#how the fuck am i supposed to become immortal in the minds of others of I'm just some white boy who should be in school

[sorrywhatdidyousay]

I hate it when i go into my coffee shop (it's mine because at this point i live there) and hardly any of my plethora of friend workers are there. Sure i can make more but like, im here to dote upon the ones who engage me in fun conversations. It's hard to cement yourself in the mind of a person by complimenting their tattoo once.

[yuukei-yikes]

chatting with my kagefriend @hibihiiyo about ayaki

i keep imagining how whenever shintaro activates retaining, all the routes bleed together in his mind so post str since its his constant state it's confusing AND terrifying to live past that august once and for all. like, it goes on beyond what he has known and remembers hundreds of versions of. so picture that, but from ayaki's perspective.....

all those routes, and shintaro finally knows. constantly. because shintaro will ALWAYS remember at one point, but then he'll forget again. ayaki is used to it. in fact she resents how she looks forward to it because it's the only time she interacts with... anything!!! she has actual influence when shintaro activates her. depending on what she says shintaro will say something different. routes always differ, at least slightly, but seeing shintaro at the end before it starts again is her one chance to say ANYTHING before she waits thousands of years again until shintaro is born and grows to be 18. she has actual presence when he remembers, even if they're tiny pockets of time in her eternity. however post str this is constant. shintaro is There.

and you know who else is there. HERSELF. time for ayano math.

ayano just fucking hates herself that's like. ayano 101. but what happens when there's 2 of them. they both hate themselves for doing things but those things are vastly different from each other. so... same person, different contexts and choices. which one is most hated by both? the answer is. well. whichever is alive!!

Because THAT ayano, so basically our final route ayano, has everything. but... erm, SHE wasn't supposed to Make It. ayano is never supposed to survive. ayano staying is an anomaly. and ayaki will continue to be miserable as her family and friends are alive and she is not there to be by their side, but that's always been part of the deal, she knew that she wasn't ever getting "a happy ending" because her Happiest Ending is her family's safety. her very existence is being doomed for infinity. but this route's version of her staying around and... GETTING A HAPPY ENDING!??!?!?! THAT.... WAS NOT EVER EVEN CONSIDERED.

shintaro continues to astonish her when he pulls something like this, letting ayano survive? SAVING ayano? who the hell does he think he is. hasnt ayaki suffered enough? why is she also cursed to watch herself get a happy ending. she doesn't deserve it and ayaki knows ayano knows she doesn't deserve it.

THIS ayano roped kano into it, she basically threw haruka and takane at the wolves, she left her siblings completely unprotected. ayaki was Left because she was willing to do something extreme and awful and scared her siblings away and made it right in her mind by cursing herself to be This, just for her "succesful" version to kill herself out of the situation AND get put on a pedestal for it? bullshit!!!!

this route's ayano is glorified and praised by her siblings and welcomed back with open arms and tears. this ayano gets to apologize and make things right, she gets to eat her favorite food again, she gets to become friends with mary, she gets to go on a date with shintaro, she gets her siblings to trust her. she gets everything despite she was a coward and wronged everyone FAR MORE than ayaki did, and she only suffered 2 years of the daze compared to ayaki's eternity in there.

hope articulated so spectacularly their thoughts abt ayaki's psyche that i am straight up quoting her text rn:

"she decided she’d punish herself by dying over and over again, and watching the people she loves die over and over again for all of eternity, until she manages to find some way to get thru to shintaro and fix it and never be able to be a human being again and live normally. thus is forced to become so numb, desensitized, and uncaring to pain and suffering that her otherwise human brain, which was never meant or designed to be turned into an immortal demi deity and the patron saint of suffering, would split in half and make her go insane. which it probably did. her human brain was not meant to live forever, to suffer forever, to watch others suffer forever, to watch the same mundane endless events with no agency or control over how they occur. death, pain, and suffering became tools to win her ultimate game of 5 dimensional, temporal chess and thus she can no longer abide by morals to fulfill her ultimate purpose. deci and ryan’s self determination theory states all humans need to feel relatedness, competency, and autonomy to thrive in their environment, and by martyring herself into a snake, ayaki chooses to deprive herself of all of these things. she is not good at her job and must fail over and over again for eternity because the story playing in front of her is RNG out of her control. ayaki cannot relate to anyone because nobody knows she’s there, not even shintaro except on rare instances. and ayaki has zero autonomy over anything, except her incredibly cryptic vague dreams that rarely even work"

ayaki's big curse is her humanity remaining. It's the pain she feels because of the love she feels, over and over, it nevers gets any easier and it never hurts any less, her love grows stronger and stronger with each reset. ayaki hates herself so much which is why she hates our route ayano Even More

[bogglesgate]

Okay what's the future post-game look like for Yllis and Astarion? Do they stay together for life? Stick it out for a few years/decades and then separate? Break up immediately after the story ends? If they end up life partners how are they dealing with the fact that Yllis is functionally mortal? Inquiring minds want to know

I love this question because I have my Canon Good End Answer and my Definitely Not Canon Bad End Answer so I shall say both.

(Keep in mind I have not yet done the epilogue on her and I haven't spoiled it for myself so some details may not fully align but! for now, here we go)

For their Canon Good End, they do stay together! They stay very fiercely devoted to one another, and Yllis uses her necromantic knowledge for good by spending a good chunk of her time researching how to make it so that Astarion can walk in the sun again/potentially be cured for real. They travel a lot, but sort of carve out a little 'home base' in the Underdark to fall back to and as a place for her to conduct her research. I like to think they do eventually find a way to make it possible for him, after which point, they just go around being a general force of good at Yllis's behest and questionable mischief at Astarion's behest, but she's not complaining about the latter. They switch their home base to the house she's still got in the Lower City, just... after giving her brother a proper burial and removing him from her study. Halsin also comes in and out of their lives regularly and he provides some much needed balance to all the chaos that they generally get up to.

The mortality is... a sticky subject. They don't always handle it particularly well. There's a point where Yllis has a bit of a moment of weakness and considers becoming a lich. She gets as far as gathering the materials and crafting the phylactery before she remembers (and Astarion not-so-gently reminds her) that she's supposed to be staunchly against the whole 'ascending to a higher version of yourself for the sake of power and immortality'. She does eventually die, at about 300-ish years old (she's 3/4 elf, not half, and so ages a little slower), and Astarion understandably is Not Okay. I am still unsure of if I go the tragic 'he lives forever with the memory of her' or the also tragic 'he willingly lets the sun take him after her death', but if the former, he probably finds some comfort in Halsin knowing that there is someone else who loved her (Astarion insists he loved her more, though, and it's only partway a joke in his mind).

Now. The Bad End. In this version, she allows Astarion to ascend and she herself does become a lich (also binding her brother's soul to her but he Comes Back Wrong, but that's another story). They make themselves and each other infinitely worse. In the process, the two end up hating each other's guts. They proceed to have the most normal divorce: nearly killing each other for real and triggering a centuries-long undead blood feud that never ends because the two are still utterly obsessed with each other and refuse to kill one another despite stating multiple times that they will kill one another. They probably hate-fuck a couple of times.

[dedtoot]

watched the jsrf documentary recently and i am so unbelievably dissapointed

moved my rant from the tags to here. Spitted too much. Not like it matters to anyone except me cuz post is irrelevant now

Ok ik that i should not have expected something actually accurate from this video, considering how the fandom is and considering that from the very start i've seen the red flags so to say

One of these red flags is that jsrf is "literally LITERALLY just tony hawk games but roller skates". The first actually concerning thing i heard from others about it. It's my go-to way to determine that the person I'm listening to probably has no idea what they're talking about or a really missinformed. Never failed me so far

But oh man, even keeping that in mind, i did not expect whatever i got

Not only there were just no actual game analysis, which is wild, since you're like SAYING why this game is worth being played, but everything actually game related is a straight up lie

YEAH WE'RE GETTING TO LYING ABOUT GAME MECHANICS HERE

First, saying that grind combos areva rhythm game element. It could be just some weird wording, but it's just. Not true at all. Also calling this mechanic "silent". Whatever that supposed to mean. Not only it's not silent because Roboy tutorials exist and this mechanic is there, and nowhere us it said to be rhythm based, only timing based. And the tutorials ARE useful, since the controls were really expended here(using pretty much every button on the controller), but also that's not a silent mechanic purely for the fact that the character itself isn't silent during the entire thing.

Second. Saying that all characters got unique stats and that is showing off their personality. And uhh. What does that say about the love shockers and the immortals, with their stats. Or hell, clutch and jazz, who are literally right next to each other in the character select screen. It's dumb what I'm trying to say.

And not to mention the general overhyping of the game, by saying it's so so deep and thought-provoking oohhh(but then also never mention that one of jsr inspirations was movie fight club.why). And then just. Ignore that this is a game with not much dialogue. And then ignore every character aside dj k?????????

Like I'm not asking about talking about every single character, but at least like. Mention the plot relevant one's ??? Just the ones you can't possibly avoid. I know that dj k is the main man here but he alone does not move the story.

This kind of overhyping genuinely ruined my experience. Like i was under the impression that I'm gonna experience something out of this world and fun. But i came out of it disappointed. Mind you, i still have a lot to like about the game, but it's just. Not this. This is literally the the worst thing you can do when recommending the game. You will disappoint people. It's not this big grand thing because it wasn't allowed to become one. It's a sad but inspiring story about how even despite this, game is still liked. You don't need to pretty it up, lay out the truth.

Next thing about the video is that this is not a game documentary, but some random hot takes with some lies and long history lessons.

History lessons were a good part of it, but the fact that they put the us culture stuff before talking about the japanese culture is umm. This is a game made to portray a japanese culture from the time?? Like specifically. It's confirmed. To the point that one dev did not like the inclusion of grind city levels in jsr, because, in his mind, it was watering down its identity. Not to mention that this practice specifically existed just to make overseas audiences more comfortable, which is real fucking problematic if it's about something culture related imo. Anyway, he has a point.

Absolutely not denying the influences from other cultures here, because that's just stupid and wrong, but get a clue jeez.

And related to getting clues. This video used videos of actual protest while dj k's monologue was playing in the background. YOU JUST DON'T DO THIS. It's gross. It's weird to do even IF the game gets that real. And this game sure as hell doesn't.

Also do not understand who was this vid even made for, since fans will get nothing new out of it and newcomers wont understand what's the game is about and will be thrown into a sudden history lesson

So yeah highly don't reccomend watching

(update. i spitted out most of my problems with it and my comment was removed. so much for that free speech topic present and indorsed in the vid. also i made a vid that explains my points better)

[comeonblub]

i do this thing where i write notes about my knowledge of a new media before starting it, my experience during it, and then my perspective after (if i finish)

separately, ive also been losing my mind about Outer Wilds for well over a week now. ive decided i want to share it

(if you notice that it's been years since ive posted on here no you didn't)

also if you haven't played the game, i recommended you do not read this and instead go download Outer Wilds

spoilers below

NOTES: Outer Wilds / before playing

- has that one song with annoying whistling that i always skip when it shows up on Spotify

- that one person i follow on Tumblr absolutely loves it it's like their favourite game

- seems like it might be emotional or something?

- uhhhh space aliens? i think??

NOTES: Outer Wilds / start playing

- omg the controls SUCk

- oh IM the alien

- lag lag lag and very not keyboard friendly (yes im playing with a keyboard no i don't have a controller)

- ...

- okay keybind + graphics adjustments, and ive made it ever so slightly better

- i do not want to talk to you

- I DO NoT know what i am supposed to be doing what what what

- maybe i shouldve talked to people

- uhhhhh did I do that?

- the world explodes and dies. why. bc of me?

- UHHh

- oh hey the game references the fact i died lol

- okay Doing this again i guess and won't repeat the thing that killed me i think

- don't fucking TouCH that thing it explodes worlds

- okay okay im getting good info i think def don't want to die this time unless i can save

- do i save at that one statue? let's try

- WAIT FUCK FUCK The World's exploding again WHY

- BUHHHH

- "you're lucky im in a timeloop because otherwise I'd be super dead" – LMAO OKAY I MAY BE WON OVER

- okay so the explosions are independent of me. im going back to that thing and fucking around w/ it

- ...

- 15 Hours Into Game

- brittle hollow and i are besties now

- the lore is intricate ain't it. at times i feel like i understand everything. at others im completely lost. if there's a strategy here i don't know it. im just compelled to explore

- the Southern Observatory kinda went off tho with that visual and music combo

- the Fucking Moon

- i got stuck in anglerfish overlook w/ rising sand and just had to wait to die by being scrunched on the ceiling. absolutely worst way to go was awful and i hated it

- 22 min......

- reading explanations that completely recontexutalizes things i'd took for granted or previously ignored is a trip and a half

- my worldview gets shattered every other loop, millions dead but don't worry death means nothing

- like "the sun station",.. oh. "22 min interval"... OH

- i don't know what else to do here

- giants deep whomst ive ignored

- THERES ANOTHER PERSON WHO STUCK IN THIS TIMELOOP WITH ME?

- !!!

- gabbro my beloved

- hhhngg these puzzles.. am i missing something. should i know it now. will i learn it later. the stupid watery core and electricity...

- ...

- 25 Hours Into Game

- i know this galaxy

- i know it intimately

- but there are some places that are just so stupidly challenging to get to. i get there once. i never want to have to do it again. (giants deep core– once. sun station– once. coleus' lakebed quantum cave– twice. centre of the interloper– twice. the vessel– once. high energy lab– twice.)

- ...

- quantum moon whoag

- uh hm what

- YOURE ALIVE

- solanum i love u

- "think of you as a friend" PLS CAN I HUG

- ...

- 30+ HOURS INTO GAME

- i figured out the ash twin core

- i chickened out of taking the thing to do other things instead. achievement hunting.

- it's simply much too scary. no fallback. what happens if no core, no loop

- oh

- .. oh

- fucking hell i didn't realize how much id become dependent on the safety net of a timeloop. of like, functional immortality

- the fear of the unknown. of something new. of actual death

- ...

- well then

- FINISHING MAIN GAME

- i took the core. i left the ash twin project.

- music immediately begins kicking up into something new and emotional and anticipatory

- I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS MORE TO DO

- i panic and warp back to ask twin project. return the core to the machine

- what a wuss. but i feel better

- think think think think

- where Have I Seen that before. the core

- okay i have an idea of what to do but. fear

- I PRACTICE. Practice! i do 3+ runs to test getting past those Fucking FISH

- AND THEN DO IT FOR REAL

- screaming and crying

- BUT I SUCCEED

- whhhjhb whoaggh

- eye...

- HhhHhh quantummmm

- what

- what

- what

- a guy

- what

- ... euuuu cry mine friendsss

- ayy the fucking hell im emotional

- goddamn. What A Game. that music. holy shit

- ...

NOTES: Outer Wilds / post playing

- even as i did the ending there was still a small part of me that thought... i can save them

- ... (there will be a way to save them)

- there wasn't of course. and it hurt. but... not in a completely bad way

- it's like. the small flickering hope i felt at the end of all things, it still meant something. it still got me TO the end

- i know it was just a game but. it makes me think

- ...

- BONUS Saga of me accomplishing achievements: the fact that i later was able to break reality and also talk to myself in game was fun and cool and sexy

- i WILL be playing DLC but i need to recover

[chryzure-archive]

HAPPY (early as of rn..) BIRTHDAY!!🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🎁🎁🎁💝💝🎁🎁💝💝💝💝🎁🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳🥳🎊🎊🤍🤍🤍 love chrysijacks agonies sm, are there any other horrors you are thinking of putting them through?:)? whats it like if chryzurejacks were cat people at the same time…WHO is picking the cat fights….. any songs u want to share that remind u of chryzure/chrysijacks?? who is the best -> worst gift giver among chrysizurejacks…

THANK YOU <<333333 i was jokingly talking to my sister abt celebrating our bdays w a glass of wine and then i realized. i can buy wine now. i am old enough to do that. suddenly, my jokes aren’t as funny ://

OH, ALWAYS!!!! there’s the chrysijacks agonies i’ve mentioned prior (jacks finding her dead body and getting his curse from her 🥰, jacks getting soooo fucking possessed and trying to kill chrysi over it, chrysi taking jacks’s place in the card and he has to deal with the guilt of his immortality making him cruel to his very bestest friend), BUT i always have new and improved agonies that await <333 like how i think that ummm since jacks has chrysi’s blood in him, if she were to die, his blood would start blooming w death flowers.

oh, but the fic where jacks is the human and chrysi’s the fate is so uniquely agonizing… jst bc like!!!! jacks went and killed himself (partway bc of his obsession w chrysi overtaking him, partway bc eris influenced him and killed him off bc she didn’t want chrysi to fall in love and become mortal again. long story, but she essentially also killed azure so that chrysi would become her “greatest achievement” and become a fate), but he still lingers around chrysi bc he continues to love her in his death. ((chrysi ends up getting eris to preserve his body… once a trophy husband, always a trophy husband, i guess.. jacks is somewhat touched by this gesture. there’s something very wrong with both of them)) AND THEN when chrysi loses her mind over the knowledge that she’s lost the two ppl she loves most bc of eris (her goddamn mother figure!) and she starts killing ppl indiscriminately bc of it… jacks possesses fate!jacks and kills chrysi to save her from herself…. it’s jst. so sad. then fate!jacks is left w his own fucking body taxidermied and chrysi’s dead body in his arms. how the hell is he supposed to handle this? and when he gets back to his actual world, how’s he going to look his chrysi in the eye? but you know. the agonies are sooo fun!!!

oh my god, chryzurejacks being cat ppl all at the same time is an amazing idea… i will post art of them like this later today, i think! but i think that it’s a lot of azure lounging aroudn and napping and reading books, while chrysi definitely gets hyper at times and takes a lap around the house <33 jacks will tend to curl up w chrysi, but whenever she wants to play or run around, he’s extremely displeased,,, why doesn’t she jst want to be with him ?? :(( it’s worse bc she’ll run around, and then once she settles down again, she GOES TO LAY DOWN IN AZURE’S LAP. WHERE’S THE JJUSTICE!!! JACKS WAS HOLDING HER FIRST!!!!!! <- jealousy issues. go to a therapist.

anyway, chrysi’s starting the cat fights <3 jacks walks by and she jst smacks him 17 times in the head and then bolts off. it’s more like a cat ambush, and chrysi’s winning.. jacks has a bruise now 😿azure watches this all go down from his safe little perch w a book. this isn’t his problem <333

OH, but i think that azure might also start some fun cat fights w chrysi. it’s how they flirt <3 it ends w them holding onto each other. jacks is, again, very upset by this. let him in!!!!!!!

chryzure songs rn include red with love - pom pom squad, getting by - long beard, ancient history - the crane wives, serenade - evgeny grinko, nocturnal me - echo & the bunnymen (it’s required..), wonder what you’re doing for the rest of your life - train, my girlfriend is a witch - october country, come home - willow

((the chryzure song range is sooo funny.. they have so many lives that they hold every different type of breakup within themselves… except maybe a breakup from cheating. bc they are incapable of doing that to each other))

chrysijacks songs include only wanna dance - almost monday, great! big! party! - eyeamki, love song - sara bareilles, chapstick - coin, dancing in the moonlight - king harvest, private eyes - hall & oates

a chryzurejacks song that keeps making me cry bc it makes me think of them all being friends in a modern day au is everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears…. that song’s heartbreaking to me… i think of it like after they’ve all split off in their adult lives and they find all their photos of them hanging out in high school,,, sobsob… of course, extenuating circumstances involving a curse, a ghost, and azure’s horrible, horrible luck gets the gang back together, but. still. the nostalgia aspect makes me vv sad..

i think that chrysi’s the best gift giver (she goes above and beyond + always hand makes stuff, plus writes a nice note, plus gets more things that they wanted <33), with azure a close second (he’s a lot more subtle abt it + he just gets ppl gifts whenever he feels like it. it’s not a special occasion type thing), and then. jacks. (he exclusively gets chrysi gifts but they’re all clothing and jewelry that jacks wants to see on chrysi. not what she specifically asked for. cmon, man…)

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Kou Maniac [06]

ー The scene starts in the living room of the Sakamaki castle

*Tick・tock ・Tick・tock*

Ruki: ...

( I am fed up with all of this... )

ー A flashback ensues

Yuma: ...Uu.

Ruki: Are you awake? 

Azusa: Yuma...How do you feel...?

Yuma: Like shit...Fuck. 

Ruki: Don’t push yourself. 

Azusa: Yuma...You’re badly injured. So you probably shouldn’t move...

Yuma: Azusa...You called Ruki, didn’t you? ...Thanks. 

Azusa: Oh no...I couldn’t make it on time to save you. I’m sorry...

Yuma: Haha...I’m glad ya guys weren’t there, honestly. We don’t need anyone else gettin’ nearly killed...Damn it. 

Ruki: You went up against a Founder, didn’t you? 

Yuma: Yeah...

Ruki: Where are Kou and Yui? 

Yuma: Dunno...They ran off while I was fightin’ that guy. 

Ruki: ... 

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: Yuma has been out cold ever since, nor have we found the two of them...

Azusa: Yeah...

Ruki: I did not want to have to resort to this...But we have no other choice. 

Azusa: ...Resort to what? 

Ruki: ーー Come on in. 

Azusa: Who’s there...?

Ruki: My apologies for having you come all the way here. 

???: ...So, who is the target? 

Ruki: I suppose you wish to get straight to the point? Very well. 

I want you to assassinate Mukami Kou.

Azusa: Eh...!? 

Ruki: Can you do that? 

???: The Lunar Eclipse is still ongoing at the Demon World. It will be child’s play.

Ruki: Hm. That’s a very hopeful response. I expected no less from a Vampire Hunter. ...Or should I say.

Komori Seiji. 

Azusa: That...name. 

Seiji: Where is that Vampire right now? 

Ruki: Wellーー

Azusa: Ruki...Don’t tell him!

Ruki: ...

He should return here eventually. 

Seiji: ...Understood. 

ー Seiji leaves the room as the scene shifts to the garden

???: ...

( So he hired a hunter...? Good. )

ー The scene shifts to the Church

Yui: Kou-kun, how are your injuries? 

Kou: Mmh~ They’ve gotten a lot better. Thanks to your blood, that is. 

Yui: I’m glad...

Kou: Come here. Take a seat next to me. 

Yui: Sure. 

ー She sits down next to Kou

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...His complexion seems a little pale. )

( But...I’m sure the same could be said about me. We’ve managed to run from one place to another, but we can’t give our bodies any rest. )

( Kou-kun’s injuries won’t get better unless I give him my blood every day. )

Kou: M-neko-chan, what’s on your mind right now?

Selection

→ You (♡)

Yui: You are. 

Kou: I see. I was thinking about you as well...

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...

( Such a gentle...kiss. )

Kou: Fufu...Your scent has gotten so sweet...Nn.

ー He bites her

Yui: Ah...!

Kou: Hah...Nn. 

→ ...Nothing

Yui: ...Nothing. 

Kou: You won’t tell me? ...Nn.

*Smooch*

Yui: Kyah...!

Kou: Hey...M-neko-chan. Tell me. Everything about you. 

Yui: Kou-kun...

Kou: Tell me...!

ー He suddenly bites her

Yui: Ah...Pwaah...!

( He dug his fangs strongly...Into my shoulder...! )

Kou: Nn...Such lovely sounds you make. 

Yui: ( I’m starting...to feel faint. )

( Can we stay like this forever...? )

( How long...is forever? )

( ...It’s no use, I can’t think straight while I’m having my blood sucked... )

Ah...!

Kou: ...Sorry. 

Yui: Kou-kun...?

Don’t...apologize. Please.

Kou: ...

Yui: ( ...We can only keep up this lifestyle for so long. I know that. But... )

( I want to be with Kou-kun...In which case, I feel like I can’t stay ignorant forever... )

( He shouldn’t be the only one carrying the burden, while I’m being protected... )

Kou: Hey...What are you thinking right now? 

Yui: ...

Listen, Kou-kun. This ‘Adam and Eve’ thing Ruki-kun often mentions...What exactly is it about? 

Kou: ...

According to that man’s explanation, Adam is an immortal being who is capable of experiencing human emotion, while Eve is a human who has immortal blood running through their veins. 

The connection between those two would give birth to a new humanity. 

Yui: Immortal...Then why can’t you become Adam? 

You’re a Vampire as well...and immortal, no?

Kou: I’m not qualified because I wasn’t born this way, being a former human. 

Yui: But...

Kou: ....Shh! Stop!

Yui: Eh? ...What’s wrong? 

*Flap flap flap*

Yui: ( That’s...Kou-kun’s Familiar. )

Kou: ...Someone is approaching. 

Yui: Someone...

Kou: We should get a move on right away. Let’s go. 

Yui: Y-Yeah. 

Monologue

The two of us ran side-by-side (寄り添って). 

As we held each other’s hand. 

We are on an endless journey. 

Without a set destination in mind, simply on the run (逃げている). 

What exactly are we running away from? 

What exactly do we have to do,

to be allowed to be together? 

Intertwined fingers, our eyes meeting,

mutual confessions of love and shared kisses. 

ーー Is that not enough? 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

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<- [ Maniac 05 ] [ Maniac 07 ] ->

[the-insomniac-emporium]

bela + heartbreak

(While it should mostly make sense on its own, this is somewhat of a sequel/alternate ending to the Bela + Flowers prompt that I did awhile back. I can't add a link right now, but you can find it on my Masterlist. Under a read-more for length, at about 1k words)

“I didn’t know what to tell her. I love her, honestly, but she’s my employer, and a fucking immortal. How am I supposed to deal with that?” You asked, eying Ava with a pained expression. Less than a week has passed since you delivered your heartbreaking bouquet to Lady Bela. Ever since that night she had avoided you, though you had heard the tell-tale signs of her misery while walking past her quarters. Doing your job had gone from fun to incredibly stressful, as you tried to navigate the gardens, while avoiding the places you knew Bela would go to relax. “It just hurts to know the pain I’ve caused her… Suddenly I’m not so sure that turning her down was the best idea.”

“One of you was bound to get hurt, there’s no shame in protecting yourself,” Ava replies, for once opting to speak out loud. Admittedly you’re caught off guard, but your confusion soon melts into appreciation. Depending on who you asked, getting xer to talk to you was either a compliment, or a blessing. “If you’re feeling regret, though, you might want to talk to her. Acknowledge the power imbalance, and the anxiety it causes you. There’s no ‘right’ answer, unfortunately, but it might hurt less if the two of you talk about the issues at hand.” With that said, Ava shrugs, wanting xer advice to come off as casual as possible. At the end of the day, xe wanted little else other than the happiness of the Dimitrescu family.

It didn’t matter to xer whether you or someone else caused that happiness.

“Alright, you’ve got a point,” you admit, somewhat begrudgingly. It’s not that you don’t want to say xe’s right, rather that you have so much anxiety about the possibility of confrontation. “Can I count on your assistance? I’m not sure that I could get her to stay in the same room as me long enough for me to explain anything. Besides, I want her to be as comfortable as possible. I just don’t know how to do that.” Nodding, Ava moves to xer feet, extending a hand to help you up. Evidently xe already had something in mind…

—————————

“Try to make this quick. I cannot promise your safety right now, not when my heart is so damaged,” Bela says with a frown. There’s a sharp bitterness in her tone, but you know her well enough to realize that it’s a facade, little more than a shield to hide behind. Nonetheless, it’s painful to hear her come so close to threatening you. More painful still to feel like you are utterly deserving of her anger. If not for Ava’s earlier encouragement, you might have given up right then and there.

“I have a lot to say- or a lot to mean, and no solid concept of how to say it, especially not quickly. I could not summarize my feelings for you even if I had a thousand years to prepare,” you explain, barely able to make eye contact with Bela. She shifts at your words, not yet sure how to interpret them. “I love you. I… I know that my bouquet said otherwise, that I chose flowers meaning flattered rejection, but the truth is that some messages are too complicated for that kind of communication. And… and I recognize that I could have just fucking talked to you, and that I should have, but I was so goddamn scared. Maybe I still am.” Before you can elaborate, Bela has stood up from her seat at the garden bench, moving to stand next to you, placing a soft hand against your shoulder.

“What could possibly terrify you like this? What could make you lie about how you feel? Is it not enough that we love each other? Can you not simply take my hand now, kiss me hard, and pretend you never hurt me?” She whispers, gaze trailing over your trembling form. Wanting to keep the tension low, you put your hand on top of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then she’s moving even closer, going so far as to rest her chin on your head. Despite your hesitance about the idea of dating one of your employers, you cannot help but lean into her touch.

“Lady Bela… I am merely a servant. A lowly maid plucked from the village to do the bidding of those above me, never meant to meet any fate other than being bled dry. I love you, but I fear you, and I fear your mother, and I fear the pressure that I may one day be put under. It is in my very nature to hesitate, to question my right to be by your side,” you ramble, feeling unsure of yourself all the while. Would it really be so bad to give in? Are we, you think, doomed to hurt each other, or could we overcome our differences?

“Let me make myself abundantly clear: There is no one else I want by my side. I have loved you, longed for you, dreamed-” she moves her lips to your neck, pressing a quick kiss there- “of you. When I picture my future, I cannot picture it without you. Where you came from, or what title you now hold, is irrelevant. All that matters is our love. If you feel for me, even just a fraction of what I feel for you, let us try. In time, I can ease all of your fears, or you can break it off. I will cherish your existence regardless, though I would need time to… heal. What do you say?” Bela asks, pulling back to meet your gaze. Your heart dances in your chest, off beat but racing, one of many signs of your affection.

“I am terrified of heartbreak, and in my terror I have become a self fulfilling prophecy, but I do not intend to be my own victim any longer,” you declare, leaning in for a quick kiss. Bela wraps her arms around you, and you do the same, resting yourself fully against her. “Whatever comes of this… I will be all the happier for knowing we tried. I love you.”

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me at the edge, we’ll jump together.

Gwynriel pirate au pt 8- you don’t know who I am. 

this chapters a little bit shorter because the part that’s coming next would have made it way too long. also check out the other parts.  pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed and Azriel swore there was venom in her gaze. If he was being perfectly honest, he was slightly turned on. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why do we need you?” She spat out. Her words were icy, not the passionate, flirty pirate he had come to know, but someone different. Someone new. 

Perhaps new was the wrong word, perhaps he had just peeled away another of her many layers. And perhaps, as the days of their time together grew shorter, he had become more and more interested to find who, and what lay beneath. 

His mind was an absolute atrocity. Split between the pirate captain he couldn’t rid himself of, his second with secrets and lies curved around his every word, and the fae female before him, who shared history with each of them. 

Feyre. It appeared Nesta’s sister was just as lethal as she was, but where Nesta was cruel words and brute strength, Feyre was power of a different kind. Fae. 

The first of the archeron’s was ruthless and cold while the third was as immortal as she was dangerous, with a slight superiority complex. Some morbid interest had him curious as to what the second archeron sister would be like. 

At that moment Azriel sneezed, interrupting the stare down going on between Berdara and the assassin. He looked around and found the culprit. In a vase on the a shelf was a bouquet of roses. Damn his fucking allergies. 

Gwyn turned to him and everything about her softened, amused. 

You alright? she snorted a little 

Yes I am perfectly fine thank you for asking. 

Well this is good news, the infamous pirate captain can be brought down with a simple flower. 

A wretched flower. 

“Excuse me.” Feyre seemed very agitated. “I would appreciate it if you two could stop looking at each other for one moment.” 

Azriel swore he could see Gwyn blush slightly. 

“Yes of course, our apologies, please continue.” 

“Please don’t” Gwyn mumbled for only Az to hear. His lips twitched in agreement. 

“Now you two have half of what you need but you certainly cannot acquire the huge hall with a measly half.” 

She paused for a dramatic second. “You have the map and while I’m sure that the phoenix piss worked wonders in uncovering the sigil of The Dragon. But I’m sure you know it does not actually lead you to Amren herself.” 

Gwyn and Azriel shared a look. “Oh,” Feyre frowned. “I guess you didn't know that. But you must have known that her island moves with the storm and is constantly moving and the only way to track it down is to use the compass.” 

“No, you didn’t know that either?” Feyre’s frown turned upwards in a devilish smirk. “One more piece of information I suppose you need to know. Only a pure blooded fae can use the compass.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Like calls to like, power recognizes power.”

“Someone’s quite full of herself.” 

“I simply speak the truth.” 

“Sure you do.”    

Azriel sighed, this back and forth would accomplish nothing and he had treasure to find. “How about Captain Berdara and I discuss your proposition in private?”

“What is there to discuss?” 

Azriel smiled charmingly, “Not that you aren’t delightful company, but plenty.” Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw Gwyn frown. 

Feyre looked him over, and then turned her gaze to Gwyn, curling her lip in disgust as she walked out the door. Her footsteps became faint and Gwyn blurted, “Absolutely fucking not.” 

Gwyn took a breath, trying to regain her composure, “I do not work with people with conflicting interests.” 

“We need her.” He was sure of it, Azriel trusted his gut instincts and his instincts were telling him she was telling the truth, or at least some form of it. Although he far from trusted her. Azriel had learned a long time ago that the only people he could regularly rely on were himself and his crew.

She swallowed, her eyes turning steel, and her gaze becoming daggers, “No.” She turned away, about to walk out the door. Her shoulders back and her chin high. Even in her moments of vulnerability she would not sacrifice her pride.

“Gwyn.” The sound of her name from his lips was enough to stop her. 

Her voice was faint, the words barely there, “What did you just say.” 

His words softened, “Gwyn.” He said again as she breathed in sharply, “I will not pretend as if I understand you even remotely.” She snorted. “But I do not believe you are the kind of person to be swayed from your goals. You go after what you want with a ferocity that could rival any. And I know you want this.” Gwyn shifted on her feet as if preparing for a fight. It was a nervous tic, he realized. “Whoever you were when you knew that woman is not who you are now.”  

“And who am I now?” 

“Infuriating, stubborn, a royal pain in my ass.” She laughed weakly. “You’re a lot of things Berdara, but you are not stupid and you know as well as I that we require her services.” 

“So what is it you said to me? Ah yes suck it up and think of the money.” 

Gwyn flexed her fingers and squared her shoulders, clearly still itching for a fight. But then she did something unexpected, her body relaxed and she exhaled slowly. “You’re right.” 

Azriel was pretty sure he was having a stroke. “I’m sorry, say that again but slower this time.” 

In a flash she had him pinned to the table with her knee pressing on his chest and a dagger to his throat. “I’ve said those words three other times in my life, every one of them ended up with their heads on the ground and their balls in the sea. Don’t make me regret it and don’t expect it again.”

He believed every word and yet the dagger was held with almost no pressure so he smirked in agreement, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

She got off of him and wiped her clothes, “To be clear we are going to screw over feyre archeron right?” 

“You have to ask?” 

Gwyn’s smile was one of pure insanity as she murmured, “Maybe this will be fun after all.”  

He walked to the door and opened it, standing to the side as he held out his hand mockingly, “Your majesty,” She breezed through the door without giving him so much as a glance and when they found Feyre and their combined crew, god Azriel despised this women.

Feyre was holding Cassian, a man who was double her size, by the ankles as others watched with bored expressions on their faces. Cassian was grinning like an idiot, Nesta however, looked like she was 0.2 seconds away from throwing a knife into her sister's chest. Azriel didn’t blame her. 

“Feyre, drop it.” Gwyn scolded. 

“What am I? A dog?” She growled. 

“That’s an insult to dogs.” Nesta muttered. 

Gwyn laughed but instead of continuing this useless back and forth she spoke again, “Feyre if you acquire us this compass and prove that it works as you say it does, then we will agree to your terms.” 

“Thought you might say something like that.” 

“Well?” He asked.

“Well, a certain day court event will be expecting a few more members.”

Rhysand, surprisingly, groaned, “Oh my god no.” 

Emerie questioned, “Wait what?”

“Feyre darling is taking us to the sun ball.”

Tagging: @imsointobooks @meher-sumedha @himadrij @gwynrielsupremacy @ipsa-est-lux-plenae @flora-shadowshine @allthebooksunderthemoon @valkygwyn @bookish-isha @lattristantketchup @generalnesta @brieq @sv0430  @carsonjade12523 @aelinismyreligion @gwynrielisunmatched @shisingh @sarcasticsugarcookie @feyretale (let me know if you want to be added or removed.”

[brutal-nemesis]

Forest Day 2021: Un-cursing a Forest Tutorial (Gone Wrong)

Come into the woods with me, won’t you? I promise everything will be super normal and it’s totally not a little over 5k words hahahahahaha

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: cannibalism mention, plant/animal/body horror (there is a lot of this and it is weird and kind of gross at times so this is your warning), acid burns, i use the word “pustules” multiple times, eye whump, gore, suicide for convenience

Castys woke up to darkness.

His head was pounding, so it was sort of nice, but much less nice when he tried to move and discovered his arms were tied behind his back. Upon further investigation, he realized he was gagged and blindfolded as well. 

Great.

He sat up and was just starting to try and get his gag out using his shoulder when a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He tried to jerk out of their grasp, but a second person grabbed his other arm, and then it was all he could do to keep up as they hauled him to wherever. The ground changed from something solid feeling to something dirt-sounding, and then solid again after the creak of a door opening. 

“He’s awake, Chief.”

“Thank you. Just leave him and wait outside.” One of the men kicked the back of Castys’s legs, forcing him to his knees. He was tempted to get up once he felt their hands leave him, but he figured it would be best to just wait and see what the hell was going on for now. Once the blindfold was removed, he tried to look around, but a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at his captor, a strong looking woman with her dark hair in a complicated braid. She examined him with concern. “I didn’t think you would look this young.” Her free hand untied the gag, and she gently pulled it out of his mouth. “You are him, and not just some child, right?”

“Nope, just a child. A nineteen year old boy. Not immortal, so I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never said I was looking for an immortal.”

Castys opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking. “I-okay that one’s on me. Hooray, you caught me.” He glared up at her. “Now what do you want?”

She let go of him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I am Citlali, the chief of Nauhiliv’s Hollow. For centuries, my people have-”

“I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson, so just get to the-”

“Either shut up and let me talk or I will gag you again.” Castys rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s relevant, alright?”

“Fine.”

Citlali took a deep breath and began again. “For centuries, the people of Nauhiliv’s Hollow have lived as one with the forest, taking only what we need from its bounty, hunting and gathering from the lands around us. But now,” she looked away, “now the forest is...twisted. What was once a familiar place has become dark and horrifying, and they are now far too dangerous to hunt in. Everyone we have sent in to find the source of the curse has not yet returned.” She took a shuddering breath before looking back at Castys. “You, however, can’t die. So would you-”

“How much will you pay me?”

“Just...this.” She held up a small leather pouch, one that looked kind of like...Castys hurriedly looked down, feeling his stomach twist when he didn’t see the familiar string around his neck.

“You took my-give it back! How did you even find out about that?!” Castys fought to keep his voice even, his fists clenched behind him. That pouch was important to him, it had his rock that allowed him to kill himself easily and painlessly, and it also had...he just needed it, dammit.

“You’re apparently, ah, quite chatty when you’re drunk.” She twirled the pouch on her finger lazily. “So, if you lift the forest’s curse, you’ll get it back. And until then, my other half is going to keep it safe in a pocket dimension, where even a notorious thief like you can’t get to it.”

Castys’s face darkened. “That’s-if you wanted me to help you why didn’t you just, I don’t know, ask instead of fucking kidnapping me and stealing my shit?”

“Because I’ve heard tell that you’re a selfish asshole who definitely wouldn’t help us unless we paid you a ton of money or forced you to. And since we’re not exactly drowning in cash…”

Castys mulled it over for a moment, wiggling his hands against the ropes. “Yeah okay that’s fair. I still hate you, but that’s fair.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do it, then? Because if not,” she stalked over and grabbed Castys’s chin tightly, forcing him to look up at her, “I could think of a different way you could help my people, immortal.”

“I promise you, I taste terrible.” Citlali flinched back, letting go of Castys’s face.

“What-no that isn’t-I meant I was going to sell you, idiot! That’s so-we’re nowhere near desperate enough to eat…” she shook her head. 

“Okay, sorry, I figured if you were desperate enough to kidnap me you were also desperate enough to want to eat me and my infinite flesh.”

“Those two are absolutely not the same level of-look, are you going to do it or not? Because if not I will sell you and keep your precious-” 

“I’ll go kill your stupid forest curse thing,” Castys sighed. “Being sold is super annoying, and escaping will be way harder without my rock.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Can you untie me now?” 

“Do you promise not to try to run off? You won’t be able to get your pouch back by force, and this village is surrounded by these cursed woods except for a single, well guarded road, so there really won’t be any point in trying, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Castys got to his feet after she freed him, rubbing his chafed wrists as he looked down at his very empty belt. “You’re going to give me my sword back for this, right? I know I can’t die but fuck if I’m going in there without a weapon.”

“You can have your sword, and the small amount of supplies we can spare, once the sun rises and you set out. Until then,” she gestured to the door, “let Tlaloc and Meztli show you where you can sleep.” 

~~~

Castys took a deep breath as he looked up at the trees towering over him, gripping his pack tightly. They looked like normal trees to him, and he was sort of disappointed that they didn’t look...creepier? He expected this horrible cursed forest to look more horrible and cursed, especially with all the trouble that bitch went through to make him do this. He glanced back, but Citlali and the guards were still behind him, and she waved her hand at him to get going. Sighing, he started walking into the forest, hoping this whole “curse” thing was just some asshole wizard kids playing a trick. 

Soon enough, he spaced out listening to the forest sounds. The rustling of the wind in the branches, the chirping of birds, the faint screaming...wait what. No, yeah that was screaming or something. He looked around frantically for the source of it, just now noticing that the trees were...different, somehow. They sort of...shimmered, moving in a strange way. Cautiously, he approached the nearest trunk and studied it. It was...it was moving, the whole surface shifting and crawling, like it was covered completely in bugs. O-kay then. 

Moving on.

Castys wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to look for. That chief lady had really just sent him in here with the very helpful instruction of “fix it”, like he had ever un-cursed a forest before. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or...where he even was. He’d been trying to walk in a straight line, but the way behind him looked unfamiliar, as if the trees and plants had decided to move around while he wasn’t looking. Well, it appeared that wandering aimlessly was his only option now. Delightful.

Maybe he should do something as he walked along to help pass the time. Not that he didn’t mind walking around in nature, this place was just...he pulled out his rekara, twirling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing, tapping his fingers on the slender instrument’s holes to play a stupid little tune. It covered up the faint screaming sound quite nicely, and it eventually attracted a little bird, which fluttered down on a nearby branch. It was a very normal-looking one, with plain brown feathers and cute lil’ eyes.

When it opened its mouth to chirp at him, though, another scream rang out through the forest, so loud it sounded like it was coming from right next to Castys. Startled, he jumped a bit, stumbling back and tripping over a tree root or something, falling right on his ass. Frantically, he looked around for the source of the scream, but there was no one around him, as far as he could tell. “Anyone screaming out there?!” he called as he stood up, but he was met with silence. Well, not silence silence but just...nothing un-ambient. Maybe the trees were screaming. It could be a tree thing. 

The bird was still sitting there staring at him, and oh my fuck it’s the bird isn’t it-again, the bird opened its beak, and again, a horrible scream echoed around him. Well wasn’t that nice. A bird that screamed like a person. Castys slowly backed away, hoping the little thing’s only weird quality was the noise it made. Once he felt like he’d gotten far enough away, he turned and ran, and he was only running to cover more ground quickly, not because he was scared, no, a little unsettled, maybe, but not scared. 

He stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes, and as he stood there panting, he realized the forest around him had grown even more...strange. The trees actively waved in the air now, though there was no wind, and many of their branches hung limp, like they were made of cloth or something and not solid wood. Their bark still glistened and crawled, swirling into strange, mesmerizing patterns. The leaves of all the plants were different now, too, having taken on a sickly pink color, almost like...light-colored skin. Tasty.

Okay, yeah, something was obviously very wrong and cursed here, but he still had no clue what the fuck to do about it. He’s been hoping he could find...he didn’t know, something that looked like the source of it, like a very giant tree with a hole in it or perhaps a big magic crystal or an evil bear. But all around him were just normal sized haunted trees and no crystals and weird greenish mold and all the plants with their gross fleshy leaves-wait that mold or whatever was new. He crouched down and pulled out his knife so he could poke at it.

Upon closer inspection, it was like...little green pustules clustered together on the surface of the shifting tree bark. He used the tip of his knife to prod one of them, but it burst far more easily than he had been expecting, splattering greenish goop all over his hand, and it burned. Crying out, he dropped his knife and looked frantically around for water or something he could use to get this awful stuff off because dying wouldn’t make it go away so until he got rid of it somehow he was just stuck feeling it burn away his fucking flesh but there wasn’t anything here besides plants and more plants so it looks like that was all he was going to get-

With shaking hands, he grabbed a nearby leaf, shuddering at the fleshlike texture, the warmth, and wiped it desperately over his wounds, trying to scrape away the acidic sludge. It sort of worked, getting the larger clumps off, but he could still feel it eating his damn flesh, if only he had-wait he was a fucking idiot-he pulled out the waterskin Citlali had lent him, sloppily splashing water over his hand, gasping in relief as the pain lessened slightly. Obviously nothing was going to heal the wounds besides dying, but now he could actually do that without the acid continuing to burn him. He reached down into his shirt, feeling for the pouch containing his death rock, but...no, that’s right, he didn’t have it, he’d have to slit his throat like old times. Sighing, he wiped the acid goop off of his knife before turning it on himself.

Castys woke up very pleased to find that his hand no longer had holes in it, but when he saw the leaves he had wiped it on, his stomach twisted. The acid had burned right through them, and the holes were rimmed with red, dripping...it was blood, blood leaking from those fleshlike leaves. Quickly, Castys wiped off his knife and sheathed it, getting to his feet, ready to run the fuck away from those gross acid pustules. But...maybe it was a good sign that things were getting weirder, maybe he was getting closer to whatever the hell the source of all this was. So maybe he should…follow that stuff. It was the only sort of idea on where to go he had gotten this whole time, so it really was his only option, huh? He’d just have to be careful not to touch it. 

The streaks of green on the swirling tree trunks, which had darkened to a shiny black at some point, led him, allegedly, deeper into the forest. Wait, how was the green stuff staying in one spot while the trunk beneath it was shifting? That didn’t make any sense, not like anything did here, but still…physics. He studied the nearest tree for a moment, watching its surface move as the clump of acid bubble things stayed still. Though...he could see something between the cracks in the crawling trunk, something long and off-white, like...yup. Trees with bones. Lovely. Shaking his head, Castys resumed walking, deciding to just not question anything ever again. 

Things certainly got stranger as he continued. There was a pond where his reflection didn’t have a face, dragonflies with wings that looked like overgrown fingernails, and a herd of deer with skin and muscle so clear that all he could see were their organs and bones okay but what would clear deer meat taste like, so he felt like he was probably going the right way. When he heard a strange thumping sound, like something large walking around, he cautiously moved towards the source of it, poking his head out from behind a tree to see what it was. 

It was the ugliest, most disgusting horrible abomination creature thing he had ever seen. It’s main body was the same light fleshy color as the leaves, dotted with clumps of acid pustules, with a mishmash of vaguely humanoid limbs with all sorts of skin tones jutting out of its misshapen body every which way. And it had so many eyes all over, some frantically darting around, some focused horrifyingly on him. But the worst part were all the flowers sprouting it from it, not because they were flowers, but because these flowers had little white teeth in their centers, probably serving as the mouths for this thing since he didn’t see one anywhere else on it. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind cutting this thing to bits in the slightest, it was freaky. He stepped out and drew his sword, watching the monster warily as it shambled towards him. If this thing wasn’t the source of the curse, he didn’t know what would be.

Once it was within range, Castys slashed at it, wincing as a high pitched shriek rang out from one of the flower-mouths. He danced back as it swung at him with two of its arms, their hands reaching out to grab him. This kept on for a bit, him slashing at the monster and dodging its blows, though he’d occasionally make the mistake of slicing a clump of acid pustules, spraying himself with the corrosive substance. When he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he noticed something...unfortunate. All the gashes he’d cut in the monster were slowly closing, healing that thing up like his attacks hadn’t even happened. He, on the other hand, was covered in acid burns and not sure how much longer he’d actually be faster than this thing. His healing was useless in a fight, since dying left him completely defenseless for a good minute or so.

He had to figure something else out some other-shit, he couldn’t stand still for very long, this monster just wouldn’t quit attacking him. He might have been safe in a tree, but all the ones in the area were pretty much completely covered in that acid stuff, so that was out of the question. Seeing an opening, he lunged, trying to stab one of those fucked up mouths, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief as his blade sank in, knocking out some of its teeth. But his elation turned to fear as he felt something grab his ankle the same moment the mouth clamped shut around his sword. He tried his best to keep his grip on his sword as it yanked him up, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless as the monster slammed him down onto the ground, his whole body lighting up in pain. 

Over and over, it smashed his body against the ground with inhuman strength. All Castys could do was scream as he felt his bones break, their sharp edges piercing him from the inside. To finish, it threw him against one of the trees, the impact of his body bursting a myriad of acid pustules open, drenching him in the stuff. Castys fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in pained breaths beneath his shattered ribs, and all he could do was helplessly watch through his one good eye, the other reduced to goop by the acid, as the monster raised a foot above him. His mind was screaming at him to go, to run, but he could hardly move, he should just let himself die so he could heal, but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to just lie still and let this thing step on him, slowly building up the pressure on his already ruined ribcage, forcing ragged screams out of his acid-burned throat, he was going to be crushed but he didn’t want to be, g-get off please it hurts so much why do I have to do this it’s not fair I didn’t even do anything wrong this time please-

Castys came back to pain, sparking, burning agony soaking deep into his flesh. He was still covered in acid, and even with his bones intact now he could barely bring himself to move. But he had to, he had to get up, he had to kill this thing, had to get out of this awful place himself, because there was no other way out, because no one was going to come save him, not now, not ever. Just as he was psyching himself up to try and stand, the monster’s hands grabbed him all over, dragging him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of its grasp, and while it had too many damn hands and he had too many damn acid burns for this to actually be effective, he struggled anyway. As it lowered him towards one of its flower mouths, he tried to at least scream expletives at it, but of course he’d still had acid in his throat when he died so he couldn’t even relish the simple joy of yelling “fuck”.

What would happen to him if this gross monster ate him whole, he didn’t want to find out, but it seemed like he was going to if he didn’t break free. Castys shuddered as the mouth opened wide, wider, impossibly wide, showing off an unnecessary amount of wicked sharp teeth, and oh fuck they were a lot closer to him than he’d thought because his damn left eye was a corroded mess again and all of a sudden there were teeth tearing through his flesh and he was falling, falling into that horrible mouth surrounded by bright purple petals, pointed teeth digging into him, but he felt something, he felt something, hard and rough, and maybe it was his sword, and he could still kill this thing, so he wrapped his burned hand around it, fingers screaming in protest, and pulled, and as much as it hurt, as much as his sword was stuck, he wasn’t going to lose here.

His sword finally broke free with a disgusting squelch, though it felt a lot lighter than he remembered, and just as he pulled it out, the monster collapsed to the ground. Castys somehow managed to worm his tattered body out of the creature’s mouth, and once he was free, he held up his sword so he could stab himself with it, but discovered the object he was holding was very much not his sword. It was a strange wooden carving of a twisted tree, like ones surrounding him, a small bone fitted so snugly inside that it was almost as if the wood had grown around it. Was this...the source of everything? It was the most curse-causing looking thing he’d seen so far, and given that it seemed to be the core of that monster...oh, it was starting to grow flesh. Oh absolutely not.

Castys looked around frantically for his sword, his dagger, anything to break this talisman thing with. The first thing that caught his eye within reach was an unfamiliar axe, but he lunged for it, wishing he had time to kill himself and reset his body’s condition, but there was no telling how much this thing would grow while he was out. If he wanted a chance at ending this for good, he had to do it now. He rasped in pain as he dragged himself upright, grabbing the axe with blood-slicked fingers before he set the cursed object down and swung, crying out brokenly in pain and frustration. After a few clumsy whacks, the talisman broke in two, and the flesh bubbling out of it ceased moving. Was...was it over? It had to be. It had to be. It had to-

Head spinning, Castys fell sideways, the vision in his functional eye starting to blur. He knew he needed...to die...but he just...didn’t have...the...strength…

It was warm...comfortable...but it hurt, and...everything was...itchy. But still, so warm, and that was pleasant, and he found himself leaning into it. It was almost like...

Castys jolted awake, his eye snapping open. He was inside some building, the wooden ceiling above him lit by rippling firelight, in what felt like a bed, his whole body throbbing fiercely, and there was...a hand on his forehead. A hand attached to the village chief, Citlali, who was looking at him with concern. Her face broke into a relieved smile when she saw he was conscious, despite him flinching away from her touch. “So, our hero is finally awake.”

“I-” Castys tried to speak, but his throat was still severely fucked up, in fact, his whole body was. He hadn’t fucking died since he’d passed out, and these idiots didn’t know how his immortality worked, so they’d actually bandaged him up. The feeling of them was totally foreign, if not a little nostalgic. God, he must have looked fucking awful when they found him. He hoped it would make them think twice about kidnapping people to do their dirty work in the future. 

“Don’t try to speak; your throat is quite badly damaged. Do you want something to write on?” Castys nodded, and she fetched him a wooden tablet and a stick of charcoal. He considered writing something on the angrier side, but seeing as he still didn’t have his pouch back, and that she had tried to help him...he should probably play nice. He was too tired for any more fighting, anyway.

“If you’d just kill me so I can heal that would be great.” Pausing, he decided he should probably explain that a bit better. “Every time I die I come back to life fully healed. And the most convenient way for me to die is to touch my rock, which I believe I’ve earned back. Unless the forest is still wonky.”

“No, you did break the curse, and I want to thank you for that, because obviously it wasn’t easy. I-” she cut herself off. “First things first, let’s get you healed for good.” She furrowed her brow. “Will healing with these bandages on...mess it up somehow? Some of them might be a little...stuck to your wounds. Should I take them off of you first?” Castys considered it for a moment. He’d never tried to heal with bandages on, but if things went wrong...it might be more painful to have to cut them out of his flesh or whatever. He nodded, holding out an arm.

Citlali was gentle as she unwound the bandages with practiced skill, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell. It felt like she was ripping his damn skin off, and every time his idiot body tried to scream in pain, it tore up his throat even further, making the whole affair even more damnably unpleasant. He could hardly stand to look at the wounds underneath, all pink and red and oozing what he assumed was pus. The worst part, however, was when she removed the bandage from around the remains of his left eye and it pulled a little string of bloody flesh off with it. He screamed at that, really screamed, and he realized he was crying, and he didn’t understand how mortals did this all the time. Citlali didn’t so much as flinch at the gore, the smell, or his pain, and he almost felt embarrassed about how poorly he was handling this.

When she was done, she retrieved his pouch from a nearby table, giving it to him wordlessly. With shaking hands, Castys managed to pull it open and stick a finger inside, sighing in relief as the familiar blackness took him. When he woke up, he was happy to find that there wasn’t any more acid on him, so he was actually fully healed this time. “Thanks,” he muttered, flexing his hands.

“Thank you, you really saved us. I...I know you were forced to, and I know that I shouldn’t have done it that way, but I felt like we didn’t have any other option, and-”

“It’s fine,” Castys sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “That shit was pretty fucked up so I’m not really surprised all the mortals you sent in died. And it’s not like I’m known for my benevolence.” He put the pouch around his neck, where it thumped against his bare chest. “So, did my clothes-”

Citlali shook her head. “They were full of holes and covered in acid, so we asked around and got you a spare set.” She handed him a folded shirt that was similar in style to the pants he’d been wearing when he woke up, and he pulled it on. She handed him the rest of his belongings before picking up the pieces of the wooden carving that he’d destroyed. “Where...where did you find this?” 

“Inside the freaky monster with all the limbs and shit.”

“The what.”

“Was its giant corpse not near where you found me?”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there besides this and some of the weapons and equipment from our lost expedition parties.” She put it down, standing and crossing her arms. “We all felt the shift in the forest when the curse was lifted, and when we went out to investigate, everything seemed just like it had before all of this started. We found you collapsed in a clearing not too far from here.”

“Not too-I feel like I wandered around for hours! Stupid cursed forest.”

Citlali huffed. “Regardless, we found the talisman next to you, but no monster. But if this was what caused everything…” She picked up one of the pieces, gripping it tightly. “I think I understand what happened.”

“That’s great for you, don’t let it happen again.” Castys stood, shouldering his pack. “I...I can leave now, right?”

She looked up abruptly. “Oh, uh, yes, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and we were thinking of holding a feast once we-” she stopped, clearing her throat. “We’d like to make it up to you in any way you can, but I understand if you’d like to leave. I’ll walk you out.”

Part of Castys wanted to stay and get a bunch of free food out of these people, or at least actual compensation for the ordeal he just went through, but he didn’t know if he could stand to be surrounded by these woods for much longer, despite the fact that they were allegedly no longer cursed. He couldn’t fight the nervous feeling in his stomach as walked away, his steps quickening once he and Citlali parted ways. He didn’t really relax until he had left the forest far behind him. 

Once he was safe, Castys opened his pouch and reached inside, worming his finger into the secret side pocket that was separated from the rock. He gently pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it and sighing in relief upon seeing the drawing on it still intact. Not that he’d expected anything to happen to it, but…The memory of the first day of his life, at least that he was aware of, was far more precious than anything else.

Because if he lost it, if he lost that spark of happiness, that piece of who he was that day, he felt like he would collapse under the weight of every awful thing he’d endured ever since.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch

[howl-fantasies]

A/N - A little story about Maggie and Y/N. I love the idea of Maggie having a shitty day and Y/N trying to be a good "friend" but failing because she is too sadistic to simply boost Maggie mood without scheming something 🤣.

@immortal-velociraptor I hope you'll enjoy it 🥰😍

GIRL TIME

GOTHAM - MAGGIE'S FLOWER SHOP 1PM

Her day couldn't have been more shitty. First, she woke up because of a shooting competition in her street, man, the mobsters even made a shop explode because of some stupid vendetta. Next, she broke her keys in her keyhole when she tried to lock her door in a rush. And now a fucking robbery in her shop? What has she done to karma now?

The man was holding her at gun point and demanded her the cash drawer. "Dude, not to interrupt, but does it fucking looks like Gotham Central Bank? It's a flower shop! Since this morning I just did a $20 transaction, that's all I have to give you".

She even was nice enough to open the cash drawer and show him it's emptyness. Well, she also has some change hide in the wall but he didn't need to know that, did he?

His surprised face quickly changed for an angry one. Sensing the tension arises, she started to look for a way to escape her upcoming death with something able to make the man bleed and give her an opportunity to use her powers.

As she swiftly grabbed a red rose abandoned on the counter to use its thorns, a muffled *Bang* made her jolt. The florist saw the robber's body becoming limb and the bleeding hole in the middle of his forehead. He fell on the floor in a loud *thud*. Dead.

"My, my, do you often offer flowers to men ready to rob you little Lamb?" Sneered a voice from the entry of her shop. Here, standing like she was the owner of the fucking place standed a very elegant and non-assassin looking Y/N.

She had the audacity to look at the corpse, then chuckle, then put her index in front of her dark red painted mouth while making a "Shh" sound. She killed a man for goodness sake, not broke a pot!

Maggie gawked a bit at her vision then she frowned. "Thank you I suppose? What are you doing here Y/N, and wearing those clothes?" She asked more coldly than she wanted. Fortunately, she didn't use her power and Y/N didn't see a thing. Otherwise, she would have been in deep trouble. And the idea of Zsasz and his woman being furious against her for her lies didn't appeal her too much.

"Oh I was just passing by" She said with a toothy grin. "Isn't that Victor's favorite stupid answer when someone ask this question?" Maggie said, cleary annoyed now. The other woman didn't seem to mind her foul mood and continued to falsely beam. "Indeed, and I like it, since nobody would ever believe it".

Y/N adjusted the posh hat on her head without moving her sharp eyes away from her, not even for a second. "But I was really passing by. Carmine Falcone was in town and needed me for... something. He insisted about me wearing proper classy woman's clothes." The woman turned a bit to show off said tenue and her black stilettos, which matched with her hat and gloves. "I just finished the job and since it was near your shop, I thought that it was a good opportunity to say hello. Love your flowers, by the way".

The florist sighed deeply and again, looked at the dead man on the floor. She wasn't going to be ungrateful now that the rogue woman in front of her killed the menace. She pointed to the guy "how am I supposed to deal with that?" She asked.

Y/N walked a bit further inside the shop and turned the corpse on his back with her shoe. "Why, you call your little boyfriend of course, and cry like a river saying a horrible brute tried to rob you when an incredible vigilante saved your life", the henchwoman mocked.

But seeing Maggie wince, she tilted her head a bit. "Oh. You're still mad at him I can see, how sad. You'd have made quite the couple." The assassin mocked.

"Would you stop mocking me?!" Snapped the younger woman, smashing her hand on the counter. "Look, I had a shitty day and now a corpse to deal with. I don't really need your sarcasm."

Y/N stayed silent a long second, piercing her with her eyes. And when Maggie started to fear a bullet shot through her head, the other woman laughed airily. "My, you've got quite the temper I swear Dearie. Relax." She finally said. "Look. Take your stuff and come with me grab a coffee, my treat. That'll let the time for the cleaners to do their job here, ok?"

Maggie tilted her head a bit. "Are you in need of something, or simply acting because of the strange obsession you have for me, Y/N? ", she asked.

Y/N made a false outraged face and even gasped dramatically. "How cold, and here I thought we were best friends in town." She dropped the face for a neutral one. "Come on, stop being a pouting child and accept the treat before I make you, with the help of my gun".

The florist opened her mouth wide because of the shock, "Excuse you?! What kind of fucking invitation is that?!" She exclaimed. "Well my friendliest one I think, let's go" Sneered the other woman.

--

They didn't go too far from the shop which they still could see from the other side of the road. Seated in a terrace of a nice Italian coffee, the two women faced each other with their steaming cups in front of them.

"I suppose this one is owned by Falcone", deduced Maggie after seeing the manager of the place diligently install Y/N the very second she walked with her in his shop and the quick exchange between them in Italian. "Oh wow, you should apply at GCPD with those extraordinary deduction skills Dearie", said the assassin in a mischievous tone.

Maggie rolled her eyes and took her cup to try the beverage. "That's good!" She said with geniune amazement. "Well yes, I always go to Italian coffees when I want one. Americans tend to drow it in water, such a crime!" Y/N said. "Sooo? Are you going to vent or something, I'm really curious to hear you jinx Jimbo to death". She added.

The florist groaned in annoyance and lean back in her seat. "That idiot. I've tried to show him that I was interested in a more... romantic relationship and he was so dense he didn't seem to understand" She started, while Y/N sip her drink, her sunglasses hidding now her gaze but Maggie still felt it on her.

"But he wasn't that dense after all. The fucker is just still in love with that Lee girl and hopes she'll take him back. I'm not gonna lie, I feel so stupid to not have seen it before! And so enraged he used me like a spare while waiting for her." She said between gritted teeth. "You should have seen the glances he throws her, like a kicked puppy waiting for his master to came back."

The henchwoman raised a brow and hummed pensively. "Your crush is bigger than I thought." Then she shrugged, "Kill the threat maybe?"

She pushed her crossed legs just in time to avoid Maggie's kick under the table. "Not everyone is a psycho killer disposing of their love rivals, Y/N ." She chastised. "That explains why so many couples are breaking down" the henchwoman sneered.

"Maybe you should go to a nightclub with some girlfriends, you know, to have some fun and forget about Jiminy" She suggested. Maggie frowned hard. "I don't have many friends here, Y/N. To be honest, I don't know anyone beside the GCPD, Ivy, Victor and you", she groan.

The Assassin's face beamed. "Well, screw Ivy she's a pain, but I can go with you dearie, I know a veeeery nice place called The Sirens. Her owner is a great part-time friend!"

The florist seemed sceptical. "Is she a friend-friend or a frenemy kind of friend?" She asked. Y/N snorted at her question then laughed genuinely. "Oh sweetie, there is no "true friends" concept here in Gotham. There are foes and frenemies. And the owner of the Sirens happens to be one of my best frenemies. What do you say?" She asked.

Maggie poundered her choice a bit. The friendly demeanor of Y/N was suspicious. "Just, before I give you my answer. What am I to you, if the concept of friendship doesn't work here?"

The toothy grin she earned made her shiver, the assassin was terrifying right now. "Why, you're my favorite pet who's depressed and I want to change that of course. Since you've not already bite the hand that feeds you, I can't put you in a foe or frenemy category now, can I?"

Maggie gulped hard. The other woman statement proved her that Y/N was expecting a possible betrayal at any moment. She could feel a twist in her stomach thinking about what the woman would do to her if she knew about her little secret.

Seeing Y/N patiently wait for her answer, the brunette nodded her head slowly and sighed. "Ok. I'll go with you then". The woman assassin made a false little excited scream and clapped her hands with an also feigned enthusiasm. "You've made the right choice dearie!" Her reaction let Maggie wonder if she indeed made a good choice accepting following a rogue to have girl time in the city. Meh, after all, she didn't risk that much right? If one problem occurred, no doubt the other woman would deal with it.

Before Y/N or Maggie could do anything else, a ringtone resonated from her black purse.

Maggie couldn't help herself and snorted loud, she was close to spit out her sip of coffee. Who the hell would have that ring tone on their phone?! It was utterly ridiculous.

Y/N didn't seemed to mind her mockery and just answered it. "Why, hello dearest. How is it going?" The florist didn't have to ask who it was. In the entire city, there was only one person Y/N ever called dearest. And judging by the sudden tension in their waiter's muscles, they knew it too.

"Oh. Sounds like a plan. I'm waiting for you then". She then hang up and placed the phone back in her purse. "Vic is passing by too, Maggie Dear. Be sure to act on your best behavior, he's a little tense. And it would sad me greatly to see you become a sweet sweet scar on his body", she warned.

Again, the younger woman gulped hard. Her feelings about Victor Zsasz were still pretty mitigate. Sure, he could act like a goofball and she mostly saw him be like that, but she also heard about the scars, torture and need of blood of the man. She didn't really want to see that part of him that soon. Or better, at all.

A black car with tinted windows stopped just next to them and the florist glanced a bit anxiously at the other woman who didn't even moved her head and continued to sip her coffee instead.

The driver's door opened quietly and Zsasz exited the vehicle smoothly with his infamous blank face. When he spotted her, he sang a "Hi~" lacking warmth or even life. He seemed more alert and gloomy too which intimidated her a bit.

He then looked at Y/N as she finished her drink, put $50 on their table, then lifted up from her seat and walk next to him to take the arm he presented her.

The woman assassin turned to Maggie with an impeccable smile. "Little lamb, mommy and daddy have some work to do. Be a good pet and don't endanger yourself for the rest of the day." She saluted. "Also, do whatever you want with this piece of information, but the good doctor Lee Tomkins will not be a problem for you soon. She accepted Mario Falcone marriage proposal this morning", She smirked a bit cruelly.

Maggie opened her mouth wide. "You little-!" but seeing Victor empty gaze on her and the light twitch of his free hands, she cut herself and choose to continue without shouting. "That's why you came to my shop! You weren't passing by at all. And that's also why you wanted to invite me for a coffee. To have your fun with my angry distress before telling me that" She bitterly said.

Y/N hummed airily and nodded. "Correct. I love how talented you are at connecting the dots. Don't be so angry at me Maggie, especially when I'm the bearer of good news".

The young woman gritted her teeth. "Sometimes you're so-..." "Despicable? Sadistic? Non-empathetic?" cut Y/N. "Yeah, I know that pretty well Dearie. Don't judge me too harshly for that". She added with a softer smile and a little wave of her hand. "I'll call you soon for our little girl time at the Sirens, take care sweetie". She was guided by Victor on the passenger side and climbed in the car. After that, the two left, letting her alone at the terrace, with an even sourer mood than before.

---

A/N - Don't judge me too harshly, I love the idea of Y/N teasing Maggie 🙈😂 I definitely made my mind. Y/N does look like Famke Janssen, look at her👆, I'm in awe 🤩 She has such a strong presence, I love it!

[chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky]

“I never thought I’d see a Crusader Priest in a hoodie.”

Nile says it innocently, not thinking anything of it. If anything, she was trying to lighten the tension in the car, the five of them stuck in the back of a van, their hands tied. It annoyed her how easy it was to restrain them once someone got the jump on them. She would assume that immortals would be imbued with super strength, but she feels as mortal as she ever did. Booker was right, as usual. Just because they can’t die, doesn’t mean they can’t hurt.

Except as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she feels like she wants to take them back. Nicky sits across from her, tied to the side of the car as far away from Joe as the captors could get them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the two of them together were far more dangerous than separate. She’s watched the move together like water, all encompassing and forever together. He stills, his hands in front of his chest, head bowed. In prayer, she doesn’t think so, but if she didn’t know he was over a thousand years old, she would figure he was.

Glancing in the van, she looks for someone to explain what she could’ve said that was so wrong. Nile can’t help it, her eyes go to Joe, who hasn’t looked away from him.

It’s like staring at the sun, watching Joe gaze at Nicky. Blinding, beautiful, painful, and intense. It feels all encompassing and private, as though the moment becomes a physical presence around her. “It is a reminder.” Nicky says softly from his corner of the van. “I think it is important to remember your mistakes.”

“You know how I feel about—” Joe starts.

“Yes, you have mentioned before.” Nicky looks up, his icy eyes attempting something light, but even Nile can tell it’s nothing more than a blanket covering something dark.

“I think I can say the speech by heart.” Booker offers offhandedly, Joe glaring in response. “I’m just saying you two aren’t as private as some people would encourage.”

“You would think that after two hundred years, you’d be used to it by now.” Andy says, her voice only mildly irritated in that way that Nile has come to learn as annoyance with having to get out of chains. She wonders absently if she’ll ever get simply annoyed with capture. Where the fear filters out and it’s merely inconvenient.

“No, I still think we need to start investing in safe houses with insulation and separate rooms.”

“You know that everyone would sleep in the same room regardless.” Andy snorts, getting even a laughless breath out of Nicky. Andy relaxes at that, Nile slightly jealous at how she can read them. The woman is also focused on Nicky, whose hands are wringing together ever-so-slightly. Joe watches the movement.

Finally, Nicky looks up to Nile, his eyes warm. “There are certain things that stay with you, no matter how much you want to forget. You would think over time, they would melt away, like the rain on a window. But… others do not.”

Nile can feel Joe’s frustration to being tied up from across the van, his legs stretched out and nowhere near Nicky. He makes a huff, which Nicky merely snorts at. The two look at each other and she’s certain there’s a conversation happening she’ll never be privy. That is, until Nicky speaks.

“It was the first time I decided it was not God’s will to do what we were sent to do.”

***

The battlefield is ripe with the stench of death. Nicolo swallows, looking at the lives around him. His shirt is stained with blood of the lives he’s taken, and with a bit of his own. He’s understood that God has given him a gift to reanimate – despite his terrifying first few deaths, Nicolo understood his purpose. He wasn’t meant to die, until his finished God’s vision of the world.

There’s a shout from behind him and Nicolo flinches, reacting in a violent swing that would make the most vicious of warriors flinch. Before he can even register what is happening, a figure falls at his feet, eyes wide and noises coming from his mouth that Nicolo knew would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Nicolo startles.

He’s seen this man before.

Except there’s no way that could be possible.

This man has died in his hands. From his hands. Even though Nicolo didn’t like to admit it, he also had been on the receiving end of the man’s sword.

Except, this time is different.

Nicolo drops his broadsword and places a hand on his cheek as the figure collapses. He has the sort of curls that easily twine around his fingers, and eyes that seem to carry Universes. Universes that makes Nicolo think of the lessons that God has tried to teach him, but he could never find the answer. The man before him, blood staining his teeth and dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man he’s seen many times.

Nicolo utters a quicker prayer, dropping to his knees. This is not like what they have taught him. The man before him is the sun and is light and Nicolo draws closer. “I am sorry.” He finds himself saying in a shaky voice, even though he knows the man won’t understand.

Except.

Something incredible happens. The pulsing of his heartbeat grows stronger under Nicolo’s touch, the faint rhythm making his breath hitch. He looks down at the man’s shirt, still stained with blood, but no longer spreading. Nicolo jerks his hand away, shocked. He knows he shouldn’t be – he’s seen his body heal in the mirrors he found in camp, but… this was supposed to be God’s will.

He was taught to hate the man before him, and yet, here he heals.

“Praise God,” Nicolo mutters because he doesn’t know what else to say.

The man grips Nicolo’s hand, the blood stain in it smearing against he own. He slowly catches his breath and mutters under his breath, a language that Nicolo knows not, but sounds like poetry and music. He wonders if the man ever gets tired of speaking because he isn’t sure he’d ever tire of hearing his voice.

“Nicolo, what are you doing?”

He startles at his name, Nicolo standing up to see a few other priests standing before him. Like carbon prints of each other, thoughts and opinions copied until he isn’t sure if they kept their humanity any longer.

For the first time, he sees.

He sees like he hasn’t before.

In that moment, Nicolo reaches truth.

He swung his sword in a violent motion, thinking anything different as a threat. Except, the man desperately trying to get to his feet behind him, was not threatening. He held on Nicolo’s hand as if he was trying to teach him something. Something he knew Nicolo needed to learn.

Instead, Nicolo killed him.

He was not a human, not a priest, he was a feral animal unleashed unto the world under the guise of destiny. Perhaps…

Perhaps destiny had answers humans couldn’t understand.

“What are you waiting for?” They ask.

The world is quiet to him. Even though he hears the screaming around him, the fight and the lives lost, Nicolo hears nothing but the wind. He listens for God, for destiny, for whoever to tell him that he was wrong.

The man behind him says something, the words washing over him. He may not understand the words, but he understands the feeling.

Destiny.

“I was waiting for a sign from God.” Nicolo finds himself says. He takes his sword in front of him, spreading his legs in the attack stance he was taught too many years ago. “And this is not what God wants.”

The confusion on their faces is only for a second. They twist in something inhuman, in something that he was taught to fear. But, Nicolo was not afraid.

Before they can reach him, Nicolo lets out a gasp. Looking down at his chest, he sees a curved sword impaled through his chest. “My god,” Nicolo mutters.

“They will torture you.” The man whispers in his ear in a broken Italian. Desperate. “They will call you… demon. You can’t let them. We need… time.”

Nicolo feels his breath on his neck, a shiver running down his spine. “I will find you.” He mutters, his words catching as he sees black spots curling around his eyes. “I-I—”

“I am counting on it.” The man says. “And I you… Nicolo.”

Nicolo lets out a choke of a laugh. “Not fair, you know me.”

The man takes the blade out of his chest in a quick movement. Nicolo falls to his knees as he does so. He has fallen to his knees so many times. Except, this time, he feels free. Even as he can feel his body fight against the wound, the skin stitching back together like the chainmail wrapped around his head, he’s never felt more alive.

The man stands over him, a bright smile on his face, his own wounds nothing more than a ripped shirt. He blocks the sun, but then again, maybe he is the sun. “Yusuf.” He states, placing his hand over his chest. “Until we find each other.”

“Until…” Nicky chokes on the blood pooling in his mouth. “Until we find…”

He can’t say anything further. Instead, he’s lost in the sun and the world and the Universe. There’s nothing in the world that’s made him feel like this. He staring at a man he was taught to hate and he feels… infinite. He feels as if he’s watching the sun rise after a cold night, the frost on the leaves dripping onto the ground. He feels like he’s heard a psalm for the first time, understand God in a way he’s never thought.

His mind goes blank.

The chainmail falls off his head, his body covered in metal. The chains were off. Nicolo was free.

***

“I spent my life in metal.” Nicky says. “I need to remember what I learned.”

“Plus, watching a man walk around in chainmail isn’t exactly discreet.” Booker offers. “But I’m in full agreement that you should do that.”

“Fuck off, Booker.” Andy snorts under her breath, but she’s still searching between Joe and Nicky.

“But, why?” Nile asks, unable to stop herself. “Why would you want to remember all of that?”

Nicky sucks in a breath, his eyes meeting Joe’s. It’s soft and powerful and unyielding. He doesn’t even tear away to answer Nile, his attention forever Joe’s. “To remember that you can try to do what you think is right, but you can be wrong. That mistakes you make can be transformed into something beautiful. By… someone beautiful.”

The moment is fraught, tense, and intimate.

“My god, I need alcohol if you two are going to be like that.”

Joe and Nicky snap out of whatever gaze they’ve lost each other in, both laughing at themselves. “Book’s right,” Andy says, relaxing ever-so-slightly when Nicky smiles, the haunt behind his eyes fading slightly. “Let’s use that energy to figure out how get out.”

“Oh, you haven’t?” Joe asked, bringing his hands up. Nile’s startled to see that there’s no zip ties on them, his wrists not even pink with the pressure anymore. “I just couldn’t wait.”

He crosses the back of the car with a couple strides, placing his hand on the back of Nicky’s neck and pulling him close. The car rattles and bumps, Nile staring that the two, very aware of the handcuffs on her wrist.

“Yeah,” Booker sighs, rolling his eyes at her. “That’s the most pressing thing at the moment.”

There’s no heat in it and she finds herself joining him in her fond exasperation.

It lasts another ten seconds before Andy seems fed up with the whole scenario and kicks the two of them. Another thirty until they’re all free.

A final sixty for the five of them to job out of the car, the bindings nothing more than a memory.

And the memories fade, as insignificant memories do.

Nile hangs back with Booker and Andy, Joe and Nicky in a world the three will never be invited. As the moon shimmers against their shoulders, she thinks she may be alright with that.

[itwoodbeprefect]

decided to just compile a bunch of comments about my sga 1x01 rising rewatch into a single post because i don’t actually want to make a hundred posts in a row, so here, under the cut, many rambles:

announcer guy does, in fact, speak english upon a second attempt. well done on not forgetting to not speak german, announcer guy.

“i’m afraid of the thing” elizabeth says, about the drone chair, while standing next to it and looking like she wants to fuck it

rodney in that orange sweater! very orange! very warm!

john is on screen. john’s first words are helicopters he knows how to fly. john KINDA LIKES IT in antarctica. john has barely done anything and i already feel like crying a little bit about this guy who LIKES ANTARCTICA because he just wants to fly

POOR CARSON when he almost kills two people. “ai told ya ai was the wrong pursohn” :(

i really love how john sees the drone coming at the (landed) helicopter and yells “get out!” and they throw open their doors and john JUMPS and then it’s just “ugh.” and he’s belly-down on the floor and still like, almost under the helicopter. an attempt was made, for sure. just not a very succesful one.

the way john looks around like he’s never seen a ceiling before when he enters the base is just. very funny. and then some guy in particular is looking at him because he’s a bit of a weirdo and john looks back and the guy sort of looks him up and down and john looks away as if to check if anybody saw that. hmm.

john’s face of “oops” after he sits down in the chair and it ACTIVATES and carson RUNS OFF to go get literally everyone and john is realizing he MAY have just made a very giant big mistake. PRICELESS

teyla: my people have long believed the wraith will come if we venture into the ancient city. sumner, when the wraith come after he ventures into the ancient city: [surprised pikachu face]

gotta love how john insisting on saving his people is what wakes up the wraith, and saving his people is also what landed john in antarctica in the first place because he tried it in afghanistan once before. which wouldn’t have happened if there hadn’t been an american war in afghanistan in the first place, which there wouldn’t have been if bush hadn’t thrown the us into it, which wouldn’t have happened without 9/11, so... bin laden woke the wraith?

on the other hand john would never have had to go on a rescue mission on his first day in pegasus if sumner hadn’t gone into that city against the wishes of the people that already lived there and had a history dating back thousands of years with the place, so more realistically, the expeditions’ colonizer mentality woke the wraith. and then they just kinda... kept going with that for the rest of the show, because it worked out so well on that first day.

anyway i’m not even there yet - puddlejumper! it jumps puddles!

have to love the moment john realizes the puddlejumper is pretty literally reading his mind and giving him anything he can think of that is within its power (so no turkey sandwiches, but that’s okay). john is already in love with it just based on the fact that IT CAN FLY AND GO FAST (“i kinda like it here”, restored) but then all the ancient technology just seems to know him and love him back and gives him way more than he even thinks to ask for. which, for john, who doesn’t really do well expressing desires? a FLYING SHIP that then READS HIS MIND? starstruck. love at first sight. john&puddlejumper, instant bffs. i bet it would have popped a compartment with some stray bits of wire if he’d asked for a friendship bracelet right then and there. ford sitting there witnessing this doesn’t even know how hard he’s thirdwheeling it in that moment.

now i am at the bit where sumner is taken from the wraith prison to see the actual wraith, and look, obviously they’re evil and feed on humans etc etc, but this particular wraith’s sense of dramatics? unparalleled. she has them bring her victims one by one to a large foggy room with a looong table set with a wonderful dinner and then she LEAVES a DEAD BODY sitting at the head of the table (implied to be the athosian that was taken before sumner?) and drops down from the ceiling while sumner has his back turned for no reason except the spectacle of it all, and dracula himself literally couldn’t have made a better display out of this. it’s maybe scary in the way that it makes clear she’s a cat toying with a helpless mouse before she eats it, but it’s also hilarious in the way that this is absolutely a very bored immortal being who had to stay up while the rest went to sleep and is inventing high school improv plays with her dinner for some diversion. don’t play with your food, wraith queen. you’re scaring your dinner.

life signs detector!!! ford didn’t get to name the puddlejumpers gateships, but that one stuck, no matter how much “we can name it later” john was trying to throw at it!!!

(god. there’s a ficlet somewhere in there about season 2 john having a moment where he realizes he’s on the hunt for ford using the thing they first discovered together and that ford gave its name.)

getting sidetracked here, but when john and ford find the group of humans caught by the wraith teyla goes “major!” and it makes me think that. well. how are the athosians supposed to know things like “major” and “colonel” are military ranks? what are the chances the pegasus galaxy uses the same designations? (don’t really know how the language thing works here - we’re hopefully not supposed to think they’re all speaking english, are they? i’ve never watched sg1, there’s probably lore about this, i assume. maybe alien titles somehow get perfect translations to earth ones and vice versa.) but i mean, teyla is too smart, she’d have it figured out already even if those words don’t exist in her galaxy, but some athosian somewhere is going to be very confused by this earth tendency to name way too many kids private and lieutenant, and then put all of them into the army. strange, to have your job decided for you at birth like that. earth people are weeeeird.

fjdkl john is like bye, gonna go find colonel sumner all on my own, run if you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, and ford’s like “you’re the only one who can fly these people out of here” and “i’m saying i should be the one to go, sir” and john, with his savior can’t-leave-anyone-behind-gotta-do-this-personally-or-i-will-literally-die-from-not-almost-dying complex DOES NOT LISTEN to ford’s EXTREMELY ACCURATE objection. which is his right, as ranking officer, but is also a perfect showcase of why john Should Not Ever be in charge of atlantis, and why sam saying he was totally on the shortlist when she takes over command in s4 is funny but frightening if you’re on atlantis and like being alive.

sumner: “we travel through the stargate as peaceful explorers.” FDJKFD. god, that line, from that character, hilarious.

rodney comes to elizabeth full of enthusiasm about all the interesting stuff they’re finding in the city only to find her staring at the empty gate and when she says she should never have let them (the rescue party) go, he sobers up and says awkwardly “for what it’s worth, you made the right decision” and that’s GOOD that’s KIND.

back on the planet with the wraith everyone is running to the jumper while there are wraith darts whizzing through the air and teyla turns back, catches up with ford who was told to cover their six, disarms him (because he was firing at illusions, revealing their position), hands him back his weapon, pulls him in the direction of the puddlejumper, and PUSHES HIM ASIDE when they’re almost scooped up by a wraith dart, and i’m so here for teyla being allowed a moment of heroics that saves specifically ford, guy with a gun, and not a random athosian damsel in distress. teyla is fully on their level. teyla is perhaps above their level. thank you.

that scene at the end of this episode!! in which there’s a sort of party on atlantis and it’s all buzzing and relaxed while the athosians are mingling freely with the expedition members and they’re talking of friendship and ugh. UGH. there’s a better version of sga in an alternate universe where the expedition didn’t decide atlantis was totally theirs, actually, and they cooperate with the people that were already in the galaxy when they came there and learn from sumner’s mistake to actually respect what they have to say and form a single front and teyla takes over as head of the expedition in s4 when there’s a void left by elizabeth’s absence.

final thought that has always haunted me a little: john suddenly becoming the ranking military member on atlantis after sumner’s death is ?? one of those things where i wonder what the sgc was thinking in their personnel assignments. john wasn’t even supposed to BE THERE. if john hadn’t gone and sumner had still died (which was something they should have considered as a possiblitiy! they didn’t know what they were walking into at all! sumner is apparently the type to lead his own missions!), then what exactly would they have done? i don’t know much about how the us military operates but i’ve watched enough mash to have figured out the order of the ranks and it just seems. very odd to me? to take one (1) colonel on this mission and then ZERO lieutenant colonels OR majors (if john hadn’t stumbled his way into it, that is). like, are there any captains on atlantis? (i think there are?) or would ford, a lieutenant, have ended up ranking military member? this is like the surely-they-only-need-a-single-medical-doctor-right thing. WHAT IS THE SGC THINKING.

anyway. this was good. i liked this. i hadn’t rewatched the pilot in a while, and i only just now figured out how much of a while, because there was a bunch in here i didn’t remember. ON TO EPISODE TWO.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 19

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 19: Got Your Back (And Maybe Your Heart)

“Okay let me get this straight-”

“No one here is, but go on.”

“Hush, I’m still mad at you,” Tang gave a stink eye to the Kappa before turning back to Macaque. “So let me get this straight, so not only are you the same Six Eared Macaque that has fought the Monkey King and the deity that’s known as the Wandering Healer-”

“Not actually a deity,” he inputted.

“Whatever, but I’ve been coming here for years and just now I find out that there are mythical deities and magical plants within the forest! The Yao grass that is said to be a component to the Immortality Pills, an actual Qilin living here?! And the brown bunny and that little shit stain, who probably wants to laugh his ass off, is actually a Kitsune and spirit!”

“Guilty as charged,” the Shui Gui chortled.

“Pretty much,” the monkey shrugged his shoulders.

“Yup,” Ní nodded in her fox form.

“…I am both very angry and very excited,” he grumbled. “Do you know how many questions I have?! Do you know how many things I could have tested? Do you know how long I have wanted to meet someone like you guys? Do you know how many questions I have?!”

“I think you already said that,” said the water spirit though he froze as he saw an ominous glint in his eyes.

“Oh yes I did, because by the time I leave here,” he mysteriously whipped out his phone, “I will have all my questions answered.”

“Just how many do you have?” Macaque cautiously asked.

Tang said nothing as he instead showed a folder containing many files within them. “Quite a few. Quite. A. Few.”

All three immortals, the ones who have faced many fierce opponents throughout their life, gulped at the looming trials ahead.

“Fuck,” they all unanimously said.

It was cold, damp, and thoroughly disgusting with all of the worthless piles of junk lying around, but she supposed she would have to work with what she had under these…conditions.

Lady Bone Demon quietly walked through the open sewer as she attempted to distinguish where exactly she should strike next while her underling, who has been waiting for all these years, searches for the one item she hasn’t quite found.

It was quite tricky, to say the least, all the rest of the ingredients she needed to procure, albeit a bit rare, would be much easier to obtain even if those incompetent bugs mess it up. It won’t be too hard to find a replacement for those, she just decided on them for the proximity, she does not desire to leave the city before she achieves her prize. The last item though is something that is an ingredient that is not so easily replaceable, so she will need to take her time and look through every crack and back alley down until she does.

It was quite irritating, from the conditions she found herself into the annoying bugs that seem to think they are above her to Sun Wukong.

Sometimes she just wished that she could be over and done with this little game entirely and reach the end, but alas that’s not how life works. But she will admit that it will be fun watching them all struggle to get one step ahead of her, though she can’t decide which one she’ll enjoy more, Sun Wukong look when she finally drains him of every last bit of power and torture what he cherishes in front of his very eyes or Spider Queen expression as she stabs her in the back when she becomes the component to her plans. Both sound absolutely delightful when the time comes, but for that to happen she suppose she will have to achieve this the long way, no shortcuts or cheats allowed.

But she doesn’t mind the wait, after all, she had been imprisoned for over five hundred centuries.

She has nothing but time and she intends to play this little game all the way to the end.

“So your not just some random ass immortal,” Macaque bluntly said when Shen met up with him again.

“Took you that long to figure that out,” the frizzy hair old man laughed.

“Well, how am I supposed to know that you were literally giving me Immortal wine when I have never tasted it before you all but shoved it to me?” He grumbled as he held the bottle of very rare wine once more. “You know I don’t really need this, I am still perfectly immortal without it.”

“Oh I know, Yama sometimes grumbled about it from time to time when we get together. Gods know he wants to strangle Sun Wukong's scrawny neck when he gets the chance,” he said while drinking some of the wine.

“You regularly drink with the King of the Dead?” He deadpanned, “Who the fuck are you? Cause that right there shows that you're not just a regular ass deity.”

“Hmm I’ll tell you if you tell me how you figured out how to make the Immortality pills,” he smirked at the monkey still look.

“What do you mean?”

“I may be old, but I can smell a lot of the ingredients for the pills in this forest alone. Yao grass, Biya berries, Voya roots, Gracidea flowers, just to name a few,” he tapped his nose.

“Can’t really hide the smell,” he clicked his teeth. “Alright fine I’ll talk, but you better keep your end of the deal.”

“Will do.”

And so they talked and talked and when Shen spoke of who he was Macaque all but threw the bottle in his hand.

“What the fuck Ping?!” He hissed out as he had to stop himself from bashing his head against the tree. “How the fuck?!”

“He was an interesting one,” he laughed. He met his old friend by the river where he was doing his laundry, they spoke and then he found himself another drinking buddy.

Macaque’s eyes twitched as he just slumped over and groaned loudly. “What the fuck!”

Shen just laughed wildly next to him.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up,” he hissed before letting out a sigh and sat himself up. “Shit I don’t know if I can ask you this but I might as well fucking try?”

“Hmm?” He curiously questioned.

“I may need something soon that I can’t quite get on normal means and I think-no I know I will need your help to get it,” he asked with an almost pleading voice.

“Hmm, why do you need it?” He noted the tone in his voice but didn’t say a word about it.

“There is a demon that wants to take over the land and almost nobody would be able to stop her,” the simian admitted.

“Eh, there will always be some creature that wants to take over the world, been there, seen that, but that never really happens now does it,” he easily dismissed it as he leaned in closer, “but why do you need it?”

“Because there are people that I want to protect and I know that they will be the ones that will be fighting against that monster and like hell I am letting them do this alone,” he growled.

“Oh now I have your reason, so here’s another question. How much are you willing to give for my favor?”

“Anything,” he determinedly said.

“Anything you say? Even your life?” His green eyes challenged his violet ones.

“Yes,” he replied with no hesitation as the question didn’t even make him flinch.

There was a long silence as both beings stared the other down until the red haired man broke off his gaze and chuckled lightly.

“…hehehe, always knew Ping was fond of the stubborn ones,” he grinned.

“Ping is an old coot with the perchance of running into the weirdest fucking things,” he huffed as the air around them seem to settle down.

“You're not wrong,” he nodded. “Alright I’ll help ya, but next time I drop by I expect some high quality drinks.”

“Tch, fine you alcoholic bastard. Hope you don’t mind Plum wine, have a few sitting for a couple of centuries.”

“Are you kidding? The longer the age, the better it is! It’s like you don’t know me sapling,” he said with a mock hurt expression.

“I mean I might as well as you just told me who the fuck you are!” He threw his hands in the air.

“But you know my wine tastes!”

“You've only given me one kind of wine bastard!”

“Still!”

“Don’t you fucking pout you overgrown child!”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” MK cursed as he dashed his way through the volcanic land and ducked from a large fiery boulder aimed straight towards him. “Why does this happen to me!?”

Now you may be wondering how and why MK found himself stuck in the volcano arena, well he was visiting one of the more interesting customers he had delivered to before, as in she was trying to learn more about magic, with Red and Mei. Which is cool and all, especially since she has mastered how to change her hair color on will, but she was showing him her more advanced spells. Now it was very fun with the Bull Prince trying to explain to the young girl how each spell works and how much energy must be put into it. They were even going to try out a new spell together, but the thing about her is that while she does have quite a bit of talent, she is extremely clumsy. As she took a step forward and accidentally pushed him into the symbol on the ground and then ‘poof’ he teleported right in the middle of the fire imp territory.

Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem, he can handle a few enemies on his own and he did with such ease that not even a scratch was laid on him. It’s just that the problem was that they all happened to be a bit too loud and woke up a humanoid creature that was three times his size, entirely made up of molten magma and rock crystals, and looked very pissed.

Needless to say all of them booked it as fast as they could, but unfortunately it had their eyes on one creature that looked different from the rest.

“Seriously!” He yelled as he climbed up the mountain and quickly hid and he held his burnt side. He knows that he is quick on his feet, but even he can’t dodge all of those boulders and swipes aimed at him. It doubly hurts as he can feel the burning of the magma touch his skin, he desperately wants an ice bath when he escapes this.

SMASH

But until then he will continue to make his way to the ocean ahead where he hopes that it would be enough to stop the beast in its tracks. He will swim all the way back home if he has to, he can deal with the sickness later after he saves his skin.

He felt the beast let out a devastating roar and a glance back he saw the creature lift the largest boulder that he didn’t even think he could dodge. So, he instead prepared himself as he was about to bring out his staff when-

“Here comes Jade Dragon/ Blazing Bull!” Twin voices shouted as the next second two terrifying forces slammed into the creature and with a pained roar he flew back.

He blinked as he saw Mei and Red Son, one who is surrounded by ethereal viridian energy and the other encaptured in a fiery crimson aura, jump in front of him protectively.

“MK/Noodle boy! Are you okay?!” Both of them have been trudging through not only ashes clogging their lungs and spot marking their skins, but also all different types of books and ruins trying to find the right activation phrase to reopen the portal to where their friend had disappeared to. They were tired, dirty, clothes ripped, and pissed off, but in MK eyes they were the most beautiful people he has ever seen as he couldn’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks as he took in their perfectly disheveled appearance, the muscles peeking from their ripped sleeves, sweat dripping from their face, and the worried look in their gorgeous eyes.

“Y-Yep!” He involuntarily squeaked. ‘I really should not have read some of those romance books with Jin,’ he thought as he cleared his throat. “I mean yeah, yeah you guys are perfect-I mean you got here at perfect timing!” He nervously said as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to avoid eye contact.

“You sure you didn’t hit your head along the way,” she lightly teased as she kept a firm stance in front of him.

“Would be an improvement,” he smirked, but his eyes didn’t leave the Cherufu dazed form.

“Heyyy,” he whined before he realized what they said before, “Do you guys have names and you didn’t tell me!”

“Umm.”

“We’ll you see-”

“They are so cool!” His eyes sparkled, “they fit you both so perfectly, and the way you guys came in and shouted it made the scene even more awesome!”

Both of them couldn’t stop both smiles and blushes as their smaller friend, and small crush, kept on praising them, but unfortunately, their little bubble popped as the beast roared once more.

“Tch,” Mei irritably clicked her tongue at the beast ride interruption, showing off her fangs (after countless of honing to both tracing and the dragon sword, she was more than ecstatic to see that she matched with both of her boys) “I actually forgot about that.”

“You mean the walking miniature mountain that was just chasing me down,” MK huffed as he shook his head. Hopefully, the two would just blame his fluster on the heat and not drift towards the thought that he may like them more than friends.

“Yeah that.”

“You both need to really get up to speed with your Mythical beings,” Red grunted as he opted to not use his fire against the creature made of lava.

“Says the one who never knew what Advil was,” MK muttered.

“It’s not my fault you mortals inconsistently change their names for no reason!” He hissed as his hair flared up.

“Surrrreee,” both mortals said.

“Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“You just don’t want to admit that your wrong~”

“Shut it!

“And where do you think you're going?” Wukong flinched as he heard Macaque's voice behind him.

“Oh you know, just a little road trip,” he smiled wider than normal as he quickly turned around to hide his suitcase, “I thought that it was time I get off of my mountain and see what else I missed.”

“Uh Huh,” he noncommittally said as he casually walked forward, “and you just decided that right this week?”

“Yep!”

“Just out of the blue.”

“You know it!”

“With no thoughts in mind.”

“None whatsoever!”

“Sunny, I know you’re bullshitting me,” he bluntly said.

“Whattt?” He nervously laughed, “I’m serious, I am just going to go sightseeing for a bit and-”

“You still have that same tell when you lie, you know. Smiling too widely,” he pointed out.

“I thought I got that under control,” he muttered to himself and sighed, “alright yeah, you caught me. I was gonna go out and look for a weapon to stop her, but I have to do this, Lady Bone Demon is not someone to trifle with. You know how she can easily command someone under her will and that was when she just got out of centuries of captivity! Imagine what she could accomplish once she regains more and more power! I just can’t sit here and wait for that to happen.”

“I know, that’s why you're not doing it alone,” he pointed out.

“Huh?”

“Did you really think that talk we had the other day was just a one off thing? No no no, there are so many people and demons solely invested in this, because what Spider Queen did really pissed off a lot of people and they want revenge on not only her, but those who helped her,” he said as summoned a map and showed him. “Just see for yourself.”

The monkey took the map and he became confused about what he was looking at. “There’s just a bunch of doodles in certain areas.”

“Those are the areas that have been hit and investigated thoroughly, the ones with X are the no goes of anything suspicious or useful, the ones with question marks are the clues or hints, and the few with checks are the ones where they found positive report and/or confirmation on successful supplies that we need. All of these are for finding the necessary materials to end the Bone Demon life once and for all.”

Wukong's eyes were wide at the end of his statement, “You know how to destroy her?! How long were you planning this? How have you managed to search all of these areas?”

“Well, it helps that I have so many favors stacked up from my former clients. I usually don’t care what they pay me, but usually, it’s in either money, food, or favors and I have a lot of those. I mean just Po and his students alone have them all checking the western areas for it by themselves. He says it’s a good training exercise for them, but I think he just wants a break from those brats. And for your first one, we’ll ever since BK got possessed the family has promised vengeance upon her, and Queen Iron Fan happens to have knowledge of a permanent kill switch to ending that demon life,” he said as he showed him the formula.

Wukong examined it and after a while, he nodded his head and faintly said, “Yeah…yeah that might actually work…there is something to destroy her.” He still couldn’t believe his eyes, but it was right there in front of him, then the first part of his words hit him, “Wait, that long?”

“Yes that long,” he said with exasperation, “Am I the only one who found it fucking weird that the Demon Bull King, one of the strongest beings in the realm, got possessed out of fucking nowhere? That right there was already suspicious by itself and the ominous whispers were sure not helping her case, that just added it on. So we decided to get to the bottom of this and boy is this one deep chasm we got ourselves into.”

“It really is,” he agreed as he looked over the map and saw that some of the places that were marked were the ones he was going to go to, even some that only celestial beings can access, “You already investigated these realms?”

He looked over to see what he was pointing at and nodded, “Yeah, pretty much. As I said, I have clientele all over and I don’t really restrict unless they have really done something so fucked up that I would rather kill them.”

“You have favors with Celestial deities,” he emphasized.

“Just some minor ones,” the doctor tried to brush it off, but judging by his friend's look, it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Celestial. Deities.”

“How about we talk about this later.”

“Oh we are so talking about this later, but I still have to do this. I have to make sure that she doesn’t cause any more harm to people anymore, this is my duty that I have to do-”

“You're not understanding!” He gripped his hair in frustration. “I literally gave you a map and you still don’t understand what I’m trying to say!”

“What!” He threw his hands in the air, “What can you possibly-”

“You aren’t alone dumbass!” He hissed out and froze the Monkey Sage.

“Wha-” he was cut off once more by a furious finger poking his chest at each word Mac hissed out.

“You. Are. Not. Alone. I don’t know how many different ways I have to say this, but if it gets through your thick skull then god damn it, I will.”

“I-”

“I know what you were about to do, you were about to galavant off and try to do everything on your own and not say a single word to nobody like a stupid martyr, cause apparently this is a shared trait between you and MK about being so self sacrificial that you wish to take on the burden yourself! Well fuck that! I’m putting my foot down for both of you, you don’t have to recklessly go out there and hope that one of them will stick!”

“What else am I supposed to do!” He leaped to his feet, “I basically serve no purpose other than this glorified title of hero, which I am really sick of hearing, and that Bone witch could strike at any moment and we won’t be prepared. If I leave the city then that would mean that not only would I be faster on looking for the weapon, but I would be far away from her and her attempt to sap my power.”

“But you would also be away from the city and by the time you come back, there might not be anything left to come back to,” he said with a final tone. “No one would be able to stand against her, not the demons, not the people, not MK, not the Bull Family, not even me. We would all fall by the time the morning sun rises if we tried to face her head on. We would all be corpses below her feet.”

The Monkey King stilled as the morbid images flooded into his head.

City in ruins.

Bodies sprawled everywhere.

Familiar faces all dead eyed.

Bodies collapsed.

Heart stilled

His precious student.

All of his tribe members.

The rambunctious Demon quartet.

His family to the West.

The headstrong Dragon successor.

Demon Bull with his wife and son.

Yanyu surrounded by her siblings.

Macaque

Macaque

Macaque

They're all dead.

Dead

Dead

Dead

Deaddeaddeadeadeadeadeadead

“Wukong!” He snapped out of his thoughts by black furred hands and looked up to see Macaque worried Violet (alive there so alive and bright, so so bright and alive) eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-” he stopped himself and remend what he was about to say, “I will be fine…I’ll stay.”

The Six Eared monkey let out a sigh of relief, “Good, that’s good. Sorry for putting that image in your head.”

“No, no I needed to hear that. I-I can’t be impulsive, not right now, not when things are becoming dangerous, I need to think things through,” he sighed as he sat down.

“You're not going to be out of the loop, you are the one who knows where a weapon may be hidden, so you can easily tell them which spot to tackle more thoroughly,” he reassured him as he sat by him.

“That would be more efficient than me just searching one at a time, okay I’ll do that,” he let out a small puff of air and managed a small smirk, “I guess that’s why I have you in my life, you somehow manage my little quirks.”

“‘Little quirks’ is an understatement,” he deadpans and leans on him, “but yeah we do fit well for some odd reason.”

“Like peaches and congee,” he grins.

“I think you are the only ones who actually dip it into the food.”

“Oh like I haven’t seen you do the same with mango,” he pointed out.

“There’s a difference okay! It just tastes better that way,” he huffed.

“Surrrre it does,” he drawled out.

“It does.”

“Whatever you say.”

[mocacheezy]

And the title of "Was so amusing I forgot he was supposed to represent a ruthless villain" goes to: ✨Beast Wars Megatron (1996)✨

[Show spoilers below, but you probably know that already.]

Extra note: I am a TF newbie. This is my opinion and I don't have all the details for the many continuities that exist. I just need to scream about a purple T-Rex.

As the shows main villain, he seems more comical than threatening, but during the second and third season he:

Cut out an immortal spark from a failed Maximal science experiment, and continuously used it to torture said experiment (both for his amusement AND practicality, since Rampage would destroy him otherwise)

Called a deformed protoform ugly, "with an ugly name to match its appearance", and called it useless since it is unable to transform.

(Yeah, the above doesn't sound bad or unusual by villain standards, but these are things that had me go "What the fuck, aren't you the theatre kid of a villain? What is this?!", so if it made me react like that it's on the list. The following things also contribute to my reaction)

Set up the before mentioned protoform to an impossible task of essentially killing all Maximals and bringing proof of their deactivation as a test of its competence (bring me their heads... Dramatic✨)

By calling it useless since "It can't even transform!", he is spitting on the name of his predecessor, the original Megatron

(I am atleast 90% certain that G1 Megatron (and any other Megatron really) would take a look at it, figure out if it can hold a gun/fight/be useful and let it fight. Can't even transform my ass, as long as it can be manipulated and/or fight for the Cons it doesn't matter if it can or can't transform you copper bitch!)

Decided to cut the Maximal science experiment's immortal spark in half to create a new Frankensteined transmetal super soldier.

In order to obtain more power he took the original Megatron's spark and "mingled" it with his. And by mingled, I mean he inserted it into his own spark chamber with his own spark and kept it there. Not intending to return it to the original frame most likely.

Until the very last episode of the third season, until the last 10 or so minutes, it looked like he was going to win. I am talking the whole "Are the good guys going to win?" kind of doubt on my end.

But the real kicker and the reason why I'm so shocked?

He was in character through all of this! He didn't get "more evil" or "crazier" or "ruthless" as the seasons progressed. He wasn't "meaner" or "less charismatic". He behaved precisely as he did in the first season, same dramatics in his movements and speech and all of that!

The only difference was that he was doing something actually threatening and villainous in front of us viewers!

That's what had me staring at the screen with wide eyes; the fact I got fooled by his personality and didn't perceive him as an actual threat.

From the 3 shows I finished watching so far (Prime, Animated, Beast Wars) he threw me in for the biggest fucking loop.

Because with other Megatrons it's very clear what kind of a villain they are from the start:

Prime Megatron looks like a threat, moves like a threat, and while he has charisma, we don't see it that often. And he has dramatics, but those are mostly reserved for fights with Optimus or Unicron-poprock-crystal-candy induced hallucinations. And even then it's more like grand, over the top speeches, not silliness.

Animated Megatron has class. He is charismatic and uses this to his advantage to the extreme. He manipulates everyone and anyone, his followers are ready to fight eachother for a crumb of his praise, and a chance to be called "most loyal". He has dramatics (more than just the fact he twists his oil barrels into goblets) and he has embarassing moments infront of his troops, but those are due to circumstances, not him being silly.

I am in the process of watching Cyberverse, and so far this Megatron is a threat, doesn't seem like much of a threat when fighting the autobots, and to my limited spoiler-fueled knowledge, will become a bigger threat later on.

Take another look at Beast Wars Megatron and tell me if you'd consider this guy a threat:

He monologues and laughs TheVillainLaugh so often, you start to expect it and just wait for it most episodes. At one point he laughs so hard he ends up choking on it. And after his coughing fit he resumes his plan monologue as if nothing happened. And it's not like the other Predacons don't acknowledge their boss' behaviour:

That doesn't mean he doesn't have some loyal Predacons; Scorponok, Waspinator and Inferno being the ones that come to mind (also the ones that crave his approval and praise the most), with the other Preds leaning more towards treachery. But how he handles treachery or disobedience or even talking back, where it seems like he's bantering, not threatening them,

His personality just doesn't fit with the traits and behaviours the other two Megatrons exibit, the kind of traits that I started to expect of Megatron as a character.

He doesn't fit my perception of a Megatron that is a threat.

Which, considering the narrative of transformers, says alot about me and the way I essentially placed the character into a mold and went "alright, angry, commands and demands attention, can be ruthless, is stupid enough to keep a guy as his SIC/ on his team, despite multiple murder attempts and scheming".

Now, if we get into actual details, Beast Wars Megatron wouldn't count as "an actual Megatron", since the show itself is set after the Great War between the autobots and decepticons, G1 timeline. This Megatron took his predecessors name, so for all we know his name could be Joe before he changed it.

But his actions and the "destroy and conquer and lay the groundwork for future plans while you're causing mayhem" thing he has going on? That is Megatron behaviour as far as I can see.

And, granted, Beast Wars is the oldest out of the three shows I've watched (Animated 2007, Prime 2011), and so he is older than both of them, his characterization might be much closer to G1 than both Prime and Animated!

But before this becomes a full on essay full of misinformation (and more spelling mistakes), I'll just give my thanks to each continuity being it's own thing, with enough variety to keep you on your toes, while expecting how the general plot might go.

I hate that I can't even fully hate him, because he is so incredibly entertaining, so I am stuck looking @ the screen, cursing the fucking prehistoric grape lizard fidget spinner of the future, because he is so vile but he does it in style.

Here's a flattering picture of him as I seethe.

🎉Congratulations you metal Barney on rollerskates!🎉 You are truly despicable, the worst! I hope you choke on a rubber ducky💕

[He also gets a smaller trophy for his Transmetal MegaMode (or whatever it is called officially), because its a fucking dragon. He went from a bubblegum T-rex, to a copper rollerskating T-rex that can fly, to a red and gold dragon that can breathe fire and ice. So yeah, drastic transformation wise, no competition here, as well as levels of drama that came with each alt.]