#I got really lazy towards the end of this but had to draw the deer man

[alasroundrock]

Bon appetit

#hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #artists on tumblr #digital art #my art #I got really lazy towards the end of this but had to draw the deer man #hazbin hotel fanart

[some-kindofgnome]

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know? 

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron​ has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”  

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

[insomniacinserts]

Biology 1

mark hunter x male reader

words- 1621

unedited, not requested.

A/N i hope to turn this into a series. but i am lazy and unreliable so we’ll see how this goes :) enjoy this very awkward first interaction between mark and his future bf. i will hopefully comeback and edit this someday but there shouldn't be anything too bad besides improper grammar, run on sentences, lowercase i’s,  and many many commas. but if there's anything horrific don't be afraid to point it out to me as i will correct it right away.

Descript: marks got a crush on the reader, reader wants to hang out and get to know mark while battling feelings and heteronormativity (god that's a big word) 

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The dull ache in my skull thumped harder and harder as the teacher droned on about something to do with genetics. I look to the clock and rub harshly at the bridge of my nose desperate to get the pain out of my head but reading that i still had under half an hour left of the class (according to the busted clock on the wall) only made my head pound harder, my eyes flick from the clock to the board where the teacher had turned around and was slowly drawing some diagram on the chalkboard behind him, i shake my head just as something glints out of the corner of my eye looking over my shoulder i lock eyes with a kid i had seen around school grounds from time to time, he was looking at me with a far off glint in his eye and a small hue of red covering his ears. I lifted up my hand and did a little wave to him paired with a small smile, the sun must have reflected off his glasses when he turned his head and the light caught my eye. As if someone shocked the kid he snapped back with a flinch, the blush on his ears covering over his cheeks he offered an awkward smile and ducked his head to scratch at his neck “is something more interesting than my lesson Mr. L/N?” I swiveled my head to look at the teacher “no sir. Sorry sir it won't happen again. I'm all ears'' i smiled brightly at the man as he rolled his eyes and the other classmates snickers in the background, i wait for the teacher to turn back around before risking a glance at the kid who i caught looking at me earlier to find him still in the same position; head bowed with his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

I watched as his glasses slipped down his nose and his soft looking hand leave his neck to push them back up only after doing so did he look up, his flush was gone but when he caught my eyes again it came back full force and his eyes widened i couldn't help the small amused smile that spread on my face i could only bite the inside of my cheek to stop it from turning into a grin, the poor kid looked like a deer caught in headlights, and when he clocked the smile on my face he pursed his lips into a tight line and looked over my head to the clock, i swiftly ducked to peak at the clock as well and gathered my book and notebook as the bell rung. I was gonna talk to this kid, he was too cute not to.

I turn back around to see him taking his sweet time in gathering his stuff “last class of the day? Or do you participate in the clubs?” I got up and (hopefully) smoothly walked toward him “I'm not in any clubs.” his voice was quiet and cut off at the end “what do you do after school anyway?” he pushed past me and left the classroom subtly giving me time to follow “i usually go home” i bob my head “yeah not much to do around here without friends. You got any friends?” he shook his head tugging the strap of his bag as we got closer to what i assumed was his locker “oh no way” he flinched at my enthusiasm when we reached his locker (to be fair i didn't use my ‘inside voice’ and shouted a bit so I can't blame him) “dude sick! Its like destiny or something.” he gave me a quizzical look as i moved around him and down a few lockers “your 187. And I'm 184! See this is my locker” i waited until he was close enough to me to unlock my locker and fling it open he hummed quietly and brushed his fingers over some of the tapes i kept in my locker “you listen to the beastie boys?” he’d tugged a flashy tape out of the collection and thumbed over the colorful scribbles on the case and the clearly scrawled title “uh yeah a little, I like a lot of music” he nods and puts it back and steps away from my locker letting me close it “so you can call me Y/N and i can call you?” his face heated up “mark” he turned to walk down the hallway “so.. Mark.” he pushed his glasses up and looked over at me “you've got no friends. You're not in any clubs. You go home everyday after school. You listen to the beastie boys. I think it's safe to say I'm your friend now, don't you agree?” he bit his lip and nodded'' I guess” he smiled when I fist pumped the air “sweet! So, need a ride home, friend?” I grinned at him as the flush on his cheeks grew to a bright cherry red “uh. Ok '' I bobbed my head and skipped ahead of him to push the door open and hold it open for him “uh its that one over there, the red convertible” he nodded and clutched the straps of his backpack closer to his chest. “Common I'm not gonna kill you or anything. Get in” I opened the door for him before jumping into the driver seat, he awkwardly runs his palms over his jeans and gets into the car with his bag on his lap “so where's your place?” I started up the car and looked over to him before settling my hand behind his head on the headrest and looking over my shoulder to back out and exit the school's parking lot “uh it's just down past there. I'll tell you when we get there” i nod and flick on the radio before i can think into the sharp pang in my chest.

“Here it's here.” he points to a quaint looking house, clearly cozy but looked to be empty “parents gone?” I pull into his driveway and park the car. “Yeah, they'll be home in a bit” he gets out of the car and makes his way to the porch before stopping and looking back at  me. I smile and wave at him before going to switch the car out of park and into reverse “wait! Wait a second” he waves for me to stop and comes up to the car “turn it off” he motions to the radio and i turn it as well as the car off “something wrong?” he shakes his head “since we're friends and all. You wanna come in?” this time my face heated up, i pulled the keys out of the ignition and shoved them into my pocket before exiting the car and following him up his porch and into his house, “wow. You've got a nice place here man.” he stops awkwardly in front of me and rubs the back of his neck before making his way to the kitchen to grab two of his dad's beers from the fridge “you drink?” he holds out the can and i take it with a small smile “only on special occasions” the remark forces a flush onto his face and he leads me to a door and down some stairs “this is my room” I nod and look around occasionally thumbing at some of the boosters on his walls and running my fingers over his couch when i pass it “your room is sick man, my parents wont let me hang anything up in mine. I'm lucky they let me have the typewriter I got a while back.” he seems to perk up at the mention of a typewriter if I had half the confidence id call him cute flat out but god knows I don't want to fuck up whatever the fuck is going on right now “you write” I cracked open the beer and held it up to my lips peering at him over the edge before taking a sip “no. not really anymore. Why” he shrugs and bows his head letting his hand come up to rub at his neck I'm starting to think it was a nervous habit instead of a bashful one “I write some. My English teacher thinks I should enroll in a club. Says I've got a talent or something” I not and look at him closer, his shoulders seemed to tense and then relax as he was thinking “you should show me some” he looks up with the same expression I saw in class; his cheeks red eyes wide and eyebrows raised to his hairline “I mean. I might not write some but I do read. A lot” I finish sheepishly and shrug “you seemed to like my typewriter when I mentioned it. So I'll make you a deal.” I slowly stepped a little closer to him, testing his reaction. When he didn't back away I stepped some closer “what.” he stopped to clear his throat “what's the deal?” I grin and nod. “I'll give you two weeks.” I hold two of my fingers up failing to hold back a snicker when he looks at me confused “two weeks. To write the most extravagant thing I have ever read. And if I like it, I'll let you use my typewriter whenever you want.” I set the can down on his desk and wipe the condensation off on my jeans, he brings his hand back up to his neck and shakes his head “I don't think ill be able to write anything that good.” I huff and shake my head “not with that attitude you cant.” 

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#pump up the volume #mark hunter #pump up the volume mark #mark hunter x male reader #mark hunter x reader #pump up the volume x male reader #pump up the volume x reader #mark hunter is gay and trans #i dont make the rules #Y/N is bio male #and gay #kind of #. #this is the most talkitive ive been in tags #writers block really takes it outta you #i should stop stalling and post this now

[acid-hydrangea]

“I”

There was a boy named Sig, who had many, many questions.

*Note: Sig uses he and they pronouns in this work interchangeably.

Sig awoke to the gentle, blue hues of his room flooding his vision. The quiet morning air tinged with the sounds of birdsong and the beaming of harsh sunlight. It was 5:32 AM. The Fever Bird month had just begun.

They hoisted themself out of bed and opened the window, breathing in the crisp morning air soaking in his surroundings, he’d neglected the rough, coarse sensation on--in--through? his shoulder... He moved to the other end of his room, and upon checking the mirror they discovered that the ‘totally not worrisome’ crimson growths had spread further, practically covering his whole left shoulder, almost touching his neck. The natural ringing in his ears felt louder than usual. He stared for a moment at his reflection, his thoughts clouding his mind like an intense thunderstorm. Eventually, he broke eye contact with his reflection and got dressed for the day. 

He donned his typical shirt with the rest of his usual clothes, he went on his way, considering wearing their turtleneck sweater more often, despite the spring-summer heat.

--

    Sig’s gaze was transfixed on the clouds moving across the clear sky, like a herd of lazy sheep. Their thoughts drifted in all sorts of directions, but he wasn’t able to attach any words to anything he felt... Not even one, this time. He looked down at his desk, Accord’s voice and the sound of chalk against the blackboard fading into white noise as they scratched one of his left claws upon the desk’s surface. 

...What… was happening to him? Why didn’t anyone ever bother to tell him? He’s not a little kid, he could handle whatever they told him. Did he do something that scared everyone? Ever since he transferred to this class, his arm and eye suddenly changed. People gave him weird stares, and tried to avoid him. When his caretaker Akuma found out, he tried every single spell and magic seal he could, to reverse the process. None of it worked. Every now and then, he tried again, rinse and repeat every so often. Fast-forward to the 'incident' nobody wants to talk about, involving bookworm. Fast-forward again to that blonde witch's potion... Ever since that, no... Even before that, he swore he was--

    His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of the school bell signalling the end to another day.

“... And that wraps up our lessons for the day! Be sure to review your notes, and do your homework, everyone. I will be here for the next hour if you need help.” 

He just sat there, trying to think through his memories, to make sense of it. Most students dispersed, the sound of students’ papers rustling and bags being picked up off the floor slowly replaced the white noise in his head. Klug and Raffina probably left separately, Amitie rushed to Accord’s side for help with the homework, and Lidelle was off to do her observations on the moonsunflower this week. 

Sig remained in his seat, having wordless conversations with his little bug friends, instead. Asking them about their days, as he always did, mostly oblivious to the events of his own. He’d have been last to leave if Amitie and Lidelle weren’t there. He did things at his own pace typically, leaving whenever his bug friend did.

...Today was different, though. Something felt different. A gnawing feeling that used to feel trivial had grown over time. The deformations from his left arm had been spreading constantly, no amount of Akuma’s rites, treatments, or spells slowed it down. It’d been a year since that incident happened, and a few months later, something else... Two incidents, and no answers. All he had were questions that were shunned away with words like “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” or “We’ll take care of it, so don’t ask too many questions.” All he could do was believe them, because they had his best interest in mind, right...?

Akuma never provided actual answers when asked, only empty words of... What felt like false reassurance,“Don’t worry your young head about it”, while chanting mysterious incantations with paper, “We’ll heal you someday”, casting archaic-sounding spells, handing him multiple charms,

“Don’t think about what scares you, only think happy thoughts, kuma.”

Scary? Was something wrong with him in the first place? Something that felt like a part of him, ingrained in him since birth, treated as a curse and a disease once his hand and eye turned that shade of crimson? It got him in trouble so many times, in ways he had no control, something he was forced to be at the center of. Fate was drawing chaos towards him, like a violent vortex. Was he never supposed to think about ‘himself’ ever again? What could he even do about the world revolving so sporadically around him? 

The ladybug flew away, right out the window, to greener pastures.

--

    Eventually, Amitie left the classroom. She waved goodbye to Sig, seemingly getting the sense that he wasn’t in the mood to walk home together that day. She flashed him a worried smile, and then disappeared out the door. 

He wasn't feeling up to talking to his teacher in the first place, but... The nagging feeling wouldn't go away until he did. Sig stood up from the desk and walked over to Ms. Accord’s desk.

"Good afternoon, Sig. Do you need any help with what we learned today?"

"Something... else."

“Oh? What is it, is something troubling you?”

He... Didn't know how to ask, what to ask...? He was prepared to just be told nothing, anyways, but... They really wanted to know. They were feeling... Confusion, anger? Fear, sadness... Any mental script they had in mind was gone. He didn’t realize just how intense his fear of the unknown was.

"I.... Is there something wrong with me? Am I... going to become something bad... Do you know what's... Happening to me ...?"

They didn't realize how scared their expression was, like a deer in headlights.

"Sig...? Dear, are you alright? Did something happen?"

He was trying not to cry when he ended up thinking about everything he was told not to, gripping his arms tightly. Sometimes, it felt harder to breathe, or think... Was it just him, or something else? His vision grew blurry from held-back tears...

--

Sitting in a chair Ms. Accord pulled up, he didn't have it in him to look her in the eye. Everything was silent for some time...

"I'm... scared. You, Akuma, everyone... You all know things about me..."

He tried to make eye contact with her, if barely, only able to meet eyes with her puppet.

"Why don't you want me to know? Do I need to be fixed...? Is something bad going to happen with me...? To people around me? I've always... been like this... So I don't know. Everyone acts like it's forbidden stuff..." 

Digging his fingers into his arm, he was shaking...

"I don't want to live like this. Knowing nothing about myself... It's so scary. No one likes scary people. No one wants to be around someone who hurts people. It makes me feel like I'm going to ruin everything, someday..."

"... I told you, you all shouldn't keep secrets from him, nya. Lookit what it did to the poor kid...", Popoi whispered to her. What could she say? The cat was right...

"Sig... I'm sorry, I truly am. It was never my intention to cause you such anxiety... Please, try to look at me..."

"I... can't..." 

"Please know, then... You're not in any danger, and your friends aren't, either. No one's going to get hurt just because you're here... You said you've always been like this, right?"

Sig nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"You've always been a prized pupil and friend to many, Sig... That won't change just because of your arm or eye... Those make you who you are, and you're a wonderful person."

"... Thanks... teacher..."

Taking some deep breaths, he sighed... He still had more questions. Many more.

"... I want to know... Something else..."

"You have my word that I'll answer to the best of my abilities, from now on."

Having wiped his tears away, putting faith in her words, 

"... What made me like this? Does it have something to do with what happened a year ago...? I know... you know something... You were helping... him... Lemres."

Silence permeated through the room.

"Akuma informed me, when you enrolled, that your sudden changes were nothing to worry about. As far as my knowledge goes, there's nothing abnormal about your condition that would warrant any worry. As for the incident..."

"... Teacher?" 

"I promise I'm being honest, my knowledge of what happened... Is very little. I only know what it is that Lemres told me about those 3... objects."

"Which... is...?"

" Those... The items, they are connected to a certain item of ill omens... I do not know anything more. He kept such details to himself..."

... Did she think he forgot about the bookworm's book? He wasn't clueless, he knew there was something weird about it. Bookworm always makes the effort to tuck it away specifically when he approaches. He almost seemed to prioritize making sure he never even so much as touched it. He got annoyed when others did, and downright terrified when he did. He wasn't fooling anyone, Sig simply didn't pay the thought any mind until now.

Having almost-fully regained his composure, he stood up, 

"Teacher... If that really is all you know... I'm going to find out more, by myself.", making himself clear, he was finally able to project his voice a bit louder.

"... I'm  sorry, that truly is the extent of my knowledge, but... Sometime soon, I could invite him over, and he could tell you what he knows...?"

... It was reassuring to see she actually parted with details. All it took was... Crying. Stressful. He just wanted to get out. He especially wanted nothing to do with that candy weirdo.

"I...don’t want that. See you next week, teach."

With that, he left. 

Tomorrow, it would be time to visit the bookworm Klug, instead.

Ms. Accord, too, had her own plans for the weekend.

--

End Notes: surprise surprise i’m gonna be uploading fics up here from now on. this fic’s been in the works for awhile and it still is- but i’m really excited to show everyone it! if it’s possible, i’d like to affix art to every single chapter going forward. thank you for reading, and feel free to let me know what you think via. replies or asks. reblogs and likes are especially helpful for getting the word out! catch me on my main blog at @marxsoul, or my twitter at @marxsoui, and see you when the next chapter’s out~

#puyo puyo #sig #ms. accord #I #my works

[mommymooze]

Mighty Morfis Power Mage

Yuri X Reader story 

You had followed your friends Merci, Annie and Lorenz to Garreg Mach. You had gotten to know everyone in the Blue lions and Golden Deer pretty well.

Magically you are not as good as Lysithia or Annette but you can hold your own. In sword fighting Felix could take you out in a heartbeat. With a lance you are on par with Sylvan, which is not saying too too much, but you are okay. You had started in the Blue Lions, close to the end of the year you were finally persuaded by Professor Byleth to join the Golden Deer.

 When the war happened, your parents freaked out and took you back to Morfis. You wrote letters to all of your friends, but most didn’t have the time to write back. They had a war going on you know! Claude and Hilda would send a word back here and there, keeping you informed about your fellow Deer.

 But come hell or high water you are determined to make it back for the five year reunion. You kiss the ground when you hit Fodlan territory, meeting up with Hilda and then heading to the monastery. It is thrilling to be fighting again. Being away for five years doesn’t matter much, you are right back in the middle of the fray throwing spells and causing hell.  Coming up on the bandits, you cast your spell, bringing a bow made of pure magical force into existence, complete with magic arrows. Drawing back your bowstring, an arrow is nocked. You aim and release, striking a thief with deadly magical force, killing him instantly. Five years of intense spell development at the Morfis Advanced Magic University pays off. (MAMU, OI!!!)

Hilda grins at you. “I am so glad you are back.”

The two of you move toward Ignatz and Raphael, joining up with them. As the battle goes on, the group gets bigger and bigger until you notice that all of the Golden Deer are reunited. The last of the bandits defeated, a cheer goes up amongst the old gang and everyone is hugging and happy to see each other once again.

“(Y/N)!” Claude yells, getting your attention. His arms are open wide to welcome you with a great big hug. “You are looking awesome. I think you’ve kicked your magic up a notch or two.” He says with a grin.

You run the few steps over to Claude and pull him into a big hug, then you stand back and take a good look. “Pompoms? Cute! You have certainly filled out, you handsome devil.” You smile back at him, giving a fake punch to his chin. You were so excited to see Professor Byleth you almost knocked her over with your enthusiastic hug.

Everyone is chatting and filling in the blanks of the last five years as they reacquaint themselves. Within a week everyone has found a place to stay that works for them, they’ve cleaned up and have the kitchen functioning, and things begin to settle a bit. Nobody has heard from the Ashen Wolves and you feel anxious, not sure if they survived this long or if they’ve abandoned Abyss.

Finding a few minutes to yourself you head up to the second floor and before you know it you find yourself in the library, looking at the books with a new light in your eyes. Some books you had not seen here before have also shown up. Those books hoarded in certain students rooms (Hubert, Linhardt :cough:) have been returned to the shelves. Still not finding everything that you are looking for, you recall there’s one more library to check out.  You gather your courage and decide to finally head over to Abyss. It is quiet here. You don’t see anyone as you silently make to your destination.

The disorganized chaos that is the Shadow Library of Abyss stands before you. Books could be found anywhere on any shelf. They are arranged by ‘first hole found on a shelf stuff book in’ order. Another problem is that the cover may say one subject, and the real contents of the book may be completely different. After a short while you are surrounded by several stacks of books when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“You’re back, eh?” A low sultry voice comes from the doorway, causing you to leap to your feet knocking over a stack of books next to you.

You run over to the tall man giving him a hug. “I am so happy to see you. How are you? How is everyone?” you ask him as your left hand slides down his arm, fingers reaching around his hand to hold it in yours.

“Everyone is…good.” He says, trying to read the look on your face, deciphering why you won’t look him in the eyes.

You let go of his hand as Balthus barges into the room. The big lug grabs you, holding you tightly against his chest. “Hey cutie! Glad you’re back in town!” you can feel his chest vibrating with every word as he nearly squeezes the life out of you.

“Good. Leggo.” You squeak as he finally loosens his grip so that you can breathe again.

“Finally decided to come back to us eh? What brings you down here?” Balthus asks

“Psychokinetic escutcheon” you casually respond.

“Uh sure.” He says scratching his head. “More of that deep magic stuff, huh.”

“Exactly.” You grin.

“Well, if you have the time, meet up for a couple of drinks. We all need to catchup with each other.“ he grins, scratching the back of his head.

“You got it, big guy.” You smile as Balthus leaves.

“So what have you been doing, friend? It’s been 5 years.” Yuri asks with a really good poker face.

You cast a telekinesis spell that allows you to grab stacks of books to put them back on shelves, clearing a path to walk around. “Right after the war started, my parents freaked out. Took me from here and dragged me back to Morfis. Morfis is nothing but a bunch of lazy and chickenshit mages. Why fight when you can hide is their philosophy. So I was dragged back and hit the studies hard. The only reports we would get in would be how devastating everything was, everything was burning or blown up. Making my parents even more protective of me. I did learn quite a bit. Rearranged some of their defensive spells to work in other ways. Hopefully I will have some surprises for the Empire should they attack. Anyway, took me forever to find a way away from them, get on a boat, back to Fodlan and finally here. “

“So you’ve crossed continents and countries, just to find yourself crawling around down here in Abyss?” Yuri smirks.

“Yeah, why not?” you chuckle. “Everyone here has helped me so much. I feel like I owe all of you my life. I know I owe you, you’ve saved me from my own stupid actions in battle, jumping in without thinking.”

Yuri stands with fake shock across his face. “You are an imposter! What have you done with (y/n)? She would never admit to being wrong!”

You laugh at him. “Hey, I can mature a bit you know. Realize I made mistakes, I was reckless. I’m working on being better in the defense category. Being responsible and there for all of my dear friends and loved ones.” You blush.

“I’m happy to have a few minutes with you alone, once Constance catches wind that you are here, I probably won’t see either of you for weeks.” The purple haired man tilts his head, taking in the changes in your appearance since he had last seen you.

“Well, we can talk now for a bit before she finds me, eh?” You snicker, hiding your smile behind your hand.

“Do what you want. I just came here for a good book.” He grabs a book off the shelf and turns to leave.

You look crushed. You’ve missed everyone for so long and fought hard to get here for this? To have him treat you like chump change? You turn away and sit on one of the stacks of books you had piled around you. Unfortunately, your stacking was not as straight as it could be, suddenly you are tumbling over before you know it. You throw your hands above your head waiting for it to smack against the bannister.

Instead you are caught in Yuri’s strong arms and lifted up against his broader than before chest.

“Changed my mind. Now I have something better to take back with me.” Yuri says as he carries you out of the library.

 ****************

This started as a oneshot. Then my daughter saw the title and wants me to write for all of the Mighty Morfis Power Mages/Rangers/Idunno. I am torn. 

BLue: Dimitri Lion

Yellow: Claude, Deer

Red: Edelgard, Eagle

Green: Flayn, Fish

Purple: Yuri Wolf 

It would probably be best to start something new if I go there. 

This story could continue on its own. Who knows.

#FE3h #fe3h x reader #fe16 #Yuri Leclerc #fire emblem three houses #feth

[mypassionfortrash]

Bubbles

Summary: Roger comes home from tour and you celebrate with bubbles in more ways than one. Warnings: Strictly 18+, minors in the notes will be blocked. Notes: This one was requested by @dreamingfanficsmasher​ using this prompt generator. Prompt: Queen / Queen II; in the bath / shower; gentle; switch. 

Dragging your fingers through a carpet of bubbles, you heard the door close and the sound of bags being dumped and the weary trudge of his footsteps down the hall. He had called ahead of time from the airport. His voice was softer, drained. It had been a long two months.

But now, he was home.

“Darling!” Roger called.

“I’m through here,” you said. “In the toilet.”

Roger peeked in from the doorway. At first, he looked utterly spent, but as soon as he clocked you, all of that changed. “God, I’ve missed you,” he said, rushing into the bathroom to take you into his arms.

He smelled like smoke and cheap aftershave, but that didn’t stop you from burying your face into his chest. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Planning on disinfecting me?” he chuckled.

“Hm?”

“It looks lovely,” Roger said. “Smells nice, too.”

“Well,” you began, unfastening the buttons on Roger’s shirt. “Why don’t you take everything off and jump in?”

Roger’s breathing faltered at the feeling of your fingernails dragging down his chest. “And what are you going to do?”

“I just need to quickly grab something and then I’m going to join you.”

Roger delivered a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Five minutes later, you wandered back into the bathroom, clutching your precious cargo, to find Roger blowing handfuls of bubbles into the air. You caught him in the act making him pause like a deer caught in headlights.

“Champagne?” Roger asked.

“Champagne.” You sat the bottle and two glasses down on the edge of the bathtub and got to work shedding the rest of your clothes while Roger watched. First came your dress. “I thought we could celebrate the tour.” Then your bra. “And you coming home.” And then your underwear. “Make a night of it.”

Roger propped his head on the edge of the bathtub, continuing to watch you as you took off your jewellery. “I’ve really missed you.”

Warmth and contentment swelled inside you as you turned towards him again. He looked angelic. “When did you go all soft, Roggie?” you asked, climbing into the bathtub with him and grabbing the bottle.

Roger shrugged. “The tour’s been fun, but I kind of wished you were there with me towards the end.”

For someone as scrappy as Roger, it was so rare to see him look as soft and innocent as he did now with wide and tired eyes, and a mess of straggly hair. You reached across to brush the hair from his eyes and allowed your fingertips to stray from his cheek to his chin, all the while pressing your bodies closer until there was nothing but a bottle of champagne between you. “Well, I’m here now,” you said. Your eyes met for a split second. And then they lowered to the bottle. “Will you do the honours, or shall I?”

Roger took the bottle, grinning wildly as he worked the cork from the neck of the bottle with a pop that made him shudder. “It gets me every time,” he said, shaking his head. Despite Queen’s growing popularity, champagne was still a rarity. After all, you and Roger still lived in your threadbare one bedroom flat, full of second hand furniture because, even though you hated the place, you couldn’t afford anything else. And that bottle in Roger’s hands? That was a week’s wages for you. “How much do I owe you for this?” Roger asked, filling your glass.

You took a swig and sat the glass back on the edge of the tub. “Show me how much you missed me and we’ll call it even.”

Roger was mid-sip when he absorbed what you meant. He almost spat a mouthful your way. “You sure?” he wheezed, trying to regain his composure.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Get over here.”

Roger didn’t waste time closing the gap between you both. His arms wrapped around your body while your legs snaked around his waist, in a total embrace. He was so warm that you could just melt into him, but for now, his lips would have to do. In barely-there brushes, his mouth danced over yours with a pleased hum.

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you whispered with a smile. 

“Oh really?” he asked, ducking one hand below the water line. “What about this?”

“What about–oh…” Leaning back you let Roger’s fingers wander through your folds. It had been so long since you did this that every small movement felt so much more intense.

“Like that?” Roger grinned.

You nodded, propping your feet along the sides of the bath giving him easier access. “I love it,” you said. “But I’m gonna need more.”

“When did you get so hard to please?”

“I think I deserve it, after being home alone for two months, Roggie.”

Roger moved forward, stealing a short kiss. “That’s fair.” His thumb found your clit, purposefully circling it as you closed your eyes in sheer bliss. He chuckled, realising just how much of an effect he was having on you. He loved the way your hips moved in time with every little movement. The way you keened against him. The way you sighed and quietly begged him. He couldn’t contain it much longer. “Turn around, darling,” he said quietly. His free hand grasped at his thick, veined shaft, slowly pumping around it. 

You did as Roger said; leaning against the back of the bathtub, you couldn’t help but sway from side to side in anticipation. Roger’s thumb teased you ever so slightly. By now, you were an excited mess, slick and dripping over Roger’s fingers. Just as another moan escaped your lips, his cock replaced his fingers.

You took Roger’s breath away as he sank into you slowly. His chest was glued to your back while his movements gathered pace. You moved together with his arms around your waist to guide you back and forth. “Did I tell you how much I missed you?” he sighed against your neck.

“Only about five or six times,” you said, keeping up Roger’s slow and purposeful movements.

Roger’s hand dipped between your thighs again. His fingers worked at your clit in lazy circles that made you arch into him. “And did I tell you that that I love you?”

You had to move forward to brace yourself against your arms but that only made Roger’s thrusts more intense. He hit all the right spots inside you, drawing you tighter around him. You had to sink your teeth into your arm to keep quiet. You didn’t want the neighbours complaining on Roger’s first day back. But he just felt so good. So good you were fast becoming delirious. “I love you too… Roggie.”

“I think someone’s getting close,” he said, moving his fingers just a little bit faster.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “So close.”

“That’s my girl. That’s it.”

Roger held you in his arms as your bodies shook together; shaking off the last few weeks without each other with feverish moans and soft whispers. And when it was over, you lay back against Roger, enjoying the feeling of his heart fluttering against your back and the warmth of his skin on yours.

“Missed you,” Roger whispered, kissing your hair.

“I know.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #queen fic #queen imagine #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fluff

[writing-wolf]

Swan Song [C.D.]

Summary: You can’t escape love.

Words: 2,225. What a beautiful number. Also written as 1,000 x (89/40), for my fellow maths kids.

Warning(s): None. Gender-neutral protagonist (heads-up, not a warning).

Like every other year, the bustling Hogwarts Express is full of life and running children. You don’t look forward to patrolling for the second time since you’ve been appointed Ravenclaw Prefect, but at least you still have the Prefects’ compartment all to yourself. For now. 

The first person to join you, to your dismay, is your senior Prefect, Marcus Turner (you don’t hate him, you just prefer the company of a good book over that of a subtly pompous seventh year). Luckily, he respects as much of your personal space as one can in a cramped compartment, and sits close to the sliding door. What he doesn’t do, however, is stay silent. More than I had hoped for, I suppose. 

“How were your summer holidays, Clarke?” he asks. 

“Fine. Yours?”

“Magnificent. Vivianne came over, you know, she’s from Beauxbatons, so I couldn’t see her during school. We ended up camping in a tent in Wales. Those new tents they’re selling, they’ve got built-in Extension Charms. Very modern,” Marcus beams.

“Right, extraordinary,” you mutter, not looking up from your parchment. Marcus shuffles around in his seat, not sure what else to talk about. You do feel a bit guilty, but you just don’t know what to say.

“The others might already be patrolling, we should also head out,” he says after a couple of minutes. You nod, rolling up the piece of parchment and cleaning your quill with a quick Household Charm.

You step out of the compartment just as Cedric does. You meet his eyes and quickly look away, the blood rushing to your face. You haven’t spoken to him ever since last year’s accidental (but not so accidental) snog on the Astronomy Tower. 

Footsteps echo as someone walks up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. You’d be alert, but you’re too tired and just a tad too stoned to care. Still, you’re filled with dread at the possibility of a teacher seeing you like this. 

Cedric appears in the doorway, surprised at the presence of another student, let alone another prefect, at his little escape spot. You glance at him for a while, staring at his young, handsome face. Neither one of you speaks. Cedric doesn’t know whether to dash or to take a seat beside you on the floor. 

“Are you going to keep standing there like a deer in headlights, Ced?” you chuckle, blowing another puff of smoke into the cold air. Cedric smiles, clumsily rushing to sit next to you. He’s too close for comfort, too comfortable to you. 

“What would your juniors think if they saw their prefect smoking a blunt?”

“Beats me. And technically, I’m still on duty.” you half-heartedly grin with tired eyes.

He grins back. “What? Patrolling the Astronomy Tower?” 

“Guarding everyone from the big, bad stars,” you mumble absentmindedly, taking another drag, “Wan’ a hit?” 

He declines, jokes about being a good example for others.

“Aye, it’s clear that I’m not one, then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cedric sighs.

“I get it though. No one wants a prim, perfect prefect that smokes on the Astronomy Tower at night because they can’t sleep. It’s harmless, by the way. Or at least, it’s not tobacco.” You run a hand through your hair, sides shaved short in an act of subtle rebellion. Against who, you don’t know. Maybe against yourself.

“I know. You’re not...you’re a good person. A good prefect.”

“Calling the kettle black, are we? You know, you’re annoyingly perfect.”

“I’m not. I’m here, aren’t I? Breaking rules like a true gangster,” he laughs. You snort, shooting a quick glance at him. You fall into a comfortable silence, slowly inching closer to each other, until your legs are tangled together and your head rests in the crook of his neck. He’s just keeping you warm, you tell yourself. It’s cold, and you’ve stubbed the joint out onto the stones.

“I want to escape, you know?” You break the silence, your groggy voice making the words seem all the more real. You don’t know why you’re telling Cedric Diggory this, of all people. He’s not even your best friend. Maybe it’s the night that removes all restrictions. Maybe it’s the night that makes you want to kiss him. 

Cedric feels it, feels the way things are different now, will always be different. So he tilts your head towards him, swipes his thumb over your cheek, and whispers: “Then do.”

Your kiss isn’t needy or desperate; it’s lazy and familiar, like everything that’s happening just feels right. His lips are cold, yet still impeccably soft, and you shudder when they move against yours. 

You break the kiss, after what feels like too long to not catch feelings. “I...I should go,” you stammer. 

Cedric looks up at you, eyes filled with worry and perhaps shock as well. “I’ll see you around. Goodnight,” you whisper at the doorway to the stairs, and smile at him. Neither one of you was going to have a good night that night.

Trying to avoid someone isn’t all that easy when you’re stuck patrolling a train with them. Luckily, every House’s prefects stick together. You turn to the left to patrol that side of the train, but Cedric grabs your elbow before you can. He pulls you closer to him. You look at your feet to avoid having to look at his face. 

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m fine. Look, I don’t-” you mutter, uncertain of what to say. Someone pulls Cedric away, another prefect with their arm around his shoulder.

“Can we talk about this? Later?” he asks. You nod, nearly invisibly, and he turns away. You bite your lip before following the other Ravenclaw prefects. 

You don’t see Cedric a lot for another three weeks, and if you do, you make sure not to make eye-contact with him. Because you’re not sure what he’ll say, nor are you sure what you want him to say. You’ve come to like him, ever since the kiss. Or at least, that’s when you realised how much you’d grown to like the Hufflepuff prefect. Maybe you’ve always liked him, ever since he shot you a smile during your first Potions class in Third Year. Maybe he’s liked you since that moment too.

“Clarke and Diggory.” Professor Snape’s voice rings in the Potions Dungeon. You’re only paying him half a mind. A young, brown haired boy walks towards your desk, his robes a little too short to accommodate the fast rate at which he’s growing (you only notice because you have a bad habit of staring at your feet).

“Hi partner. I’m Cedric Diggory,” he announces, quickly sticking out his hand for you to shake. 

“Introductions are for after class, Mr. Diggory, how ever important you feel like you are. Four points from Hufflepuff.” As Snape drawls on, Cedric grins sheepishly at you, and for a moment, you think your heart just skipped a beat. 

You become his ‘friend’ quickly after you two become partners.You don’t really know what a friend is. You know how to be kind, how to smile and how to converse with others, but you don’t know the criteria for being a friend. While Cedric doesn’t necessarily mind the attention he gets as he’s steadily growing taller and more handsome, you prefer quiet spots, practicing silly charms in the shade (you’ve kept yourself entertained by testing a charm that lifts quill ink and drawings right off the paper in one piece) and sleeping on the moving staircase (you always end up in your own bed the next morning, somehow...). As a result, the two of you don’t really hang out all that often. You don’t know his other friends, or what his favourite sandwich is. You don’t know whether he prefers Chocolate Frogs over Pumpkin Pasties, you don’t know what he orders when he goes to The Three Broomsticks, or what kind of jokes he tells in a crowd. 

You do, however, know which books he likes to read, which questions keep him up at night. You know that he’ll hum the tune to ‘This is The Night’ by The Weird Sisters when he’s distracted, and that he likes it when you ruffle his hair. You wonder what that makes you. 

There is always a time for confrontation. On the third Tuesday since you last spoke to Cedric in the train, he finds you to the Astronomy Tower. You’re absentmindedly staring at the sky, where the sun is slowly setting and painting the sky in warm hues as a dramatic way to say goodbye. Cedric huffs out a laugh when he sees you, sitting on the ground of the unoccupied Astronomy Tower with a ragged, old scarf.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he says. 

“Do you ever wonder why the sun looks so beautiful when it leaves? I read this muggle thing, by some philosopher. He says swans sing the most beautiful melodies when they’re about to die,” you ask him, scrunching your nose a little as you turn your head to face him. Cedric chuckles, before moving to sit next to you. Your shoulders are touching, and you wonder whether it’s your imagination, but you feel warm.

“Maybe it doesn’t want to be forgotten.”

You finally look at him. “Maybe,” you mutter, “Or maybe it rejoices in its escape from the world.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, watching the sky darken. Cedric decides to break the silence first. “Look...I really wanted to talk to you about, about that kiss.”

“Why? Do you regret it?” you ask, your normally nonchalant voice growing anxious. 

“I...No. Do you? You’re avoiding me.”

“I don’t know whether it should happen again, Cedric. You and I...we’re different. People like you shouldn’t be together with people like me.” You pull on a loose thread of your scarf. 

Cedric’s voice gets a little louder, a little firmer when he asks the next question. “What’s so different about us?”

“Everything. You have friends, a social life. You should be with someone like that. Someone who can give you a clear answer, who can laugh at your jokes and hang out with your friends. There’s nothing you can get out of this, there’s nothing you could gain from somebody so imperfect.”

Cedric laughs humorlessly. “Why do you always put a gap between us? Don’t put me on a pedestal like this. You know, I hate it when you do this,” he mutters. 

“It’s the truth,” you state.

“Then I don’t think you know me. I’m not perfect. I don’t understand why you always say I am,” he huffs, frustration growing into hopelessness. 

“Because you are, to me, to others.”

“I’m just human. Don’t rob me of this, this trust. You know I can only unwind when I’m with you. I’ve told you how much I value you. Please don’t do that to me, don’t look at me as if I’m unreachable,” Cedric grabs your hand, squeezing it as if he’s desperate to hold on, “I don’t want to lose us,” he whimpers.

You bow your head in shame, tears welling up. “Why would you want me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he quips. You sniffle, chuckling through your tears.

You breathe out, blowing a misty cloud into the sunset. “I’m afraid you’ll get tired of me. That one day, when I think you love me like I love you, when I think I’m standing high and dry on the dunes, a wave will wash me away...Just because I wanted to be close to you,” you look at him, your eyes red and your sight blurry, “I hate feeling so insecure around you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Don’t you think I hate seeing you look away when our eyes meet, like I’ve done something to make you afraid of me. I regret kissing you every day, not because I didn’t want to, but because it made you look at me like that...because I’d rather never kiss you than feel the loneliness of my shaking heart.” Cedric sniffles.

“I-” you hesitate.

“Didn’t think it’d be like that? Thought the feeling was one-sided?” you nod at his words, “What if...What if ignoring me wasn’t your only option, Clarke? What if you could feel more secure in my arms?”

“I don’t know, Cedric,” you mutter. You’re hesitant, stuck in your own inferiority complex, but if what he says is true (and Merlin, do you want it to be true), then you want to take a shot in the dark. Screw carefully calculating every move. You like him. You love him. And you’d never forgive yourself for letting this love go. “...But I want to try.”

Cedric smiles, bringing his lips closer to meet yours. Kissing him feels better than you remember, with his lips ever so soft and a little swollen from biting on them. He’s moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, and you’re holding the back of his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

“Are you okay with me?” he asks when you pull back.

“You’re never getting rid of me,” you say, holding back a grin.

“Hey,” he whispers, “I forgot to say something.”

“Hmm?”

“I like you.”

“I like you too. More than you could ever imagine.” He kisses you once more, and you wonder whether any swan song could live up to this moment.

Hello fellas,

I’m back, and I’m apparently writing some stuff for HP now. The philosopher I mentioned was Plato (via Socrates in a dialogue), aaaand yeah. I’ve never written something this dialogue-heavy either, but I did enjoy having something a bit weird and abstract, as opposed to a story with a detailed setting.

Hope you enjoy it, requests are still open. 

Rémy

#cedric diggory #cedric imagine #harry potter #cedric diggory imagine #diggory #cedric #cedric diggory x reader #fluff #angst

[skippie89]

Feisty Love Confessions

Eve watched in delight as Kili whisked Tauriel away to the dance floor. It was about time the two of them got together. They had been dancing around the subject for weeks, no pun intended. She took another sip from her drink and swayed to the music as she watched the young couple.

"I would have thought you'd be more upset by this whole thing."

Eve's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she turned her head in the direction which the voice had come from. Fili was standing next to her. His thumb was hooked into the pocket of his dark jeans, with his hip cocked to the side and the blue shirt clung to him like a second skin. Eve had to mentally remind herself to swallow as she looked up towards his face. If his normal physic didn't make her panties wet, the look on his face certainly did. He wore such a serious expression as he glared out at, what she could only assume was his brother. She absentmindedly rubbed her thighs together as she tried to think back to his previous statement.

"Why would you think that? Should I not be happy for them?"

The light glinted off his hair as he turned that panty wetting expression on her. Normally he wore it down, with the family braids showing but tonight he had braided it up so that most of it was kept out of his face. Eve wasn't really into guys with hair long enough that you could braid, but damn if those golden locks didn't make her want to grab on to them and pull him in for a kiss.

"How could you be dealing with this so well? Dammit Eve! It's obvious you're in love with him and now you're watching him go off with someone else as if it's nothing!"

Eve's eyes widened. Fili had raised his voice before, but that was normally when they were in each others' faces and arguing. But he'd never done it while apparently coming to her defence before. Fili watched as multiple emotions ran across her face and his heart tightened in his chest as she brought her hand to cover her mouth because she was obviously trying not to c-! She was laughing! It was Fili's turn furrow his eyebrows in complete confusion as he watched the woman in front literally shake with laughter. It even got to the point where she had to place her glass on the nearby table and hold on to her stomach as she slightly bent over and tried, but failed to contain her mirth. When she finished she stood up straight, wiping the tears from her eye.

"Oh Fili. I'm not in love with him. Kili and I are just friends! How could I be in love with him when I'm in love with y- eh! Someone else!"

Fili watched as her body instantly stilled at her admission and she took on the features of a frightened deer. The very thought of her being with anyone else filled his entire being with instant fury. He had kept his emotions in check thinking it had been his brother but if it was another man he simply wouldn't stand for it. He- replayed what she said in his mind and as quickly as the rage had entered his body it evaporated and his lips turned into a predatory smirk and he moved to close the distance between them.

"So who are you in love with then?"

Eve turned her startled green eyes to his and the look on his face said it all. He knew. He fucking knew.

"Eh? No one! Doesn't matter!" she continued to ramble as she slowly backed away, "I'm, eh, going to the bathroom. Back in a sec!"

With that she practically ran from him and for once there was no que for the ladies room. She stood in the middle of the room, bracing herself against the sink counter looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was trying to simply breathe until she heard the indisputable sound of the click of the lock from the door behind her and her breath hitched.

"Who are you in love with Eve?" came the husky voice by her right ear that instantly sent shivers down her spine. His eyes were smouldering as he kept eye contact with her through the mirror.

When she didn't speak, she felt big hot hands curl over her hips, the thumbs applying a delicious amount of pressure as he drew symbols over the cloth on her skin. Eve barely contained the gasp as he stepped up to her. The heat from his chest radiated through the material to her back, his hips fit snugly so she could feel his crotch against her ass.

Her breathing continued to quicken as his lips slowly lowered to her bare shoulder and with teasing slowness kissed his way up to her ear until he stopped, his lips a hair's breath away. "Who are you in love with Eve?"

Something seemed to snap inside her and she spun around to face him. Eve all but growled before reaching up to roughly grab the hair at the back of his head and crash his lips against hers. Fili could taste the rum still clinging them and he groaned. The feel of his lips sent heat straight to her core and she kissed him with all the emotion she had been trying to keep hidden from him. When both of them felt the need for air they leaned back slightly, looking just as dishevel and panting for air. They continued staring into each others' eyes while visually daring the other to do or say something.

"You. You stupid man. I'm in love with you."

That was all Fili needed to hear and his lips crashed back down on hers. He didn't relent and nipped at her lower lip to gain access to her mouth. Eve was unable to contain the moan and Fili used that to his advantage and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss. Both of them fought for dominance in that kiss, neither winning which only seemed to heat them up even more. His hands moved from her hips to slowly run down, his fingers teasing the inside of her thighs eliciting another delicious moan. Without warning he lifted her up and on to the counter before positioning himself between her legs. Breaking the kiss Fili turned his attention to her neck where he kissed and nipped at the skin.

"Dammit woman! You're going to be the death of me."

To drive his point home he grasped the back of her knees and pulled her roughly against him causing her to mewl at the feel of his already hardening length against her core. Not being one to let him outmatch her, she quickly wrapped her legs around his hips and ground into him. The vibrations caused by his growl by her ear almost caused her undoing. She gave a breathy giggle when she realised he hadn't moved and seemed to struggle on keeping his own breath even.

"Think that's funny huh?" she felt his lips turn into that delicious smirk against her skin and she shivered in anticipation, "Lets see how funny you find this."

His hands slowly moved up the inside of her thighs, his thumbs once again adding teasing amounts of pressure. All that went through her mind was "thank god I'm wearing a skirt" before it went blank as his thumb reached her panties. His left thumb started drawing lazy circles against the material, while his other hand alternated the pressure he applied to her other thigh. Her right hand in his hair kept him against the skin at her neck where he still continued his torturous kisses, while her other grabbed at the material on his shoulder.

The slow pace was driving her crazy and just when she was about to say something he slipped his thumb past the material and started applying pressure to her clit.

"Oh fuck!" The hand in his hair tightened.

"Hmmm… Baby. You're already so wet for me."

He continued his slow place but would alternate between the amount of pressure he would apply until she was a squirming mess on the counter. He hand on multiple occasions already brought her to the brink only to lessen the pressure. It was driving her crazy!

"Dammit Fili! Stop teasing me!"

"As the lady commands."

He instantly pulled away from her and Eve almost cried out from the loss until she felt his breath against her thighs. She was roughly pulled further to the edge of the counter, but this gave her space in which to lean back slightly and get more comfortable.

"Won't be needing these anymore."

Eve was about to question what he was talking about when she heard the ripping of material and she suddenly felt cooler air against the heat between her legs. She was about ready to shout at him in outrage when she felt his mouth against her core and suddenly all thoughts flew out of her mind. Damn he was good with his tongue!

Fili would swirl the tip of his tongue around her clit before flattening it and running it entirely against her core. At some point her hand found its way into his hair again and the noises that came from her mouth had Fili to the point where he was painfully hard and wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her.

"Oh fuck! Fili! I'm- I'm nearly-!"

He didn't even let her finish the sentence because he moved his tongue back to her clit and entered two of his fingers into her wet heat already feeling how she twitched and grasped around them. It was then that he curled them at just the right point as he continued to thrust them inside of her that she snapped. Her entire body went rigid and her back bowed as she let out a silent scream. He continued as he helped ease her down from the high he had created. When her breathing evened out he removed his fingers and lifted his head. Eve was watching him with a flushed expression, but her eyes still held a fierceness to them. Leaning forward he kissed her and she moaned at the taste of herself on his lips.

Ending the kiss Eve took the hand he had previously been using and while keeping eye contact used her mouth and tongue to clean off his fingers. Watching his fingers disappear between her plump red lips and feeling her tongue run along them had his cock throbbing painfully and he used his other hand to stroke himself through the material to try and relieve some of the pressure.

Seeing this Eve simply kicked his hand away and jumped to her feet on the floor in front of him. Placing her hand against the denim she slowly stroked his hardened length and her core twitched at the thought of having him inside of her. But now it was time for a little payback.

"My turn…"

The huskiness of her voice simply caused him to groan as she turned him around so he could lean his back against the counter and brace himself. Kneeling down in front of him she slowly undid the top button of his jeans. When she pulled the zipper down with her teeth, all she could hear from above was a whispered, "fuck…"

To her delight he had gone without boxers and her eyes widened as he sprang free. He was big. Not just length, but in girth as well and she licked her lips at the thought of him pounding into her. Looking up, she kept eye contact as she kissed the tip of his cock causing it to twitch. Smirking she moved a little lower and flattened her tongue against the base before slowly sliding it up before swirling around the tip. Eve watched Fili's breath quicken every time she did this and it delighted her. She continued to do this even after she had him thoroughly lubricated. She didn't give Fili any warning when on the last stroke she rose up slightly and took him as far into her mouth as she could.

Fili roared at this and his hips bucked into her mouth, causing him to go in a little deeper again. His left hand grabbed her hair as he tried in vein to hold her in place and give him a moment to breath and calm slightly. Eve moaned in delight and Fili could feel the vibrations run along his cock causing him to shout and buck into her again. Eve didn't relent though, using her other hand she alternated between massaging his balls and stroking the base of his cock that she couldn't take into her mouth. Just as she felt his balls tighten and his cock twitch she would slow her pace and tighten her hand around the base. After the second time of doing this Fili growled and used her hair to pull her warm and wet mouth away from him.

He gave her no warning but simply lifted her up and braced her against the wall before swiftly entering her. Eve's head fell forward on to his shoulder as they both moaned at the feeling. Eve had never felt so delightfully full before and she was so wet from everything they had just done that she just enjoyed the feeling of being stretched. Fili, on the other hand had to count back from thirty because she was tight and he wanted to make her come again before he did, but that might be difficult from how she was twitching around his cock.

Eve's mouth was suddenly on his and they took in each others' moans when he began to move. Fili's pace was hard and fast, the grip on her hips would surely leave bruises but Eve didn't care, all that mattered was the feeling of him inside her. Her hands contented themselves with wrapping around his neck and gripping his hair. When Fili lifted one of her legs slightly higher on his hips the new angle caused her to gasp. The bundle of nerves his cock was hitting inside of her, combined with his pelvis grinding against her clit sent her over the edge.

"Fuck! Fili!"

The feeling of her like a vice around his cock and his name coming from her lips was all it took. He started to roughly and erratically thrust into her until he finally sheathed himself deep inside of her and groaned out her name against her neck as he came. Eve gently massaged her nails against his scalp as she kept her eyes closed and basked in the sensations. They stayed in that position for a while longer as they came down from their high.

Fili slowly let her down, holding on to her hips at the end as Eve still seemed a bit wobbly. When she finally got her sea legs he cupped her cheeks and turned her face to look at him. He placed a kiss on her lips once again, but this time it was different from the others. It was slow, loving; as if he was putting all his feelings into it. When the kiss ended and he pulled back to look at her, she had tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"I love you too."

Eve let out a watery laugh and pulled him back down for another kiss.

"Good. Now lets go back to my place and continue this. After all, I can't exactly go back to dance since SOMEONE tore my panties."

#fili #smut

[agentunwin]

STILL HERE [Guardian Angel!Shawn]

In which guardian angel!Shawn fights the inevitable to protect the one he loves. [platonic].

— A/N: this is kinda short and sweet ig. veryyy heavily inspired by beyond two souls and death note. also if you know who made the gif lmk so i can credit!

— WORDS: 3.3k

— WARNINGS: cursing, fluff, angst.

-

He was in love with her the very first time he laid eyes on her.

Her body was curled up adorably in a ball when the doctors removed her, the paleness in her cheeks gaining more color by the second. She was making tiny noises that would soon erupt into fits of cries and coughs as the doctors handled her, cleaning her and making sure that there were no outward complications.

She was beautiful. Her tiny smushed face brought the biggest smile to Shawn's lips as well as the parents' as she was handed off to them and they were allowed to see her for the first time. Her wet hair was a mess atop her head and her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands flailing around aimlessly. Her mouth was parted only to release more cries and her mother tried desperately to calm her, holding the little girl close to her chest and rocking her happily.

When that didn't work, Shawn decided to try something. He reached out, placing his finger in her palm and watching as her nimble fingers wrapped themselves around it- Or around the air, rather, considering Shawn's invisibility to everyone. This made him smile to himself. Had she really felt his touch?

This was all so surreal to the angel, having never looked after a child before. Every person he was formerly assigned to before her was elderly— on the verge of death— so he never really got the chance to get to know them. While some would consider this sad, constantly being surrounded by death, it was quite the opposite.

The job was easy. Once assigned to someone who needs him, he stays with them for the rest of their life, looking over them and giving them guidance. Once they die on the date seen above their head, they go beyond.

Y/N Y/L/N had a long life ahead of her, it would seem, and Shawn was more than excited to help guide her through her life's struggles.

It was during the sixth month of her life that he began noticing something peculiar. She was laid on her back in her play pen, arms reaching up to play with the dangling toys above her head. Her mouth was parted neutrally and she seemed relatively bored, her parents busy with making dinner in the other room. Shawn rested his head on the top of the pen and merely watching over her as he always did.

But then, she looked back.

She was staring up at him, her eyes wide and sparkling in awe. At first, Shawn brushed it off- Chalked it up to her staring at the ceiling. However, when the corner of her lips twitched upwards into a wide smile and she reached out for him, he knew that he wasn't going crazy.

He reached down, holding a breath in his lungs as he waited in anticipation for her to grab it. And when she did, giving it the gentlest of tugs, he laughed out nervously, relieved and scared all at once.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Y/N could really see him.

This was only confirmed more as she grew up, and by the time she was two years old, she knew enough to hold small conversations with him. He still remembers the days they would spend in her room together as he told her different stories and entertained her, doing stupid dances and letting her play with his mop of curls. She was energetic, funny, and Shawn couldn't have asked to be assigned to anyone better.

He once considered reporting this situation to the Beyond. It had to have been a mistake and it could be detrimental to their system if anyone found out. But, he never found it in himself to report it, even though he knew that it was selfish and unprofessional to keep this secret. He loved her more than he could ever imagine, and even at such a young age, she loved him back.

However, love wouldn't be love without complication.

The problems started arriving since the day she said her first word- "Shawn."

Not mama, or dada. Shawn. He never needed to teach Y/N his name as it seemed they were connected and she was born knowing everything about him. And while this made him happy and furthered their bond, her parents grew worried, and rightfully so.

They thought Shawn was only an imaginary friend and that she'd grow out of talking to him. And for a while, things seemed to be going okay. She'd stopped talking about Shawn to her parents and they thought it had ended, but on her sixth birthday when she insisted on getting a piece of cake for him, they knew something had to be done.

She was sitting in a blue chair against the wall with her mother, her legs swinging out of boredom as she looked around. The room was extremely quiet what with them being the only ones in there. Shawn could sense how nervous she was and he felt the same way when his eyes met hers from across the room, her lips turned into a frown.

Y/N was a smart girl; she knew what this was. It was a clinic and they were going to try to take Shawn away from her- To tell her that it was all fake.

The door on the right wall creaked open, a man in a suit and tie walking out with a smile. He clapped his hands together, nodding back towards his office. "Y/N, yes? Come on, follow me, dear."

Y/N kept her feet planted firmly on the ground, refusing to move. She looked to Shawn with a twitch of her eyebrow and he understood what she was suggesting. He walked into the man's office and looked around, quickly identifying the man as a therapist by the plaque on his desk. Although he hated the idea of her having to go through this, he sensed no immediate danger from the situation.

He poked his head from the doorway, giving her a thumbs up and a goofy smile in hopes of calming her down. It didn't work, but her feet finally began to move towards the man's office, flinching a bit when it was closed shut.

"Take a seat." The man insisted, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. "My name is Dr.Herring."

"Hi." Y/N muttered, voice extremely timid as she moved to sit in the way-too-large seat. Her eyes followed the man's movements as he pulled out some files and clicked around on his computer for a few seconds before turning to her with a lazy grin.

"So, Y/N. Your mother tells me you've been talking to someone that only you can see." Dr.Herring began slowly, rubbing his chin. "Is that true?"

Y/N nodded.

"What is this person's name?" He pressed.

Y/N folded her hands in her lap and looked down, clearing her throat. "Shawn."

Dr.Herring hummed and nodded, pursing his lips. "Why do think Shawn is here?"

She shrugged and he sighed, knowing that getting through to her would be difficult, if possible at all.

"Does he follow you?" He asked, and when she nodded, he continued, "Is he here right now?"

Once again, she nodded, still refusing to make eye contact. Shawn bit his lip and couldn't hide his frown, hating that this was happening to her. Dr.Herring pulled out a piece of paper and a blue crayon, pushing it towards her.

"Can you draw him for me?"

She hesitated before picking up the crayon, slowly drawing the outline of a man's body the best she could. For Shawn's hair she drew a lot of squiggly lines and loops, placing two dots on the face for eyes. And to top it off, she drew a large smile and a few hearts around him, then placed the crayon down and pushed the paper back to the man.

Not too long after, she was put on medication.

Of course, it never truly worked. Her parents made a valiant effort throughout the rest of her childhood to get her to take the medication, and for a while, it seemed as if even Y/N tried to convince herself that Shawn wasn't real. She stopped talking to him for a solid two years, ignored him when he tried to speak to her or give her advice, and refused to look at him wherever she went.

Some days were worse than others. Sometimes, she couldn't bear to leave her covers, crying her eyes out as she prayed to whatever God there was that she could just be normal. The medications and treatments got to be too overwhelming, and Shawn knew deep down that this was his fault. He should have reported it the first time he noticed, but he was selfish, and now she was paying the price.

No words could describe the heartbreak he faced during this time. The little girl he'd watched grow up and had loved for years was no longer his. He was forced to watch her from the shadows just like he always did, and pray that someday, she would come back to him.

One afternoon when Shawn didn't believe things could get worse, Y/N decided to attend a party. It was the beginning of her junior year of high school and Shawn could tell that she didn't really want to go. Shawn stood by the front door when she grabbed her keys, folding his arms over his chest.

"You don't have to go out if you don't want to." He tried, giving her a look of concern. "You shouldn't feel pressured."

Y/N ignored him as usual, thanking her parents for giving her the keys and running out of the house. Of course.

The party seemed to be going fine at first. There were only five other teenagers there celebrating her best friend Stacy's birthday, the house's lights dimmed with music pumping through it. Beers were pulled out and some was offered to her, and to his liking, she refused. There was dancing, eating, and games. Then, the music was cut off.

"So, Y/N." One of the dudes, Todd, spoke up, looking at her from across the circle they'd all formed. "Stacy told us about your little issue."

Y/N's mouth instantly dropped and her stomach churned as she turned to hit her best friend. "You told them about that?!"

"Dude, what the fuck?" Stacy grimaced at the boy angrily, "Why can't you keep your fucking mouth shut?"

Todd laughed and shook his head, turning his attention back to Y/N. "So, who even is this dude? An imaginary friend? A ghost?"

She looked like a deer in the headlights, not being able to process that her best friend who'd been through this all with her had betrayed her trust. She shook her head and stumbled around the question, murmuring, "N-No, he's not- I don't know-"

"So you really do still believe he's real?" Todd smirked in an antagonizing manner, leaning back and taking another swig of his beer. "You're obviously still psycho, then."

Tears welled in her eyes at the word she'd tried so hard to avoid. She'd heard it from past friends and family members and all it ever did was push her further over the edge, bringing back horrible memories of breakdowns and arguments as she tried to distinguish between what was real and what was fake.

She whipped her head towards her friend in hopes of some kind of defense, but all Stacy gave her was a weak shrug.

"I mean.." Stacy look to Y/N, slanting her lips. "When was the last time you took your meds, Y/N?"

"Are you serious right now?" Y/N seethed, face getting hotter by the second. "You know how much this fucking hurts me and you're just going to let him talk to me like that?"

Y/N stood up as fast as she could, running to grab her jacket and shrug it on. Stacy tried her best to convince her to stay, insisted that she was sorry, but Y/N was having none of it. She marched out of the door, tears streaming down her face as she ran to the car and slammed the doors shut.

It was then that Shawn noticed something peculiar.

In all of his lifetimes of guarding, he'd never witnessed this before. The death date above her head had changed from what was originally 60 more years, to 5 more minutes. This confused and panicked him all at once. He never thought it was possible for someone's date to be changed or influenced, yet as she started the car, his heart raced as he tried to figure out what to do.

"Y/N," He said cautiously, looking at her from the passenger seat with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

"SHUT UP!" She immediately screamed back at him, eyes blurred with tears when the car began to take off down the road. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT!"

The first words she'd said to him in years cut him like a knife but he pushed through his own tears, shaking his head. "Please, Y/N, you don't know what you're talking about. Please slow down, let's talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about," She cried, her chest heaving. "You've ruined my fucking life, made everyone think I'm a fucking psycho! You're not even real! I can't do shit without you following me around, and I'm losing my fucking mind because of it!"

Shawn cut his eyes to glance at the time above her head. 3 minutes.

"You know I'm real, Y/N." He insisted sadly, "I'm your guardian, and you know this. I know this is hard for you, but I've been here with you through everything. We can figure this out, okay?"

Y/N didn't respond at first, only kept crying, her knuckles paling from her tight grip on the steering wheel. "I'm so tired of this, Shawn. I'm tired of feeling crazy all the time. I just wanna be normal for once in my life."

"I know." Shawn muttered, reaching over to grab one of Y/N's hands. His touch was warm and comforting just as it always used to be, her heartbeat slowing the smallest bit. "Please, slow down and park the car. You don't have to do whatever you thinking of doing."

She gulped harshly and let out a shaky breath before finally nodding, letting her foot off the gas pedal. "Okay. Okay. I trust you, I'm sorry."

He let out a breath of relief, believing that all was solved; however, when he looked above her head again, his world began to collapse in on itself. Her timer was still counting down, signaling that she only had 30 seconds left to live. His lungs lost all of their air and his body began to tremble, not knowing what to do.

Does he tell her? No, telling her wouldn't prevent anything- He was sure this time was set in stone. Does he sit back and watch it happen? No, he would do anything else before he resorted to watching the girl he loved die.

There were only a few rules in the Beyond; one being that a guardian wasn't allowed to directly interfere with a person's death date. Doing so would cause the guardian to cease to exist, in both the material world and in Y/N's mind and memory.

That was just something Shawn would have to sacrifice.

"Y/N." Shawn said quickly, tears spilling when he began quickly spewing everything he needed her to know. "I want you to know that I've loved you since the very first day I saw you. I still love you so much, I always will, and I'm so proud of you. I know you're going to do great things in the future and I wish I could be there to see you do them. It's been a blessing watching over you, and I hope you don't forget me and everything I've tried to teach you."

She gave him a strange look, eyes flickering between him and the road. "I-I love you too, Shawn, but what do you mean?"

He reached to grab her hand, giving it a squeeze before he disappeared.

Everything that happened in those next few moments was a blur. She was the car coming from her left and tried to swerve out of the way, but something forced the car backwards before it could even hit her. She continued to roll forwards until the car hit a pole, and then, all was dead silent.

Y/N couldn't move. Her body shook as she looked around, taking in what happened. It all went so fast- Shawn, then the car, then the crash. And that's when she realized that her guardian was nowhere to be seen.

"S-Shawn?" She whispered, nose stinging with the promise of tears. When she got no response she looked around frantically, her voice raising. "SHAWN?"

With still no response, she opened her door, ignoring the damage to her car and dropping to her knees. "SHAWN, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

She didn't want to believe it, but she knew it was true. He was gone, and her screams and cries of his name were eventually drowned out by the sirens of ambulances and the pattering of rain that fell from above.

-

Her hands moved swiftly on the lined paper, pen working quickly to write down everything she was thinking.

Ever since the crash happened just a month before, she had been working day and night trying to put her life with him down on paper. Her memories of the man were weening off more and more each day and she could no longer tell what happened before or after, where it happened, or why.

She told herself that if she forgot everything, these pages would be her memory.

A tear slipped from her eye and onto the paper, distorting the ink and blurring her words. One tear turned into two, two turned into three, and soon, she was bawling her eyes out, just as she normally did nowadays.

For years, she'd dreamt of living without Shawn- Untied, without his constant presence by her side.

She finally got what she wanted, and she'd never felt so unhappy in her life.

Y/N sniffed, wiping her eyes and looking up to the ceiling. "Shit, this is so stupid."

She pushed away from her desk, leaving the wet papers there to dry as she walked to go to her bathroom. Y/n started the bath and sighed heavily, walking back to her room for a second to get pajamas to change into. While rummaging through her drawer, the sound of something hitting the ground caught her attention, her nerves at an all-time-high. She whipped around, immediately spotting what had fallen.

Her throat went dry upon noticing the drawing of Shawn she'd done at her first therapy session. It was one of those memories that was almost completely faded and the thought broke her heart, knowing that soon, everything would be gone. However, she allowed herself to smile at the paper, blinking away the tears still in her eyes and tacking it back to her wall.

The relaxing bath water soaked into her skin and calmed her as she tried her best to clear her mind. She'd been sitting in it for over an hour now, the steam fogging the room making it harder to breath. Moments of clarity like this were much needed, but at some point, it was time to get out and face reality once again.

Every step she took felt heavy when she exited the bath, draining it and turning back to the sink. On the marble countertops was the orange prescription bottle she'd been forced to look at every single day, remembering the nagging feeling she always felt as she downed the pills, hoping that one day, Shawn would go away.

She reached out to grab the bottle, wasting no time in emptying it into the toilet and flushing. The bottle was thrown somewhere in the room out of anger. Anger at the world, anger with Shawn, but mostly, anger with herself.

It took a few seconds for her to bring herself down, rubbing at her temples to ease her frustration. When she was alright again, she moved to her sink, grabbing her toothbrush and looking up at the mirror for the first time that night.

Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes stung with tears as she noticed what had been written on the fogged mirror.

Still here.

He was in love with her the very first time he laid eyes on her, and he'd be there until the very end, no matter what.

#my writing #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #sm #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #masterlist #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes request #shawn fic #shawn mendes smut

[wordsturnintostories]

we're pack, moonchild.

Masterlist

Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

Summary: You know Min Yoongi is a werewolf. He has to be. [a drabble in which you go to the same school with the Bangtan gang and are tiring to figure out if that's what they really are. a gang? or a pack?] Word Count: +1,7k  Note: Yoongi. I love writing Yoongi. Makes me feel focused and introspective. This one has such a long "wolf part". idk why, Yoongi is special somehow. ✨

Gif not mine, credits to the owner.

You know Min Yoongi is a werewolf. He has to be. If he isn’t, this entire concept you’ve created about your school’s society (or more precisely, the Bangtan gang) is for the trashcan. Oh, and the faith in your own ability to judge. It’s not that there’s evidence stacking up against the quiet senior student, not officially at least, because not one teacher complains about him. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. They favor him. Maybe that’s due to the fact that Min Yoongi doesn’t disrupt the class with incessant and unnecessary chatter. To be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Min Yoongi “chat” in a vivid manner. Of course, in the presence of Jimin, but Jimin is an exception, with that magical ability (and laugh) to coax words out of people, but that’s always inside the safe confines of the Bangtan gang.

GBut even if you’re not sure about Kim Namjoon or the other boys within the gang, you’re sure about Min Yoongi. Living in the same neighborhood as you, just a few streets over, there’s been incidents you’ve heard of. Incidents as ominous as the word incident itself. As a child, there have been numerous times you’ve witnessed a growl, a baring of teeth, long canine teeth at that. Back then, it hadn’t mattered, you were a child with enough fantasy to spin some wild story out of this, but looking back you realize things for what they really were. Teenage years had brought new issues not only to you but also to him, as it seemed. People rumored about massacred bunnies and chickens, whispered about a hunter’s mysterious experiences one night in the local woods. Those weren't stories you would tie to the pale, stay-inside type of boy back then. Now, you’ve seen him run (even though it doesn't happen often, and if it does, he's probably going after a cheeky Taehyung), you've even seen him almost break a particularly nasty kid from his grade in half - hadn’t Jimin and Hoseok been there to stop him.

Even in school, the lazy attitude of Min Yoongi just hides the reality of a wolf shimmering underneath that milky skin. Or maybe it’s exactly the laziness that lets the wolf attributes show through. You’re not sure. You’re not even sure if others see it too. However, you spot the animal behind those eyes. In a blink, it tells a story about a burning rage that almost eats the boy up from the inside. In another, it shows you how gratefulness spreads through him as the younger gang members plus Seokjin gather around Yoongi (and as Jimin brazenly plops into his lap with a giggle). And whatever the rest of the school rumors and believes, you know the truth. You've seen the facts. (Additionally, you have witnessed an ab slip and there’s no one on this earth who can tell you 

But despite knowing this truth, your relationship with him happens from a distance. It’s quite different than with Jimin or Taehyung, or even Jungkook. From a distance you observe and from a distance, you draw conclusions. And while your friends babble about this or that, you take notice of how on some days, Yoongi’s head turns towards every sound, just very very slightly, but visibly if you pay a lot of attention. And then he groans, which in turn attracts Jimin’s attention, who puts his small gentle hands on the elder’s face and ears. Obviously, there’s some complaining involved when Yoongi grumbles, but it’s clear that the wolf is irritated by the hectic bustling of the students, by the enormity of the sound landscape inside the cafeteria. To prove your assumption that he must be a werewolf, Yoongi does bare his teeth a little but then his eyes rise, meeting yours and you quickly look away, heart pounding. Your friends don’t notice. You hope Yoongi doesn’t know what you’re doing.

Even though the Bangtan gang is rarely ever doing anything gang-like, you see how Min Yoongi could be genuinely scary. Not to you, not scary at least, because you’ve walked past (and stopped) the young man sitting in front of a white piano in the music rooms during breaks. His hands know chords that make you cry. But out of all the Bangtan boys, the rumors about gang fights and violence kind of fit best with his cool outward attitude. He’s a fighter, no doubt, always ready to defend the young ones under his wings. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook seem to know it well, and still, annoying the elder is one of the first things that comes to their minds. Considering he wouldn’t mess up a hair on their heads - because he hasn’t - you figure that behind that scowling mask, there must be a sweet person.

There’s only one time you think he might come for you and your stupid nosiness and that’s when you’re standing by the school’s vending machine, watching him under the pretense of waiting for a friend. Since the morning bell, Yoongi has acted strange, not that anyone around you has really noticed. Yoongi has been hanging out with Namjoon instead of Hoseok and gripping Jimin’s hand tightly with a newfound record-worthy clinginess. At one point, Jimin shrieks and pulls away with shock in his eyes. There’s a drop of blood running over his hand that’s visible for a second before they cover it up. Still, you see it. It’s highly suspicious and worth a note in your Bangtan-related research.

Before you can even build theories and collect your previous assumptions to come up with a good explanation, Yoongi is gone. It’s a blink but Yoongi’s gone. And Namjoon and Jimin look more than worried. When your friend grabs her drink and talks to someone next to you, you can’t focus. So, when they leave, you stay. To wait and see what will happen next. What Namjoon and Jimin will do. And boy, does something happen next. It takes a breath to be pressed into the wall behind you, another to realize this is Yoongi with his forehead against yours. It’s all so sudden, such a pee-in-your-pants-moment that you can’t help but gasp, but let your heart pound and pound. Yoongi’s hands just grab your shoulders, and then there’s something he mumbles before leaving. You don’t understand it at first, but it comes back to you in a dream.

“The moon, pup. Next moon.”

It doesn’t make sense at all, just like this encounter that essentially has you be scared more in retrospective than it did in the present. Whatever issue Yoongi had that day, you hope he got it figured out. When you ask Jimin in a note, he draws a valerian flower and says, “Don’t worry about hyung. I hope he didn’t scare you. He's really embarrassed too.”

After that, your eyes meet Yoongi’s a couple of times in hallways and through the fence at the basketball court, but there’s never an indication that he wants to talk to you. He’s occupied with the younger ones and you’re occupied studying them.

As a wolf, Yoongi approaches you directly. He comes after Taehyung leaves and doesn’t waste a second before his snout travels over different parts of your body. Maybe it’s about safety, maybe it’s curiosity, but Yoongi is thorough. When he is done, there’s a second of eye contact, a nod from him, a lick at Namjoon’s muzzle, a lick at your mouth (a promise of protection), and then Yoongi leaves.

His presence is nice, a presence of safety and a thrumming of saved up strength. You learn later that he’s the packs’ primary speed dial contact.

When the pack welcomes you in their midst as the Alpha’s companion, it’s Yoongi who guides you through the process side by side with Jimin. It’s Yoongi who stays by yours as the younger wolves play in the dark. It’s Yoongi who licks Jimin clean after the younger one returns and presses him delicate body into the elders’. It’s Yoongi who ushers the other wolves together, who is granted the first howl to announce the Alpha.

The second Yoongi’s jaws close around your wrist for the pack bite, a blurriness creeps into your vision. The white wolf’s mouth is hot around your arm but all you can focus on are the movements in front of your eyes. You make the mistake of looking straight into Yoongi’s eyes. His intense gaze draws you in completely. It’s like looking into a laundry machine through the glass door. As everything gains momentum, colors, textures, even fabrics melt into each other.

The same kind of storm rages in Yoongi’s eyes. It spits out films worth of images that seem to be memories from Yoongi’s point of view - a heaving scene with puffs of winter breath in front of your eyes, a dead deer bleeding away under your nose, the warm and iron-y smell of blood dancing around you while the animal’s heart slows audibly, then trees that pass, nights of warmth, nights of icy cold darkness, finally other wolves, a pack, a boy - Jungkook - who goes through the first shift with tears of unimaginable pain, a young wolf who runs in freedom for the first time, who pants against Jimin’s flank later. It’s all there, you see it all through Yoongi’s eyes, how the family grows, how he secures the borders.

And then you realize. Yoongi is a beta. The Pack’s protector, the first-rank warrior.

And with the fall of a shooting star, there’s a rising of new wonder inside of you. It comes with the realization that Yoongi was born this way, alone for such a long time, alone with that burning rage you’d seen a couple times. Uncontrollable it had been, but with a pack of seven, the intensity of that loneliness and pain divides into seven parts, leaving behind a tiny burden to carry.

When you finally look up from where you had fallen to your knees as Yoongi's visions overwhelmed you, you find his soft gaze. He's a precious friend, loyal to the end, worthy of keeping. His cheek feels warm next to yours, his tongue like a welcoming kiss on your neck. “I’m looking forward to teaching you everything, pup,” he says.

Thanks for reading! :)

Masterlist | moodboard masterlist

taglist: @xmagicxshopx, @jiminnies-baby, @inappropriatepirate, @dope-boss

Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

#myg #min yoongi #bangtan #drabble #jun06 #werewolf!bangtan #bts #wolf!bangtan #wolf!yoongi

[that-terrible-writer]

You Never Know

Some of you have asked to be tagged and I am happy to do that but for some reason, some names won’t pop up to let me tag you. If that is the case, I will contact you and try and figure out why this is being stupid.

Again, thank you for your messages, I love each and every one of them.

Also, this gif fucking hates me. It’s working sometimes, not on the dashboard: only on moblie or if you actually go to my blog. So if you want to see his face, that actually goes well for this part, go moblie or click to go to my blog.

Part 4

Part 1 2 3 

| Steve Harrington x Reader |

Requested: “YOU NEVER KNOW WAS CEHCHVKSGMDSHBFK!!!! TEAM STEVE!!!” 

“Aaaa! I love you never know!...”

The night went quicker than you anticipated. You stayed up all night trying to understand every word, sentence, that was coming out of Mike's mouth. On top of that, you were collecting every bit of information Eleven had on her 'sister'. Steve had cleared off one of the walls in the basement so that you all could connect the dots. Eight's―rather her birth name, Kali―backstory, her newspaper articles, her gang of misfits even a list of some of her victims. Eleven claimed that Kali was out to those that worked in Hawkin's Lab, the ones that hurt her and experimented on her.  El left her sister behind, in Chicago, not being able to kill for the same reason and came back to Hawkins, where she was needed.

You gently rubbed your eyes, snuggling more into the couch as bits of sunlight were peeking into the basement window. You didn't mean to fall asleep in the Wheeler's basement but after working past two in the morning, you were having a fight of your own with your eyes and you sadly lost that fight. What had woken you were the faint calls of Mrs. Wheeler, trying to find and wake Mike up from school. When you finally opened your eyes, you sat up on the sofa, looking around the room to see that everyone―minus Max―had stayed over. You felt something resting lightly on your waist, drawing you to come closer.

You glanced down and saw a hand there; the hand belonging to none other than Steve. He was still asleep; his hair was disheveled, his clothes slightly wrinkled as you appeared to be using him as your pillow and source of warmth.

You turned to look at the wall; the wall covered in string, paper clippings, and sticky notes. Never would you have thought that something so dangerous, so supernatural but so amazing would happen to the small town of Hawkins. Your gazed went up towards the ceiling to see the time, the moment you saw it: your heart dropped.

You shook Steve trying to wake him from his slumber, "Steve, we're going to be late for school." You whispered to him, shaking his chest with a little more aggression. You grew antsier with him as the noise of the clock was becoming more sharp, louder: hitting every nerve in your being. "Wake up, Steve!" You shouted. Steve's eyes shot open. He had freaked out a little, taking him a while to comprehend what was happening. When he looked down at his chest, he noticed your hands but his eyes trailed up your arms, to your neck then your face to make sure they belonged to you. Knowing that they were yours, his grip on your waist got a little tighter.

"Hey," He whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Morning," You couldn't help but smile back, your hands fisting a bit of his shirt but you shook your head. You snapped out of your fantasy. You leaped to your feet, grabbing ahold of your back. You went around the room, shaking every sleeping kid that was around, "Get up, you lazy asses!" You ordered. You smacked Lucas' shoes off the table which caused him to stumble and waking him in an instant. You placed your hands on your hips, looking down at the five kids, "You need to get out, go home and get your butts to school!"

As they each gradually started to get a move on, you turned to look at the clock. Your heart racing. You were biting your nail, beginning to shake your head, "Oh, man." You let out a small whine, "I'll never make it to school on time if I go home and change."

"Just wear my clothes," Steve proposed. Your eyes widened. You turned to look at him as he was finishing tieing his shoes. He looked up at you, letting out that sweet laugh of his, running his hand through his hair to try and fix it, "What?" He couldn't help but laugh more at your reaction you were giving him. You looked like a deer in headlights. He stood up, grabbing his bag and keys off the table.

He came closer to you, lowing his head so that he was at eye level with you, making you equals, "My house is closer. You can give your mom a call while we get ready. No big deal." He held out his hand, craving for you to take it. You did. He turned to look at Dustin, his arm outstretched, "Let's go! We can't waste any more time!" He ordered.

You didn't let go of Steve's hand and he did nothing to try and pull away. He gave it a small squeeze, causing your face to turn red quickly.

"You can wear this sweater." Steve had given you his green sweater but not just any green sweater: his favorite. The one that he always wore when it was clean and on some days: when it wasn't. You took the sweater from him, lightly touching your hand over his. He smiled at you when you eventually had it in your possession. "You can use the phone in the living room," He said in a whisper as if he didn't want anyone to know; even though you two were the only ones home.

"Yeah, yeah," you repeated, snapping out of your thought, "The phone. I should―go." You turned to walk away, shaking your head as you cursed to yourself for acting like an idiot.

When you went to the living room, you changed into the sweater but you took a moment to just really take in the softness of it. You could see why Steve wore this piece of clothing all the time. You had dialed your home phone, mentally preparing yourself for the earful that you would get from your mother. "Y/L/N residents." Your mother answered in a cheerful tone. How quickly that changed.

"Hey, mom." You dragged out, kicking yourself that you did this to her. As you had an idea what she was going to say to you.

"Y/N! Where the hell are you?" Your mother barked at you causing you to move the phone away from your ear because if you left it on any longer, you were afraid you would have gone deaf.

"Look, I'm sorry! I know you said to come home at one point," You began to apologize, "We had to start the project all over and we just fell asleep at one point."

"Is this what the kids are now calling it?" Your mother questioned. You had a puzzled look on your face as you were thrown in a loop on what she was on about.

"What are you talking about?"

"Y/N, I may have told you that I liked Steve but I didn't mean to give it to him so willy-nilly!" She lectured you, "You make a man work for it and what would happen if something happened to the condom?" Finally, you pieced the puzzle together.

"Mom, chill, we―" You tried to tell her some bits of the truth but she already in her own world.

"Y/N, I'm too young to be a grandmother." She gasped, being overdramatic with the whole situation. It sounded as if she was holding back tears.

"Mom, you're being a little much don't you―"

"What about your future? You going to your dream school? Are you going to waste all that on a boy? Most high school romances don't last, dear!" You mother barked at you.

"MOM! WE DIDN'T HAVE SE―" You turned in frustration from your mother, screaming at the phone but when you turned, it had to be what an out of body experienced had to be. There you noticed Steve waiting for you next to the front door. Your body became frozen, you could still hear your mother ranting on the other end of the line, you couldn't form any words to come out of your mouth to try and explain what was happening. Your eyes widened in horror, your stomach feeling as if it wanted to puke everything out from last night and the week before. You saw a blush creep onto Steve's cheeks as he finally put the last letter to your word together.

His mouth hung open, trying to find words of his own but even he tried: nothing but air escaped from his mouth. "I'll see you at home!" You quickly said, slamming the phone down before your mother could get in another word. You grabbed your bag, with your shirt balled in your fist, making your way to the front door. You head hung low avoiding any eye contact with Steve at all.

Steve grabbed your wrist when it went to reach for the knob but you still refused to look at him, "I'll see you at school." You told him. Steve made you turned so that your body was at least facing him. Your breaths got shorter, heart racing at an unruly rate, feeling it in your throat. You tried to look at everything around you that just wasn't him. Yet, your eyes were trained. They were trained to look at those dark brown eyes. The silence killing you as you just wanted him to blow this off as if it was a joke. You were hoping for him to just make you feel like a fool, to laugh it off and call your mother ridiculous.

"Y/N," Steve let out softly. His eyes soften, his grip on your wrist had loosened. He took one step closer to you, causing you to be pressed up against the front door. You wanted this, you have wanted this for years of knowing Steve but why did your mind overthink it? Steve lowered his head to be eye level with you, inches away from you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your lower lip.

"Yep, nope." You panicked, having your hand on the doorknob; opening the door and bolting out of his house. You ran towards the direction of the school, refusing to listen to Steve calling out to you. You had ran for at least a mile, the adrenaline finally wearing off. You looked back and not seeing Steve's house in sight. Your legs gave out, going limp, you fell on the sidewalk.

You hit yourself a couple times, cursing at yourself for possibly screwing up what could have been the best thing to happen to you.

Tagged: @innocent-moon-bean @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aiolii @quoriez

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington

[lisatelramor]

Holiday Season

I'm weirdly enamored with the idea of Saguru baking. This is the second fic I've written with him baking... Felt like doing a holiday fic this year, so Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, happy Holiday Season if you don't, and may the new year bring better news than so much of this one.

Saguru surveyed the ingredients laid out on the counter, flour and sugar and eggs and a pound of butter all waiting to be made into something. Mum’s family recipe box with its dented corners and stiff hinges was open next to it. Ordinarily he would take what recipe he needed and shove it back into its cupboard, but there was an art to holiday baking, a process. Gran had always had a very specific order of baking her Christmastime goodies in order of what ingredients were used, whether there was a refrigeration period or not, and how long each batch needed in the oven. Mum tended to toss Gran’s careful methodology out the window and start whatever took her fancy at the moment, but Saguru had always preferred a more scientific—or at least methodical—approach to baking. It made the process go smoother and quicker and optimized resources.

He gathered what he needed to prep the mince palmiers first, turned back toward the recipe with a package of puff pastry in one hand and a jar of mince in the other and found Kuroba Kaito sitting at the kitchen table like he had been there the whole time. Saguru very carefully did not drop his ingredients, but set them on the counter with an extra bit of carefulness as he processed this addition to his environment.

“What,” Saguru asked, “are you doing in London?”

“You’re baking? I didn’t know you baked,” Kuroba said, sounding exhausted.

“It’s the holidays,” Saguru said. “Kuroba, why are you in my kitchen?”

“You see it was a bit of an accident and now I’m here and have time and hey, you live in London, so hi.” He gave a lazy salute, resting his chin on folded arms. He looked awfully content considering he was trespassing.

“You accidentally ended up in another country.”

“There were...” Kuroba waved a hand. “Extenuating circumstances involving keeping track of a weird kid and following up on a rumor and, well, here I am. You would not believe how expensive holiday plane tickets are.”

“I believe.” The real question was why Kuroba wasn’t taking a plane back to Japan already. Knowing Kuroba, he wouldn’t answer any questions directly though, and if Saguru even implied that it might have something to do with Kid, his insinuations would be deflected. It should probably alarm him more to have his classmate show up halfway around the world in Saguru’s kitchen, but it was just the sort of unexpected thing Kuroba would pull. Saguru gave a mental shrug and turned back to his baking. “Well, you’re just in time for holiday baking.”

“I can’t believe you bake.”

“It’s tradition,” Saguru said primly. “Gran started it, and Mum would be here for it, but her job has been a bit more hectic than usual lately. I thought I’d get a head start so no one would complain come Christmas that Gran’s ginger biscuits were missing.”

“What’s your mom do?” Kuroba asked. Saguru could feel his eyes following the motions as Saguru rolled out his puff pastry and opened the jar of mincemeat.

“She’s a psychologist.” Kuroba hummed like this explained things. Saguru spread mince along the pastry dough. “That’s how my parents met, actually. A criminal psychology talk at a Japanese university. Mum was studying abroad for a year in her undergrad and Otou-san was there as a secondary speaker on statistics of mental illness intersecting with violent crimes in Japan. That was long before he was a police commissioner of course.” Saguru rolled the dough, wrapped it, and put it in the freezer before grabbing a pot and the butter to start the florentines. “They talked after and got into a big row over drinks about whether criminal behaviors were nature or nurture. It must have been a good debate because Mum finished out her degree in Japan and married him within the year.”

“Huh.” Kuroba blinked sleepily at him. Butter, cream, sugar, and honey in a pot, chop the fruit as it heated, stand by with the flour and almonds. “Then they had you?”

“Eventually. After Mum got her doctorate and Otou-san got a promotion. They had rather different ideas about raising a child though. They’re divorced now, of course, but I was born and raised until elementary school in Japan.” Ordinarily Saguru didn’t talk about himself. He focused on cases he solved instead of his personal life, and that was as it should be. But with Kuroba in his kitchen and infiltrating his Christmas tradition, it felt fitting to give Kuroba a bit of background to go with everything. Kuroba knew Saguru the detective, but he never really interacted with Saguru the person. ...Saguru’s fault. He tended to see Kuroba-as-Kid rather than Kuroba-as-person as well.

“Why’d they divorce?” Kuroba asked. For all that he looked tired, he also looked interested.

“Cultural and career differences.” Mum wanted more than society wanted for her, and in the end she’d missed home. It had been an amicable split all things considered. “I visited Otou-san in the summer.” Ingredients combined, Saguru prepared several trays to pop in the oven. “How did your parents meet?”

“Oyaji met Kaa-san in Paris, saved her from a sticky situation, and swept her off her feet.”

“Hmm. Sounds exciting.” And lacking in details. It probably involved Kid. Clean a bit before the next bit. New bowl for the ginger biscuit dough, pop out one batch of florentines to cool and put in the next tray, repeat until done and pull out the palmier to slice.

“You’re actually good at this,” Kuroba commented as Saguru swapped florentines for sugar-spice dusted palmier rounds in the oven.

“Baking’s a science,” Saguru said with a nod to the kitchen scale. “Apply the proper ratios and required heat, get the desired result. Simple chemistry.” He nicked one of the cooler florentines, enjoying its buttery flavor. “And it is its own reward.”

“I can get behind that.” Kuroba gave himself a shake and stood. “Mind if I help?”

“Eat the results or help bake?” Saguru asked rhetorically. He held out the recipe card for ginger biscuits. “Start measuring the dry ingredients. I’m sure you can manage that.”

“I’ve baked before, Hakuba, I’m not going to ruin your cookies.”

Saguru pretended he didn’t notice another florentine go missing. It was surprisingly easy to work with Kuroba in the kitchen. He was quick to figure out what Saguru would need next and didn’t end up in Saguru’s way unlike the time Saguru tried baking with his aunt.

In no time the ginger dough was in refrigerator and Kuroba was measuring out flour for the shortbread dough. “Is it always so... streamlined?” Kuroba asked, waving his free hand at the neat stacks of finished baked goods and how Saguru had a bit of counter space set aside for each necessary step for each recipe.

“Hardly. Mum has the tendency to grab whatever recipe she finds first and make each one in succession. It goes faster this way though.”

“Huh. I haven’t baked since Aoko roped me into making a Christmas cake a few years ago,” Kuroba said. “That was...an experience.” He was very precise in his weight measurements, which Saguru could appreciate. He could picture Kuroba measuring chemicals for his flash bombs or smoke grenades with an equally intent expression, getting each ratio on the dot. “Baking’s not something that happens much.”

Saguru took the flour from him, blending it with sugar and butter mixture. “If it weren’t for the holiday tradition, I doubt it would happen much for me either.” Mum made him a birthday cake every year, but store bought biscuits were simpler to get ahold of with their busy lives than to take the time to bake anything by hand. Traditions were different though. Those demanded observation, all the more so since his grandmother had passed on. A way to keep her memory alive so to speak. “What do you do for holidays?”

“For Christmas?” Kuroba asked. “Not really something I celebrate unless Aoko wants to.”

“In general then.” Saguru turned out the dough and held out a hand for the rolling pin. Kuroba passed it to him without him needing to ask.

“We don’t really have traditions.” There was something flat in Kuroba’s tone, just missing the nonchalance he was going for. “We used to maybe, but those kind of stopped happening after my dad died.”

“Oh.” Saguru finished rolling dough to a stilted silence. It had almost been companionable until he’d bungled that up. Saguru almost wished Kuroba would fall into their usual mode of bickering and needling each other instead of this silence, but Kuroba just stood to the side, face in a neutral-pleasant mask and eyes tired. Saguru needed to fix this somehow.

The bag of pastry cutters had the usual Christmas shapes of stars and trees and deer and men, but there were other shapes in there too, meant for other holidays, and...yes, they did still have it. Saguru dropped a pastry cutter into Kuroba’s hands.

“A... four-leaf clover?” Kuroba said, turning it over.

“I thought you might appreciate the pun,” Saguru said. And it was Kid’s mark as well, a sideways nod of acknowledgement that at least in one way there was a family tradition of sorts. “It was meant for St. Patrick’s Day I believe, but it works well enough now on these too.”

“Because clovers scream Christmas,” Kuroba snarked. He accepted the cutter though, making a few shapes in the dough. Saguru chose stars and trees for the shortbread. The ginger biscuits could be men and reindeer.

They shared bits of dough scraps as they baked, a surprisingly companionable silence. Kuroba was still, as tired as when he had arrived, but more peaceful and less harried. He rolled a bit of dough into a ball and ate it, staring at nothing and his mind somewhere far away. It was rare to see an introspective Kuroba, as rare as a quiet Kuroba. Kuroba was energy and madcap chaos. Bright colors and flashing cards drawing the eye, always filling a room with his presence and impossible to ignore.

“Following a lead, hmm?” Saguru asked.

“If you’re trying to get me to confess to something...” Kuroba said, glancing at Saguru from the corner of his eye.

“At the moment, no. It’s poor timing though.”

Kuroba shrugged. “As good a time as any. No classwork to worry about coming due until January. Bit more than a week away leaves plenty of time.”

“Was your lead successful?”

There was the slightest slump to Kuroba’s shoulders, body hunching in on itself as if Kuroba was too tired to completely control his response. Saguru got another shrug. “What do you think?”

Right. That would be a touchy subject then. He cast about for something that wouldn’t ruin the somewhat comfortable atmosphere. “I went to see a magic show last week,” Saguru said.

“Yeah?” Kuroba stopped squishing cookie dough between his fingers to listen, head tilted to one side. “I thought you detective types hated magic shows.”

“It’s a lot harder to get caught up in them when you’re well aware that there’s a logical explanation for everything you’re seeing,” Saguru corrected. “That doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate a show.” He ignored the subtle eye roll from Kuroba. “At any rate, I was in the area for a case and had free time after it... I might have been feeling a bit nostalgic for Japan at the time.” He’d only gone to Kuroba’s school for half a year before transferring back to London, but it surprised him sometimes how much he missed it. Sometimes he wondered if he should just finish out high school there, but he knew he’d miss London too. There wasn’t a quick fix when your life took up time on different sides of the world. He checked the biscuits, found they needed a bit longer. “The magician was nowhere near as good as you. Your classroom antics were on par with his best illusions.”

“Of course, I’m one of the best magicians out there,” Kuroba said.

It wasn’t empty bragging any more than Saguru calling himself a good detective was. They’d both put effort and time into building up their skills in their chosen professions. “If you’re ever on stage one day, I would like to see what you perform.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You can take it as one,” Saguru said. “I can’t exactly turn off my observations.” He took the biscuits from the oven and slid the parchment paper off onto wire racks to cool. When he turned back around, Kuroba had a grin on par to some of the ones Saguru had seen Kid sporting at heists. “What?”

“Just thinking about ways I could short circuit your brain into just enjoying the show instead of picking it apart.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow. “And I just said that trying to understand doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the show. Besides, what goes through your mind when you see a new trick? Surely you’re trying to figure out how they did it too.”

“Usually I’m mostly ‘dang, that was really cool’ and I think about how they did it after the show is over.” Kuroba brought out the ginger biscuit dough and armed himself with the rolling pin.

“After, during,” Saguru said with a dismissive wave. “It amounts to the same thing; trying to understand the mystery of how it worked.”

“Killjoy,” Kuroba said.

“Realist,” Saguru countered.

“You’ll have to come back to Japan sometime for that show.”

Saguru smiled. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

The rest of the baking went quickly and progressed into decorating shortbread and ginger biscuits with Gran’s icing recipe dyed in jewel-bright colors. Kuroba took an inordinate amount of pleasure in making the ones he decorated as bright as possible. He was artistic as was to be expected, and they came out pleasing to the eye. Saguru’s were less bright, but more uniform. ‘Boring,’ if Kuroba’s opinion counted. Saguru looked at them and saw ‘traditional.’

By the time Mum finally arrived home from work, he and Kuroba had decorated cookies spread across the whole kitchen table and were making a bit of a mess out of decorating the Christmas cake as Saguru found that using a pastry bag was a bit harder than he remembered last doing it at twelve with Gran’s hands guiding his through the motions—the cake was usually Mum’s touch. Kuroba had taken over and the mess Saguru made was quickly becoming something a bit more elegant.

They both looked up when Mum walked into the room. “Wow. Looks like someone was busy,” she said. “How on earth did you manage to get all the holiday baking done in one afternoon?”

“It’s not that hard to do, Mum, Gran always managed.”

“Your grandmother could have forced time to bend for all I know. She was certainly stubborn enough.” Mum gave Saguru a quick hug before turning to Kuroba. “Hullo, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

In a blink Kuroba was all charm, masks Saguru hadn’t even realized were gone back in place. With a flick of his wrist, Kuroba offered Saguru’s mother a flower. “Kuroba Kaito—or Kaito Kuroba since this is England.” He spoke with slightly accented English; Kuroba must have been practicing his language skills lately since the last time Saguru heard him use English, it hadn’t been anywhere near as smoothly. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Mum took the flower with a smile and both eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “Well aren’t you the charmer. Saguru, you didn’t mention you were having a friend over.”

“Kuroba ran into some trouble with his flight home to Japan,” Saguru said, “and since I happened to live in London, it made more sense to stay the night here than in a hotel. He’ll be taking the guest room.” There was a flash of surprise on Kuroba’s face. Surely he didn’t think Saguru would toss him out? On Christmas Eve no less?

“A friend from Japan even,” Mum said, eyebrows creeping higher. “Well, whatever the circumstances, we’re glad to have you. Mind if I help finish up the cake? Can’t have you boys doing everything.”

Kuroba surrendered the frosting. “Go right ahead.”

“Lovely. I’ll finish this up and we can have a slice for breakfast in the morning.”

“Isn’t that a little...sweet?” Kuroba asked. He watched how her hands worked, making practiced dollops of frosting to create a snowy landscape out of Saguru’s messy work and Kuroba’s more careful waves.

“I was thinking a bit more on the alcohol content,” Saguru said.

“The point of holidays are to live a little,” Mum said pragmatically. “Why not have dessert to start the day? Or we could have some of your biscuits. Very nice decorating by the way. Bright. I can tell Saguru didn’t mix the colors this year.” She gave Kuroba a grin and a wink and started sculpting tiny snowmen.

“Boozy cake,” Kuroba said, eying the cake with new appreciation. “That’s a tradition I could get behind. Sounds a lot more fun than strawberry cream cake or a cake roll.”

“It’s funny how two of the traditional desserts require taking as much candied fruit and nuts as you can stuff into a confection and dousing it in copious amounts of alcohol,” Saguru said drily. “For the record, it’s peach brandy, and no, we don’t make it strong enough to get drunk off a slice of it.”

“Dang, a missed opportunity,” Kuroba deadpanned.

Mum laughed. “I like this one, Saguru, you’ll have to invite him back.”

“Of course.” He...wouldn’t mind Kuroba returning. This had been nice.

“Don’t worry about the last of the dishes,” Mum said with a nod at the few Saguru hadn’t cleaned up as he went. “I can do them. Go relax since you did all this work.” Said the woman who worked a ten hour day today, Saguru thought, but Mum did like frosting the cake and he knew the power of small, mindless tasks to unwind after a long day. “And Kuroba, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay, ok?”

“Thanks.”

Saguru meant to leave Kuroba at the guest room, let him get the rest he clearly needs, but instead found himself lingering awkwardly in the doorway after pointing out where Kuroba could find things he might need.

Kuroba looked back at him, not seeming to feel that same awkwardness or uncertainty of what, exactly, they were—friends? Rivals? Acquaintances? He looked like he was trying to will Saguru’s motives from him by power of his gaze alone, and wasn’t that something of a role reversal.

Saguru cleared his throat. “You...probably could use some rest. I’ll just be—”

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said, cutting him off. “Why did you go back to London?”

Saguru blinked, startled. “Why?”

“You went through the trouble of transferring schools and getting into the police and everything,” Kuroba said. “Seems like a lot of effort just to chase Kid for a few months.”

There were no emotions slipping past Kuroba’s masks now, whatever relaxed state of mind he had had was lost when Mum arrived. When Saguru was in Japan, his life had been taken up by Nakamori’s loud, vicious enthusiasm as he chased Kid in the evenings and days spent in class observing Kuroba laughing, Kuroba flirting with Aoko, Kuroba avoiding Koizumi, Kuroba hiding the depth of his brilliance in flashy smiles and flashy tricks. He’d seen Kuroba joyful, jealous, angry, and nervous. He’d seen Kid triumphant and gloating and seen him pale with fear and regret. There was a phone call on a Paris morning and a lone glove hidden at the scene of a crime. Most people thought arrogance was Saguru’s biggest flaw as a detective, but Saguru knew it was too much empathy. He avoided most serial crime, worked murders because it was generally easier to have sympathy for the victim than the killer, and Kid had always been careful not to harm the officers that chased him, tried to keep property damage to a minimum, and almost always returned what he took. He might not know what Kid was trying to accomplish, but he knew it was something Kid felt deeply in enough to make a target of himself even if it sometimes terrified him. He knew Kuroba enough to say he was not a bad person.

Saguru looked away. “I never intended to stay in Japan,” he said, an honest answer if not a complete one. “And I had obligations here to fulfil.”

“Like baking holiday cookies.”

A tiny smile crossed his face without him meaning to. “Yes, like holiday baking.”

“Hmm,” Kuroba hummed like he didn’t believe that was all but he wasn’t going to push it. “Would you really invite me back?”

“Yes,” Saguru said. There was no hesitation in that at least. “I don’t mind you being here.”

“Don’t mind,” Kuroba parroted, sarcastic and slow. “Ringing endorsement that you want me here.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. “Fine. I enjoyed baking with you and would enjoy doing something similar again should the occasion arise.”

The mask split into a smile—a real one so far as Saguru could tell. “Cool. Thanks for the room. I am going to go pass out now.”

There was an awkward pause before Saguru realized he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back. “Goodnight, Kuroba.”

“Night, Hakuba.” Kuroba waved and shut the door.

Saguru wandered back down to Mum.

“Not spending time with your friend?” she asked. She was working her way through dishes now, the cake fully frosted with little details added on with nonpareils and gel icing. Two smiling snowmen surrounded by flowers made of snow.

“I believe he’s tired.”

“Hmm.” The soothing clink of dishes and the hiss of water from the faucet. Familiar background noises in a kitchen filled with Kuroba’s unfamiliarly-bright frosted biscuits. “Are the clovers a pun on his name?” Mum asked, a nod to the unconventional shape for the season.

“I thought it might amuse him.”

“He seems nice enough, though I don’t think he trusts me.” She kept washing dishes, not giving Saguru and facial cues to draw from. “He’s very good at hiding what he’s feeling, isn’t he? If I hadn’t glanced around the corner before I entered the room, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Yes. He is good at that.” Saguru sat at the table. Mum rinsed the last dish, setting it on the drain board and wiped her hands dry.

“So one of your Japanese classmates just happens to be in London.”

“A pleasant surprise.”

“I think you mentioned a Kuroba before.”

“I may have.”

Mum planted her hands on her hips. “Saguru...”

Saguru rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t press for details. He showed up and I wasn’t going to turn him away.”

“It would be a bit rude at Christmas,” Mum said and he wasn’t sure if it was straight sincerity or subtle sarcasm. She sighed. “Well, he is welcome, whatever his reasons. And he’s welcome at the family party tomorrow as well if he sticks around.”

“Thank you.”

Mum patted his cheek affectionately. “Now, I can’t believe you didn’t leave any baking for me!”

Saguru huffed. “If I didn’t the baking, you’d still be baking by Christmas.”

“A bit of midnight baking never hurt anyone.”

“Last year you were at it at three in the morning.”

“Saguru, if you say I have poor time management skills again...”

Saguru gave her his best innocent look. It wouldn’t have fooled him, let alone his mother. The hand on his cheek became a light swat to the back of his head and he ducked with it, laughing. They talked about their day until it was time for bed, snitching biscuits to munch on without guilt. Holidays were for indulging.

There was no light on in Kuroba’s room showing in the crack under the door when Saguru passed the guest room. He said a quiet goodnight in its direction all the same.

*

In the morning, Saguru couldn’t say he was surprised to find the guest room empty. Everything was neatly folded back in place as if no one had ever been there, except for a used towel where Kuroba must have made use of the shower. Downstairs there were a handful of biscuits missing and a tiny, presumptuous sliver taken from the Christmas cake that had been filled in with icing to the point where it was almost unnoticeable. On the counter was a note on the nice stationary they had stashed in the guest room’s desk and another one of Kuroba’s pretty paper roses.

Hakuba,

Thanks for letting me spend the night and crash your baking. You’re not so bad after all. Sorry to up and leave without saying goodbye, but I had a plane to catch early in the morning. Funnily, Christmas Day tickets cost a lot less than Christmas Eve. Tell your mom thanks for me as well, and that that cake is good—very alcoholic and different, but good. I looked Christmas cakes up on my phone and wow, didn’t know aged cakes were a thing. Anyway, if I’m ever in London again let’s meet up. And if you’re in Japan and ever need somewhere to sleep that isn’t your home, I have a guest room too.

Merry Christmas!

It was signed with a little clover doodle. It felt like he should be comparing handwriting with Kid’s heist notes. On the back was a post script, written in cramped Japanese that Saguru had to squint at to read.

Check in the electric kettle. This is still not a confession.

Saguru checked the kettle.

There was a gemstone there, a sapphire set in delicate golden filigree. It wasn’t anything Saguru had heard reported stolen, and was willing to bet he would hear about in the next few days.

Really, now, Kuroba wasn’t even trying to pretend at all. A tiny irrational part of him felt a bit warm at the thought that he had a bit of Kuroba’s trust. Saguru pocketed the gem and scribbled out the message in Japanese on the back. It might take Mum a bit longer to read, but she was still fluent in Japanese.

Not a bit too soon, it seemed because Mum slouched into the kitchen, in full disarray as she always was before her first cup of tea. “No Kuroba?” she asked, blinking around the room sleepily.

Saguru held up the note. “It seemed he had a plane to catch.”

“Ah. I’d have sent him off with something if I knew.”

Saguru would wait until she noticed the missing sliver of cake to pass along Kuroba’s message.

“Happy Christmas,” Mum said on her way to fill up the electric kettle—if Mum had been the one to wake up first.... It was just like Kuroba to have luck in his favor.

“Happy Christmas.”

Perhaps, Saguru thought giving the note in his hand one last glance, he would have to have another trip to Japan before his usual one in the summer. Just to visit.

It couldn’t hurt to check in on what Kid was doing either.

Saguru smiled and tucked the note away.

#magic kaito #fanfiction #christmas fic #my writing #there are recipe links for fun

[hijackedhoneybeeez]

Bound for Life and Beyond Reason

THE ASK: “ *holds your face gently* *whispers* kyouhaba, dragon AU ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)” FROM THE AMAZING @queerbatnana!!!!

THE RESPONSE: *sweats* f-four thousand words....

i apologize. thank you for the ask though!!!!! this was amazingly fun to write!!!!

If Kentarou thinks hard enough, he can pinpoint the moment he actually condemns the rest of his life, and it just so happens to be the earliest memory he can remember.

A silver stone, with an engraved golden, swirling pattern all over it, sat not too far from his house at the edge of the village. He was small, around three or four, he can never remember exactly. What he does remember is teetered out and picking it up.

The stone was bigger than both his fists and, despite its size, it was incredibly feather-light and pleasantly warm. He gasped and giggled at it, loving how it glinted in the sunlight and how the ridges of gold felt underneath his wandering fingers.

It was only when he pressed his ear to it, thinking that, like the rumors of seashells holding the sounds of the ocean, the rock would carry the sounds of the earth, did his little mind think it was more than a rock. Because the moment he pressed his ear to it, its warmth climbed to a scorching heat, like putting your hands too close to the fire and having the flames trying to lick at them.

In the same moment, his uncle, Kiyoshi, called out to him. Kentarou dropped the rock in shock, from the call and the warmth, and it oddly shook and rolled away to the edge of the woods even though the land was perfectly level. Kiyoshi gathered him up and led him back inside.

So, Kentarou guesses now, its only fate that he grows up to be in love with the only things that seem to be the bane of everyone else’s existence: dragons. They barely attack the village, not anymore, not since the people fought back and they learned to stay away from humans or else. Instead, they fished their oceans and the smaller ones picked off the forest game they could get to. The dragons made food besides anything they could grow hard to come by, and many still thought they should be killed in cold blood for making their lives miserable.

But Kyoutani thought they were beautiful. He wandered into the woods the moment the sun broke the horizon and emptied the traps the other villagers set out (they were all too stupid to set traps that would kill the dragons in sight, too sadistic that they would want to kill the beasts themselves, so it made Kentarou’s job easier). His acts of kindness never made the dragons less wary of him, but it certainly made them accept his help quicker. All his efforts ever got him was a quick glance and a flurry of wings as they fled, but it was all the same; Kyoutani couldn’t shake these creatures, and they couldn’t shake them, not if they wanted to live.

But it started, oddly enough, when Kentarou became aware of the streak of silver at the edge of his vision as he released the dragons from the traps every morning.

He noticed it once, then twice, and then it became a commonplace thing. Anytime he was in or at the edge of the forest, he would see the blur of silver in is peripheral no matter how hard he tried to catch a better glimpse of it. The whole thing would have bothered him to no end if he didn’t assume it was a dragon in the first place.

A dragon following him around? He must be the luckiest dragon-lover ever!

When Kentarou turned sixteen, Kiyoshi believed he was old enough to start helping out the village.

“You spend time in tha’ damned forest often ‘nough, why not try shootin’ a lil’ game to sell in the marketplace? And shoot summa those demons, while you’re at it! Gods know we need less a’them!”

And that’s how Kentarou found himself with a bow and arrow, a new knife, and a whole lot more free time in the forest.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much game to look out for. The dragons picked off most of the bigger stuff, like deer, elk, even bears and coyotes, that would have brought in a fortune large enough to carry them both for at least three months, maybe more. All that were left were birds, rabbits, and the occasional squirrel or chipmunk, which weren’t much but at least they were something.

His first day hunting had him nestled flat on a boulder, scanning the area for anything that moved with an arrow already nocked on his string. He didn’t have to glance to the side to know the streak-of-silver dragon was near, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting. He would’ve, but he could practically feel its eyes burning holes through him, and he didn’t want to scare it off.

It took about a week of nothing, about a week of scouting out almost every part of the forest he could think of that had some promise, before he started getting a little bit of results.

He was perched in a tree with a low enough branch when a startled rabbit dash through the bushes. Elated, he took barely a second to draw and aim before releasing. The arrow stuck true, latching onto the rabbit’s gut and making it topple over, lifeless.

Kentarou launched himself off the tree branch, sticking his landing on the leaf-buried forest floor, and jogged over to the rabbit. When he retrieved his arrow and wiped it on the edge of his tunic, it was only then that he spotted the brilliant silver outline of a dragon through the trees, soaring in the opposite direction. He blinked, stunned, before making the rabbit’s gash wider, tying its tail to a piece of twine, and hanging it over the branch he sat on previously. As its blood dripped down to the forest floor, staining the dead leaves there, Kentarou let himself think about that dragon.

It was small, if the minuscule dot of silver he saw through the trees was any indication, or it at least had to be smaller than half the dragons he’d encountered already. And it wasn’t only following him around now, it was… helping him? By chasing a rabbit towards where he was for him to kill? Which meant that the dragon was a lot more intelligent than most people. And maybe that it wanted to help him.

But that would mean dragons had free thought, or could make decisions for themselves, or had consciences… Dragons were a lot more complicated than he could have ever hoped for. Were all dragons capable of this?

And more importantly, the dragon was a familiar shade of silver that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The shade, the glint… it all reminded him of something, but it evaded him every time he thought about it too hard.

By the time he shook himself out of his thoughts, the sun was already in a completely new position in the sky, making the shadows longer and more sinister, and the rabbit was almost completely dry. He sighed, heaving himself to his feet and situating everything he had on his person before making the trudge back to the home he shared with his uncle.

“One rabbit,” he grunted, handing it to a surprised Kiyoshi as he walked through the door.

“Ya actually got sumthin’?” Kiyoshi guffawed, looking at the rabbit incredulously. “And a fat one, at that.”

“Aren’t all rabbits the same size?” Kentarou asked.

“This one here’s pretty fat. Actually surprised the devils hadn’t gotten to it yet,” Kiyoshi noted, bringing it over to the small table they had in the middle of the house and pulling out his knife. “Dunno if we should sell this or eat it,” he muttered.

“Do what you want with it, I guess,” Kentarou shrugged. “I’m headin’ to bed.”

“Tired after bringin’ one bunny home?” Kiyoshi retorted. “You’re getting’ soft, Ken.”

“Gonna get up early tomorrow,” Kentarou amended, not wanting his uncle to think he was lazy. “Something tells me I’ll have better luck.”

At the crack of dawn, Kentarou clambered out of the house and traversed into the woods once more. The paths he’s been taking have been becoming more familiar to him lately, almost a little more worn-down than the rest of the wilderness. He made a note to take different paths in the future. He also took note of the pointed paw print embedded in the a softer patch of dirt along this slightly beaten path.

The dragon, Kentarou figures, smiling a little to himself as he goes and releases the dragons from their traps.

As he figured, the silver dragon that’s been watching over him got a lot better at helping him out. At almost every turn there was some sort of animal scurrying by in fear. Once, at around midday, one tree almost came crashing down to send some birds flying from their nests. Kentarou was grateful, but was honestly kind of worried about how far the dragon was willing to go in order to help him.

Either it being quick thinking or reckless thinking, it didn’t matter, because Kentarou had a plan.

He shot and killed as many small animals as he could, which wasn’t too hard since the dragon really had a knack for its newfound job. He dried most of them, only letting one or two be as he cleaned his arrows and got back to picking off as many as he could. By sunset, he had enough rabbits and chipmunks strung around his waist to look like a nice belt. Normally, he would have gone back home to Kiyoshi to clean out all his kills, but he found a patch of forest that still had sun filtering through the leaves and sat down.

He took one of the unbled rabbits and held it in his hands.

“I don’t know why,” he spoke, looking at the rabbit but making sure his voice carried in the wild stillness, “but you’re helping me more than I could ever ask for. Some of this is your reward, too.” Kentaoru thought for a moment. “You could catch them easier than I ever could, and you’re helping me instead. I don’t… understand… but, please continue to help me!”

He threw the rabbit as far away from himself as he could, and it landed right on the edge of the clearing. He could feel the dragon eyeing him curiously, its gaze as sharp as the points on his arrows, and he had to heave a sigh. So, it wasn’t going to come out with him watching, huh? Fine, Kentarou could play along, too.

Kentarou buried his head in his hands, making sure his eyes were completely covered, and waited.

Time blurred when sitting in almost complete darkness, so it almost shocks Kentarou when he hears the unmistakable sounds of leaves and tree branches shifting and something being swallowed whole. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breath, only waits for the trees to shift again.

By the time he opens his eyes, the sky is painted a transition from orange to blue and a streak of silver slips away from him.

Triumphant, he heads back to the house.

Days pass like this, where Kentarou would return with more meat anyone in the village has seen in one place before, although one or two less than he originally shot. The silver dragon was getting more comfortable, slipping in to eat his offerings nearly a second after he covered his eyes. It felt exhilarating, surreal, like he realy couldn’t believe that it was happening himself.

Everything fell into a pattern, with Kiyoshi going to the market to sell most of the meat he cured that Kentarou brought in the previous day and with Kentarou going out to hunt more and see if he could be closer to his dragon. It felt dangerous, getting close to a dragon, depending on one, really, but what could he say? The dragon was helping him and Kiyoshi get by; he wasn’t about to complain, though he was curious why the dragon seemed so fixed on him in the first place.

About a week after the first offering, Kentarou decided he needed to see this creature instead of glimpse it. He needed to know what this creature looked like if he couldn’t figure out why it was doing these things. It’s not like it could talk in the first place. He just needed to know if all of this was real, that it wasn't some kind of prolonged dream or a figment of his imagination.

He ended his hunting session like he always did, finding the clearing that let in the most sunlight and sat down. He muttered his thanks, knowing the dragon would hear him, and threw the only rabbit he killed that day towards the edge of the clearing. He jerked, moving to cover his eyes, but peeked through his fingers.

The dragon was larger than him, he could tell that much as it crashed through the tree branches that surprisingly didn’t break. As it lunged for the rabbit, its silver and gold-patterned scales glinted in the waning sunshine.

Kentarou was not expecting for it to look right at him, but in the next moment, they locked eyes, Kentarou’s molten gold meeting its light brown. He couldn’t look away, awed by how human the expression of surprise was as it shone behind its irises, by the way its silver wings tucked themselves closer to its body, as the dragon tensed but its eyes shone with fondness.

“Human.”

The thought reverberated through Kentarou’s mind unbidden and he gasped at the sound of another voice, and the feeling of something else, in his head.

The dragon’s eyes widened before fleeing as it came.

Kentarou doesn’t dream, but that night, he did.

It started in completely darkness. He was claustrophobic, cramped so that his every joint, every limb, felt twisted out of proportion. He couldn’t help but try to yell for help, but to no avail.

Through the walls of his confinement, he felt a warmth. It was pleasant, comforting, and he strove to get closer to it. It felt like home, felt like something he needed or couldn’t live without. He kicked, screamed, tried everything he could to get out, and when he heard a bubbling laughter, his efforts redoubled. The sound was high, clear, and pure, he needed to see who made it! Whatever was on the other side of his trap was as necessary as air, he knew, he had to-

And then the warmth was gone, and his trap spun over and over and over again and he continued to fight to get out. He was frantic, he felt like he was dying without that warmth, that sound, that beautiful, unique…

His confinement cracked under his flailing, and he felt sunshine for the first time, but it didn’t compare to the warmth he experienced what felt like a century ago.

His surroundings fell away, reconfiguring itself in a smear of crystal blue that matched the sky perfectly. He left weightless, with his stomach left down on earth as he moved through the sky as easily as if he was slipping into water.

Everything disassembled once more, and instead he found himself perched in a tree, looking down at the forest floor at… himself.

He woke up with a shock, heaving every breath like it was going to be his last. He ran his hands through his hair, down his face and his chest, feeling that he was in his body and in his house and in reality. He was shaking, uneasy, and would have curled under his thin blanket once more if Kiyoshi wasn’t knocking on the walls to wake him up.

That day, there were no streaks of brilliant silver in the corners of his eyes and no abundance of animals to shoot at. It was almost as if the forest had been cleared off entirely; the trees, themselves, were so still the whole forest felt like it was dead.

He did, though manage to shoot one small bird as it flitted away from where he was. It was a lucky shot, he would admit that much to himself. At the end of the day, he sat in the same clearing, murmured a thanks, and threw the bird. When he closed his eyes dutifully, there was no rustling, no movement, and, like the rest of the day had already confirmed, no feeling of dragon’s eyes seeing right through him.

“Wha’ happened ou’ there?” Kiyoshi asked gruffly as he walked into the house with nothing.

“I must’ve cleared my regular hunting ground,” Kentarou reasoned, knowing that was more than a lie and hoping his uncle wouldn’t catch on. “I’ll start looking at different places tomorrow.”

“Haven’t seen any dragons?”

“What.”

“Damn, boy, I never thought you were the jumpy type,” Kiyoshi chastised, confused by the way Kentarou jerked in response to his question. “You’re ou’ in those damned woods all the time, I thought ya would’ve seen one o’ them devils and killed it by now.”

“They’re not buggin’ anyone.” Kiyoshi laughed. “Well, they’re not bugging me. I don’t have to kill them-”

“They’re the reason you’re ou’ there in the firs’ place!” Kiyoshi erupted. “You think you would be hunting every day if it weren’t for those damned beasts? They take our food! They make us sick with their shit and piss all over the place!”

“That’s not their fault,” Kentarou replied, and when he heard Kiyoshi suck in a breath to refute him, “I’m not arguing about this. I’ll stir the stew we had left over from yesterday.”

And that was that.

The next day, Kentarou trekked deeper into the woods after setting free all the traps he saw along the way. The dragons still scattered away just as fast as they usually did, but for some reason their eyes lingered on him more than they would’ve. Unnerved, but not greatly so, he moved on, but he still didn’t see silver whenever he moved and his mind kept wandering towards the thought of the silver dragon.

It was beautiful, no doubt about it. He’d never seen any dragon colored like that before, it was so unique, and yet, how did the whole thing feel so familiar to him…?

The memory resurfaced so harshly, it made Kentarou freeze.

The rock he found when he was little. The dream of being trapped, the dream of flying, the dream of seeing himself…

That was no rock. It was an egg.

“Figured it out, human?” someone seethed behind him, and before another word could be spoken, Kentarou swung around, an arrows already nocked, to look at the person who spoke.

They were taller than him, Kentarou noticed bitterly, and paler. The only thing they were wearing was something that looked like a skirt made entirely out of animal skins.

“That’s the first time you ever pointed that at me,” they said, a little less of a sneer in their voice. “Put it away.”

“Who are you?”

“Haven’t you guessed? You seemed like you had it all figured out a moment ago. Put it away.”

Their features turned harsh, and when Kentarou finally let himself look, he realized that their eyes were the same light brown, and their hair was the same brilliant silver with streaks of gold. He lowered his bow arm and put away the arrow. To say they were beautiful was an understatement.

“You’re the dragon,” Kentarou stated simply, looking at him in awe. “How…”

“Am I like this?” they questioned, stalking towards him with a sardonic smile twisting his thin lips. “You made me like this.”

“What?”

“You were the one that hatched me,” they stated simply, poking his chest with a finger that had a sharp enough nail to do some serious damage. “I was connected to you, I became able to take on your form at will, I listened to every thought in your head, learned your language… and oh, learned that being connected to a human is pitiful.”

“Well, if you hate me so much,” Kentarou snarled, slapping the other’s hand away from him, “why were you helping me all this time? Why were you following me? Why did all of this happen-?”

“Do you think I had a choice?” they snapped, taking a step away and running a hand through his hair. Kentarou noted it was a very human thing to do, for a dragon. “We’re connected. It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m drawn into you like flies on a rotting carcass.”

“Flattering.”

“Shut up,” they mutter half-heartedly.

“No,” Kentarou replied. “You’re pretty pissed about this entire thing, but it could be a lot worse. You could be paired with my uncle or someone else in the village that hates everything about dragons. They’d rather see your head on a stick than have a conversation.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” they said. “Fate has some tricky plans, pairing me with a blood-thirsty human.”

“You mean I can’t get rid of you?” Ketarou said, grimacing dramatically.

“Why would you? You think I’m beautiful.”

“Your scales.”

“You thought that when you saw me human, too.”

“Why can’t I hear your thoughts?”

“Changing the subject so soon?” they mocked, giving him a grin. “I’m connected to you, so I can hear everything. You’re not, so it doesn’t work both ways.”

“Why?”

“Well, firstly, you were unaware of our connection until moments prior.”

“So you’re saying with more time-?”

“No more questions,” they said, sighing heavily.

“One more?” Kentarou asked hopefully. “I don’t know what I should call you.”

“Shigeru.”

“Shigeru?”

“It was the name you always wanted for something.”

“Like a dog or a little sibling, maybe! Not a…”

“Lifemate?”

“What?”

“You only asked for one more question,” they, Shigeru, Kentarou guesses, said shortly. “We need sustenance, don’t we?”

They trekked farther into the woods and Kentarou settled into a spot. Shigeru disappeared through a thicket of trees, and not a second later, the silver dragon appeared and perched itself high in the trees. He was still beautiful, Kentarou thought, hoping Shigeru could hear him, but this was a different kind of beauty. It was fierce. Dangerous.

“You’re not bad, yourself,” he heard clearly at the back of his head. To him, the admission almost sounded reluctant. A smile tugged its way across his face just as the first chipmunk scampered down a tree and past him.

“I could bring you cooked meat, if you want,” Kentarou offered, watching almost uncomfortably now as Shigeru swallowed some of his kills whole. A second later, with a slight pop, Shigeru stood in front of him and gave him a confused look.

“Why? This works fine,” he said it with a shrug, but Kentarou would be lying if he didn’t hear a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“But you’re human too, right? It doesn’t sit right with me to only let you eat raw meat.” So, Kentarou felt embarrassed for being grossed out by the whole thing, but he thought he had a point. What if Shigeru made himself sick?

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, but do as you wish,” Shigeru replied. “I’m just surprised you even care that much.”

“What do you mean?”

“It usually takes longer than this for Lifemates to be so invested,” Shigeru said offhandishly. Kentarou gave him a confused look, which made him sigh. “Mothers are supposed to hatch their eggs, but when they don’t, whoever or whatever does becomes the dragon’s Lifemate. It’s just an unbreakable bond between the two and has different effects for different pairs. I’ve known for longer, and since your thoughts accompanied mine throughout my life, I’m more invested than you are. However, your obvious concern hints that the bond is growing.”

Kentaoru thought about it for a second, before smiling deviously. “You make this sound like a relationship.”

“Don’t twist my words,” Shigeru scoffed.

“I’m more invested than you are, we have a bond, it sounds like we’re a couple,” Kentarou couldn’t help but laugh at the notion. Shigeru soured.

“Dragon Lifemate pairs tend to be so, yes,” he replied quietly.

“Oh?” That pulled Kentarou up short. “Is it a guaranteed thing?”

“The bond usually strengthens until the two become inseparable. It is usually the next logical step.”

“Well, good, because I can already tell you’re in love with me,” Kentarou muttered.

“I am no such thing.”

“You know everything about me, I’m assuming, you helped me hunt, you’re leading me though this whole thing right now, plus…”

“Plus?”

“You sound almost hurt when you said that I wasn’t as invested as you were.” Kentarou and Shigeru stared at each other, the awkward tension palpable, before Shigeru turned away.

“It’s late. You should be back already.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Don’t try to fake anymore concern.”

“I’m not faking it.”

“Then I can already tell that you’re in love with me, too.”

“Just because you’re attractive, doesn’t mean-”

“I think it does.”

“Good night, Shigeru.”

That night, Kentarou dreamed again, only this time it was filled with more images of him. He was still filled with the warm, almost tingling emotions of care and affection when he woke up. It dawned on him, halfway through breakfast, that this must be what Shigeru dreamt of as well.

Kentarou smiled and burst out laughing at the prospect of making fun of him for it.

#asks #kyouhaba #kyouhaba fanfiction #my writing #dragon au #I LOVED THIS IM SO SORRY THE ENDING IS KIND OF RUSHED THOUGH #THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR ASKIGN ME THIS!!!!!!!!!! #haikyuu!!

[ecotone99]

[FN] The Sellsword And The Beast

The village sat on the edge of the Greylan Forest, its residents accustomed to the strange things that happened within those dark trees. Strange howling in the night, lights that came and went in a myriad of colors, fairy sightings, and stories. These were all common occurrences for the villagers of Fenhallow. But seven years ago one of their own had disappeared among the branches, never to be seen again. A young girl with golden hair and green eyes wandered in, drawn by the fairy stories and the lights, but she never came out. The village sent in search parties, and they scoured the forest from dawn till dusk for two straight weeks with not a single sign of the girl. Stories of disappearances became more frequent, but mostly it came from travelers and merchants passing through. The stories told of travelers going missing on the road, livestock disappearing, and strange screaming and wailing heard in the night. Old Todd just shrugged it off, as he was the oldest and wisest in the village. “It’s just the fairies having their bit of fun,” he croaked at the serious faced merchant. They sat around the fire in the Lazy Hog Inn, drinking ale and swapping tales. Old Todd grinned, his few teeth gleaming in the firelight. “Only person gone missing since this town has been here was poor Katva’s daughter.” He paused, looking at his companion, a wizened old woman with frizzy grey hair beside him. “What was her name again?” “Layla, she was,” Mildey, the old woman chimed in. The merchant looked between them. “Pretty girl too. Shame.” She shook her head in sadness. “Shame her mother died of a broken heart not long after.” “Yes, terrible shame.” Old Todd shook his head in sadness. “As long as we leave the forest alone, it leaves us alone. Sage wisdom for your time on the trail don’t you think?” he said as he look at the young merchant through his good eye.

“Yes, it is,” the young man stammered. “I’ll make sure to give the forest a wide berth.” The man had left then, too spooked by his own stories and those of Old Todd and Mildey. Old Todd chuckled and went back to drinking his ale.

The young sellsword walked jauntily down the road that ran along the Greylan Forest from Irely to Fenhallow. He had a pep in his step as this was his first time out on his own as a sellsword. He was looking forward to adventures, new people and places, and especially the money he would make! He bounced along humming to himself, the warm summer sun glancing off his golden brown hair. He felt optimistic about his future as a brilliant sellsword, who was world renowned. Everyone would cheer the name Garin The Brave! He would be showered with gifts and flowers when he entered towns and every beautiful girl would swoon at his name! A sudden strange sound interrupted Garin’s day dreaming. He stopped dead on the dusty road as an eerie howl, completely incongruent with the lovely, warm, summer day broke through noise of the birds and the insects, sending a chill up Garin’s spine. His hand went to his sword as he peered into the strangely dark trees to his left. He could barely see more than a few feet into the underbrush, the darkness complete despite the sun beaming down on his head. The sound came again, a wail that sounded vaguely human was much closer now. And Garin could hear something rather large crashing through the brush and trees. He tensed, pulling his sword half way from his scabbard, waiting with baited breath for whatever it was to come smashing through. With a final cacophony of breaking branches and scuffling, a figure dressed entirely in green stumbled out onto the roadway. Garin froze, disbelief on his face as he beheld a blonde haired girl, around his age dressed in a flowing green gown, flowers and greenery woven through her long locks. Her hair was wild, tangled and stretched past her waist. Her dress looked to be made of ivy and leaves woven like lace and a flowing train stretching behind her. Her eyes were the same color as her dress and were sparkling with light as Garin stepped towards her. She cried out when she saw him, both in fear and in relief and she fell to the ground. Garin ran to her, putting his arms under her and helping her to stand. She smelled of wild places, flowers, pine, and the deep loam of a forest floor. “Are you hurt, my lady?” he asked, his hands running up and down her shoulders. The girl looked up at him, her eyes shining, her lips trembling. Dirt was smudged on her skin as if she’d been lying on the ground, but apart from her slightly disheveled appearance, she seemed unharmed. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Garin did not know the legends and stories of the wood, having grown up far away by the sea. He did not know who she was, and he did not know the stories about the fairies. He only knew there was a scared young woman in his arms, and no one else in sight. “I will take you someplace safe,” he promised. He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her towards Fenhallow. She followed along dutifully, her eyes darting all around like a wild deer, constantly looking for danger or a reason to flee. Garin treated her gently, sensing that she was somehow fragile. Fenhallow was quiet when they arrived in the late afternoon. The sun was falling towards the horizon giving the dusty town center a golden glow. At first nobody bothered with the young sellsword and the maiden, but as Garin led them towards the tavern, people began to notice and a whisper spread through the town. Old Todd and Mildey came out of the tavern, squinting into the setting sun, trying to figure out how they knew that blonde hair and green eyes. “Who’s that?” Old Todd stepped forward, shading his good eye. Garin stepped forward, the girl’s head tilted down towards the ground, whether in fear or deference wasn’t clear. Garin raised a hand. “I am Garin and I’ve come to sell my services as a hired sword to anyone who needs it.” A few townsfolk chuckled at this. “We’ve no need of sellswords in a quiet town like this,” Old Todd cackled. “But we do get a decent amount of caravans and merchants that come through so perhaps you’ll find luck then.” Garin nodded seriously, then gestured to the young woman in his arms. “I found this young woman abandoned and alone on the road. She came out of the woods.” Old Todd came down the tavern steps, Mildey right behind him. Many of the townsfolk took a step back at the news that the girl came from the forest, not wanting to interact with a forest creature. Whispers flew across the gathering crowd. “Fairy!” “Changeling!” “The fair-folk!” Mildey reached out tentatively and put her hand under the girl’s chin, raising her head so they could see her face. There was a gasp from Old Todd and Mildey as they both recognized the girl. “Layla,” Mildey breathed, her hand going to caress the girl’s cheek. “Where have you been, girl?” Layla’s eyes seemed to focus, finally taking in the woman and man before her. She smiled a small smile. “She hasn’t spoken much yet, just whispers and nonsense.” Garin gently handed the girl over to Mildey and Old Todd. “What kind of nonsense?” Mildey shot a wary look at the newcomer. He was a stranger in their midsts, while Layla wasn’t, not really. She had been gone seven years but she had grown up in this town. She was home. “She kept saying something was coming. Over and over she said it.” Garin looked at the thin blonde girl, wondering what was happening in her head. Layla’s eyes had glazed over and she had a faraway look in her yes. Mildey led her towards the tavern, the gathered crowd following in their wake dragging Garin along with it. They pushed open the wooden door and everyone filed inside. While Old Todd sat at the bar, drawing Garin into conversation, Mildey took Layla into the back of the tavern and out of sight. Garin never saw them return, although he kept throwing glances at the door to that back hallway. Finally, as night drew in, and the townsfolk began to wander towards their beds, the excitement dying down, Garin was offered a room at the tavern which he gratefully accepted. But that night Garin couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking of the girl, Layla and the words she kept repeating over and over. Finally he got out of bed and quietly padded downstairs. The main tavern room was empty and quiet, the hearth cooling, a few stray coals alive at its center. Garin didn’t know what he was doing but he knew he needed to see if Layla was alright. He turned down the dark hallway towards the back. It was dark and deserted but there was a small closed door at the end. He crept towards it and pressed his ear against the cool wood of the door, listening. There was nothing but the soft breathing of someone beyond the door. Garin began to walk away, thinking she was asleep when he heard a single footstep, and then another from behind the door, as if she was pacing. “Layla?” He called tentatively through the door. The footsteps paused, the breathing quickening. “Layla, it’s Garin, the one who brought you to the town.” The breathing and footsteps came cautiously closer, stopping just on the other side of the door. “Something is coming Garin. I’ve tried telling them, but noone is listening.” Her voice was quiet, soft, but held an edge to it that made Garin pause, and pay attention. “What is coming Layla?” He leaned against the door, holding his breath, waiting for the answer. “I don’t know.” She went quiet for a moment. “They whisper to me at night, telling me to come here and warn the people of the danger. But I don’t know what the danger is.” She had begun pacing again and Garin wanted to reach through the door and help her to sit, to relax. “I can’t sleep. They won’t stop whispering.” She was becoming more and more frantic, although her voice stayed quiet. “Who keeps whispering?” Garin gently tried the handle to the door, finding it locked. “The faye. They whisper. They tell me to beware, to warn the people, to run.” A thump sounded from behind the door, as if she’d slumped to the ground. “But I can’t run, I am trapped, like a rabbit in a snare, and they won’t listen.” Garin couldn’t make sense of her ramblings, and after going in circles for a while, he finally bid her goodnight, leaving her to her pacing and muttering in peace. He went to bed that night feeling uneasy. “Good morning, my boy!” Old Todd said as Garin entered the tavern’s great room the following morning. Garin smiled tiredly as he settled onto a bar stool. Old Todd grinned at him from a barstool away. “How about we get you some breakfast young man!” Garin checked his pockets, wondering how far the little money he had would stretch. “Thank you,” he said, pulling a silver piece from his pocket. “Nonsense, boy!” Old Todd waved a hand, shooing the money back into Garin’s pocket. “You are the hero of the hour! You brought back our Layla.” He waggled his eyebrows at the sellsword. “The least we can do is put you up for a few days until a caravan or merchant comes through.” He motioned to the bar keeper, a stout older man behind the counter. “Some breakfast for the boy.” The man nodded and disappeared behind a door. Garin sat, slightly uncomfortably on the edge of the stool, waiting for his meal to arrive. He didn’t like taking charity, but he knew he might need his money later, and who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? Beside him, Old Todd drank his ale and grinned sideways at him. Garin finally decided to break the silence. “Sir, do you know much about fairies?” Old Todd’s eyes narrowed at the question. “Yes boy, I know about fairies. Why do you want to know?” Garin was slightly suspicious that these people were holding Layla against her will, so he didn’t want to make things worse for the girl. He shrugged. “I’ve heard stories about the forest around here.” It wasn’t entirely true, he had only heard the townsfolk talking in the tavern last night. He hoped he could get some information to better understand Layla and her warnings. “Oh yes. There are stories,” Old Todd chuckled. “Layla is our most famous one in fact. She’s the only person to disappear in those woods in a hundred years. Or at least the only person we can prove disappeared. Each year there are more and more stories of people being kidnapped by fairies. But the truth is, fairies don’t kidnap you. They may lure you into the woods and then you get lost and starve, or eaten by some animal, or are murdered by another human. Fairies are more interested in driving you mad, making you see things.” His story made sense for Layla, she did seem a little mad. “But Layla, I’m not sure how she survived,” the old man went on. Just then the bartender placed a steaming bowl of porridge sweetened with some precious sugar and peaches. It smelled wonderful and Garin thanked the barkeep before digging into his meal. He spent the rest of the day wandering around the town, lounging at the fountain in the center, talking to locals, and generally enjoying himself. He found out that traders, merchants, and caravans usually came by once a week and sometimes they needed men to guard them. At the very least, he could barter passage on one of them and make his way towards the capitol where he could hopefully make his fortune. Garin was looking forward to it, but as he strolled through a small grove of apple trees, fresh with summer leaves, he was still too worried about Layla and her fate to just run out of here. That night, as the tavern and town grew quiet, Garin once again got up and tip-toed downstairs to Layla’s door. He listened quietly for a few moments, making sure they were alone. “Layla,” he whispered. Once again he heard her pace across the floor to the door. “Is that you, Garin?” Her voice was raspy, as though she had been talking for hours without rest. “Yes. How are you holding up?” He leaned against the door, getting comfortable. “They still whisper. More and more urgently. It’s coming.” “What’s coming?” he asked once again, hoping for a different answer. “The beast.” This sent a shiver down Garin’s spine. “What is the beast?” He could hear Layla start to pace once again. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she went quiet for a moment, her soft footsteps slapping across the wood floor. “The faye say it will devour the world, destroy it. It must be defeated.” “Do you know where it is? Or how it can be defeated?” Finally, he felt like he was getting somewhere with her. “The forest. Deep in the forest there is an ancient evil and it has been awakened. It’s coming.” Her voice was soft and breathless and Garin felt another shiver go down his spine, his heart beginning to race. What was this beast? Was it something physical? Something he could fight? “How do we defeat it?” Layla didn’t answer. “Layla?” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Can you get me out of here?” she said. “Yes, I think so. But you came from this village Layla. Why do you want to leave?” He could imagine her on the other side of the door, wringing her hands and pacing, her long dress made of greenery flowing behind her and moonlight glancing off her blonde hair turning it silver. “I’m a bird in a cage,” she said, her voice high and flighty. “I need to get out, to be free.” Garin nodded to himself, making up his mind. It might turn the townsfolk against him but he couldn’t let her rot in this room. “I’ll get you out. Tomorrow night I’ll come for you. Be ready.” “Thank you,” Layla whispered and drifted away from the door. As Garin stood he could hear her humming to herself, talking to the moonbeams. He smiled to himself and went to bed. As the moon rose the following night Garin slipped down the stairs for the third and final time. He paused at the entrance to the hallway, a light catching his eye. He froze, glancing down the corridor to the doorway to Layla’s room. Mildey was exiting the room, a small lamp in her hand, a bowl in the other. She seemed oblivious to Garin’s presence as she kept on walking, shuffling just past his hiding place in the shadows. Garin had dressed for traveling, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cloak around him, his sword strapped to his hip. He didn’t imagine he’d be welcomed back here once he broke Layla out. He pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding his face in deeper shadows. The common room was dark, aside from the few coals in the hearth, and a bright moon sending beams in through the few windows. It looked eerily calm and it somehow set Garin on edge. He finally snuck down the hallway and softly knocked on Layla’s door. “Layla. It’s me, Garin. It’s time to leave.” “How are you going to get me out?” Garin had been contemplating this all afternoon. His best bet was to try to pick the lock, and if that failed, he’d try to break the window from outside. “Let me see what I can do about this lock.” He knelt down and took some small picks and pins he’d purchased in a shop earlier that day. He worked in silence for a long time. All he could hear was his own tiny noises and Layla’s breathing on the other side. Finally, the tumblers within the lock fell into place and he heard a click. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and turned the handle. The door swung wide and he stood, bracing himself for what lay within the little prison. The room held a small spare bed, a table with a pitcher of water, and a small water closet. Nothing more. The window was small, too small for Layla to have fit through and was high up on the wall. Garin was suddenly grateful he’d spent his afternoon practicing picking the lock on his own door. Layla stood in the middle of the room, her hands clasped before her. She was no longer in her beautiful, ethereal green dress. They had instead dressed her in a simple brown dress that had very little shape. It made her body look sunken and lost, but despite that her golden hair and green eyes made her stand out. Nothing could have made Layla look plain, not even this dress. Garin reached out a hand for her, and Layla quietly took it, stepping silently down the hall behind him as they headed for the door. A step on the stair behind them as they crossed the common area made Garin pause. “Where do you think you are taking her?” A shrill voice said. Garin turned to see Mildey on the stairs, Old Todd right behind her. Garin’s blood began to boil as he saw their angry faces, their possessiveness. “You can’t just keep her caged here like some pretty bird. She wanted to leave, so I’m taking her away.” “She’s not right in the head Garin,” Old Todd said, his tone placating. “She needs someone to look after her. We can do that.” The old man walked towards them, his hands out in supplication and Garin pushed Layla behind him slightly, taking a step towards the door. “It seems to me that she did just fine out there for seven years. She doesn’t need the kind of help you are offering. She needs someone who will listen, that is all.” Garin took another few steps towards the door as he spoke, his hand on his sword, ready to defend himself and Layla if need be. Mildey and Old Todd continued to advance. “She is finally home. You have no right to take her.” Mildey was pleading now. Garin had had enough. He drew his sword, causing both older people to back away. “I’m taking her and that’s final.” He pushed the door open and nodded for Layla to step outside. “If you won’t listen, I will.” And then he left the tavern. Together they walked out of Fenhallow, making their way back towards where he’d found her and the heart of the Greylan forest. They walked in silence, and Garin refrained from asking the millions of questions swirling in his head. He sensed that Layla needed her own time to think, to process what had happened, what was about to happen. The forest loomed before them, darker even than the dark night around them, the only illumination the moon hanging overhead. Garin swallowed. All his training had not prepared him to walk into a haunted and faye ridden forest in the dead of night. But Layla beside him seemed comfortable, content even as she softly stepped in amongst the trees. After only a moment’s hesitation, Garin followed. The darkness seemed to swallow him up as soon as his boots left the dirt road and onto the rich loam below. Even sounds traveled differently in here, all hushed echoes and whispers. Garin followed Layla’s shining silver hair as it illuminated the forest around her. She pressed deeper and he kept a hand on his sword hilt, alert for any danger. Finally, Layla paused into a small clearing. The moon light filtered down through the branches, making her seem insubstantial. She held her hands out to her sides and spun slowly. Garin stayed within the trees, his breath catching as he beheld her. A small noise caught his attention to his right and as he watched, wide eyed, a small figure with tiny wings broke from the cover of the trees to approach the slowly spinning Layla. It alighted on the girl’s shoulder, and soon, more tiny winged figures broke from the trees. Garin almost jumped out of his skin as he realized there were small figures on the ground as well, no larger than squirrels. In the darkness and the silver moonlight, colors were hard to distinguish but Garin could have sworn that each tiny figure was a different color. He realized with awe that these were the faye, come to greet their child of the forest. Layla laughed, a high tinkling laugh and began to spin faster, light pouring off her and the faye around her. Garin had to shield his eyes as the silver light she emitted threatened to blind him. He needed to keep his eyesight in this darkness. Finally the glow faded and blinking, Garin stepped into the clearing. The faye were gone, and Layla stood alone in the clearing. She no longer wore the dress Mildey had given her. Instead, she wore a gown that looked to be woven entirely from starlight and spider silk. It hugged her curves and flowed out in a long train behind her and she glowed softly. Garin was speechless as he gazed upon her, his heart pounding, and a feeling he had never felt before beginning in his chest. “You look...” he paused, feeling that any words he used would not do her justice. “Stunning,” he finished rather lamely. Layla smiled at him softly and held out her hand for him. Garin loosed his grip on his sword hilt and stepped forward to take her soft, small hand in his large and calloused one. “Let us go and defeat the beast.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine but he followed, feeling braver than he had ever felt before. They traveled for what felt like hours through the dark forest. Garin focused all his attention on Layla, confident that she would tell him if there was danger approaching. She was lovely to watch and as they neared the darkest and deepest part of the forest where the moon no longer shone, he watched her light dim with every step. Soon they stood in total darkness, holding hands. Garin could feel the wrongness of the place, the sadness and horror. It made his gut churn and his heart race. He turned to look at a much diminished and dimmed Layla. “Is this the place? Where the beast hides?” Layla nodded, too scared to speak. “What must I do to defeat it?” he asked. “Challenge it.” Her voice was barely audible, even in this deadly quiet forest. Garin nodded. He pulled her hand to him, kissing it gently before releasing her and stepping away, farther into the darkness. He paused just within sight of Layla and turned to face the darkness. He knew he was brave, brave enough for this but he wondered if he was strong enough. “Beast,” his voice rang true in the darkness. “Beast, I demand you come forth and fight me.” The darkness seemed to hum back at his challenge, a powerful presence filling the air around him, pressing in, making him feel trapped. But Garin drew in a deep breath, drew his sword, and strengthened his resolve. “Fight me, Beast!” A roar so loud it could have shattered glass burst through the forest. Birds and small animals ran for cover, and Layla dropped to the ground, clutching at her ears. Garin gritted his teeth but stood strong, blinking rapidly into the maelstrom that followed. Suddenly, a voice rang in his ears. “Who dares to challenge me?” The voice was so deep and terrible, holding the suffering, sadness and sanity of worlds. Garin trembled within to hear it but he answered anyways, knowing in his bones that the fate of his world depended on him defeating this beast. “Garin, son of Aron. I have come to challenge you. And I have a bargain for you.” The beast was quiet for a moment before answering. “And what is this bargain?” “If I defeat you, Beast, you must leave this land alone. Forever.” He spoke with such conviction. He hoped the Beast took him seriously and that Layla was comforted. The Beast chuckled. “A boy, barely out of adolescence would challenge me?” It laughed again. “Well, let’s see how brave you really are, Garin, son of Aron. I accept your bargain.” Suddenly there was a presence in Garin’s mind, blocking out all of the world around him. He found himself in a vast, grey, blank, open space. A space so bleak and lonely, no landmarks to be seen, a wind howling across it that Garin felt instantly cold and desperate. He still had his sword, which he brandished about him, turning in a slow circle, wondering what form the Beast would take. A figure began to take shape and it walked towards him, growing larger with every step. The Beast was a thing of nightmares, the worst being that Garin could imagine, and yet, it also looked similar to a man. It stood upright, had two arms and two legs and the vague shape of a human body. But it was made of the darkness between stars, a darkness so deep it swallowed all other darkness. But the eyes were deep wells of flame. Garin shook deep in his bones and it was an effort to hold himself together, let alone hold his sword. The Beast withdrew its own blade of pure darkness and held it before itself. Beads of sweat ran down Garin’s face but he adjusted his grip on his sword and stepped forward to meet the Beast. He swung, taking the offensive from the start. The sooner he defeated this Beast, the sooner he could be back in the forest with Layla. The Beast easily dodged his blow, sidestepping and letting Garin stumble past. Garin attacked again. He was easily the best swordsman in his town, and he had beaten men twice his age with years more experience. Garin was what they called a natural and he had been recruited into the king’s guard. But he’d wanted a freer life, more space, and no one telling him what to do, so he’d taken to the open road. He attacked and attacked, the Beast blocking or avoiding Garin’s blows. Soon Garin was exhausted, and he wondered vaguely how much longer he could keep going. But he couldn’t stop now, he had to keep fighting. The Beast seemed to grow bored of playing with Garin and it switched its tactic, attacking Garin in a flurry of movements. It's dark blade slashed down over and over, forcing Garin to step back and back. Garin blocked desperately, trying to avoid injury and looking for an opening, any opening. The Beast lunged for Garin’s side which narrowly missed skewering him, but the dark blade lightly grazed Garin’s ribs, sending a stabbing coldness up his side. Garin gasped and leapt away, clutching his side, the cold growing and spreading. The Beast laughed a deep, dark laugh above him as he strode forward. Garin tried to run but tripped, falling to the ground. As he rolled over, the Beast was suddenly over him, the dark blade hovering above his chest, those dark flame eyes blazing. “This is how you die Garin, son of Aron,” the voice intoned. Garin’s blood ran cold and his chest hallowed out in fear. “Any last words?” Garin scrambled to find something to say, anything that might save his life. The Beast laughed again, raising the dark sword high above its head, ready to stab downwards and end Garin’s short life. But Garin realized this was the opening he’d been waiting for, and he thrust forward with his blade. It entered the Beast’s belly, angling upwards and Garin put all his weight behind it, driving it home. The Beast froze, the lights in its eyes flaring and then slowly, so slowly, dimming. The dark sword dropped from its hand and it backed away from Garin. As Garin climbed to his feet, hand still clutching his side, the Beast and the grey flat world around them began to fade. Garin found himself standing in the forest once again, only instead of the darkness that had once permeated this portion of the trees, there was a faint silver light filtering through the branches from the moon overhead. He still held his sword, and while his side still burned slightly with cold, he was unharmed. He turned on the spot and found Layla standing behind him, a bright smile on her beautiful face. “You did it,” her voice was lilting, as if she were about to break into song or laughter. “You defeated the Beast and it has left this world in peace.” “Where has it gone?” He felt happy and proud but there was also a bone deep exhaustion that ran through him. “To another world I suspect.” Layla continued to smile. She reached out and took his hand. “But this world is now safe, thanks to you.” Garin finally smiled back at her. He squeezed her hand. “What now?” he asked, looking deeper into her bright green eyes. She was glowing slightly once again, as if she only glowed when truly happy. “We live.”

Want more? There is a second installment called The Sellsword And The Bandits.

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Clear Sky, 26°C

2 Chome-4-8 Ōmiya, Chūō-ku, Fukuoka-shi, Fukuoka-ken 810-0013, Japan

Day 14 Miyajima Woke up. Packed up. Went downstairs. Torrential rain. Fuck. Sun had been forecast all day for Miyajima. We checked the again. Miyajima... Sunny all day! With some trepidation we ventured out in our taxi to the station. We hopped on a train. By the time we got off near the ferry port the rain had died down and the sun was starting to shine. By the time the ferry was drawing near to the island the sun was out and we had a great view of the island. Miyajima really was a sight to behold. We entered into a small built up area along the coast of the island, with various landmarks and quaint streets punctuated by a variety of street food stalls and host to (very tame) wild deer roaming free. We headed further into the (what I would describe as a) village and past an impressive five story pagoda up into Momijidani park. The park was very beautiful, there were several bridges and waterfalls 📷 along the way. We started to see signs for a cable car that headed up the mountain. We didn't plan on taking it. We then also saw signs for a trek up the mountain. I opted in. Maddy and Ville were too lazy and opted to explore the village some more. We said our goodbyes, arranged to meet at 4pm and I headed onto the route up the mountain. Bicep was my music of choice for the 2.5km trek to the peak. I would later find out that the trek was up an elevation of 500m. I took a reasonably fast pace up the initial slope, which then gave way to steps of ever increasing steepness. Initially the stream flowed next to the path, but later on ran down the steps that I had to follow. Spurred on by the music and the beautiful mountainous forest surroundings, I pushed on. I regretted leaving my Go Pro in my bag at the station. After a good 50 minutes of uplifting climbing I reached what I thought was the peak. What a feeling. I took a couple of selfies with some shrines 📷 before noticing there was still a further 0.7km to the peak! Oops! My euphoria was wasted on just being near the peak! I pressed on and eventually reached the peak - stopping for a few more pictures, but ultimately disappointed by the lack of visibility. I finally made it to the peak after around 60 minutes total walking - a lot less than the predicted 90 minutes. I came to the conclusion that Japanese liked to overestimate times because the theme park queue times also had been overestimated. I chilled at the top of the mountain for a bit on the observation deck, feeling accomplished, before I suddenly heard shouts of 'Sugoi!' (a Japanese exclamation) followed by several people suddenly jumping up to take pictures... The clouds at the top of the mountain were clearing and we could see the smaller islands and the mainland! It was a sight to behold 📷 and a just reward for my efforts. I took a few more pics and started to head back down, stopping a couple of times to take more on the way. Eventually after I passed the cable car stop the amount of people on the path had died down. With that in mind I decided to half-jog down the rest of the mountain whilst listening to DnB...This was a lot of fun and thankfully my knee held out! I arrived back near the park with an hour to kill before meeting the others. I noticed a sign denoting a Nature Walk up to a Nature Park... I wouldn't have time to go the whole way but I noticed a couple of other paths heading vaguely in the direction I needed to be. It would be a detour, but one I wanted to take as I didn't want my forest adventure to end just yet, and had some time to kill. With the Hospital Records Spotify Playlist on shuffle I headed up the path. Immediately I noticed that this path was definitely less beaten and often a lot narrower than the path I had become accustomed to on the mountain trek. No worries. Consulting my Maps app I was encouraged by the fact that all the paths I had seen on the 'real life' sign were present on my GPS and my position was tracking well. I pushed on and made it to the spot where I had to turn off. Turning off, I realised I had gained a fair bit of elevation again and could see across to the cable car heading up to the mountain 📷 . I decided to jog again. I could tell that no one had been this way for quite some time by the fact I was running through spider webs at a rate of one a couple of minutes! I'm not scared of spiders so just brushed them off and kept going. The combination of the music, the setting, the fact my knee was holding out and the weather made me feel absolutely free. It was incredible! ...Until the path stopped. I had time to retrace my steps and go back but being the stubborn bastard I am I decided to go 'off-piste' in the hope that I would join back onto the track shortly. It was around this time that my GPS stopped tracking quite so well. I pressed on, looking for less overgrown areas to pass through. The spiders webs were growing in size, as were the spiders inhabiting them. Eventually I realised that I wasn't going to rejoin the path, and that I wasn't going to have time (or necessarily be able) to rejoin the path I had left and make it to the meeting point in time. Drastic measures were in order. I decided to take the as the crow flies route back towards the village, hoping I would find another path to join onto. Mistake. Covered in sweat and spiders webs I headed deeper into the forest, down a small ravine, dodging spiders webs and slipping on treacherous ground along the way. At the bottom my feet got soaked in a huge puddle. I pressed on and began to climb up to the other side, every branch I grabbed or set foot on seemed to give way. Panic was starting to set in, but I managed to stay reasonably calm... If I could just make it up this slope I'd be able to see better. I made it to the top and thankfully there was a clearer area! Surely there would be a path here! Nope. All I could see was seemingly insurmountable obstacles in the direction I needed to go. At this point the only option was to press on though as in terms of distance I was so close to the village. I struggled through, again avoiding more huge spiders, and trying not to think too much about the snakes and other wildlife whose habitat I was invading. Eventually I found a toppled tree that had cut a path for me. I started to walk down it. Too slippery. I slid along it feet first with my butt resting on it. It was slimy. I made it about half way down it and slipped! Thankfully this time the branch I was holding onto above didn't give way and I managed to drop down to the ground below. Suddenly I could see a relatively clear way through the woods. I crossed a concrete block over a stream and came across a large group of deer who looked *very* confused to see a person coming from that direction. Not wanting to startle them I kept my distance and walked slowly past them - as I was still panicking it didn't cross my mind to take a picture of them - a shame, as it was a beautiful sight to see a pack away from the lone deer you get in the village sharking for food. It was at this point I saw it. A path! After following the path for a short while, and stalking down some very steep steps; a very weary, dirty, scratched up and spider web covered Dave emerged from forest and back into the village. What an adventure, but not one I'd want to be taking again any time soon! I headed to the meeting point along the coast and tried to get the worst of the filth off me before the others arrived - still managed to be 20 minutes early! We chilled for a bit there and took in the view before heading back on the ferry and train, picking up our bags and jumping on the bullet train to Fukuoka. I was very keen to arrive as soon as possible to our new digs and jump in the shower! In Fukuoka we managed to navigate the bus, eventually, and arrived at our new hostel. We were greeted by a guy who insisted that the only way they could keep the money they had taken from Maddy's account as a deposit (the full amount of money for our stay!) we would have to cancel our booking... Else we'd have to pay again and Maddy wouldn't get the money back for a month! Sketchy! I grabbed a shower, we grabbed some food in the local area and found the nearest 7-11 (essential in Japan for ATM and food!) before getting some rest with plans to have a much needed beach day the next day.

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