Skills are useless if you lack every materia—Jes—”

“Yeah, I definitely can turn a button into a needle now. We just need to tear the second blanket into some vaguely trouser-shaped pieces, and for thread—well, we could just tear up your Sun Summoner robe, it’s useless anyway.”

“Jesper,” Kaz rasps again.

“I’m a genius?”

“No, you’re still an idiot. Why not, though?”

☼

Kaz Brekker disappeared between Sunday and Tuesday night. That’s all Jesper knows, and it’s that precise only because Kaz has been experimenting with the payroll recently. Apparently, handing out wages on late Tuesday maximizes the chances of flushing as much money as possible back into the coffers of Dregs-owned establishments, and he’s also taken to handing out the money personally. Some weird power play that Haskell hasn’t yet forbidden: everyone knows Kaz barely bothers to keep his accomplices informed about the job they’re currently doing, and the big boss tolerates him mostly because Dirtyhands is still more useful insubordinate than dead.

It’s Wednesday now, though. Wednesday afternoon.

And Jesper still hasn’t gotten paid.

Kaz is gone.

Jesper’s in Haskell’s office, inquiring about everyone’s money. Too irritated by the games of Makker’s Wheel he was forced to miss out on last night to perform anything but the most pro forma I remember my boss’ boss is technically my boss and can kill me pleasantries. Instead of promising to kick Kaz’ ass, though, like Jesper hoped, Haskell just tells him Pasko will give him his wages tomorrow.

Haskell won’t say anything else. Just, “That boy got himself mixed up in something he couldn’t handle alone, and it fucked him. You won’t like what you find, when you go looking for the dead.”

[houndsharkk]

alright alright, do yall want my dreamSMP headcanons?? keep in mind that i only watch a few of them

/dsmp

Possible TW's: trauma, manipulation, death, suicide, overdose; the basic dreamSMP stuff, unfortunately.

ok here we go:

Dream - a separate entity from DreamXD, though they are related; perhaps XD is from another universe? anyways, Dream was possessed by a 'Dreamon' at a young age, making him think that things like manipulation are ok simply because he didn't know any better. he says he's trying to get better, but is he? no. this is just another trick to make Tommy think he can change. Jacob Sheep horns are slowly growing (sheep-hybrid thanks to his mother, Cpt. Puffy). Him becoming family with George and Sapnap made him realize that he can make his own family, an idea which he twisted and turned into manipulation. In his words, paraphrased, he "did a bad thing but for good reasons" which were "bringing the server together"; he wanted to be a family with him in control, a dictatorship, a hivemind.

Drista - Dream's sister, more related to XD than Dream is. somewhat OP but has morals unlike her brother.

George - Mooshroom hybrid!! Has a little mushroom crown and cape because he thinks of himself as royalty (he isn't) - has little horns and a little tail. Misses Dream the most out of the Dream Team, but somewhat afraid of him. Wants 'the old dream' back, which was partly a persona and partly Dream learning about found family. He tries not to get involved with politics or the server after the events of the first wars, because he's scared. Sleeps through things as an excuse. Awesamdude's kid - doesn't tell anyone.

Sapnap - Dragon hybrid - has small horns and a tail, with burn marks at the base of them. His hands and feet are clawed and burnt. He also wants their Dream back, but understands that he was always corrupt and has mostly gotten over it. Wants to help with the Egg but, like George, doesn't like getting involved with big things on the server. He's ashamed of his dragon heritage, covering up his head burns with a headband and covering his horns with his hair; he hides his tail under a cape and wears gloves as well. Sapnap has unnaturally orange eyes, which he would change with contacts, if they didn't melt anytime he tried. Battle-scarred and hungry to start fights and sever friendships out of boredom. Badboyhalo's child.

Callahan - Cervitaur (deer-centaur). Distantly related to Puffy, Captain Sparklez, and Schlatt. I will admit, I have never watched him, and I don't think he's ever been too involved in server politics? Just a simple deer man trying to live his life.

Awesamdude - Creeper centaur thing (he and Callahan are... cousins? i guess?). Incredibly insecure about his morality and the fact that George doesn't talk to him much. Thinks he's a bad person. He becomes a father figure to Tommy through his Sam Nook persona - slowly gaining his confidence back through his real estate and his (illegal) adoption of the gremlin. Badass. Runs the prison by himself because he feels the need to prove himself, and he doesn't know anyone that would be up to the job.

Alyssa - inactive :[ probably human

Ponk - Human!! One of the few humans on this server, actually! He quite likes building and terraforming; he makes very aesthetic builds (see; war campsite). He and Sam are close friends. Ponk is also a parental figure to Tommy, but is closer to the fun uncle. The three of them steal together and then Ponk and Sam cover for Tommy because who could accuse them of lying?? Hesitant to join in with politics.

BadBoyHalo - Demon. Very, very tall demon. Large. Pretty wholesome. I honestly don't know what else to say about him lmao I haven't been paying attention to the Egg much. He and Skeppy are a thing though. Wishes his son would stop killing people's pets to start wars.

TommyInnit - He doesn't know what kind of hybrid he his, but he isn't human. His eyes change color with mood, going from a light grey to an extremely vibrant cobalt blue. He believes he may be part raccoon, or part bird(?) on Philza's side. Phil wasn't around during his childhood; Tommy only knew him as the hero from the strories that his older brother Wilbur told him. Philza killing Villain!Bur cemented his heroship, which is why Tommy sees him as a father figure. Wilbur never told him that he (Phil) was their father. Tommy is actually part siren, but his gills and fins haven't appeared yet. His PTSD is triggered by Dream, blackstone, tnt, people asking for his armor, and a few other things. An extremely traumatized kid. Best friends with Tubbo.

Tubbo - Sheep hybrid. His horns started coming in during Schlatt's presidentship, making him think he was a goat and following in his footsteps. In reality, he's Captain Sparklez's son; related to Schlatt yes, but not at all like him. He likes headbutting the people he loves, including his best friend Tommy. Wholesome, but still a chaotic being of destruction. He and Ranboo are also very good friends!

Fundy - Fox shifter; unlike most of the other hybrids on this server (other than Techno), he can turn into an anthro fox. Canonically transgender! Son to WilburSoot and Sally the Salmon (another shifter). Wilbur was an amazing father while Fundy was small, but started neglecting him during the Presidency, when he really needed a father. The two grew apart further during Pogtopia, and Fundy still tries to refuse his father's attempts at redemption. Despite this, Fundy and Ghostbur, even though they've had arguments, have a better relationship. Fundy is even one of the people who are attempting to bring back Wilbur. He sees Phil as a somewhat father figure despite him trying to be bitter towards him. Very involved with L'manburg and DreamSMP poilitics, but has taken a step back since his dad's death. Fundy also canonically misses Schlatt and wants him to be proud of him. He picked up smoking from him.

Punz - gonna be honest, I have never watched Punz.

Purpled - Enderdragon hybrid. Like Sapnap, but purple lol. Use to have a healthy rivalry with Technoblade, but doesn't talk to him anymore. A bit reserved. I don't watch him either idk if you could tell.

Wilbur - Bird hybrid, like Philza; his wings were clipped by Dream when he first began fighting for independence. Good friends with Technoblade. Wilbur was an idealistic person, and he was probably the most loyal member of L'manburg. He was so upset about the betrayals, he thought of them not as betrayals to the country, but to himself. When Schlatt took over, he began to panic. His perfect nation was being ruined, his nation, HIS nation. He thought of it as his and his alone; all those other people? They were side characters. L'manburg his unfinished symphony wasn't his anymore. It scared him. He began planning to take the country out because, well, if he can't have him, then no one can. He manipulated Tommy, making him go along with his plan, slowly becoming more insane and destructive. Deep down, Wil still loved his family, and his country, and his lost lover, but that didn't matter to him anymore. After blowing up L'manburg (the first explosion), Wilbur broke down. He realized what he had done, he'd become a bad guy; he'd worked with Dream. He asked his father to kill him. And so Philza did.

Ghostbur - Wings work again. Ghostbur pretends not to remember, he pretends that he's changed in death, but he remembers all of it. The bad memories hurt him now, more than ever, and he just can't deal with it; so he doesn't. Water makes him melt, and that includes tears. He's trying so hard to be a good person, he's trying so hard to be a good father, a good brother, a good friend. But it isn't working. He's still, though unintentionally, hurting people, and he feels so bad about it.

Schlatt - Ram hybrid. Brother to Puffy and Jordan (Sparklez). Schlatt is a smoker and an alcoholic, and a power hungry dictator. Or well, that's the persona he puts on. Schlatt, in reality (still /dsmp) genuinely does not give a fuck. He didn't care what happened, because he knew that people disliked him. He knew for a fact that he would be killed. This is why I believe he offed himself. He planned his stroke, or heart attack, the fandom doesn't seem to know which. He probably ingested some bad protein powder or poison or something, maybe he drank himself to death, maybe he OD'd and then drank, we don't know. But it seems unlikely that someone like him would let his body give out like that without a reason. Oh yeah, and he and Quackity were married at some point, but it was too short to really mean anything.

Ghlatt - Ghlatt, though still addicted to alcohol and various drugs, feels bad about being a bad person in his life. He thinks that it's a good thing he died, that the server benefited from his death, and that he shouldn't have become a ghost. He's right, of course, but I like to think that he's regained morality. Maybe now, in the afterlife, he can work on himself. Ghlatt isn't strong enough to take a physical form, so he borrows Ghostbur's occasionally.

Skeppy - Some sort of Diamond Ore man?? I think he's human. He and BBH have a thing. I don't think I've ever watched a Skeppy DreamSMP stream. Uhh Egg?? Egg. Badlands boys woo.

Eret - Herobrine is his cousin. Like. Yeah. That Herobrine. Anyways, they're a king, and they're more of an Awesomedude morally grey type character. Her only interest is survival, and I respect that. I haven't really paid much attention to him though. Their crown has bi flag colored gems on it :]

Jack Manifold - Jack Manifol! Jack Manifall~~ Jack Manifall.. off bridge!! Jack Manidrown :} OH SHIT- (i dont watch him)

Niki - Human. Wears Wilbur's old coat. Though she did go through a tough spot after Wilbur's death, she now runs a flower shop with Puffy. Dyes her hair often. I don't watch her either.

Quackity - Duck hybrid; wings were clipped upon his joining the server. His face scar was canonized :] Alex genuinely liked Schlatt, but realized he was being mistreated so he joined Pogtopia. He felt bad about it though. I don't have many headcanons for him to be honest.

Mexican Dream - ok am i the only one that wasn't into this arc?? i didn't even watch any of it. i saw him like once and was like "oh this is just a bit" and left wtf. was he important???

Karl Jacobs - Time Traveler man; human. Karl is slowly losing his memory due to his travel between timelines. The more he does it, the more he loses. I look forward to seeing this progress. Are he, Sapnap, and uhhh someone else actually engaged?? I like that headcanons :] I don't remember who the other person is though.

HBomb - Cat maid.

Technoblade - Piglin shifter. Techno is softer than he seems, and he genuinely enjoys the company of Ranboo and his friend Philza. Technoblade met Phil after saving him from wither skeletons in the Nether, making short visits to the Overworld until he built up an immunity. He likes the cold because it's the opposite of his terrible home dimension. Techno really did want to help Tommy, but their ideals clashed too much for it to work out. Very destructive anarchist. Though, he is pretty chill nowadays.

Antfrost - Cat shifter. So I lied, there are three. Uhh wizard!! I like that HC!! Wizard catboy go brrrr. In reality, I don't watch the Badland Boys often and I haven't seen any of the Egg plot so idk what's up with him lol. I like to think that before the Egg, he and Fundy were friends.

Philza - Wings were beat up during the explosion; he tried to protect Wilbur with them, but still ended up failing. He's the father to Wilbur and Tommy, with Techno being an old friend of his. He canonically really likes cobblestone. Phil tries his best to be the dad, but his morals are all over the place. Lately, he's unofficially adopted Ranboo, helping him with his uh. Issues.

Connor - Human in a Sonic onesie idk i dont watch him

Puffy - Sheep Hybrid. Sister to Schlatt and Jordan, mother to Dream. I really don't know tbh; she's everyone's adoptive mom. She's what Philza and Awesamdude wish they could be.

Vikkstar - Human. Has he?? Done anything?? Ever??

Lazarbeam - Isn't he a gingerbread man or something.

Ranboo - Half Enderman Half [REDACTED]. I dont have headcanons for him tbh I just accept his canon. May be related to XD?

Foolish Gamers - A literal god. He can revive people, but it takes one of his lives. Uhhh he's really good at building what.

Hannahxxrose - I don't watch her :[ I should though

Slimecicle - CHARLIE SLIMECICLE. Slime hybrid obviously. New to the server, very scared [/j] and confused. Doesn't know what's going on and that's ok because he's funny I like him

I got really tired of this towards the end oops

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 9

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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[Ron]

"Okay. Let's talk," says Ron, throwing his arms down in defeat. "Go on, then."

"Not here!" exclaims Lavender, her eyes nervously scanning the restaurant where they're still drawing attention. "Not in front of people," she whispers.

"Where, then?"

'Your room."

Ron narrows her eyes at her. His room has to be the worst place for whatever conversation she wants to have. He has an inkling that her grievances will include 'don't you miss me?' and 'we're in Vegas, let's live a little' and being in a room alone with her and a king-sized bed is a very bad idea.

However, unlike her previous attempts to get him in bed, this time he has his eyes set on someone else, and her tricks won't work.

"Okay then," shrugs Ron. "Let's go to my room."

Lavender beams, and Ron reckons he should tell her to keep her pants on and her hopes down.

They leave the bar and continue up the stairs to his room, Lavender skipping by his side while her hand swings between them, almost begging for an accidental brush of his fingers. Ron crosses his arms in front of his body, wondering if his intentions were that obvious on the walk back to the hotel with Hermione, when he was painstakingly aware of how close his hand was to hers.

Panic sets in as they approach the door to his room. Did he ever clean up the whipped cream and champagne flutes from last night? Does he even care if Lavender sees?

His question answers itself when he opens the door to find that the room is spotless, thanks to the hotel's cleaning service, but his stomach sinks in disappointment. Maybe spotting the evidence that Ron really has moved on would have been a clear signal for Lavender to follow suit.

Immediately after entering the room, Lavender tumbles into his perfectly-made bed.

"Can you get off my bed?" he hisses.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Seriously. It's a bit weird, don't you think?"

She narrows her eyes, which are momentarily wet with tears, before making a dramatic show of getting up.

"Where can I sit, then?"

Instead of getting too comfortable, he'd rather she get straight to the point. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Nothing in particular," she says airily, taking a seat beside him on a barstool.

Ron rolls his eyes. "You just said—'

"I said, I want to talk. We never just talk anymore," Lavender says, as if that was a valid reason to drag him away from a very enjoyable afternoon at the bar.

"We never talk because we broke up."

"Right, and I want to make sure you have people to talk to. You know, confide in."

"Confide in?"

"Yes, Ron. Confide. I can tell you're stressed out. You're doing a lot for Harry and Ginny, planning this whole trip and everything. I just want you to know I'm here if you need a sounding board."

The way she bats her eyelashes at him and reaches her hand to his head to brush his fringe from his eyes sends tingles down his spine, and not the good kind. He sees right through this.

"I'm not stressed," he says, and it's true — he's not at all anxious about the trip. Hermione's done most of the planning, and thanks to her itinerary, things have been extremely smooth.

It's almost as if Lavender can see Hermione's name passing through his thoughts. "It looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation with Hermione Granger at the bar."

Ron doesn't like the sound of her full name in Lavender's voice. It makes Hermione sound like a stranger. Emphasizing the name instead of the person behind it sounds like an attempt to create distance, and Ron doesn't want to know what Lavender plans on justifying with that distance. Other than being a bully, of course.

He hopes his calculated response will get under her skin. "Yeah. 'Mione's great."

Ron's never used a nickname on Hermione before, but Lavender doesn't need to know that. Plus, he likes the way it sounds. Maybe he'll try it later, if she'll allow it, of course.

Without warning, his mind flashes to his bed, where his fingers are digging into her flesh as he grips her by the thighs to pull her writhing body hard against his erection. He's on his back, watching her ride him and freely calling her 'Mione' — moaning it, even. She bites her bottom lip and her breasts bounce with every thrust, her pleasure is evident by her arching back and hitching breath, and she doesn't seem to mind the nickname one bit.

Lavender's shrill voice pulls him from his ill-timed daydream. "I agree, she's great!" she says, her tone suddenly cheerful, like she's talking about a beloved college roommate. "I'm quite surprised by how much I like her. There's more to her than meets the eye, you know."

"Yeah, well, that goes for most people—" says Ron, now in two minds about diverting the conversation away from Hermione. What does she mean there's more to her than meets the eye?

There's not enough time to decide if it's worth humoring Lavender before she continues. "I'm just surprised that you two get along. You're like polar opposites."

He opens his mouth to respond but she interrupts.

"Oh of course! Football!"

"Football?"

"Yeah, she's a pretty big football fan, but you knew that, didn't you?"

He didn't know that, and as exciting as that news is, it makes him wonder how it didn't come up in conversation. She knows he's a football fan. Why has she never engaged him in a conversation about it? Ron shakes his head, refocusing on the present conversation. Lavender might be trying to get into his head.

"I'm sure most of it she picked up from Viktor, but still. She can probably carry on a sports conversation better than me."

Viktor. He knows that name. But it can't be… "Viktor?" he asks, unable to resist asking for more information.

"You know the one, that Bulgarian player."

He sure does. Viktor Krum. "Hermione knows Viktor Krum?"

Lavender scoffs. "Yeah. She dated him. For a long time," she says, reaching for his fringe again. Misreading the jealousy etched across Ron's face as confusion, she continues, "I was surprised too. He's hot. She might not look like much, but she clearly has no problem landing a really good football player."

To Ron's dismay, his daydream returns and he's back in his bed, pinned down by Hermione as she grinds on top of him. But this time, she answers to 'Mione' with a nickname of her own: Vicky. She screams that name when she reaches her climax, but it sucks the pleasure from the moment, and all Ron wants to do is fucking cry.

"Anyway, that's not really my tea to spill," says Lavender, shrugging innocently.

No it's not, he thinks. Although he wishes she didn't spill it, he's grateful she did.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asks Lavender, drawing her hand away and taking stock of his hollow expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds curtly.

"And we're good?" she asks.

Are they good? He doesn't know — he can't decide if she is manipulating him or not. All he knows is that he's suddenly self-conscious about having kissed Hermione, and curious how it compared to Vicky. He can't help but wonder if her disappointment in finding out she's married to Ron stems from the fact that she could have had anyone else — for example: an older, hotter, professional football player.

"We're good," he says. Lavender doesn't need to know any of it.

"Good."

An awkward silence encroaches as Ron waits for Lavender to leave, but she doesn't move. She looks like she wants to say something else.

"You know I still care about you, right?" she says eventually, breaking the tension.

"Of course," he adds, unwilling to say it back. He does care about Lavender, but he knows she wants to hear it too. It has to be a trap...

"I just miss my best friend. That's all." At that moment, she leans in so their shoulders are touching, and reaches her hand toward his exposed knee.

"Best friends don't sit this close," he says. His tone is colder than he anticipates, but that might be a good thing. It's probably necessary to get his message across at this point. "You should go, Lavender."

She lets out a shaky sigh, and Ron dares himself to look at her face. Her face is reddening, and her eyes water. She's not accustomed to rejection, especially not from him. "Walk me back?" she asks.

"Sorry, Lav. I really need a shower."

She opens her mouth to respond, but then snaps it shut, as if her automatic response was to flirt with him and invite herself to stay for the shower. Her face reddens and she looks away, his rejection fully catching up to her.

"Okay then. I'll see you at the bar later?"

"The bar?"

"Yeah, we're all getting together. Even Hermione," she adds icily.

Ron groans, shaking his head. He knew it. She fucking knows.

"Maybe," he says, avoiding her gaze. He then stands, stumbles into the bathroom, and slams the door.

She is so damn good at getting into his head. How does she know? And is that Viktor Krum stuff true?

There's only one way to find out...

He can vaguely hear Lavender huff as the bathroom door shuts, and he places his hands on the counter to gauge his reflection.

He looks like absolute hell. His skin is shiny and peeling, he has more freckles than he ever thought possible, and his hair is still dripping with sweat. Fuck the desert. How stupid was he, thinking that Hermione might have found him attractive in this state? She was probably relieved when Lavender settled into his lap at the bar; it was the perfect escape plan. Thanks to Lavender, Hermione didn't have to sit around and wave off unwanted advances from the weird sweaty guy she accidentally married — why would she want him when she was used to Viktor Fucking Krum? If it was true, that is.

He hears his hotel room door slam shut, and only then does he feel comfortable turning on the shower and stripping off his clothing, making a point not to look at his scrawny self in the mirror. Ron steps into the shower and groans as the cool water hits his sunburnt body, and forces his mind to wander far away from Hermione Granger.

When he's done, Ron steps out of the shower and towels off, still avoiding his reflection until he can't anymore. He ties the towel around his hips and stomps to his suitcase; maybe he owns something that can make him look somewhat desirable tonight.

He rummages through his clothing, settling on a royal blue button-down shirt and grey shorts. Lavender always says the blue brings out his eyes, and maybe she's right. He reluctantly makes his way back to the bathroom to check his reflection. The blue seems to distract from his reddened skin, and the structure of the shirt makes him look a little bit less lanky. Maybe he could catch Hermione's eye tonight, or, if she's truly not interested, he could attract the attention of someone else.

Someone else? The thought makes his stomach flip — he doesn't really want anyone else.

What would Hermione think if she knew that?

Ron leaves the bathroom, slips on his shoes, and after checking to make sure he has his phone, his wallet, and his room key, he turns out the lights and leaves.

Ron arrives at the hotel bar, and its new appearance leaves him momentarily confused. The bar has transformed from the quaint eatery where he and Hermione shared a round of drinks and appetizers just a short time ago to a bustling nightclub. The walls have come alive with flashy neon lights, which gives the portraits the illusion of movement. Just when he thinks this hotel can't get any more ridiculous, it seems he's proven wrong.

Previously an open-air eatery, the restaurant's doors are now blocked by a security guard standing his ground like a gargoyle. He checks Ron's I.D. then gestures to a sign on the door — something about no guns allowed on the premises.

"I'll have to pat you down."

"Uh, okay," says Ron, holding his arms out, while the security guard scans him for weapons. America's a strange place.

He enters the bar through a cloud of smoke, reminding him of a grade school stage production. People are everywhere, the music has shifted from acoustic tunes to electric pop remixes, and the place smells of cologne and alcohol.

Then he spots his sister at a large rectangular table across the dance floor. She waves him over and hands him a mystery cocktail.

"Drink this!"

Ron can almost smell the alcohol on her breath even though she's feet away. He glances over at Harry, slumped in a chair looking dazed and confused.

"You've gotten the party started quick, haven't you?" asks Ron as he brings the straw to his lips. The wave of guilt induced from the turtle-killing plastic straw is cut off by a slap of sugar and alcohol. "What is this?"

"Don't know!" says Ginny. "You're too sober!"

He decides her assessment is fair as he scans the crowd, looking for no one in particular, of course.

"Lavender's not here yet," croons Ginny, once she spots his eyes washing over the crowd. "If that's what you're wondering."

"It isn't," says Ron pointedly.

But then someone catches his eye. Hermione's at the bar, wearing a tight black dress that instantly makes Ron's shorts feel a size too small. Her hair is pulled back to display her gorgeous sun-kissed skin which looks shimmery and flawless, as if she's wearing a spot of make-up.

As far as he can remember, he's never seen her wear makeup before. Although she looks stunning all glammed up for the night, she didn't need to do any of it. It makes his heart swell and clench at the same time — there's something so vulnerable about Hermione doing hair and makeup for an evening out, and he even dares to wonder if he crossed her mind while getting ready.

If so, he hopes he will have the opportunity to tell her how beautiful she looks tonight. Maybe he'll even get a chance to say it again tomorrow, when all that makeup has been washed down his shower drain or even better — rubbed off by his bedsheets.

Ron gulps down the rest of the sugar-bomb masquerading as a cocktail, and makes his way toward Hermione. As he approaches her, his stomach clenches into knots at the memory of his conversation with Lavender. Viktor Fucking Krum. Is it true? Did they really date? Are they still shagging? It could be Lavender trying to get into his head, but he has to know.

"Hey, Hermione," he says as he reaches the bar. "Long time no see."

Hermione whips around and scowls at him. "What do you want?"

Ron takes a step back, baffled by her response. Did he say something wrong? Maybe she really was relieved to get rid of him earlier, and him approaching her now is the last thing she wants.

"Well, we were interrupted earlier, so I was hoping we could just pick up where we left off at the bar—"

"Oh really?" Her eyes are wide and suddenly angry — it almost wouldn't look out of place if they had turned crimson-red. "You want to pick up where we left off? And where exactly was that? With you staring down my shirt over a cocktail?" The rest of her words blend together, and it's then that Ron realizes she's had a bit much to drink.

Ron's face floods with color and his throat tightens. He steadies his voice to hide his hurt, but it only comes off as angry. "Hermione, are you okay? We should get you back to your room."

She opens her mouth to retort but is interrupted by a man's arm sliding over her shoulders. "Is there a problem here?"

The man is tall, muscular, and wears a smug smile that makes Ron want to punch him in the face. Although it's tempting, one glance at the man's ham-like hands stops him. Ron knows better than to start fights he can't finish.

"Who are you?" he asks instead.

"Cormac," says the man with a thick southern-American twang. "Who the fuck are you?"

Hermione leans into Cormac's arm as he slides a drink in front of her. Hermione immediately puts her mouth to the plastic straw and takes a long swig.

"Well listen, Cormac. I'm a friend of Hermione's," he begins, trying to emphasize 'friend' to convey how blurry their line really is. "She's had too much to drink, so I'm just going to take her back to her room safely now."

Ron reaches for her arm but is cut off by Cormac's hand. That's when he notices the large football tattoo on his forearm. Great. Another football player. Hermione has a type.

"I can do it," growls Cormac.

"No," says Ron. "I will."

"Can I have some water?" slurs Hermione toward the bartender, who instantly obliges.

"Mione," growls Cormac, and Ron's stomach sinks. He immediately wishes he could unhear the nickname slipping from Cormac's mouth — it sounds wrong in his seductive grumble, like he's appropriating a word from a language he knows nothing about. "Do you want to go back with this asshole, or with me? Remember, he lied to you."

"What are you talking abo—"

But Ron doesn't have time to finish his question before a wall of ice-water slams into his face, causing him to stumble back. Suddenly, he's alert, shell-shocked, and full of adrenaline. "What the FUCK?" he yells.

"You lied to me!" mumbles Hermione, now holding an empty glass of water, while Cormac watches on, wearing his smug but knowing grin.

"What are you talking about?" He turns to Cormac. "What did you tell her? And who the FUCK are you?" Ron's heart is pumping fast with anger, likely energized from the rush of ice water that when paired with the heat he's starting to grow accustomed to, has left him shivering from temperature-whiplash.

"Just a guy trying to get some action," says Cormac, quietly enough that Hermione, slurping away at the mystery cocktail that Cormac has so kindly purchased for her, can't hear.

Ron is seeing red. If Hermione's too far gone to care that she's drinking out of a plastic straw, she's too far gone to go home with this twat. The buzz from Ron's single but very strong cocktail is becoming apparent, and he feels like he can run a marathon. Instead, he channels his energy in the best place for it— Cormac's stupid face. Consequences be damned, Ron clenches his fist, winds up, and slams it right into his cheekbone, underneath his left eye.

Ron yelps — his buzzed and adrenaline-filled state isn't enough to mask the pain of his knuckles hitting hard bone, but luckily, his cry is drowned out by Cormac's, who clutches his head and stumbles a few feet back.

"What the hell?"

Before Cormac can retaliate, something, or someone, grabs Ron by the shoulders and shoves him away from the bar. "Get out."

It's the security guard from before, now clutching Ron's upper arm and leading him toward the bar's exit. "It's him that you have to worry about!" he says, trying to motion toward Cormac and Hermione, but he can't loosen the guard's grip on him to muster any gestures.

"Looked to me like you threw the punch," says the guard calmly, before pushing Ron out the door and slamming it shut behind him.

Well, fuck. Now what?

Ron rummages in his pocket for his phone, only to find that it won't turn on. How did he not think to charge it? He has to text Ginny, or even Harry, and warn them about Cormac. Who knows what that man is going to try with Hermione.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and takes the stairs two at a time, with one goal in mind: find a way to keep Hermione safe.

[aitarose]

HEAVEN (K.SUGAWARA) pairing: sugawara koushi x fem!reader

“these are the radiancies of the perfected vision that sees the good and step by step moves nearer what it sees.”

inferno collaboration masterlist

summary: there was the idea of perfection, total bliss amongst two serene souls in love, soulmates if you will—and then there was desperation, the total need for control and appearance—that of which he so greatly wanted, the idea of a love that would never be real.

word count: 2.0k

genre/warnings: timeskip, established relationship, major angst, borderline yandere!suga, slight nsfw, obsession, possessiveness, dark?, slight mention of corruption kink, mentions of religious themes

notes: fun fun fun crazy suga!! i definitely could’ve gone a nice and pretty route for heaven, but i wanted to make him absolutely mad—so here it is!

Perhaps there was a world in which you were happy—another universe where you’d spend your days on the beach, laughing as he skipped rocks, treading behind him in the water as the ocean became too deep for your feet to touch. The sea would caress your back, waves serenading your skin, shriveling the tips of your fingers, and wrinkling them to raisins.

He’d have his arms wrapped around you, tracing light hearts on your waist, peppering sparse kisses to the nape of your neck—showering you in love and affection, the pure emotions that he promised he’d always feel—the very things that he lived by, vowed to, repeated to himself every morning as you’d wake up beside each other under the silk sheets of your king-sized mattress. 

“I love you.” He’d whisper softly, lips ghosting your own, a faint smile gracing his face. The shine of his teeth was blinding, white and radiant in the light of the morning sun—heavenly, if you will. There was no doubt in your mind that he had to have been an angel in another life, one of the heralds in the sky, flying through the clouds—just so happening to touch the same ground you walked.

And it truly was bliss, an Elysium filled with lovestruck gazes, romantic nights in each other’s presence, the same three words spoken across the phone, the metro, the bed. You’d never believed in the concept of a honeymoon stage of a relationship, believing that if it were true and pure love, that stage would never really fade—that it would always be racing, that you’d forever be surfing the wave.

But waves fall, surf settles, and the currents will always inevitably pull back. 

It’d been gradual, the change in behavior. A complete one-eighty from a caring and considerate boyfriend, one of which he’d hold your hand through doorways, wrap warm blankets over your shoulders, make love to you late at night and into the early hours of the morning—all within the privacy of your own home.

The way he’d tower over you, arms holding his own weight, caging your body beneath his, and showering you in endless acts of love. The times where he’d grab your jaw, passionately colliding his lips with yours, taking all of you as if his life depended on it. How he’d trail kisses down your skin, stopping just above your navel, hips rutting to meet yours, quiet grunts and moans escaping the both of you—ecstasy consuming the room.

You shared the kind of love that was envied. The kind that most would spend their whole lives searching for, searching to have just a taste of what it felt like to be so completed by another that it felt as if life was truly complete—like you’d completed the handbook written by the angels above, the unspoken laws of attraction and existence.

However, that love had shriveled, it’d been lost within the tsunami that was Koushi Sugawara. Suga—the man whose peers admired him, asked advice from, trusting with their future—had become corrupt. He was nothing of the man he once was, the boy she’d known in high school through university, the boy she’d spent all those years loving.

He was a shadow of who he once was—his large and giving heart, becoming maniacal and obsessive, freakishly striving for perfection in every aspect of the world—believing that they themselves could become the model couple if they just tried hard enough, if they just kept up the facade that was their sheer wave of love.

There he stood, laughs overtaking his entire face, eyes pinched shut as tears ran down his cheeks at whatever it was that Daichi had just said. He clapped a hand over his best friend’s shoulder, pushing him backwards as if to say that he was being ridiculous, shaking his head in amusement and chuckling once more at Daichi’s exasperated expression. 

It was a lie to say that Suga wasn’t an amazing actor, rather a liar, on the skin-level. He knew how to manipulate a situation, maneuver a discussion so it was only on the subject of you and him, on how perfect and happy you were together—how fantastic you were in the eighth year of your relationship since high school.

His tricks were masterful, a true ace in all aspects of the art of appearances. There was no surprise as to why your friends hadn’t caught on to anything—to how your cheeks would no longer flush at the feeling of his lips pressed against your skin, how you wouldn’t spontaneously pull him into a hug or wrap your arms around his waist—even how neither of you would say those three special words in public, claiming that everyone had grown tired of hearing them.

A chill ran down your spin, shivers vibrating in your bones as his eyes met yours. Pupils dark and gloomy, ravishing you under the LED lights—despite the vibrant colors in the room, cheerful decor, and happiness for Asahi and his new line of clothing—he looked at you as if you were his prey, a shark beneath the mask of a kind smile.

Holding up a finger to his former teammates, Suga made his way towards you, slinking through the crowd easily, managing to push past every single person without coming in contact. A sly grin graced his face, casual and appropriate for the current situation—just as it always was—perfectly appropriate.

“What’re you staring at, beautiful?” He whispered, slinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his body whilst craning his head outwards, watching to make sure that there were at least some eyes on you. It was as if you were a caged animal, a dolphin in a tank as the children came to watch the show at the zoo.

Sighing deeply, glancing up at him and leaning upwards to press a soft kiss against his lips, you replied—you replied with the thing you knew he wanted to hear. “I’m staring at you of course.” As his eyes narrowed, nose touching yours, he smirked, a shit-eating look in his pupils. “You’re all I’m ever looking at, Koushi.”

“Damn, right I am.” Suga scoffed, grabbing your jaw and pulling you upwards into a sweeping embrace—his mouth moving fluidly with yours, devouring your surprise, corrupting the innocence he’d already taken from you so many years ago in the physical sense as well as emotional—encouraging you to continue your show. “Smile for the audience sweetheart.” He said against your lips, biting yours, claiming you in front of his friends.

“We wouldn’t want to let down their expectations, now would we?”

Your high school friends were going wild, laughing at the sight of the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms, showing your displays of love just as you always had at Karasuno—the displays of love that were nothing but an act, a charade that you continued for the sake of your reputation—the reputation you had as the young sweethearts who would undoubtedly live up to their yearbook expectations and get married after graduation. 

“Enough already, Suga!” Daichi dragged his best friend away from your puckered lips, away from the unwanted desperation that you had for him. It wasn’t your fault that he was practically irresistible, despite the many downsides of his obsessions. He’d been your dream man for all of your life, a man that you wouldn’t give up for the world no matter how toxic the relationship had become—your body longed for him, muscle memory inact with the feeling of his skin on yours. 

A sheepish smile grew on your lips, shrugging at the hollers and cat-calls the party had thrown at you, thinking they were laughing along with the wild act—but in reality, it felt as if they were reacting to a comedy show—a show in which you were the star, the only person that was being completely humiliated for pleasure. 

The former captain’s chuckles bubbled from his throat, hands holding his stomach as he became breathless, seeing the situation as all the more humorous, not at all suspicious with the perfection of it all. “You guys really are our little love birds, aren’t you?” He nodded at Suga, giving him a little high-five as if to congratulate him for loving you.

The gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes was one of unmistakable happiness, pure joy at the words he was hearing come from Daichi’s mouth. He looked like a man in love, a man who was so overcome with the unconditional feeling of belonging to another that there was nothing else that mattered—nothing that could surpass how his heart beat for you.

How he’d brush your hair in the morning, gently caressing your face, helping you apply blush and bronzer—making sure that you looked beautiful, beautiful enough to impress your shared friends. How he’d spontaneously buy you clothes, dresses, even shoes—ones that he saw in the latest media posts, knowing that they were exactly in style so you’d be envied for your impeccable fashion sense. 

Or even how he’d continue to make love to you, all on a planned schedule—a poll made by millions that stated the perfect time to be physical—the perfect time for you to become his again and again.

And perhaps this should’ve made you shy away, grow tense at the feeling of his touch, the feeling of his lips on yours. You could’ve been long gone at this point, far away in the arms of another, someone new who would treat you the way you truly deserved to be treated—a person that would value your love above all else, above the opinion on your love by others.

That was your life, your life in another world—another world where you were able to ride his wave, steer your ship away from his raging sea, and into the calm of the sunset. A world where you were miles and miles away from his predetermined coordinates, compass thrown into the depths of the ocean, buried under the tons of black water. 

But this wasn’t that world, and you hadn’t left him—you couldn’t just leave him.

Since there was still a shadow of the man he once was underneath the plastic persona he chose to put on display, the Ken-like reality that he saw through rose-colored glasses. You knew that he was in there somewhere, that if you could just stick around long enough, you could save him from the currents that were drowning him—the currents of obsession and self-doubt.

Which is why it wasn’t your fault when you’d instantaneously fawn at the little looks he’d send your way, or the light kisses pressed to the palms of your hands. When your eyes would roll back as he’d whisper in your ear, telling you how amazing you are, all the things he wanted to do to you as you touched below the belt—hidden beneath the taunting silky white of your bedsheets.

You were victim to the corrupt angel that was Koushi Sugawara, the true demon that’d fallen from heaven—Lucifer, himself, in his most beautiful human form. 

There was no crest to this wave, no tunnel that ended in a bright and blinding light, no still beneath the moonlight with sparse waves rippling in its after-light. All there was was the droplets of love that he held for you, a drought in a desert that would never see rain—a horizon that would be barren of life and love for an eternity.

You’d never leave him, never tread the next surf without him behind you on that board. He was your world, while you were his constant—a single variable that he had complete control over, an equation that he could dictate and solve over and over again, never finding the last solution as there was no real solution to perfection.

There was only the idea of it, the idea of being something equal to that of heaven—equal to that of absolute bliss and serenity. You were stuck in a loop that would go on forever and there was no one to blame but your blind love for a man that would never again feel the same. So, in that moment, in every moment onwards—those three little words, three little lies, would be permanent tattoos on your lips.

“I love you.”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, or headers as your own

[hitbythunder]

Among the Gods of Asgard -6

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder. –> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

"...And that is why the Lady Sif and I are not on good terms. Though the black hair suits her much better in my view!" the raven-haired god mused as he leaned back in his comfortable chair, the black queen being caught and turned in his slender pale fingers. A soft chuckle filled the air, its origin hidden behind the too large high back of the chair on the opposite of the chess field. "Could you turn it blonde again if the lady so demanded?" The lovely voice asked as Loki put the queen onto the field again, gently but determinedly as to win, before he looked up at the mortal girl snuggling up against the plush bolstering. "Back then, no, but I have learned a few more tricks over the past centuries!" the Trickster's eyes glinted mischievously but the girl held his gaze. She wasn't afraid of him, not like so many others, not like she should be. In fact, during the past two weeks she had become something far closer than a simple maid and Loki wondered how that had happened. Not that he would admit his growing fondness but he wasn't oblivious either.

At first, they met in the library a few times but soon their chess battles became a delightful daily routine for the both of them. The mortal proved to be a worthy opponent who could challenge the god anew every day - at least as long as Balder was away. Engulfed by the thrill of the game, both maid and master would stare for hours at the black and white chess field and choose their next move wisely. According to some research, it had been Harald Leifson who had discovered this joyous game on Midgard and his daughter had been the first one to learn its rules. Since then she had had a lot of practice and her skills were close to the Trickster's. Many times she almost beat the god - more often than he was willing to acknowledge – but she had enough wits not to boast with it. Loosing didn't go well with Loki's temper.

Instead the mortal remained polite and calm whenever the god relished in another triumphant victory because even that was better than having to (actually) work. At the beginning, the girl had been terribly nervous and her focus lay solely on the game itself, her gaze would rarely wander beyond the chess field. Also the god was quite reserved because usually he wouldn't seek the company of mortals, let alone spend his free-time with them. But as the hours of playing turned into days, the invisible ice-wall between them melted away and both couldn't remain silent for much longer. After some verbal incrementalism they began to chat rather vividly about various topics and Loki found himself sharing some anecdotes of past centuries. In turn, he learned some details of the mortal's background - but mainly he did the talking.

    xxx

Word spread, however, and once certain ears were reached, Loki and _________ had to move to his quarters. The library wasn't an appropriate place to display such unconventional manners - the queen had remarked once in private and, as a good son, Loki obliged. Actually, Frigga didn't mind at all that her youngest was socializing with a mortal slave - not the kind of friend she had hoped for but better than none - however many other gods, including the king, would be offended if this sessions were to continue. Thus the queen saw to it that no such unconventional behavior was to be seen outside of the prince's chambers. She didn't guarantee for what happened inside though.

The salon of the prince's chambers was better for playing anyways: no prying eyes and unwanted attention from other gods or slaves. Their envious gazes had felt like daggers piercing into _________'s flesh, thus she was thankful for the change of setting. In fact, she regarded the whole affair as a privilege. Although she felt rather out of place at first between all the gold, ebony and priceless luxuries decorating the room, the maid became rather comfortable being there - and around Loki too. He wasn't the most affable person but somehow he warmed up to her, treated her friendly and seemed to value her for her chess skills. After all the god himself chose to spend every afternoon with her, a maid.

Don't be smug about it! You're just a substitution while his brothers are away! _______ told herself many times so that the disappointment wouldn't be too great once Loki chose to drop her again. Which he surely would one day. Gods only use mortals for their benefit, remember?

So for now, the girl enjoyed the inexplicable honor she was granted. Maybe Loki's large wolf-dog Fenrir was to thank for this strange change in his spirits, because the beast who resided within the prince's chambers had immediately taken a liking into the girl. Upon entering, the cow-sized anthracite dog had suspiciously approached from the adjacent bedroom and had sniffed at the little mortal, who had been stiff as a column that very moment. Seconds later Fenrir had licked at her slender hand to show his trust and appreciation of the new visitor, much to his master's surprise.

Fenrir usually hates unfamiliar faces, he barely behaves around Thor or Balder...Loki had thought suspiciously, not recognizing his own pet.

xxx

Then came the fever. In the middle of the night, the prince was stricken in such a violent fashion that he wasn't able to call for help. Only Fenrir noted his master's indisposition, pressing a moist snout against the god's palm for comfort, and in his delirium Loki had managed to send one simple order to his beloved pet: Get help!

The magical creature and the god had spent so much time together that they literally shared thoughts - a quite useful fact that night – and so the dog dashed away to fulfill meet the order.

However, Fenrir didn't provide the kind of aid the prince had expected. Not Frigga, nor Eir the healer but a maid rode on the beast's back as it returned - as if the wolf knew what the god secretly needed right now. ________ tended to Loki as best as she could, with cataplasms and much kindness to ease the prince's illness. But there were clear limits as the fever wouldn't vanish. When she intended to leave in order to get a healer, Loki asked her, no begged her, not to leave him alone. In the dim-lit bedroom, she couldn't see the puppy eyes he shot at her, however the tight, beseeching grasp he had on her arm gave it all away. How could she have refused?

So she sat down at his side and watched over the god while the fever raged within him, occasionally holding his hand for comfort. _________ did so two other nights too.

xxx

During the day, Loki chose to avoid even brushing the topic and instead directed the conversation towards trivial matters, for example gossip, which he normally wouldn't discuss. Luckily, _______ played along and so neither of them spoke about those hours of disgusting misery, a terrible (shameful) state the prince would never show to anyone, not even to his brothers whom he shared most of his secrets with. Yet ________ had seen it all, the weak sickly side of the glorious god as he lay there bathed in his own sweat, the wet nightwear clinging to his lean pale flesh. A mess of all sorts, just like his mind due to the delirium during which he hadn't been able to formulate a whole consistent sentence.

How pathetic, how human...The god felt deeply abashed as he recalled it, yet then the train of his thoughts also carried him to a much sweeter memory: of a maid's soft small hands tenderly enclasping his; the comfort from sensing her presence on the mattress; her lovely scent flooding his nose whenever she leaned over closely to replace the cataplasm on his forehead. A strange warmth pooled inside the god which began to surface on his cheeks the longer he beheld the mortal across the chess field. “It's your turn, your highness!” The piece of ebony between his fingers had completely slipped his mind apparently. Then he noted how transfixed, almost mesmerized he was staring at her. Suddenly snapping out of trance Loki cleared his voice and quickly averted his gaze, suppressing the shade of pink on his high cheekbones.

“... Oh, oh yes... I just happened to be distracted by a spell...anyways...” Loki declared somewhat clumsily and put the bishop on a random position on the field.

[dystopiandilfs]

Hi I saw your post about being a Sterek anti which gave me whiplash because I followed you for mcyt opinions but then found the one other Sterek anti. Do you have any other unpopular Teen Wolf opinions that would really upset people?

I love to hate on Teen Wolf of course I have unpopular opinions. This is basically me hating on the Hales and Argents (minus Chris) for being creeps. Don't get me wrong I love the show but these are things that I can't ignore.

Disclaimer this includes topics such as child predators, grooming, abuse, murder and other similar topics. Don't read this If you really like Teen Wolf and is someone who can hate something based on others opinions.

• Sterek is an awful ship. If Stiles was a woman everyone would be calling Derek a pedo. It's weird because season 1-3 Derek was a creep and season 3-6 Stiles was an awful person. Like they switched.

• Ethan and Aiden sounded cool on paper but were a huge fail. Okay so you can combine and grow..... Is that it? Kinda lame for twin Alphas.

• Theo was a better villain than Void Stiles. He managed to successfully split the entire pack apart turning everyone against Scott including making Scott and Stiles fall out. He then made his own pack, killed them off for their powers, got sent to hell, then came back. Void Stiles was Stiles being possessed by a fox spirit and it not being him in control whereas Theo did kill them, he could control who lived or died. What can Void Stiles do? Play chess, pack it up Bella Swan!

• Stiles isn't my favourite character solely because of his comments about Liam's ied and Issac's abuse trauma. Saying that Issac was milking his trauma after he finally was able to open up about it. Constantly going on about Liam's ied and how he was a bomb ready to explode at all times.

• Peter was an awful person, he tricked Derek into turning Paige and that killed her, Derek was now single and traumatized just in time for child predator Kate Argent to groom him then burn his family, Peter survived the fire, killed even more people, died, manipulated Lydia into helping him come back, came back killed more people and repeat that 4 more times.

• Speaking of awful relationships let's not forget Parrish and Lydia. As in the grown adult police officer and the highschool minor.

• Stiles name is Genim and I stand by that.

• People think that Issac would have believed Stiles about Theo and that's just not true. Issac would have been wary of Theo based on his own thoughts but would have trusted that Scott trusted Theo. Don't know where everyone got this Issac and Stiles besties from, we must have been watching two different shows.

• Erica and Boyd were easily top 3 platonic soulmates. Others being Liam and Mason and Scott and Stiles

• Allison was a shitty person. She tried to kill her friends multiple times and got mad at everything and everyone. I genuinely thought she was meant to be bipolar when I was younger because of how she acted.

• Everyone was hypocritical, everyone was fine with Stiles killing Allison and Aiden, Peter for killing a lot of people but not Theo or Jackson eventhough Jackson was also possessed and Theo was manipulated and groomed by the Dread Doctors.

• Kira was stronger than Scott both mentally and physically. Parrish was stronger than Derek and Peter.

• Melissa and Chris were actually a good pairing. I feel like it would be weird for Melissa and John to get together.

• I don't know who Noah Stilinski is. I only know John.

• I prefer Stydia as friends but would pick them over Sterek. However I really liked Stiles with Malia and would have loved Stiles with Cora.

• Scott and Allison were a shit couple. "True love" okay so she broke up with him then immediately got with Issac who was one of Scott's best friends. Then Scott got with both Malia and Kira but still was obsessed with Allison. In my opinion their relationship was good in their eyes because it was their only relationship, no experience. Then Scott always brought her up because he felt guilty about her dying.

• Season 6 was a good season people only don't like it because Dylan wasn't in it.

• Theo was one of the best things to happen to Liam and vice versa. He was one of the only people who didn't either make fun of his ied or use it as an excuse for things. Yes he used it during 6x16 but he knew he'd get his ass handed to him but still did it to help the pack, he wasn't just saying it to insult Liam.

• Mason and Corey were a missed opportunity especially with Mason's knowledge and Corey's powers

• Scott and Liam weren't as close and people want them to be. Scott was always getting mad at Liam and rarely ever worked with him, they never did shit together. "Me and Liam go do this thing" "you guys go and sort this out". The only time he willingly stuck with Liam was when Liam had just bought back Theo and he only stayed with Liam because he thought Theo would try to manipulate him again.

• Lydia being the one to bring Stiles back during the wild Hunt was by far the biggest hate crime. You picked a long time crush over a childhood bestfriend/brother to be the one with the biggest connection to bring him back.

• Scott being a bland character was a good unintentional decision. It gave way for other characters to shine whilst also building multiple storylines. A bad example would be Elena Gilbert, she was bland but was still the main focus which imo was a bad decision.

• People really underestimate Theo and Liam's trust for eachother. They had less than a season of development but managed to be one of the better pairings. Like apart from them working together multiple times, Liam wanting Theo to go to the zoo with him, Theo stopping Liam from killing Nolan and Gabe etc. Theo knew about Liam being beat up at school by Nolan and Gabe before Scott did. Mason and Corey wouldn't have said anything because they didn't trust Theo, the only person who did was Liam. In the sheriff station Theo knew something was upsetting Liam and thought it was Brett and Lori then next episode knew it was Nolan and the Hunters.

• Coach was the best character in the entire show, not Stiles, not Issac, not Lydia, not Derek. What a king. Absolute girlboss. I know Coach would guard my drink with his life, no date rape drugs for me thanks to Coach.

• The show as a whole treated mental health terribly. Theo being manipulated as a child, Issac being abused by his father, Nolan's very severe anxiety and PTSD, Liam's ied, Malia's PTSD etc.

Basically if Teen Wolf had a 7th season and I was involved in writing it I would include the following:

• Puppy Pack including Liam, Theo, Mason, Corey, Hayden and her girlfriend (yes I'd give her a gf), Nolan and Alec just having fun and experiencing life.

• Derek, Peter and Chris working with the police.

• Melissa and Deaton working together along with Liam's step dad on a supernatural section in the hospital.

• Braeden 🥰

• I'd have a fever dream style episode where we get a Void Stiles and Evil Theo (with Tracy and Josh's powers) teamup.

• I'd bring back Kira, Cora and Issac

• I'd have the big threat being a coven of witches which is why they have to bring a lot of people back because it's a whole group of magical beings and Braeden, Kira, Cora and Issac could all bring knowledge that they've found from being in other parts of the world.

• I'd actually use all the cool supernatural powers instead of Scott roaring and flashing his eyes. Lydia's Banshee scream ripple, Parrish's flame on, Corey's invisibility, Theo, Malia and Derek's ability to shift into an actual wolf/coyote, Kira's cool fox powers, Jackson's Kanima vemon etc.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XXIII

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XXII | Chapter XXIII | Chapter XXIV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: (as always) swearing

WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

AN: On a scale of 'Filler Chapter' to 'A Shit Ton Happens Here', this is a firm 'Without This Chapter, Nothing Would Make Sense'. Fun fact, this chapter was the whole reason I wanted to write Court of Lies in the first place! Enjoy :)

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

The voice laughed. "You are all so entertaining! I've been watching you, you know. Some of your spy techniques are, I'm afraid, a little shabby. Climbing the palace ledges? Please. I'm surprised no one woke up from the racket you created."

Yeonjun snarled. "Stop mocking us and show yourself!"

"Fine." The voice sounded amused by Yeonjun's authoritative tone. “Allow me to reveal myself.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The three boys had formed a circle, all positioned to fight. Then a tall, lithe figure nimbly landed in front of them, as silent and as poised as a cat. He raised his head, ever so slowly, and stared at Taehyun. A tall frame, slender shoulders, familiar dimples and twinkling eyes… Taehyun, Yeonjun and Hueningkai all gasped at once, unintentionally lowering their guard.

Taehyun stared in shock. His eyes were purple .

“Soobin?” Taehyun said, at the same time that Yeonjun and Hueningkai both said, “Wolfsbane?”

The man (Soobin? Wolfsbane?) chuckled. “I see our dear little Kang Taehyun recognises me.”

Yeonjun glared at the man. “So it was you! I saw you in the palace!”

The man bowed mockingly, violet eyes twinkling maleficently. “Indeed you did,” he said. “And so did Hueningkai, when you all went down to the basement of the library.” He gave a small laugh. “I’m afraid I scared you a little, didn’t I?”

Hueningkai didn’t answer the man. Yeonjun didn’t say a word, either. Both of them glared at the man, tension evident in their muscles, while on the other hand the man looked completely relaxed.

Soobin’s lips formed a mocking pout. “Why, I thought you spies would be delighted to see me! After all, I am a legendary spy, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun bared his teeth. “You and your clan are infamous for bringing down royals and corrupting Kingdoms,” he said darkly. “I’m afraid you’re not welcome.”

Soobin pouted again. “Oh that’s not very nice! And I thought you found me cute.”

“That’s before you showed who you truly were,” Yeonjun glowered. “Now you’re anything but cute.”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Soobin laughed. “I would have been more than happy to give you a kiss, but it seems that it is not wanted.”

Yeonjun only scoffed in disgust, crossing his arms.

Hueningkai hadn’t said anything. His eyes never left the stranger, but he spoke to Taehyun. “Taehyun, how do you know him?”

“Lord Soobin’s a member of our court,” Taehyun replied in a confused tone, eyes fixed on the man’s crystalline eyes. “But… he didn’t look like this. I don’t know who this person is.”

“I’m still Soobin, don’t you worry. I am a member of your court, in a way,” he chuckled. “And indeed, I didn’t look like this! Ugh, I hate wearing contacts. They hurt my eyes.” His violet eyes sparkled. “But it was all worth it, if it utterly deceived you.”

Taehyun blinked, confused. “But, you… you’re good? You told me you were the good guy!”

Soobin sighed sympathetically. “Dear me, you’re so naive. And here I thought you were smart. Kang Taehyun, did it not strike you odd that I entered the scene at the exact moment you needed me? Did it not seem a little strange how I was coincidentally there at the same time as Beomgyu when he was lost in town? Did you not become even a little suspicious of me when it were my cakes which made you sick?”

“You did that on purpose?” Taehyun asked, shocked.

“Oh, no, no!” Soobin chuckled. “God, no. My intended target was someone different. But your interference caused a little… setback regarding your health.”

Taehyun blinked, at a loss for words. No one spoke. The two spies regarded Soobin carefully, as if he were a dangerous explosive which could kill them any second. Soobin on the other hand, looked at ease, hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels carelessly, watching them. It was almost as if he were waiting for someone to speak. Taehyun narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side. He was the only one who had no idea who Soobin really was, and it was frustrating him. What he did know, however, was that Soobin was now Bad™, and he needed to know how and why.

“Are purple eyes a trademark of your clan? I don’t remember any clans having purple eyes,” Taehyun finally said to break the silence.

“Indeed,” Soobin said in an amused tone. “My eyes are a trademark, which is why I had to disguise them. Your eyes, also… they too are infamous. So piercing, and striking. And when you spoke… it sounded like you knew everything in the world.” He sighed sympathetically. “What a shame that you were barely educated in the history of spies.”

Taehyun raised his dagger point. “You’ll be surprised to know that my knowledge on spies is actually not that bad, despite what you may think.”

“Oh, you’re even more adorable when you’re acting scary,” Soobin laughed. “And I assure you, if you do not know me, you do not know spies at all.”

Hueningkai twirled a crystal ball on the tip of his finger, the rugged edges catching the light of the lamps. “Quit talking. How did you get in? Why did you get in?”

Soobin turned his purple gaze to the youngest spy. “Oh, I almost forgot! Since you spoke, I now get the chance to say the ‘stupid thing about you being mixed’. How has life in Aruyeo been for you, young Kamal?” Hueningkai flushed with rage.

“I left that name behind years ago,” he said, shaking with fury. “My surname is not Kamal anymore. How dare you bring it up!”

“You left it behind, hmm? Well you didn’t do a very good job, I have to say. Isn’t it your middle name now?”

“Shut. Up,” Hueningkai seethed. His grip tightened on the glass in his hand. “I’ll ask you again. How did you get in? ”

Soobin strolled around the three, seemingly at ease. He walked a full circle around them, before coming to a stop in front of Taehyun again. A small smile played on his lips.

“Oh, with great difficulty, I assure you,” he said. “That’s quite a power you have there Kamal,” Soobin added. “Matter manipulation. Fancy.”

“ Stop. Calling. Me. Kamal. ”

Soobin ignored him. “But why am I here? Now that is a more interesting question. I suppose I am here to… merely provoke you. For you see, I have already won.”

“Stop with the cryptic messages, you asshole,” Taehyun said. “What are you talking about?”

Soobin smiled wider, clearly delighted by their ignorance. “Why, His Royal Greatness Beomgyu, of course.”

Taehyun flared up, eyes sparking at the mention of Beomgyu’s name. “If you’ve so much as harmed a hair on his head, then I swear that I will kill you,” he seethed, gripping his dagger fiercely.

“Oh my, that’s a rather bold statement,” Soobin commented amusedly. “For these past months, I have been a trusted friend and ally, but I make one wrong move and suddenly I’m receiving threats? How very odd.”

“If Yeonjun and Hueningkai don’t like you, then I don’t like you either,” Taehyun replied coldly. “I trust their judgement.”

“You trust two seasoned spies over me?” Soobin said, widening his eyes and blinking them innocently. “Me, Lord Soobin? The Lord that you have been conversing with quite closely for some time now?” He leaned forward, eyes twinkling maleficently. “You should never trust spies like them, you know,” he said in an almost confiding manner. “You never know when they may stab you in the back. Figuratively and even literally.”

Taehyun hesitated, glancing at Yeonjun. Taehyun was closed off and hesitant to trust by nature, and the Aruyeonan could only imagine the doubts running through his mind at that moment.

“Don’t listen to him,” Yeonjun said insistently. “He’s a spy too, remember? He’s a much more seasoned spy than we are. Besides, you’ve known us for longer. We’d never betray you.”

“I know,” Taehyun said, and his eyes hardened. He turned back to Soobin. “You’ll have to do a lot more than that if you want me to turn against Yeonjun and Hueningkai. I trust them with my life.”

Soobin hummed, shrugging carelessly. “I like games,” was all he said. “I like entertainment. What I say is not always a basis for a manipulative scheme, no matter what you may think. Even the smallest game is of utmost interest to me.” His eyes sparked, as if he’d remembered something. “Speaking of games, I suppose now is time to tell you about my grand scheme. The one in which your King’s life is, unfortunately, something which I have no use for.”

Now. Taehyun was not an emotional person: far from it. He knew how to handle his emotions, and to keep his cool in the face of smug Lords and vile foreigners. But Soobin managed to rub him up the wrong way, getting on his nerves and making him feel increasingly more irritated. It was strange: he was never an outwardly emotional person, but when it came to be about Beomgyu, he couldn’t control it.

Letting out an outraged yell, Taehyun threw his dagger at Soobin, blinded by momentary anger. Soobin smoothly leaned to the side, and the blade missed him completely, hitting the metal wall before clattering onto the floor.

“Well, someone cares about the king a lot,” Soobin commented amusedly. “A great deal, I would say.”

“You have no idea,” Taehyun said darkly. He drew another dagger from one of the many hidden pockets of his uniform, raising it in the air. “And you’d better explain what you mean right this second before I throw this dagger at you. This time, I definitely won’t miss.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow, as if Taehyun’s statement amused him. “A nice threat, Kang Taehyun. You certainly have a considerably intimidating glare. And to answer your question, you might want to turn to your little spy friends. They would probably know. Am I right, Yeonjunie?”

Yeonjun hissed at the mocking nickname, but it was weak. His face had grown pale.

“You fucking monster, ” he spat at Soobin. The violet-eyed male only laughed.

“Oh, no, I’m not the monster here.”

Even Hueningkai had gone white. The hand holding the explosive trembled, and he quickly tucked the ball away before it fell from his grip and smashed on the floor.

“You… Why?” Hueningkai whispered. “Why Beomgyu?”

“Oh, I’d forgotten how fond all of you were of the king,” Soobin said casually. “Whoops. And why? Because it had to be done.”

“Not to Beomgyu, it didn’t,” Hueningkai said, voice wobbling. Soobin sighed condescendingly.

“Of course to Beomgyu, you idiots,” he explained. “He’s the start of a new line. He’s weak. When they’re young, and inexperienced, it’s so much easier. That’s why it has to be Beomgyu.” No one said a word. Soobin raised an eyebrow in amusement. He strolled around the bare steel room, taking in the rusty oil lamps and shelves of explosives which took up the whole of one wall, from top to bottom. He noted the tiny greenhouse in the corner which held rare and common herbs, acknowledged the small furnace and bags of sand which were used to make glass, glanced at the lead box filled with ancient books. Soobin sauntered over to the shelves of glass bombs, delicately tracing the veins of each of the handmade crystal balls.

“If you break them, this whole room will explode or set on fire, and then everyone will know you’re here,” Hueningkai called out.

“Oh, I know,” Soobin dismissed. “As dear Yeonjunie said, I am a seasoned spy. I can recognise explosives when I see them.”

Again, Yeonjun hissed at the mockingly affectionate tone, its degrading quality jarring against his nerves.

No one spoke as Soobin leisurely walked around the room, running his finger along the dusty shelves and rolling some of the smaller marbles in his hand.

Throughout the whole time, Taehyun had been growing increasingly frustrated. He still had no clue what was going on, and it was making him more and more infuriated.

“Will someone please enlighten me as to what the hell is going on?” he exclaimed finally, frustration and irritation bursting out of him. Soobin turned his violet eyes to the vizier, and laughed aloud with delight.

“You really don’t know who I am?” he asked rhetorically. “Gosh, they truly didn’t teach you, did they?” He stalked towards Taehyun and leaned down so they were eye-to-eye, purple irises sparkling with mirth. “For all the rumours and tales of your wisdom, you really are just a clueless young boy, aren’t you?” Taehyun growled and punched Soobin in the stomach. The elder let out a small ‘oof’ and doubled over slightly, chuckling. “For a young boy, you still pack quite a punch.”

“It’ll be more than just a punch in a minute,” he snarled.

“Easy there, pet,” Soobin chuckled. When Taehyun growled again, he mockingly growled back. “You don’t even know my clan, do you?” he asked, eyes twinkling. “My, you are indeed clueless!” Before Taehyun could make some cutting statement, Soobin carried on, still smiling. “And think, my dear Kang Taehyun. Does ‘Wolfsbane’ really mean nothing to you? Think. If Wolfsbane is hard to think of, consider the flower it is the nickname for. Think Aconitum. Think bedtime stories. Think flowers. Think poisons. I’m sure if you use your brain you’ll figure it out.”

Taehyun opened his mouth to snark back, eyes fierce, but Soobin’s eyes flashed warningly. It was obvious he would only play nice for so long. Taehyun glared, closing his mouth. He cast his mind back.

“The maids told me stories about a beautiful yet deadly Queen called Aconita,” he bit out, still staring at Soobin with suspicion.

Soobin smiled. “Ah yes, Queen Aconita of the Four Kingdoms. The Queen of Poisons. An intriguing story. Sadly, Aconita was never even a person. What about flowers?”

Taehyun hesitated, beginning to actually think about what Soobin might be getting at. “Flowers… The poisonous purple-blue flower called wolfsbane, whose Latin name is Aconitum .”

The violet-eyed male chuckled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. They're the reason I make flowers for a living, by the way. It's almost like a homage to my spy name, Wolfsbane. Now, what about poisons?”

“Um, poisons…  there’s this one poison named after the wolfsbane flower, Aconitum, which Hueningkai thought I’d had when I’d been sick.”

Soobin nodded amusedly. “Yes, but what about ‘wolfsbane’?” When Taehyun looked unsure, he turned to Hueningkai. “Would you care to help Taehyun out?”

“The potion ‘Wolfbairn’, which renders people insane, is of most similar spelling to wolfsbane. Wolfbairn is an extremely old potion which has gradually stopped being used overtime, since the effects of the potion only drive the person into insanity, rather than kill them. People have had no use of an insanity potion, so its uses have eventually died out.” Hueningkai spoke quietly, as if the words were being forced out of him. Even now, while sharing information he did not want to say, Hueningkai still spoke about everything he knew. It was almost like an instinct: ingrained into him from such a young age. “It is often described as having… werewolf fever,” Hueningkai said, still rather pale. “And they call it werewolf fever because it’s similar to the state of insanity werewolves go into just before the full moon.”

“Very good,” Soobin said. “And now Taehyun, does ‘Jeju Choi clan’ ring any bells to you? Specifically, alarm bells?”

Taehyun paused. “They– they refused to teach us about that clan,” he said. “I even looked, but no records held any mention of the clan, so I assumed they died out.”

“We have almost died out,” Soobin sighed regretfully. “As of now, it is just myself and my sister left. And the reason why you could never find anything about my clan is because I took it out.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled ball of parchment. He tossed it to Taehyun, who caught it in one hand. Taehyun unfurled the ball to find the parchments were all ripped-out pages of textbooks.

“These… these are all pages from the books the scholars use to teach us about clans,” Taehyun said, confused.

“Indeed they are,” Soobin said, folding his arms casually. “I had to take them from Beomgyu’s cottage, you know. For some reason he had the books at his house, and I needed to take these pages out before he found them.”

Taehyun glared at him. “You broke into Beomgyu’s house?”

Soobin gave a lazy chuckle. “This was after he’d been crowned. Don’t worry.” Taehyun continued to glare at him, before Soobin gestured to the pages. “Go on, read them.”

Taehyun hissed angrily, before turning his attention back to the textbook pages in his hands. His eyes widened as he scanned through the pages. “Your clan is so old… you have two abilities?”

“My sister, rather,” Soobin said. “Only a rare few have both. Most have one or the other. Mine is to curse.”

“You… you curse people?” Taehyun said, eyes wide.

Soobin almost laughed at Taehyun’s dumbfounded expression. “Dear me, you really are adorable. Yes, Taehyun, I do.”

“How so?”

“Well…” Soobin shrugged carelessly. “I make people unlike themselves. Turn them angry when they should be happy, or insane when they should be sane.”

“So was it you who turned the public so suddenly against Beomgyu when he announced the alliance?” Taehyun demanded, eyes turning fierce. He threw the papers at Soobin’s feet, the crumpled-up ball rolling pitifully. “Do you know how many days Beomgyu hid himself away after that? Do you know how guilty he felt?”

This time, Soobin really did let out an amused laugh. “Taehyun, dear, do you know what a curse is? It is something of supernatural power which is used with the intent of harming or punishing something.” He paused. “Well, if I put it that way, it does sound like I cursed the people, but I did not! I simply… convinced another Lord to do it in my stead.”

“Ah, so Lord Namjae’s son must be the spell-caster,” Taehyun said, scrunching his nose in disgust. “So when he said, ‘It was Lord Soobin’s idea’, he really meant it.”

Soobin laughed again, violet eyes sparkling with malevolent mirth. “My, you have a good memory! Indeed, it was my idea. I even suggested the explosives in the chandeliers. I held the triggers in my hand, you know. That Lord really did trust me.”

“I don’t know why anyone would trust you,” Taehyun said, glaring. “Did you have everything planned out? Did you orchestrate everything from that day?”

“Oh, way before that.” Soobin grinned maliciously. “Whose father do you think came up with this plan? Whose sister do you think holds a considerable amount of power in Aruyeo, and ordered the sending out of ambassadors to Gojongja? Who do you think talked to Beomgyu in an abandoned hallway under the guise of an apology? And…” He bent down in front of Taehyun, until they were practically nose-to-nose. “Who do you think cursed the King?”

Taehyun gave an outraged cry, punching Soobin across the jaw. Soobin’s head jerked back, and he clutched the side of his face, chuckling.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” he yelled, launching himself at the taller male. Hueningkai and Yeonjun quickly grabbed his arms to stop him from punching Soobin again, holding the furious vizier back. “Hueningkai– Yeonjun– let me go!”

“Taehyun, no, he could literally curse you in the blink of an eye,” Yeonjun hissed as Taehyun continued to struggle.

Soobin had taken a step back, rubbing at the reddening spot on his jawline with an amused smile still on his face. “Yeonjun’s right, Taehyun dear,” he said. “Besides, you need me to tell you what’s going to happen to Beomgyu.”

Taehyun snarled, but stopped resisting and let the two Aruyeonan spies pull him back. “Go on then,” he spat. “What’s your plan? What do you want? Tell me.”

Soobin grinned. “Not with that attitude I won’t. Here, sit down.” He gestured to the velvet carpet. Taehyun scrunched up his nose, crossing his arms defiantly.

“Just hurry up and fucking say it.”

“Hmm, should I?” Soobin mused. He folded his hands behind his back, and began to walk around the room again. He inspected his reflection in one of the larger marbles, sighing. “Oh, that’s annoying. I will most definitely have a bruise on my cheek tomorrow.”

By this time, all three of them were glaring daggers at the famous spy. Soobin looked back at them, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled again, walking back up to them.

“Let me tell you, then. The Jeju Choi clan dates back several hundred thousand years. Though we are not as old as some clans, we are old enough to be known for two abilities. However, one person can only ever have one ability. Though some rare ones, like my sister, have two.”

“I didn’t want to know your clan’s history,” Taehyun interrupted. “What’s your plan?”

Soobin tsked. “Patience is a virtue, dear vizier. Be patient.”

Taehyun bared his teeth. “Fine. I’ll entertain you. What does your sister do?”

Soobin paused, before chuckling. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Even if you did figure it out, it would be too late.” He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Her abilities are to curse and to transform. She can transform herself into any shape or person she likes.” Taehyun frowned, about to speak again, but Soobin was already moving on.

Soobin folded his hands together, nudging his foot against the ball of papers on the floor. “These papers will tell you all about the history of our clan in relation to royal families. Over the centuries, we have accumulated a vast amount of wealth from our times in court, all of which my sister and I now own. Which is a lot, I assure you–” he spread his arms, revealing the several silver rings adorning his long fingers– “as you can see. My sister is busy gaining more wealth, and I’m here to complete the most important part of the plan.”

“What’s your plan, then?” Taehyun scoffed. “World domination?”

Soobin’s eyes flashed. “Domination over all the Four Kingdoms.” He leaned forward, violet eyes practically glowing in determination. “Do you know? Each of the crowns hold power. The reason the Four Kingdoms work in harmony is because each Kingdom has their own power. However, being the oldest and most successful, the Gojongja crown is more powerful, which is why its monarch remains at a higher position than the monarchs of the other Kingdoms.” He gave a grin. “If one person were to potentially gain access to all of these crowns… well, they’d be invincible.”

“Well, you’ll never be able to take the Gojongja crown,” Taehyun said, crossing his arms. “You need someone of royal blood to crown you, and you need to be of royal blood yourself to be able to be crowned.”

Soobin stared at him, before laughing. “Dear, Taehyun, please read through your facts before you start to try and find holes in my plan.” The smile dropped from his face, and his eyes flashed maliciously. “I am of royal blood, idiot,” he said. “Why do you think I was only a rank below Beomgyu, in court? My ancestor was the son of one of Gojongja’s Kings.”

Soobin gave a dramatic sigh, staring into the distance. “My clan used to be a favourite in court. We were favourites in all of the courts, once. But then Gojongja turned on us, calling us witches because they thought we had cursed the late King.” Soobin paused, giving a chuckle. “We had cursed him, but that was not the point. We were banished from Gojongja after that. Even the King – my ancestor – was murdered by the citizens, simply for being one of us. But even with this banishment in place, we managed to live in Gojongja still, patiently waiting to strike back.”

“Let me guess, you were resentful for having been banished and vowed to take over everyone?” Taehyun snarked, raising an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s a shit reason, by the way.”

Soobin chuckled to himself. “Why, you…” He suddenly leaned downwards, until he was nose-to-nose with the vizier, who didn’t even flinch. His face was hard and cold, completely unlike the smiley, warm Soobin that Taehyun had once thought him to be.

“Look down on my family again and I may have to get rid of you,” Soobin said in a low, dangerous voice. “You’re of no use to me. The only reason you’re still alive is because I want to see you be destroyed as Beomgyu is taken away from you.” He leaned closer, cold breath tickling Taehyun’s ear. “Imagine how much fun that would be, hm? He’ll crumble away, slowly forgetting who you are, and you’ll be powerless to do anything about it. And it won’t matter to me, at all. It’s just one little game within this grand scheme of mine. You’ll be insignificant. To me, and to Beomgyu.”

Taehyun flinched, breathing in sharply. Soobin smiled darkly, leaning away. Yeonjun and Hueningkai looked at him worriedly, neither of them having heard what Soobin said. Judging by Taehyun’s shaken expression, however, they knew it was something bad. Hueningkai reached out to Taehyun, concerned, but the vizier brushed off his hand.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly. “I’m fine.”

Yeonjun glanced at Taehyun, still slightly worried, before glaring at the elder spy.

“Why Gojongja first? Why didn’t you go after one of the smaller Kingdoms, like the Barumin Kingdom or Yeojing Kingdom? Those would have been easier. Why come to Gojongja first?” Yeonjun demanded.

Soobin stared at him for a few moments, eyes twinkling maliciously. “Wow,” he said, in disbelief. “You truly didn’t know?” He laughed to himself. “You're a spy for Aruyeo, but you didn’t notice what happened in…” he trailed off, waving a hand. “Oh, nevermind, nevermind. You don’t need to know.”

“What? What happened in where?” Yeonjun said, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. You’ll find out later. And to answer your question, Gojongja is the largest, most powerful Kingdom. If I can take this Kingdom, it’ll be a breeze with the others.”

“What about Aruyeo, then? They’re almost as powerful as Gojongja.”

Soobin grinned, violet eyes triumphant and mocking. “What about Aruyeo indeed. I wonder how I would have been able to take over such a Kingdom all by myself. Unless, of course, I had help.” His eyes flashed. “It would be difficult, unless I could transform their mindset.”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes further. Suddenly he gasped.

Soobin leaned back, pleased. “So you finally understood.”

“You! I can’t believe you– argh!” Yeonjun jabbed his finger in Soobin’s direction angrily, before running his hand through his hair.

"Don't worry. When you and Hueningkai were recruited, it was under good intentions," Soobin said, smiling maliciously. "It's only after your recruitment that things... transformed."

Yeonjun growled, stalking up to Soobin. Though he didn't quite meet Soobin's height, his rage made up for those few last inches. "I swear, I will fucking kill you."

Soobin just gave him a dimpled smile, unruffled by the Aruyeonan's close proximity. “Please try to calm down, Junie. I’m just getting to the best part.” Soobin grinned, violet eyes flashing in the light of the oil lamps. “This is the part where I tell you what my curse is going to do to Beomgyu.”

Yeonjun glared at him, muttering a string of curses under his breath, but stepped away from Soobin.

“Ah, you’re right. Say it, before I cut your leg off,” Taehyun glared, spinning his dagger in his hand.

Soobin ignored him, eyes crinkling. “But if I think about it, I’m not the only one who knows what will happen. Yeonjun here knows what curse I’m talking about, as does Hueningkai. Which brings about the question: should I explain it to you myself? Or…” He tapped a slender finger against his chin, eyes alight with cruel mirth. “Or am I evil enough to make one of the spies say it? How about you, Hueningkai? You’re fond of the King, aren’t you? It would most likely break some part of you to have to detail Beomgyu’s demise.”

At that, Hueningkai looked up at him, gaze sharp. “Don’t you dare make me. If you do, I swear...” He showed Soobin a small glass marble. “This will just kill you, and not any of us. You don’t want to die, do you?”

“Alright, alright, I won’t,” Soobin chuckled. “It’ll sound more dramatic if I tell you, anyway.”

He leaned down in a confidential manner. He paused, and leaned back teasingly. “Hang on, should I tell you or should I not?”

Taehyun’s hand tightened around his dagger, and thorny vines began to appear on the metal floor around Soobin’s feet, growing and snaking up around him, threatening to strike. “Fucking say it before I have to force you to,” he snapped. “And I will force you, you know.” The thorns on the vines thickened, becoming more gnarled and vicious. A threat.

Soobin smirked amusedly. “Fine, I will. Put away your thorns, Jeo.”

Taehyun barely flinched from the use of his surname. “Hurry up with it then, Choi.”

“Alright, calm down. I’m getting to it.” His eyes sparkled, clearly delighted with how irritated Taehyun was getting. He leaned forward again, and Taehyun almost instinctively leaned towards him.

Soobin paused, smiling. “You really want to know, don’t you?”

Taehyun gritted his teeth. “Get on with it.”

“As you wish. There have only been five known cases of this curse throughout the whole of the Four Kingdoms’ history. There’s no official name for it, so most people call it the ‘Beast Curse’, because, well, I’ll get to that later.” Soobin grinned as Taehyun snarled at him again. “Once the curse fully takes place, he will rapidly lose his strength. The symptoms can often be misdiagnosed as Aconitum – which is partly why I took up the name Wolfsbane, by the way – and this misdiagnosis can become fatal for the person. But the one thing which differentiates the original symptoms from Aconitum are his feral days.”

Soobin leaned back, folding his arms. Taehyun almost punched him again, thinking the spy was done speaking, but Soobin continued to talk, this time addressing the Aruyeonans.

“You all know what happens next, don’t you? Would anyone else like to take over the storytelling?”

Yeonjun was white in the face, but he still spat at Soobin viciously. “You already said you’re going to say it,” he said, glaring. “So go ahead and fucking say it. Stop stalling.”

Soobin grinned. “Very well.” Then, the tone of his voice changed, becoming more sinister as his smug grin darkened into something scarier.

“From this point onwards, he’ll become weaker, at an even faster rate than he is right now. He’ll barely be able to speak. There will be no wild outbreaks, but he’ll become so weak he can do nothing but lie down. Breathing can even become difficult for him. This will go on for a few days, and then…” Soobin gave a grin, dimples doing little to soften the malicious edges of his smile. “There’s a reason this is called the Beast Curse. One day, he’ll change. You all know the unexplained monster which is always present in the tales of the Four Kingdoms’ histories, right? That’s the product of our curse. He’ll become that monster. He’ll slowly become insane, losing all parts of himself, until he’s just a beast: a crazy, destructive monster who you can’t stop. And then, his own people kill him. With you, Taehyun,  at the head, giving out this order.”

Taehyun didn’t get angry easily, nor did he get scared easily. But what Soobin said made him the most terrified he’d ever felt. He stared at the spy, eyes wide, as Soobin leaned back, grinning maliciously.

“You…” It was only a single word, but his voice shook.

“After that, you’ll be too broken to do anything. Yeonjun and Hueningkai will be killed by my sister, and I can take over Gojongja. Then…” Soobin shrugged, looking smug. “Yeojing and Barumin will be a breeze.”

Yeonjun cracked his whip angrily. “There’s no way in hell that Hueningkai and I are going to be killed by your stupid sister,” he hissed. “We’ll kill her first.”

Soobin stared at him, eyebrow raised, before slowly bending down in front of Yeonjun, their noses inches apart. “Talk like that about my sister and I might kill you right this second,” he hissed. “No one talks about my sister like that.”

Yeonjun, undeterred, raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, looks like I hit a nerve there. You must care about your sister a lot.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, leaning away. “I could say the same thing about you. You care about your brother a lot, don’t you? You wouldn’t want something to happen to your poor brother, would you?”

In a flash, he was lunging for Hueningkai, but the younger managed to spin out of the way, pinning Soobin against the wall, arm on his throat.

“I can fend for myself,” Hueningkai glared. “And try to threaten my brother like that again and I might kill you right this second.”

Soobin stared at him, before laughing. “Alright, alright. I yield. For now.”

Hueningkai slowly released Soobin, still glaring at him.

“You might want to start saying your goodbyes to Beomgyu, you know, instead of messing around threatening me,” Soobin said, rubbing his neck. “He doesn’t have a lot of time before he turns. And what’s up with you lot harassing me? Along with a bruised jaw, I’ll most likely have marks on my collarbone too.”

“Shut the fuck up, you deserve it,” Yeonjun said.

“Whatever you say,” Soobin grinned. “But I’m going to go now.”

“What? You’re leaving?” Yeonjun scoffed. “Why did you come for a chit-chat if you’re going to leave not even an hour later?”

Soobin smirked, stepping into the shadows. His eyes sparkled bright purple. “Why, to waste more of your time! Your king now has less than five days left!” he called gleefully. “And time is precious, you know!”

Yeonjun let out a yell. “Come back here, you son of a–” he rushed towards the darkened corner, trying to find Soobin and drag him back. But he was only met with an empty wall, the infuriating purple gaze and mocking silvery voice having already disappeared with their owner. Nevertheless, he punched the wall angrily, still muttering curses.

“Yeonjun, just stop,” Hueningkai sighed. “He’ll only show himself if he wants to.”

“That prick,” Yeonjun snarled. “He’s been deceiving us this whole fucking time. I can’t believe he was Wolfsbane.”

“I know right? I– wait Taehyun, are you okay?”

Taehyun had collapsed onto his knees, feeling too weak to stand any longer. Hueningkai rushed over to him, shaking his shoulders. Taehyun moved with the action limply, eyes glazed with fear. He had gone pale, and was shaking.

“Beomgyu…” he whispered, voice thin and wobbly. A tear spilled from the corner of his eye. “Beomgyu…”

It was only a single tear, but Hueningkai’s eyes widened. The Taehyun he knew was calm, and the Taehyun he knew was collected: but this Taehyun was crying. This Taehyun looked so scared and vulnerable that Hueningkai felt like crying himself.

Yeonjun also came up to them, putting his arm around Taehyun. “It’s okay, Taehyun,” he said softly. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Hueningkai nodded, handing Taehyun a handkerchief. “Things will be okay. They will.”

Taehyun smiled shakily, and the Aruyeonans smiled back.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Things will be okay.”

All of them knew that things would not be okay, but no one wanted to admit it out loud.

“You’re okay, Taehyun, right?” Hueningkai asked, concerned.

Taehyun looked up and nodded weakly, smiling a weak smile. The smile on Taehyun’s face worried Hueningkai, because it spoke volumes about how decidedly not okay Taehyun was, but he decided not to push, talking to Yeonjun instead so that Taehyun could gather himself.

“Hey Yeonjun, why were you so mad at Soobin’s sister?”

“Oh, that.” Yeonjun sighed, clenching his fists. “Just thinking about it makes me so mad. Soobin’s sister is impersonating Queen Erajin.”

Hueningkai gaped at Yeonjun. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s why Soobin was going on and on about ‘transforming’, because his sister has transformed into Queen Erajin.”

Hueningkai blinked, mouth hanging open. “Wow. I can’t believe it.” He paused, furrowing his brows. “Actually, I can. That’s why your missions became weirder and weirder.”

“Yeah. I thought it was weird why she made me burn half of Barumin’s crops last year.”

Hueningkai blinked thoughtfully, arm still around Taehyun. Taehyun stared blankly at the floor, leaning against Hueningkai. When the spy began to jostle around, gesturing with his arms as he spoke, Taehyun’s body also moved with the action, the vizier’s expression blank and listless.

“But they can’t have killed Queen Erajin, could they?” Hueningkai asked. “That would have been too suspicious. They have to be keeping her captive somewhere. I don’t know much about the transforming ability, but the thing you are impersonating needs to be nearby, or at least alive, right? So if Soobin’s sister is simply dethroned, Queen Erajin can come back, can’t she?” Hueningkai’s eyes widened as he realised what he just said. Yeonjun stared back, eyes equally as wide.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Hueningkai said.

“I think I am,” Yeonjun said, grinning.

Hueningkai grinned back, and stood up onto his feet. With the sudden loss of his support, Taehyun almost fell onto his face, and Hueningkai quickly crouched back down before the vizier fell over. “Oh, Taehyun, sorry. Here.” He offered his hand to Taehyun, and was surprised when the vizier actually took it.

Once Taehyun was on his feet, Hueningkai placed his hands on his shoulders, trying to bring Taehyun back to the present. “Hey, Taehyun, do you think you’ll be okay getting back to your room yourself?”

“Hmm?” With some difficulty, Taehyun’s gaze focused on Hueningkai, and he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s good. Yeonjun and I need to plan something so we can’t take you back to your room, if that’s okay.”

Taehyun gave a smile, properly engaged in the conversation now. “I’ll be fine,” he said, even though he still looked rather pale. “But what are you planning?”

“We’re going to get back our Kingdom,” Yeonjun said cryptically. “You’ll be fine, right?” he checked.

“Yeah, I will. You go on then.”

Hueningkai nodded, and followed Yeonjun out of the chamber’s door. Taehyun stood there in the middle of the room for a moment longer, staring at the steel wall opposite him.

Hueningkai popped his head into the chamber, tilting his head. “Taehyun? You coming?”

Taehyun snapped out of his trance, brushing away his tears. “Yeah, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He stared down at his hands, with their barely healed scratches, before walking out of the room.

taglist: @my-moarmy-heart​ @arohabangtan​ @a-fragmented-world​

[cataclysmfire]

bruna marquezine . cis female . she / her . wasn’t that verdandi helreigha walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the scholar out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously manipulative, whilst also managing to be quite engaging. the twenty three year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( telepathy and emotion manipulation ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of up to wine stained against red lips, doe eyes that held intensity, a softened smile with a hidden blade . great to see the cataclysm around, isn’t it ? ( layla . she / her . twenty four . est . none )

you come from nowhere in particular, your family serving the king in blatant servitude for as long as you could remember. and that hatred burns deep in your veins, longer than your faintest memory. your story starts with your brother, you best friend, and the duty that killed him. blood washes over your memories, and you could have hated him for leaving. tears in your eyes, you were seventeen when you begged him, pleaded, not to go. the king didn’t need another warrior, another servant of his armies, and wars, that had nothing to do with the years of service your family had borne themselves into. smart girl, quiet girl, why are you making such a fuss? can’t you see? he’s already made his mind up. and in the end, he was just another body in the wake of what seemed endless, dauntless, and your hatred burned brighter than before. fool, he was a damn fool. you wouldn’t make the same mistakes as your brother, you wouldn’t die for a duty to a mortal man, when you were born to be a god, when you were made to be a queen. heed to no man, every time you bowed, it left a sour taste in your mouth. bitter. vile. disgusting. this was your origin story. 

you had always been a quick tempered child, compared to your siblings. your brother daenandri, had always been your keeper. where you kicked, and demanded to be heard, he spewed softness brimmed between his fingertips. and the longer he tried to breed softness into a wild child, who ran before she learnt to walk, the more you dared to tiptoe the boundaries that were set for you. you were screaming, and nobody could hear you, even then. your family was a nobody, a couple of bodies that would be sent, one after the other, until you were the last. you and your youngest brother, and one by one, you watched them die. picked off, from a young age, as the youth fell from their eyes, only to be sent back for a shallow grave- and a burial that was flowered with what little money your family had. it turned you wicked, but then again- maybe you had always been this way. 

time is passing, many days, and many moons since your brother’s death, since your father grew ill on his own, and your mother passed not long after that winter. a broken heart, they said. and you swore then, you’d never allow it to take you, with them. you had learnt how to conjure emotions that were expected of you. tears, that fell and began to weep just as believable as the story you spun. with no living family, it was easy, to spin a tale that would keep them from expecting your betrayal. a vrajiit girl, with beautiful powers, and kind eyes- without a soul to her name to speak otherwise. it was the mask you’d wear, because ever since you were sixteen, you feared the day you’d have to serve the same fate as your brothers. you’d bow to no one. let alone, a death for a war that didn’t interest you. in bloodshed that didn’t benefit you. you were a survivor, and you used it to your advantage. 

smart girl, that’s what they’d call you. a scholar, the first of her family- and beautiful, a sight to bare witness to. it was easy to trust her, to like her, especially as she brings out the emotions you’ve tethered to the back of your mind, bending them to her own will. do you really enjoy her? who has she tricked your mind into believing it? each year, you’re getting closer to the deadline, and sooner or later, you’ll be forced to serve in the army, and if you were to survive, a lifetime of servitude to a king that made venom crawl up the back of your throat. you wanted what he had. the power. the crown. the people. you wanted to twist the tables, and watch the mortals bow down, like they’d forced you to, your entire life. you want them to worship you, a queen, a god, a woman. but first, you’ll have them all convince you’re nothing short of a sweetened fruit, a pretty little thing with kind eyes, and a softened heart. little did they know, the venom you’d laced it with.

important  details  :  verdandi only has two more years, until she is forced to serve in the army, and is continuing to find ways to avoid it, for now- but time is running short. she is telepath, meaning that she can direct thoughts without speaking, and when focused, can even read minds if there are no obstacles or distractions in her way. her most used and skilled power, is emotion manipulation. she’s able to bend and twist people’s emotions at will. love, hate, despair, envy- all fine lines that she treads without so much as caring what it does to the other person in question. on mortals, it’s been known to drive them insane, after years of being emotionally fed on. not only can she manipulate your emotions, but she can feel them, channeling them, there are rarely any secrets of the heart- when it comes to her. and just as she can mold your emotions, she can take them away, too. want to feel nothing at all? is the pain too much to bear? it’ll come with a price, and she’ll collect it when she sees fit. verdandi isn’t as sweet as she makes herself seem. she’s selfish, serving her own purpose first. but she’s wearing a mask, tricking people into believing that she’s frail, innocent, even. she’s the last person you’d expect to survive walking through fire, but she’s the one holding the match. 

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