#he partially got eaten he should be allowed to eat people back. as a little treat.

[weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral]

I need someone to talk to me about cannibalism in ybc and how patrick should have done more of it im going insane

#godddd he should have been allowed to eat people sorry but its true #he partially got eaten he should be allowed to eat people back. as a little treat. #i still stand by joe should have died not by strangulation #i get wanting to make everyone's death unique in a way but still #patrick you should have hacked him to death with that hook #to shreads you say #youngblood chronicles #fob #ybcpatrick the guy ever #me posts

[demonslayedher]

Hello! I decided to stop by ^^

I was wondering about Nezuko sleeping and how exactly it works. I mean, the idea is fairly straightforward. People get energy from sleeping and eating, but demons just need to eat. But Nezuko sleeps instead. Could sleeping work for other demons? Or is it that once they eat, sleeping won't do them any good?

They'd most likely fall into a coma for a while, I think. And that could be dangerous for them without a really secure location. So it's understandable why they'd choose not to.

'Suuup, thanks for stopping by the Ask Box while it was open and thanks for your patience! : D (And all your nice tags, they make me smile.) I think you nailed it that this is a pretty straightforward process, Gotouge has narrated it as such too or had characters point it out: Nezuko undergoes transformation and recovers her strength by sleeping. But what's worth looking a little more closely at is that other demons find it unusual. And, besides the act, it's unusual how Nezuko's transformations and strengthening are self-driven, and not reliant on outsides sources of strength.

That dual impact is important, for it's not simply a matter of how people rely on both eating and sleeping for survival as well as growth. Demons have a drive to eat, and it's an especially maddening hunger after the very physically stressful transformation from humanity to demonhood. We also know that this is how demons transform themselves into stronger and stronger beings, which is why many the demons with an eye for advancement will seek out more that what will satisfy a hunger (Enmu's train plan, Kyogai's marechi plan, the Upper Moon Six pair's boasting of how many Pillars they've eaten, Douma just... doing his Douma thing). Because of the importance people like Urokodaki have placed on it, we know that they precise number of people has a proportional impact, and while some demons simply have their own tastes (like the Swamp Demon liking the flesh of young girls at the height of their beauty and the Tongue Demon assuming Zenitsu and Shoichi would have nice tender flesh), there is a general understanding among demons that the stronger of a person you consume, the bigger will be the impact on your ensuing transformation and strengthening. But, I have to wonder, what happens when a demon stops eating humans?

Akaza may be an interesting case because he prefers to get stronger by training instead of by consuming humans. That's not to say he doesn't eat humans, but he's not motivated to it. He was already extremely powerful due to the amount of Muzan's blood he received and probably due to his own innate abilities. But he's found that training is just as good as eating people, implying that demon flesh still retains some human-like properties for relying on more than caloric intake. More interesting is Kyogai, who reached a point of difficulty in consuming humans. We don't know why, nor do we know if any other demons had this difficulty, though Muzan seemed unsurprised by a demon having a "limit" of how much human flesh they can intake. Whether it was a physical or emotional limitation is an interesting question to ponder, especially since Kyogai was already far more powerful than most demons ever had a prayer of becoming. When seeking out that Marechi blood, it was for the sake of becoming more powerful, not for self-sustenance.

And, since demons are essentially immortal for as long as they are safe from the sun, they don't need sleep either. But do they sleep?? I think you're right, it would make them very vulnerable. But wow, what else are they going to do while hiding out from the sun? That's got to be a little maddening not having that periodic respite from existence, and it might torment them a little like it did for Al from Fullmetal Alchemist. While sleeping may or may not be impossible for them, it's like very unusual, giving Rui's reaction to Nezuko sleeping in Chapter 39:

"Hm? Did she lose consciousness? Did she fall asleep? She's a demon with a very peculiar air about her... something different about her from the rest of us... interesting." He seems to find this behavior so unusual in the first place that he first suspects she's displayed a more typical human reaction to this situation, losing consciousness, which may be more likely a state for a demon to find themselves in. We also know from examples like the Temple Demon in Volume 1 getting temporarily knocked out when his body falls off a cliff that this isn't terribly unusual. Sleep may not being entirely out of the realm of possibility, but it sure would make that demon a weirdo. Rui, just like Tamayo, can tell something is simply off about Nezuko. So if we look back at Nezuko, I've dove before into why she's special, especially in regard to how she conquered the sun. I placed a lot of that emphasis on the Kamado bloodline's ties with the sun, but let's look specifically on Nezuko's sleep.

While most demons likely get that first meal they're desperately hungry for likely within hours of their transformation, Nezuko never got this. She denied herself this, and was so sapped of strength that she really could not summon enough power to even stay awake. The extreme exhaustion was probably something that allowed her to fall into a deep sleep in the first place. This is what provided the opportunity for her body to look for some other way to survive, like a starved human tapping into the fat cell reserves. It's just my assumption, but if consuming human flesh takes that caloric intake and uses it to become part of the demon's body and make it stronger, and if the early stages of being a demon mean that one is still somewhat unstable (i.e., Kaigaku not having good command of his powers and Tanjiro still being susceptible to a vaccine which Muzan's cells already partially recognized, despite both these demons being extremely powerful right away), then perhaps a demon will remain highly unstable until they've consumed human flesh. For instance, this might be what allows them to regain some sense of self they had before, which Tamayo notes that Nezuko lacks. If that's the case, then Nezuko's highly unstable state is what allowed the very, very unusual transformation to take place.

Muzan really should have paid more attention to her, for she was a mad success. Sleeping to gain strength is unusual and probably not something Muzan would have cared about, but Nezuko is so good at using this ability that she very quickly attains regenerative abilities that Lower Moons might had spent decades of eating people before they were able to attain that.

Furthermore, Nezuko's strange abilities to transform herself are not limited to sleep. Simply the emotional rush she gets being the presence of Upper Moons, demons with a high concentration of Muzan's cells, enables her to instantly transform to a much more powerful state. And that sun Muzan has been trying for a thousand years to find a demon that will master? Nezuko did it in less than three years from her transformation. While I think her bloodline was a necessary component of that, her starvation-induced Big Sleep was probably what unlocked Nezuko's self-transformative abilities. Is that to say it would be impossible for other demons, who thus far must rely on outsides sources for their transformation and strengthening, be it Muzan's blood or human flesh? Probably not impossible! Akaza and Tamayo show us the roots of this in their more limited reliance on human flesh, and in the self-mastering of physical training and controlled diet with alternative (albeit physically challenging) food sources. But neither of them endured the sort of state that Nezuko fell into, so they didn't have the opportunity to try to totally teach their flesh to find reliance on alternative sources of strength. So, highly unlikely that sleep would benefit most demons, if it's an activity they even engage in. But, with the right circumstances and physical disposition, it could be a possibility.

#I have... been neglecting my studies for the last few days and making art instead #eep #KnY fandom theories and meta #Kamado Nezuko #and a bunch of other demons #Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayer

[love-and-monsters]

Harpy Rescue

M monster X F reader, 7,143 words

You wash up on an island after a shipwreck. The harpy natives take you in and you find companionship with a certain healer who’s been caring for you. 

I stared blankly at the sky above me. I was lying back on a beach. The tide was coming in underneath me. The salt water stung at the raw scrapes on my back.

It was struggle to breathe. My lungs spasmed and heaved with every breath. All my energy went into keeping my lungs heaving.

It was ironic. The only person who survived the shipwreck was the one who would die anyway.

None of my limbs would move. I knew I wasn’t paralyzed, if only because that would have dulled sensation and I could feel every scrape and bruise over the surface of my body. I just couldn’t move under my own power.

 It took all my energy to keep breathing. It hurt just to breathe. My lungs stuttered over the air, threatening to stop altogether every time. Even with all my effort going into it, I still felt faintly dizzy from lack of air.

There were birds, enormous birds, circling overhead. Carrion birds, probably. They could see me lying on the beach and probably assumed they were getting a nice lunch.

The water was getting higher. It was a race, I thought morbidly. Would the water drown me before the birds managed to eat my entrails?

They were coming down more rapidly now. They were huge. Perhaps I would get lucky and they would fight one another for long enough that the waves would come in. I would take drowning over being torn apart hungry birds.

The tide was coming in faster. I could feel it lapping around my ears. A particularly strong wave made me sputter and I spent nearly a minute coughing and gasping. It was harder than ever to breathe. Perhaps drowning wouldn’t be substantially more pleasant than being eaten alive.

One of the birds plunged into a dive, spurring the others to follow. They drifted out of my sight and no matter how far I rolled my eyes back, I couldn’t see them. Great. I just had to wait in anticipation.

There was a crunching behind me, the sound of something approaching. Another wave struck me and I choked, coughing on the water. Black spots popped in front of my eyes and I felt my entire body heave, water trickling from my mouth.

A hand caught my shoulder. With a heave, I was dragged out of the shallow water and up onto the firmer beach. Tilting my head back, I managed to catch sight of my rescuers.

They hadn’t been birds, I realized. They had just looked like birds from a distance. My rescuers were a group of concerned-looking harpies.

If I had any sense of dramatic timing, I likely would have passed out then. It would have made the situation much less awkward, at least. But I remained stubbornly awake, staring up at the small throng of harpies.

Their heads and torsos were humanoid, but they seemed to have a combination between arms and wings. Their arms were feathered and there was a split at the wrists between hands and the final joint of the wing. Their legs were scaled and ended in large, heavy talons. All of them had deeply tanned skin and dark brown hair and feathers.

They spoke to one another for a moment, in a language I couldn’t understand. Then, the one that had dragged me up the beach bent over and hauled me into his arms.

The group headed off the beach and into the tropical jungle beyond. It was getting harder and harder to remain conscious. I faded in and out, struggling to keep my consciousness together. The blackouts grew longer and longer and the tightening pain in my chest was growing sharper. Breathing was almost painfully difficult.

Another bit of irony for me. I had been saved from drowning only for my condition to kill me right away.

The last thing I was aware of was the man carrying me speaking rapidly before I was deposited on solid ground with a jolt.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a ceiling above me. It was thatched, and there were several bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters. The pain of my body had eased, and though my chest burned, it had loosened significantly. After a few breaths, I had gained enough energy to sit up.

“Here.” Someone to my right pushed a bowl into my hands. It was full of a strong-smelling liquid that made my nose run and my sinuses clear almost instantly. “It’ll help with your breathing.”

The person next to me was the same man who had carried me off the beach. I hadn’t gotten the best look at him, but he had the same golden-brown feathers and his long, braided hair was done up in the same style. I dipped my head and took a few swallows from the bowl.

It burned worse than any whiskey I’d ever tried. I sputtered, eyes watering, but the tension in my chest did fade. The bands that had always restricted my breathing loosened ever so slightly and I gulped air gratefully.

The man outstretched his hands and took the bowl back. I sputtered a few more times before my breathing calmed. “What is that?”

“An old remedy for chest trouble. It’s steeped out of different herbs.” As he set the bowl on a nearby table, I realized something.

“You speak English?” I asked.

“Some. My aunt met with travelers many years ago. She taught me. Just in case.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Something behind him shifted and I noticed his tail, made of the same brown feathers as his wings. “You must have inhaled a lot of salt water. Your breathing was bad.” He tapped his chest demonstratively. “You were wheezing.”

“It does that anyway. But the almost drowning didn’t help.” I pushed yourself up in bed. “Where am I?”

“Healer’s house,” he said. “In Namori Village. You were brought here by the storm, yes?”

“Not on purpose,” I said. “I was sailing to Larmark. They have a good hospital there. I was going for an examination.” I rubbed at my chest. “I don’t suppose you have any ships heading in that direction?”

“We are not a sailing people,” the man said with an apologetic smile. I slouched back into the bed. I wasn’t as upset about it as I should have been. The treatment was supposed to find a way to cure my condition. Without it, I could be beset by a sudden bought of chest tightness that could kill me at any moment. It had nearly done so several times in my childhood. But I had lived my life with it so far. I was just back where I’d started.

“She’s up!” I looked up to see an older woman harpy leaning over me. “Thought I told you to call for me, boy.” The male harpy ducked his head, looking properly ashamed. “Took quite a beating from that storm. Lucky you made it to shore.” She flicked her wings. “We saw the ship go down last night. Didn’t expect anyone would survive. You’re lucky we noticed you.”

“There’s something wrong with her chest,” the male harpy said. “She wheezes.”

“Noticed that.” The woman looked me over. Her eyes were a piercing yellow. “Thought it was from the seawater. It’s usually like that?”

“Yes. Since I was a child. I had some sort of illness that damaged it. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I’ve never allowed it to bother me.” I’m sure my voice would have been much more reassuring, but my chest contracted in a cough and I heaved a few times.

“Perhaps you should let it bother you more. Give her more of that infusion, Nor. And recheck her ribs, just to be safe.”

“Yes, Aunt Aerath,” Nor said. She turned on her heels and strode off. We were in a back room, I noticed, small and full of warm light. Nor turned back to me. “Sit up. Drink.” I sipped more of the brew he’d given me while he prodded at my ribs. It was a little ticklish and I had to work not to squirm.

“Your ribs are fine,” Nor said eventually. “But your chest is weak.”

“Well, nothing I didn’t already know.” I rolled over, ignoring the sharp pains that came to me. “Can I move around?”

Nor nodded and I got up. He hovered close by as I shuffled around. I’d been stripped down to my shift, which would have been embarrassing if both of them hadn’t been wearing something similar. They both seemed to be wearing something like togas, though Nor’s skirt was long enough to trail on the ground. Both their outfits were a deep navy blue.

There was a partially ajar door and I stepped through it, onto the forest floor outside. The trees were enormous, towering over everything. Up in the branches, harpies darted back and forth, flitting between the branches. I could see nest-like houses nestled in the crooks of the trees.

“We’re on the ground,” I said. Nor nodded.

“Healers live on the ground. In case flightless ones come to us,” he explained.

 “Ah. That’s sensible.” I stared up, looking into the trees with some interest. At least if I was going to be staying there for a while, it was a beautiful, fascinating place.

Nor took me back inside and fed me a chunk of meat along with a few fruits. I needed to heat the meat over the fire for a little longer- apparently harpies liked their meat fairly rare. Aerath returned after that and forced a few more herbal brews down my throat, which she said would help with the pain.

“I expect I’ll be here for a while,” I said as I handed one of her cups back to her. My mouth tasted like I’d licked the underside of a stone. The brews were unpleasant at best, though I could already feel a numbness creeping into my injuries.

“Humans come by only rarely,” Aerath said. “And there isn’t much of a pattern. Our species is not water faring and we can’t fly to the next mainland. Ocean flight is not easy.”

“Which is a taciturn way of saying I am stuck here.”

“No more than us,” Nor said.

“Be kind. She has lost her home,” Aerath said sternly. I shrugged, leaning back in bed.

“It’s not as awful as you may think. I was sailing to a hospital, you see. It was likely I would spend the rest of my life there, which, even with all that care, may not have been very long.” I shrugged. “At least this place is better for the soul.”

Nor turned his head and spoke to his aunt rapidly in his own language. She frowned, but responded in the same way. I ignored the pair of them and moved back to bed. Despite not having been awake for very long, I was already exhausted. My chest stuttered as I tried to lie flat on my back and I paused for a moment, wheezing.

Nor darted over and adjusted my pillow behind me. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Nor nodded, then slipped out of the room. Aerath lingered for a moment, looking at me.

“We’ll be upstairs if you require us. If you can’t walk, knock heavy things over until we come for you.” With that, she exited the room. The door closed behind her and I slumped back into the pillow, eyes closing.

I slept fitfully, especially after the pain medication wore off. By the time Nor brought breakfast, I was already up and walking around. There were several journals with detailed drawings of plants in them. I couldn’t read the writing, but I could see what the plants were and I spent some time matching them to the herbs hanging around the room.

“Quite an interesting journal,” I told Nor as he sat down to eat with me. “Did your aunt write it?”

He shook his head. “She is…” He struggled with the word for a moment. “Practical? A… practice? She remembers by senses, not words. But I need reminders.”

“You’re quite good at drawing,” I said. “I kept similar journals, though they sank with the ship.” He looked at me with clear surprise. “I had little else to do. I could rarely go out, so I spent much time in the gardens, drawing and remarking upon the plants. These remind me of my own journals.”

“When I am collecting herbs, I enjoy drawing them. Seeing nature. It is soothing.” He seemed to grow more excited, then composed himself. “I could show you garden, if you’d like?”

“I would,” I said. He grinned, then hopped to his taloned feet as his aunt entered the room.

I did not end up seeing the garden that day, principally because I spent much of it in bed. Nor stopped by every now and then, sometimes with food, more often with a new bundle of plants to tie up and hang from the ceiling. He seemed to go into a sort of trance when he was sorting the herbs, a sort of peaceful state.

It took a few days before I was approved to walk into town. “Don’t stress yourself too much. You’re still recovering,” Aerath said.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Nor said. He fluttered his wings at his aunt, shooing her away. “We’ll be fine.”

Being without wings earned me a great deal of stares. I was viewed with some general suspicion, as far as I could tell. I was allowed to stay because there seemed to be a consensus that throwing me into the wilderness would absolutely kill me, and they had decided not to be that cruel. Not wanting me to die, however, did not necessarily mean that I was accepted by the community. Having Nor with me seemed to help, at least somewhat. He was at least well respected, and being in his presence absorbed you into his aura of decency.

The village seemed to have been built into the enormous trees of the forest. Several houses had been formed out of several trees carefully grown together through cultivation, and the living pavilion, formed out of ten trees carefully coaxed into growing around each other, was the great centerpiece of the town.

Getting to see the town as a group also drew your eye to the cultural similarities between them. A majority of adults had short hair, while children seemed to exclusively have long hair. There didn’t seem to be a clear age delineation between them. Based on appearances, Nor was older than a few of those with short hair, though no one under a certain age had their hair cut.

“Is there a reason for the hair styling?” I asked. “You wear your hair long, but most adults seem to keep theirs short.”

“Oh,” Nor said, with a tiny, dismissive flick of his feathers. “They are… erm. I am not certain of the word. Paired?”

“Married,” I guessed, and Nor’s expression brightened.

“Yes. Married. Part of the ceremony includes cutting hair. Most couples keep their hair short, to show they are with someone. Long hair can be difficult to fly with. To keep your hair short means you have someone who makes it easy to fly.” He frowned for a moment. “It is a pun in my language. It does not work as well in yours.”

“I think I get it,” I said. “But your aunt is unmarried and her hair is short.”

“She is…” There was a long pause. Nor seemed to be struggling to think of the proper words. “Bound to work? Committed to healing? Something along those lines, I believe. She is joined to her job as one is bound to a lover.”

I frowned. “Healers are like nuns, then?”

Nor frowned too. “Like… nones? Healers are not nothing.”

“No, like nuns. It’s spelled differently.” Nor looked entirely blank. I suspected he couldn’t write English. “Nuns are people who take vows not to marry so they can become closer to God, as I understand it. Healers do something similar.”

Nor still seemed confused. “Not all healers. Only Aunt Aerath.” He reached up and touched the long braid that was coiled on the back of his head. “I have… not decided.”

“Well, you’ve got time.” We were quite close to the healing house again, but I paused and leaned against a tree. My chest was squeezing again and I needed a break. “I never planned on marrying, really.”

“Why not?” Nor asked.

“I didn’t expect to live terribly long,” I said frankly. “I have spent much of my life expecting to die from a sudden attack. And then my parents suggested that I go to a hospital for treatment, and it’s rare to marry once you end up in those sort of places.” I smoothed my new robes idly. “I never expected to have a husband  who would be okay with his wife dropping dead at any moment.”

Nor fluttered his wings. “You are not going to die,” he said. 

“It’s all right. I’m content with it. I have been this way all my life. I value every moment now. It’s nothing new to me.” Nor still looked discomfited, so I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Truly, I’m fine. We should head back now.”

Nor plied me with the strange, spicy concoction for my chest when we returned home. I drank the lot of it, at his insistence. It did seem to help. There was something about the warmth of it that relaxed my lungs and brought air in easier.

As my recovery finalized, I began to look for ways to serve my new community. It was not something terribly easy. I could not fly, or truly do any sort of intense physical activity, which limited my options. Sewing and weaving, actions that had often been suggested to me, held no more interest for me in the village than they had in my own home. Trying to manipulate tiny threads that tangled at the slightest glance was infuriating, and my frustration often ended in chest-heaving coughing fits. I tried to go back to writing my journals, examining nature and writing about it, but there seemed to be little actual use for it.

Eventually, I began tagging along with Nor when he went to collect herbs in the forest. He’d been going out more and more often, looking for new plants and writing furiously in his notebooks. I could read them more easily now, having spent a few weeks immersed in a crash course of his language.

“Just make sure you watch out for snakes,” Nor said as we trekked through the thick foliage.

“Look out for what?” I said. I was at the awkward stage of learning a language where I knew most common words, but words that were used infrequently were still lost.

“Snakes? Er. <Snakes!>” Nor said in English.

“Snakes,” I repeated. “Are there a lot of them?” I looked cautiously at the ground.

“No. Not a lot. But there are some venomous ones that bite if you step on them.” Unsettled, I lifted up the hem of my robe, peering cautiously at the leaf litter. The clothes harpies wore were not well-designed for people without tails or wings. I had needed to do some rudimentary tailoring to fix it into something I could walk around in. Shoes had been another problem entirely, mostly because harpies had tough, scaled feet and wore no shoes. I had eventually just decided to layer several thick fabrics together and essentially tied them to my feet. They were neither comfortable nor easy to wear, but they were practical and had stopped your soles from being shredded.

We made our way slowly through the woods. I ended up holding onto Nor’s arm wing for much of it. Never having worked out for long periods of time had left me fairly uncoordinated and leaning on Nor made it much easier for me to move about.

“Look. Norell,” he said, picking up a bunch of sharp-smelling, pink flowered herbs from the ground. “My namesake.”

“What are they used for?” I asked.

“Chest conditions, actually. They’re a big part of the infusion I’ve been giving you.” Nor had been giving me a regular doses of that infusion. Taking some in the morning seemed to loosen my chest for the rest of the day. “I’ve been trying to make a stronger infusion, so we’ll need a lot of it.”

“Are you predicting a spike in chest conditions?” I asked. Winter was on its way, and apparently, due to their large, powerful lungs, harpies were quite susceptible to issues like pneumonia and bronchitis. But that seemed to be counterbalanced by the fact that winter was mild on the island, more of a tepidly cool wet season than a proper snowy winter.

Nor shifted on the ground. His wings twitched a little. It was hard to tell, thanks to his deeply brown skin, but I thought I could see a hint of red creeping into his cheeks. “It’s for you, actually.”

I lifted my brows. “For me?”

“It’s been helping you recently,” Nor said, a little defensively. “I thought that a stronger infusion would help even more.” He frowned critically at the plants. “I want to get it as concentrated as possible. But there’s not enough in the gardens right now, so I need more.” He straightened up, tucking a bundle of plants away into his bag. “Also, infusions will keep a little better than the herbs themselves, so I can keep them for longer. You’ll need some when the growing season ends.”

“You’ll need some for others as well,” I said. “Keep some in reserve.”

“If you need it, you need it,” Nor said. “I’d rather give herbs to someone who definitely needs them than reserve some in case someone else might need them.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to fully heal someone who can be fully healed than to keep giving supplements to someone who will always be sick?” I said. Nor’s feathers bristled, shifting in agitation.

“All people deserve healing. Whether or not their condition is curable. I want you to be well.” His tone was so severe that I could do nothing but stare at him. After a moment, he seemed to realize what he’d said and he broke eye contact, staring at the ground. “We should, ah. Head back.”

He started trekking through the woods rapidly. Harpies were notably better at balance on uneven terrain, thanks to their long, gripping talons. I struggled to keep up with him.

We were getting quite close to the village when I felt the unfortunately familiar seizing sensation in my chest. I stopped dead, enormously regretting my walking speed that had left me a little breathless. It was growing harder by the moment to inhale.

Nor paused, realized I was no longer with him, and hurried back to my side. “Are you okay?” he asked. One of his hands moved along my back, kneading my tightening muscles. “Breathe. Breathe!” If I had the air for it, I would have informed him I was trying, and was well aware that I needed to be breathing. Unfortunately, all my energy was going into not allowing my body to suffocate me.

Nor abruptly decided that simply telling me to breathe was ineffective and changed tact. “Hold on!” This turned out to be quite literal because he seized me around the waist and hefted me against his chest.

It was impossible for a harpy to fly while carrying something, because their arms and wings were one and the same, but I could have been fooled considering how fast Nor was moving. He plunged through the forest as fast as the wind. I would have been more impressed if I wasn’t struggling to breathe at the moment. As it was, I was aware that we were moving at quite a speed.

Nor was back in the healing house within minutes. I was unceremoniously dumped on the bed and Nor darted off, rummaging through a cabinet with a noise of wood rattling and glass clinking.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. He knelt next to me, turning my head toward him. “You just need to drink this. Okay?”

I tried to inhale enough to speak and it stuck in my chest, sparking a coughing fit. Nor looked panicked and thrust the little bottle he was holding into my mouth. I sputtered, but some of the liquid spilled down my throat. There was a mild tingling and my chest loosened.

With my breathing abruptly eased, I could keep taking small sips from the bottle. The tightness loosened with every swallow. Nor slumped next to the bed, wings sagging with relief. I put down the bottle, still coughing, but breathing easier.

“Are you okay?” Nor asked. I nodded.

“You can move quick,” I said. My voice was raspy and a little strangled. I swallowed, trying to fully clear my throat.

“I was worried,” he said. “You should try carrying a bottle of this with you from now on.” He walked over to the cabinet and fetched a small bottle full of the infusion. “If you’re going to be going out more often, you’ll want something to prevent more attacks.”

I took the bottle. “That’s a good idea.” I set it down onto the table next to the bed. “Are you inviting me on more herb gathering missions, then?”

A slightly shy smile crept up Nor’s face. “If you’d like to come. You’ve been pretty good at spotting plants. And you’ve been pretty good in the gardens lately.”

“I was never really able to do a lot of gardening before,” I said. “So, I tended to overfocus on the little minute details, like soil quality and the amount of water you give the plants.”

“You’ve improved the garden a lot,” Nor said. “Oh, which reminds me. Hold on.”

He stood up and trotted over to the cabinet again. After looking through it for a few moments, he pulled out a small notebook and walked back over. “Here,” he said, presenting it to me. It looked like the notebooks he used for his own notes, a smooth black cover and soft, slightly off-white pages. “I haven’t taken many notes on the gardening aspects of herbs. I just… haven’t been very good at it. But I thought you could start taking notes on how you care for the plants. It might be useful.”

I took the notebook from his hands. Our fingers brushed as I did so. His skin was warm and calloused, the sort of skin that only came around after long, hard work. The notebook was heavy in my hands, strangely dense for such a small item. “Thank you,” I said. “I would love to do that.”

Nor stood, shifting on his talons. “Good. Um. You should probably get some rest. I’ll be back in a bit.” He hurried out of the room. I watched him go until his tail had completely vanished around the doorway.

Working in the garden only brought me closer to Nor. We spent time together every day, either going out to gather herbs or helping him with the garden. He was enthusiastic to learn and good company even when we weren’t talking about plants.

His ease with me spread to the rest of the village. By the time winter was over, I had been completely accepted as a part of the community. To them, I was not as much an outsider human as a strange, wingless harpy. Even Aerath trusted me enough to allow me to learn how to make herbal remedies, while Nor took on more of her duties, like diagnosing illnesses and dressing wounds.

During early spring, when the rains began to ease, a change set in around the village. There was a new current of excitement, the younger adults spending more time showing off and engaging in stunts. Even Nor, who had been fairly even tempered in the time I’d known him, seemed to get caught up in the excitement.

It was during my usual work in the garden that I noticed the changes were not confined to emotional. There was a physical change too. Nor’s tail feathers, usually a deep golden-brown, had taken on a rusty color. The color only brightened over the next week, going from a dull, sort of reddish orange to a bright crimson. The colors showed up on the male population of the rest of the village as well, to varying degrees. Some, especially the younger males, never got past a reddish orange, while others got to the same brilliant crimson hue as Nor’s.

While it garnered some sort of notice and people seemed pleased about it, no one was talking about what it actually meant. It clearly meant something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it was so important.

Eventually, after some time of trying to figure out what it meant on my own, I broke down and decided to ask Nor. “Your tail changed color,” I said as we headed back into the house from the garden.

“You noticed,” Nor said. His tone was utterly unreadable.

“Well, it’s a bit hard to miss. It’s a very bright color.” Nor’s unreadable expression shifted into one of clear embarrassment. “Is it something I shouldn’t mention? It seems to signal something, but I wasn’t sure what it was-”

“No, no. I mean, I guess I should have expected you to ask about it. You’re not a harpy, so you never would have been told.” He set the herbs he’d collected down on the table and turned to me, giving me his full attention. “It’s almost spring, which means that we’re approaching our mating season.”

I felt sort of stupid for not hitting upon that idea earlier. Of course. The red was to attract a mate. Was commenting on it some kind of social faux pas? As I tried to come up with that to say next, Nor continued. “We’ll have a mating ceremony soon, with the other local villages. It’s a big event, so everyone’s getting rather excited about it.”

“A… mating ceremony?” I repeated. How carnal were we talking? Was I going to have to make myself scarce for… how long did the mating ceremony last, anyway?

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Nor added hurriedly. “It’s more of a competition? Or a show, really. It lasts about a week, and the first six days are more of a festival than anything. Lots of feasting, games, shows. It’s more about getting to know the other villages and the people from them. It’s quite fun. The festival ends with the mating ceremony. It used to be a more literal interpretation of that, a long time ago. But now it’s really more of a show. Men fly around and show off, but it’s less to attract a mate and more to show off to someone you already have an attraction to. Or to get someone to ask you out, sometimes. It’s more for the fun of it and the tradition.”

“It sounds interesting,” I said.

“It should start in a couple of weeks. That’s the peak of the season,” Nor said. “I can show you around a bit, if you’d like.”

“Sure. If you’re not going to be too busy trying to find a soulmate,” I said, nudging him playfully in the side. He shrugged, glancing away.

“I’ve never actually participated all that much in it,” he said. “I’ve been kind of focused on my studies with my aunt. I spent most of my time at the last few festivals working with the other healers.”

“You should get out more, then. I can help your aunt out, if you want. Then you can go off and see the sights.”

“I already told you I’d show you around,” Nor protested. “And it’ll be your first festival.”

“Look, at least get a little time to yourself,” I said. “I can help out, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Nor said, which was as close to agreeing as I thought he was going to get.

The weeks passed slowly, with excitement ramping up as the festival got closer. I could almost feel the tension buzzing in the air, getting ready to overflow. By the time it had arrived, I was almost swept up in the rising excitement.

The fairground for the festival was a large clearing in the center of the island. It had an impressive view of the sky, and the ground was almost entirely covered in tents and attractions. Nor and I were toward the edge of the grounds, in a sort of makeshift medical tent. “We probably won’t be called on for a little bit,” he said once we’d finished setting everything up. “I can show you around.”

“Sure,” I agreed. Nor trotted off, and I followed after, looking around the festival with interest.

Most of it seemed like the sort of festivals I’d seen once or twice when I’d been young. Ever since my chest troubles had set in fully, I’d rarely gone far from my house. It looked mostly like a very fancy market. People showed off their most interesting wares, their most brightly colored or intricately designed trinkets. There were several people slightly younger than Nor picking up things that I assumed were for potential sweethearts. There were also several games, most of them for children, but a few clearly styled for adults. The food was the usual hearty fare that I’d seen at other festivals, enormously delicious and decadent.

“And this all lasts a whole week?” I asked as we made our way back to the healer’s tent. We had gotten sidetracked a few times- there were several musical performances and talent shows, and even a few classes that I’d been interested in taking.

“Well, the first and last days are the biggest ones. But yes, the whole week. For the most part.”

“Then you can take a day or two off and enjoy all this, can’t you?” I said. Nor hesitated for a moment. “I can handle things at the tent. Why don’t you take tomorrow off? It’ll be good for you to get a break.”

Nor hesitated. “I’ll have to ask my aunt.”

“I’ll make sure she says yes,” I said. “You deserve it. Especially after having to take care of me for so long.”

Nor shrugged and mumbled something about it not being a big deal. I laughed clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just take some time off. Okay?”

He agreed, finally, and we returned to the tent. There were a few injuries, of course, mostly young people trying to show off for their potential lovers, but nothing we were overwhelmed with. It took only a bit of persuading for Aerath to give Nor the next day off.

Nor went out only after making sure I kept my infusion on me. “Just be careful,” he said.

“I’m always careful,” I told him. “Now, go. And stop worrying so much.” He made a face, but left for the rest of the fairgrounds, leaving me with Aerath and the other healers.

I only spotted him a few times during the day. He seemed to have attracted a small group of friends by noon. It seemed he could get along well with others, as long as he managed to get out. Well, I reflected, he was a sweetheart. It wasn’t hard to believe that he was able to get along with others.

I’d been breathing relatively easy for so long that I hadn’t really been expecting another attack. So, when the bout of tightness came on with no warning, I was so shocked I couldn’t think of what to do for several panicked moments.

My wheezing attracted Aerath’s attention. She grabbed my shoulder and shoved me down onto a cot. I fumbled for the infusion, and Aerath helped me unstopper it and press it to my lips.

The infusion helped, but my chest still felt tight. I could draw in air, but it wasn’t enough. Black spots started to pop in front of my vision. My chest screamed with pain. I was dying. That thought sat clear and calm in my brain, rising above all the panic like foam over a tide. I’d known it was going to happen. I’d hoped it would take longer. But at least… at least the last few months of my life had been nice. My mind drifted to Nor. Hopefully he wouldn’t blame himself. He didn’t deserve that. He’d been wonderful.

Nor’s face was suddenly over mine. I blinked up at him. Ha. A nice hallucination before everything ended.

“Breathe!” Distantly, I could feel a hand on my chest, another at my mouth. Something sharp and bitter flowed past my lips and I choked, sputtering. My chest loosened abruptly and I sucked in a great breath, coughing and choking.

Nor, who I was gradually realizing was actually there and not just a hallucination, rolled me onto my side. Some of the solution drained from my mouth as I coughed it up. Nor rubbed my back vigorously, prompting another round of coughing.

Gradually, the tightness eased to just a faint raspiness and a raw pain. I sat up as Nor sank into a seat, weak with relief. “I thought you were going to die,” he said faintly.

“I did too.” My voice was gravely and everything felt raw. “The infusion wasn’t working. What did you use?”

“It was experimental,” Nor said a little sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to make it stronger, something that works better.”

“Thank goodness it did,” I said. I got slowly off the cot where I’d collapsed. Nor stood as well, staying close by like he was preparing to catch me.

“Maybe we should fine somewhere to rest,” Nor said. “The attack probably took it out of you.”

Despite your protests, Nor followed you back home and insisted on staying with you. “Just in case,” he kept repeating.

Nor kept near my side for the next few days, even when I tried to gently push him to spend time elsewhere and enjoy the event. The only times he seemed willing to leave was when I was going with him, at which point he took great enthusiasm in showing me around the various games and events that were being held. Being near him allowed even me to make some new friends- those who would have been unsettled by the sight of some strange, wingless creature seemed reassured enough by Nor’s friendly presence to approach.

Despite his insistence on sticking with me, I did convince him to take another day off for the last day of the festival. It was the day of the mating ceremony, and, given that Nor was of proper age, possibly even a little old, to participate in it, I wanted to give him time to do so.

The showing started at noon sharp, when the sun was at its zenith. Most of the people flying were male, though a few women had painted their tails red and were flying as well. A few would take off at a time and move in carefully coordinated dances. Some were conservative and simple, others were aggressive and risk-taking. Eventually, they would land back in the throng of people staring at the sky. Some of them landed and slipped off with a single partner. Others landed and seemed to attract a group, each of the admirers vying for attention.

After about an hour, I meandered off to the bank of a nearby river. Watching harpies fly was interesting, but it did get old after a while and I was getting a crick in my neck from looking up.

I had only been soaking my feet in the river for a few minutes when Nor walked up to me and sat down next to me. “Wondered where you’d gone,” he said. “Doing all right?”

“Fine. You don’t need to be so worried.”

Nor dipped his talons into the water. “Mm. I guess. But I do anyway.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I said. “You spent half of the festival trailing after me like I would collapse the instant you took your eyes off me. And now you’re missing out on the flight ceremony.”

It was hard to tell with his deeply tanned skin, but I thought Nor went a little pink. “I wasn’t really planning to fly anyway,” he said.

“No one caught your eye?” I asked. There was a long pause. “Nor?”

“Not as such,” he said. “I mean… Sort of.”

“And you’ve been spending all your time trying to look after me instead of enjoying the festival with her,” I said. “You know, I don’t need you to hover around me. You don’t need to feel guilty if anything happens to me. I’ve known I’m probably not going to live that long.”

Nor’s expression twisted a little bit. “I’ve been trying to fix that. I think I’ve got a concoction right. If you take it daily, it should help you-”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Hey. You don’t need to spend all your time on me, you know? You can have a life. You’re not responsible for me.”

“It’s not about that,” Nor said. “I wasn’t worried about you. Well, not just that. I…” He stopped for a moment. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Oh. That created a runny sensation in my chest, like my heart flipped over. “You wanted to-”

“Don’t be that surprised. I haven’t really been subtle about it,” Nor said. “Yes. I like being around you. Why did you think I kept inviting you to do stuff with me and stayed with you instead of going to the festival?”

“I thought you just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to suffocate in your absence,” I said.

“A little bit. But mostly because I like you,” he said. He peered into my face, a tentative smile on his lips. “You don’t seem upset?”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m pleased, actually.”

“Really?” Nor’s face was quite close to mine. His lips were parted. I could feel the soft warmth of his breath.

“Really.” Our lips were quite close to touching. Just before making contact, Nor seemed to stall, hesitation overcoming desire. I smiled and leaned in, pressing our lips together in a gentle moment of contact.

Neither of us had much experience kissing, so it was a bit clumsy and we clacked teeth more than once. Still, when we broke apart, I felt breathless in the most positive way I’d ever experienced.

“We should go back,” Nor said, still staring at me. “I… I think I want to participate in the ceremony after all.”

I smiled. “I’ll be watching.”

#exophilia #harpy #harpy boyfriend #harpy lover #monster boyfriend #monster lover #ocXoc #MxF #Nor

[poliel]

hey so you know how when beffica brings up the chewed on bones and says there's something out there PRESENT TENSE that has teeth and chews on grumpus bones and triffany's like "she's not wrong"? what if, while some of those bones had been chewed on long ago (there's snakmatter that wasn't part of a bugsnak preserved in the stomach area of some of those skeletons - had to be snakified body parts), the culprit for the others was a sleepwalking gramble? he's asleep he doesnt know thats people bones

It's been a long while since I got this ask that give me the idea for this fic. I don't know if it was worth the wait and it was definitely funnier in my head, though that's par for the course when it comes to funny stuff, but here it finally is.

A Different Kind of Midnight Snack

The sight of Gramble sleep walking was a common one at this time of night. Most often he patrolled around Snaxburg but occasionally he did wonder off his usual path and out of town. It was probably a bit morally questionable to stalk him on such occasions, instead they should wake him and send him back to bed, but Buddy didn’t care enough to do so. The curiosity of where he might be going was too much ignore. So instead of going to the closest vacant bed to sleep in as would’ve been wise given the time of night and how long they’d been awake for, they set off to follow Gramble into the Scorched Gorge.

While they’d caught him wondering out of the desert a few times, they’d never caught him going in. So this ought to be interesting given this was a place he went fairly often. Though it could just be a coincidence; he might not go anywhere in particular and might instead just wonder around and just randomly happened to end going into the desert more than other places. If that was the case it’d be disappointing but in the end wouldn’t matter much. At least Buddy would know that and not have to wonder about it anymore.

At the fork in the path he turned right, towards Triffany’s dig site. Not wanting to risk waking him, Buddy hung back. But stayed close enough that if he wondered into any kind of danger like an angry spuddy or something, they could hop in to save him or yell loud enough to wake him and warn him hopefully before he got hurt.

The dig site did indeed seem to be his destination as upon reaching it, he clambered down into the excavation itself and out of Buddy’s line of sight. They paused, waiting to see if he’d come up out the other side. But no, several seconds went by and…

A cracking sound broke the night’s silence. Not particularly loud but still sudden enough to make Budden flinch a little. Shaking it off, they crept closer to the excavation because that’s where it had originated.

Gramble sat in the middle of it, his eyes fluttering, indicating he was still asleep. He held a fossilized thigh bone in his paws. Which wouldn’t have been all that strange if one end of it wasn’t also in his mouth! He was chewing on it! Not hard but enough that it had visibly cracked which explained the sound but… what the fuck?

Buddy took a breath to yell him to stop but bit back on it, even clapping their paws over their mouth to make sure no sound came out. While chewing on/eating fossilized grumpuses was not something any sane grumpus would want to be doing as long as Gramble was asleep he didn’t know. Burdening him with that knowledge would only upset him and thus was not necessary.

Instead they carefully crept down to his level and grabbed the bone. As they pulled it away, he resisted but thankfully not enough to make it a real struggle which likely would’ve ended with him waking up. Once it was no longer in his grasp, they carefully lay it on the ground and took him by the paw to pull him gently to his feet.

He mumbled and whimpered but didn’t wake as they started guiding him back towards Snaxburg and his barn. This at least explained why so many of the fossils had teeth marks and occasionally went missing or showed up broken or splintered. So at least Buddy had solved that mystery. Too bad they couldn’t tell anyone though.

~

Over the next few days they thought about Gramble chewing on and eating fossils a lot. It was a still a rather uncomfortable thought and probably technically cannibalism but also… what did they taste like? While not meant to be eaten, Gramble had to have taken to doing so anyway out of partial starvation, right? Did they help with that any? He certainly didn’t seem quite as unhealthy as one would’ve thought after how long he’d been living off mostly just sauce. But what did Buddy really know about that kind of thing?

At the same time though, the fossils were solid. After how long Buddy had been living off sauce the thought of eating something solid even if it was only partially edible was tempting. And while it was a grumpus skeleton, whoever it had once belonged to was long dead, as was anyone who’d known them. So… trying it just once couldn’t hurt, could it? It certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing Buddy had ever done in their life and thus also not the first thing they’d done that they’d need to keep secret for forever.

***

The worst thing about insomnia was that getting any real work done was harder when it was dark. Back on the mainland, there’d been electricity to help with that. Out here though all Floofty had to light their workspace in the middle of the night were candles. Which they were starting to get close to running out of. Making more was difficult due to the lack of real bees on the island and thus no beeswax to make them from. Floofty would have to figure something out an alternative soon. It certainly wasn’t going to happen tonight though.

With an annoyed sigh they turned away. Instead of working they would just go stand by the unlit campfire until they were bored enough to try sleep again or until the sun rose, allowing them to see their work properly again. Whichever came first would be fine with them.

Before they could step out of the research tent, they paused to watch Buddy go by. Not unusual to see them up and about at this time. What was odd though was their lack of backpack; typically they were only without it when staying in town which they certainly weren’t doing right now as they headed in the direction of the desert. Still not really strange enough to be anything more than mildly noteworthy. At the same time though Floofty had nothing better to do so why not investigate and see if anything strange was up?

They didn’t bother trying to be all that sneaky. If Buddy caught them, they caught them, no big deal. But as they followed them into the Scorched Gorge, Buddy didn’t seem at all inclined to look back for potential followers. They beelined for Triffany’s dig site.

At its edge they crouched down to pull out of the dirt; a fossil. They glanced around as if nervous but not far enough to spot Floofty. Then after a few seconds of obvious hesitation, they lifted the bone to their mouth and… bit it with a loud crunch. Which they swallowed?! Another bite and it was gone. They’d eaten it! Next they bent down for another. Without even hesitating this time, they took bite.

“What are you doing?”

Floofty hadn’t spoken all that loud but Buddy still visibly flinched and made a startled squeaking noise as they snapped around to face Floofty. They quickly swallowed the bite they’d already taken and hid the remaining fossil behind their back. “Uh… it’s not what it looks like?”

Floofty strode closer. “It looked like you were eating fossils.” Which was odd even by Floofty’s standards.

“Uh… um….” Buddy glanced all around, their guilt so plain on their face even Floofty could read it with ease. “I’m just… really hungry, okay? Please don’t tell anyone.” They spoke so fast they garbled the words into near incomprehensibility as they bent down to grab one more bone before turning and sprinting off into the darkness.

Even if Floofty had been inclined to try to follow there was no way they’d be able to keep up; speed was not their strong suit. So instead, they watched as Buddy quickly disappeared into the darkness.

Floofty would’ve liked to ask why Buddy was eating fossils – they were just ‘really hungry’ wasn’t a very good explanation – but oh well. It wasn’t really that important and they’d undoubtedly get a chance to ask later because there was no way they wouldn’t be seeing Buddy again, the island was too small. They wouldn’t tell anyone though, as Buddy had requested, not that there was anyone they could’ve told anyway.

#my writing #bugsnax #the journalist #gramble gigglefunny #floofty fizzlebean

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Mature [References Bullying and Homophobia]

Prompt: AU Rivalry Teamup

Summary: Sent away to a delinquents academy, Freed knew life wouldn't be easy. That was proven to be the case when he met Laxus, a cocky, aggressive arse who used his fists over his words. At least, that's what he thought when they first met, but things can change over the span of a year.

Notes: This is the sixth submission for Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. This one has a brief descrition of bullying and period typical homophobia.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

The London School for Delinquent Boys

Year 1890

Location: London, England

"We've a new boy in class today," The teacher – Mister Porland, that's what he'd called himself – said as Freed stood before the blackboard. "Freed Justine. I expect you all to behave and not cause any trouble with him."

Freed would have picked another way to be introduced if he'd been granted the choice. He would have much rather not had an introduction at all, and instead he'd slip into the back of the classroom, wave off all the questions that would be aimed at him, and try and get through the first day without any complaints. Instead, he'd been forcibly marched to the front of a class of about thirty sixteen-to-seventeen-year-old boys – all of whom had been taken from regular education and placed in a disciplinary academy – and been served up almost on a silver platter.

He had to wonder if this was a punishment in and of itself. A hazing from the teachers.

It wasn't that he was intimidated by them, of course. He'd earned his place in the school just like them, and he could more than handle himself, but he didn't care for the fuss. This was as close to jail someone of his age and social stature could undergo and, due to an enthusiast habit of reading and a slight flare for the dramatic, he'd decided prison rules might best serve him. Rule number one was to keep your head down.

A few jeers, exclamations and a patronising whistle filled the room, quickly quietened by the teacher. Freed made an effort not to pay attention to it. Animals, all of them. At least he could be safe in the knowledge that he held moral superiority over them, not that he'd state it out loud. Idiots tended not to like being told that.

Keeping his head down would be harder than he thought.

After he was allowed to take his seat, he was forced to walk through the lot of them to the back of the classroom. The jeering continued, albeit quietly, and someone tried to trip him as he walked. He ignored them, and nearly got to his seat when a particular classmate caught his eye. He wore an arrogant sneer, had a scar running down his face, and had shoulders larger and broader than a student their age ought to have.

Freed would have thought the boy attractive were it not for the look of challenge in his eyes, one Freed knew all too well. This boy was testing him, wanting to see if he would be a victim in the school or someone to be respected. To show him, Freed halted his step, made eye contact with the boy for a few moments, and then continued walking to take his seat.

A little 'hm' was the blonde's only response, but Freed paid it no mind.

Two weeks passed before the blonde actual did anything. The two weeks consisted of Freed getting used to his new surroundings, idiots trying and failing to one-up him in the hopes of looking tough in front of their idiot friends, and the blonde's presence being constant but in the distance. That changed when the blonde approached him in the dinner hall.

"Hey," The blonde grunted in greeting, storming towards Freed. His body was tense, coiled up and ready for a fight. "You think you're better than me or something?"

Freed didn't know why the blonde thought that, exactly, but his response was instant. "Better than you, yes."

He felt that was a fair way to think. The blonde had proven himself to be nothing of note intellectually, he barely spoke in lessons and when he did it was usually to make an unwarranted joke or to get an answer wrong, and he seemed quick to anger. More than once, he'd lurched at another student, looking ready for a fight he'd probably win. The fights never happened exactly, but they seemed like a constant risk. So yes, Freed did think he was better than him.

"This whole thing might 'a worked out in yer old school," The blonde growled, taking another step forward. Freed didn't flinch. "But actin' like yer hot shit and that yer smarter than everyone here ain't working. You're here like the rest of us, and you ain't better just because your pa's got money."

"I don't think I'm better than everyone here," Freed retorted, also taking a step forward. "But I am better than an idiot who can't shut up and takes his hobby by rolling around in the mud, somewhat like a little pig. My betterment was never in question."

The insult wasn't his best. The reference to the blonde's position in the rugby team tenuous at best, and Freed's supposed superiority complex might have shone through – but it annoyed the blonde, so it served its purpose.

He would have rather not been shoved in the chest, though.

Stumbling back slightly, Freed made a choice. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to get into another fight, it was partially the reason he was there in the first place, but the blonde deserved a punching. He seemed to be something of an unofficial head-boy, and the fear of him was obvious to anyone who would look, and as such Freed felt a punch to the face was long overdue. He was a student like anyone else, and while others might want to lie down and take it, Freed didn't.

That was why he punched him. It hurt more than he thought it would.

Their fight was hardly that. It lasted less than a minute, and anger overpowered its elegance. Freed perhaps got another two punches in, and received one in return. Teachers were storming over the moment it started, and were dragging them away before it could get out of hand, but Freed felt good to hit the bastard.

"Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine," Their head teacher yelled, voice filled with a rage that Freed felt was slightly exaggerated given the situation. "My office, now."

As Freed was dragged – literally dragged, which again was an overreaction – into the office, he was sure of three things. He'd already completely failed in his goal of not bringing any attention on himself; his father was going to find out and want him thrashed for getting into a fight again; and Laxus Dreyar had perhaps the most interesting name he'd ever heard.

---

"You heard what he did?"

"Nearly killed him."

"Apparently they're gonna kick him out."

"Nah, he's the team captain."

Freed didn't pay attention to the conversations happening around him as he ate. After three months of being in the academy, he'd learned it was best not to. Most of the people had nothing of interest to say, and the people who were interesting were the ones likely to try and start a fight with you if they knew you were listening. He'd learned that when a younger boy, Natsu, tried to punch him and Freed had ended up dumping a bowl of cereal over the man's head and temporarily strangling him with his tie. The detentions and lack of breakfasts for a week had been worth it.

In truth, he'd forged a comfortable place for himself in the school. He was known as the boy who gave Dreyar a black eye, and that title came with its perks. Mainly that most people would leave him alone. He and Dreyar had… something. He couldn't tell if it was a truce, or simply a stalemate. But either way, Freed would enjoy the calm and only reignite the fight should Laxus need another punching.

Other than that, Freed was forgettable in the school. People ignored him, he ignored them, and everyone went on as if he hadn't arrived. The school was fine – teachers were far too happy to punish, but that was to be expected – and their lessons were as good as his old schools had been. Had his parents been scammed, the tuition fee had been high?

His parents were an issue. They hadn't visited, but they were in constant communication with the head teacher, and apparently their 'donations' meant Freed was put under a spotlight by the staff. Maybe that was why they were so quick to punish: they were being paid to do so. Annoying, but it could be worse.

The food, however, was abysmal.

Mashed potatoes and sausages would be a good meal, but the potato was half cooked, and the sausages were tiny. He'd eaten as much as he could stomach within a minute, so he absently played with the food with a slight huff. The rain, as tended to happen in England, was heavily pouring and Freed knew the moment a teacher saw he'd stopped eating he would be forced into the yard for recreational activities. The eating hall was at least partially warm, and he had to admit that the conversation behind him was of interest.

"What's that got to do with anything?" One boy shrugged.

"They don't wanna piss off the rugby team, they all worship him," The other explained. "If they kick him out, everyone gets angry about it, and they fight back. They'll never do it."

"You didn't see the kid," The first dismissed. "Half dead. They've gotta do something."

"Doesn't seem like Laxus to just beat a kid up for no reason," The second argued, and Freed did have to agree. Laxus was an argumentative and aggressive man, but he did tend to stick to people his own age. Mainly those who knew how to fight back, as well. "The kid must have pissed him off."

"Romeo, nah," The first laughed, and Freed frowned. "Kid's nothing. Wouldn't bother Laxus."

Romeo. Romeo Conbolt. It took Freed a moment to put a face to the name, and when he did his fork stalled and his body tensed. He had heard the rumours of a kid being beaten half to death, of course he had, but he hadn't heard who it was. He wouldn't have cared, were it not for the fact he had seen days prior the beating Romeo had endured. Laxus hadn't been the one to beat the kid, it had been a group of six of his classmates.

Freed had stopped it, of course. They were all thirteen, he was seventeen and the boy who got into a fight with the school's toughest figure, so they scarpered when he yelled at them to stop. He told the kid to go to the nurse, and saw the issue as finished with.

Had the kid used Laxus as a scapegoat? Or had it been the group of brats?

Either way, Freed was a man of principles. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing the back of Laxus and his insistence of approaching problems with his fists, it wasn't fair to have him blamed for something he hadn't done. Especially when a grown man beating a kid was something that could get him taken from the school and placed into an actual jail. That wasn't fair. He stood, and quickly started to walk towards the head teacher's office.

"Enter," The headmaster, Mister Fernandes, said once Freed had knocked on the door. Freed entered, and waited in silence. "Mister Justine. It's rare you're here voluntarily."

"I suppose so, sir," Freed agreed, ignoring the insult. "Sir, I have a complaint to make."

"Of course you do," Mister Fernandes sighed, removing a pair of spectacles, and leaning forward in his chair. "You do know that this is a disciplinary institution, and I don't act on the word of my students. If you have issues with your treatment then it's not my concern."

"I understand that sir," Freed assured him. "But my complaint is more about the treatment of another student: Laxus Dreyar."

"You needn't worry about that," Mister Fernandes dismissed the complaint, despite the fact Freed had yet to make it yet. "I know that you and he have something of a… personal vendetta against one another, and I'm sure that the rumours about what he has done have reached you. I will be following a strict set of procedures which will likely end up with him incarcerated for what he did to a younger boy. He'll be out of your hair soon, so don't concern yourself about it."

"That is not my complaint."

"If this is something to do with your silly feud then I'm really not interested by it," Mister Fernandes sighed. "As I said, he'll most likely be out of here within the month. If you can't be civil for that long then that's a bad reflection on your own character. And boys your age really should be fighting their own battles."

Freed bit back a retort, wanting to point out that the time he did try to fight his own battle he was dragged away and reprimanded. Instead, he calmed himself and spoke again with the level of respect a teacher believed they deserved.

"Laxus wasn't the person who attacked Romeo, sir," He said, and the headteacher paused. "It was a group of his classmates. Six of them, I believe."

"And you know this how?" Mister Fernandes asked.

"I walked in on them doing it, sir," Freed admitted, not flinching when the teacher looked at him with sharpened poise. "They stopped when I approached, Romeo went to the nurse's office and I expected him to tell you who actually was responsible, rather than placing the blame on Laxus. Had I known earlier what he'd done, I would have spoken to you sooner."

Mister Fernandes took a moment, thinking before sighing. "He did, actually. He gave me a list of names, before returning a day later stating that it was actually Laxus to blame, and that he'd lied initially as he was worried about the consequences."

"And you believed him?" Freed asked before he could stop himself.

"Are you questioning me, Justine?"

"No, sir."

He was.

"You're dismissed, Justine. Thank you for speaking with me," Mister Fernandes waved a hand in his direction, and Freed nodded curtly and went to walk away. "It was big of you to do this, Justine. Well done."

"It's what's expected of me, sir," Freed dismissed.

"Good man," Mister Fernandes nodded, before waving Freed off again.

Freed left, closing the door behind him. He immediately turned to the right and started walking towards the courtyard, which was still being battered by the heavy rain. As he walked, he was completely unaware that Laxus was leaning on the wall outside of the office, looking at Freed with an expression of mingled bewilderment, disbelief, and belligerent respect.

---

The idiom that the enemy of one's enemy was one's friend was a complicated one. It was limited, didn't work for all situations, and seemed to fall apart under any scrutiny. Freed had long since decided that it didn't make much sense when thought about, and yet he found himself subscribing to the idea when it fitted him.

That was the reason he found himself walking into the rugby team's changing room.

Laxus seemed to notice him approaching the moment Freed walked into the room, and stopped mid-way through changing into his kit to stare Freed down. Freed wasn't put off by the intense and lingering gaze of the man, walking towards him without hesitation. The room seemed to quieten around him, and Freed couldn't be sure if it was because of his presence in the room or because Laxus apparently changed in the back corner away from most of his team. That worked well for what Freed wanted, at least.

"The hell are you doin' here?" Laxus said, voice growly and angry sounding. He always sounded like that with Freed, but it seemed more intense today. Perhaps this how he acted before a match.

"I have a favour to ask of you," Freed stated.

"No," Laxus rebutted immediately.

"You might enjoy doing it."

"Wouldn't be a favour, it'd be an opportunity," Laxus smirked, seemingly proud of himself. Freed had to give him credit, it was somewhat clever. "So, what's the great and powerful Freed Justine need from a man like me? Lessons on how to be an idiot; that's what you keep calling me. Or is it a few tips on rolling around in the mud? Y'know, because that's all rugby is, right."

"The captain of the team you're playing," Freed began, rather than rising to the bait. "Hurt him for me."

"What?" Laxus asked, a laugh tainting the word.

"Hurt him," Freed repeated. "Kick him, punch him, give him a concussion if you're able to. Or perhaps accidentally kick him in the balls, that'd be rather nice to watch. Just do whatever you can to make him cry."

"Why?" Laxus grinned, clearly enjoying this.

"You're playing my old school's team, and he's the reason I got sent here in the first place," Freed admitted, ignoring the quirked eyebrow he got. "He deserves more pain than he gets, I suspect. I want you to remedy that."

"And why should I?" Laxus said, voice a little taunting as he continued to change into his rugby kit. Freed forced himself to ignore the strong body that was revealed to him when Laxus removed his shirt. "We ain't exactly friends, are we? Maybe I'd have more in common with him than I do with you."

"Do you need an excuse to hurt someone?" Freed asked, and Laxus held his gaze. Freed eventually relented. "I can tell you the team's weaknesses. The coach wont change tactics and so they can be exploited."

Laxus thought for a moment. "Nah, you don't need to. I'll do it."

"You will?" Freed asked. He… honestly hadn't expected that.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "So long as you watch. If I'm gonna put on a show, I wanna know I'm gonna have an audience."

Laxus pulled on his shirt, much to Freed's quiet disappointment, and sat on the bench before his locker. He leant against it and looked at Freed expectantly, who was looking back with confusion and disbelief. His arrival in the changing room was stupid at best – he'd seen the man who had gotten him there in the first place and old resentment bubbled up faster than Freed would have liked – and as such he had thought Laxus would dismiss him. It's what Freed would have done were the situation flipped.

"Why?" Freed asked.

"This place is shit, anyone would wanna punch the guy who put 'em here. I don't get to do it, but it'll be fun to do it to some other guy," Laxus shrugged, standing up and cracking his back when the coach called for the team to leave for their warmups. He stepped past Freed, but halted once they were all alone. "Be there, pretty-boy."

"What?" Freed stammered slightly. Had Laxus just…

"You think I don't know the reason you're here?" Laxus chuckled a little, but it lacked the edge it normally did. He lowered his eyes slightly and spoke softer than Freed was used to. "You two get caught? Or did he catch you with some other guy and squealed on ya?"

Freed shouldn't answer. He and Laxus weren't friends and admitting anything to him was stupid, but he found himself whispering, "The latter."

"Fucker," Laxus growled, equally quietly. Freed didn't know what to think of it. "Yer right, he needs a kick in the balls. I'll handle it."

"Thank you," Freed whispered.

"Don't worry about it," Laxus dismissed. "Besides, I guess I kinda owe you for stopping me from getting expelled, don't I?" Freed frowned a little. That had been half a year ago, and he didn't know that Laxus even knew of it. Laxus didn't seem to notice Freed's change in body language and continued talking with a smirk. "And, you never know, having a pretty little rich boy watching me might make me play better."

That was all Laxus said before slowly dragging a knuckle over Freed's cheek in a gesture so light but so intimate that Freed felt a shiver run over him completely. Laxus grinned at him, pushed his knuckle against Freed's lips for a split second, before leaving Freed alone in the locker room, heart racing and eyes wide.

---

"How did you know?"

"How'd I know what?"

"The real reason I'm here."

Both Freed and Laxus were sitting on the school house's roof. Laxus had been taking a drag of his cigarette when Freed had approached him and sat bedside him, and the blonde absently offered Freed one. He didn't take it, and for a few moments they had been sitting in silence before Freed had broken it.

It was the last day of the school year. Freed would be dragged back to his home, where his parents would no doubt have a list of grievances about his behaviour throughout the year. His father would make threats about how if his behaviour didn't improve immediately, he would be punished off the back of the man's belt. Nothing would come of it, of course – the elder Mister Justine stopped punishing Freed that way the moment Freed was of an age where he could fight back – but the yelling would be near consistent. It always was when Freed met with his parents now.

He wasn't going to complain. There was no point. Instead, he was going to tie off the loose ends of his school life, particularly with Laxus. Because, when it came to the beautifully, and now somewhat flirtatious man, Freed really didn't know where he stood.

"It's obvious, when you've been here for long enough," Laxus explained, puffing out a stream of smoke. "Yer not obvious, I don't mean that, but when you've been here for years you look out for the signs."

"And what were the signs?"

"You never spoke about why you're here other than saying you got into a fight. I'm guessing it was with the guy who told on ya," Laxus shrugged a little, shifting slightly so that his side was pressed against Freed. "Everyone here wears their story like a badge of honour. Getting into fights, beating kids up, stealing from places. They're all good stories and get's you a lot of credit in a place like this. The worse you were, the more respect you get," Laxus chuckled. "There's only one thing that gets you in here that you don't talk about. Yer queer, and you get found out."

"You don't talk about why you're here," Freed pointed out, and Laxus turned to look at him with a lazy smirk.

"My dad saw me with the neighbour kid," He laughed. "He wasn't even good looking, felt sorry for him really and wanted to know what it's like to kiss a guy. But dad walked in, threw a fit, and I've been here since I was thirteen."

"That's awful of him."

"Maybe, but this place ain't so bad once you get used to it," Laxus shrugged again, leaning back against the wall he was resting on. "Kinda funny, really. I'd say about a quarter of the guys are here for the same reason we are. If you know what to look out for, you can have a pretty good time."

"You could have told me," Freed laughed a little. "I've been rather bored."

"If I told ya, I wouldn't have you all to myself," Laxus grinned, and blew a puff of smoke directly into Freed's face. Freed simply quirked an eyebrow. "I've been spending the last couple of weeks showin' off to ya on the field and I think it was working pretty well. Hardly fair on me if I got you all excited only for ya to use it on some other guy."

"You're a manipulative man when you want to be, Laxus," Freed smirked, leaning just a little closer to Laxus. "But you haven't done anything yet, have you?"

"Maybe I want ya to be desperate for me," Laxus whispered, voice low and rumbling. "Maybe I'm waiting for you to make the move on me."

"If that's true, then maybe you've waited long enough."

They were close now, and Freed wanted to be closer. Laxus' hand was resting against his thigh, and Freed leant further in. He could smell the smoke on Laxus breath, see the slight dilation of the man's eyes as he grinned, and slowly brought their lips together in a slow, tentative kiss.

His first kiss. A beautifully electric, smoky kiss that set Freed's very soul on fire.

He tangled his hand into Laxus' short hair, tugging at it slightly and relishing the slight groan that he was given in return. Laxus pushed into him further, and Freed practically melted.

Eventually, when a harsh gust of wind flew over them and shook them from the spell of their kiss, they pulled apart. They were quiet for a moment, the gravity of what happened only just hitting Freed. He had just kissed the brutish, angry, brilliant man he had once expected to hate, and had felt more alive than ever before.

"You better be here next year."

"Nothing could stop me."

"That's right, pretty-boy."

They shared a smirk, and leant forward to reignite another perfect kiss.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #1800's AU #Rivalry AU #Boarding School AU #Word Count: 4.2k

[sunasrintarhoe]

Cat got your Tongue?

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro X GN!reader

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Maybe summoning a cat demon wasn’t the greatest idea… TW: Demon summoning and fluff

A/N: This is not accurate what so ever . I just really like the thought of summoning a cat demon named Kuroo. I really wanted to get a little something out before my inactivity gets too obvious lmao, feel free to request because requests are now open!! I will be putting out a list of Characters that I am willing to write for, so be looking out for that. Anyways I hope y’all enjoy!

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Every night since you had completed the ritual, or so you thought, you had been having this one weird dream. It always started out with a black haired man with bright yellow eyes looming over you with a small smirk on his face. He always said the same thing.

“You know, for someone so smart, you really don’t know how to read instructions all the way through…”

He would laugh and walk away from the side of your bed to your desk and pick up the old, dirty paper that contained the instructions to summon a Bakeneko, then scoff and you would hear the faint sound of a piece of paper being crumpled and thrown onto the floor.

The man would walk back to your bed and lean over you again whispering, “Offer me something, (Y/N). Pictures… Memories… You…”  He would lean over further almost as if to kiss you, then you would wake up. Your heart racing, your palms sweating. Sometimes with a headache, but that could have been because of the seasons changing. Your alarm would go off after about five minutes and you would be forced to get out of bed and get ready for work. 

Working at a bakery, definitely wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Especially when your boss was the one and only Miya Osamu. You two had grown up together and became best friends over your mutual love for food. Like Osamu, you dreamed of opening your own restaurant, but when you did, business was slow and hard to come by, which forced you to close down. Since, Osamu had opened Onigiri Miya a few years prior and was looking to branch out, he offered to buy your bakery, along with giving you a position as a manager. Of course you happily accepted and the next day you were sitting pretty with 15 million yen in your bank account. He had the place remodeled and within a month, your bakery was changed to Pastry Miya. 

It seemed like you were always busy. The name Miya certainly made a difference and sometimes you wondered if people ever realized that the bakery was run by the same person. Today was different though. Today was the day that Osamu wanted to release the fall exclusives and you just weren’t feeling it. Despite going to bed early, you felt like you were running on no sleep. Coffee didn’t seem to help and you seemed to be swaying on your feet. 

Sluggishly, you walked into the building and back into the staff room. As you were putting on your apron, Osamu walked in. “Yo, (N/N). I need you to- Are you okay?” He asked, concerned, to which you replied with a small smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a bit tired.” “You certainly don’t seem like a bit tired” He put the back of his hand up to your head and hummed. “ You don’t have a fever, do you feel sick?” You pushed his hand away, “Not at all, like I said I’m just tired.” You tried to walk around him, but he grabbed your wrist. “What happened?” He asked, pointing to a small bruise on your hand that you hadn’t noticed. “Oh? I have no idea, I don’t remember getting that…” You noticed the beginning of a bruise under your sleeve and pulled it up, only to be met with what seemed like a hundred more bruises. 

“Okay, what the fuck, (Y/N)? You’re not okay. You need to go home.” Just as concerned as he was, you looked up at Osamu with wide panicked eyes. “This makes sense.” “What does?” “The bruises, the tiredness, the recurring dreams about the incomplete ritual. It all makes sense.” “Ritual?” Osamu practically yelled, “What ritual?” You smiled sheepishly. “Well, you know how my cat died like six months ago?” He nodded,”Well, I’ve been really lonely and I saw this ritual at an antique that is supposed to summon a cat and I thought I should try it out…” Osamu’s jaw hit the floor. “YOU SUMMONED A DEMON?!” “yes…” He turned you around and untied your apron. “You can’t come back until you fix this.” Osamu pushed you out the door and slammed it shut.

“I guess I’ll go home then.” You mumbled to yourself and made your way to your car.

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

When you entered your apartment, the first thing that you noticed was the darkness. None of the sunlight seemed to be streaming through your light pink curtains. The next thing you noticed was the pentagram in the middle of your living room with the instructions on how to summon a cat demon in front of it. “Well shit.” you mumbled and sat down in front of the pentagram. You picked up the instructions and read through everything. “Ah, here. You must offer the demon something precious to you.” You looked around, “Something precious to me… something precious to me…” You turned to the first thing you saw. It was a picture of your cat that had passed away six months prior. “Oh, baby… How I miss you.” You placed the picture in the middle of the pentagram and sat on your knees. With a puff of smoke, the picture was gone. “What the hell?” “A cat? Really?”  A deep voice spoke from within the shadows. You quickly turned around only to be met with two long legs. Looking up, you gasped. Standing before you was the man that had been appearing in your dreams. “You!” “Me!” He mocked. “ Who are you?” The man smiled and crouched down to you. “The name’s Kuroo Tetsuro. I was partially, now fully, summoned by you.” He winked. “But I thought I was summoning a cat…” He got up and walked a few paces away. “You did.” In an instant a black cat appeared in front of you and Kuroo had disappeared. The cat sauntered its way in front of you and sat down. 

“I will be with you for as long as your cat stays precious to you, once the cat loses meaning, I will go back to my realm and take your soul with me.” The cat spoke. You froze. “FUCK! OF COURSE I’M STUPID ENOUGH TO SUMMON A DEMON AND NOT EXPECT FOR MY SOUL TO BE EATEN.” You yelled to the ceiling and Kuroo ran behind the couch, startled. 

Kuroo crept out from behind the couch when he realized the screaming was over, “I never said your soul would be eaten, I just said if your cat loses meaning to you, your soul will be dragged to the demon realm.” He blinked. “Same difference!” You snapped at him. You got up and sighed. There wasn’t anything you could do about it now, but at least you weren’t so lonely.

Kuroo had turned back into a man and wrapped his arms around your waist. “What are you doing?” You asked, trying to push him away. “You’re cold. Humans can’t stand being cold from my experience. Your cells don’t do well with the cold and start to shrivel up and die causing irreversible damage-” You tuned him out as he began rambling about the different effects of being cold. “-I just want to make sure my human is okay.” He purred.You relaxed and just let him hold you. It had been a while since someone had held you like that and you weren’t complaining. The purring made you feel like you were holding, your sweet, little cat. You felt Kuroo freeze at your lack of movement. 

“Are you okay?” “Yeah… Can we just stay like this for a bit.” Your voice sounded tight and you felt emotional. You were so touched starved and it was taking a toll on you. Kuroo just sighed and hugged you tighter. “You can’t get too attached, you’ll end up dying.” You shook your head. ”You remind me of my cat.” Kuroo chuckled. “The purring helps.” After a little bit you jolted. “Oh, frick. I’m sorry.” You bowed in apology and Kuroo just waved it off. “It happens to the best of us.” He walked away and shifted, “Besides, We’ll be together for a while.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

Once the whole fiasco with Kuroo was finished, you were able to work and life went back to normal. Well… With the exception of having a nerdy cat around. Kuroo was exceptionally great company and was very cuddly as a cat. He never allowed to be alone. Always following and watching, he didn’t allow you to be alone for more the five minutes at a time. He would make you cook almost every meal for him and make you sit down and eat with him. He slept in your bed, laid on the toilet when you showered and basically took over your entire life. This continued for six months until one day Kuroo stopped. He stopped talking to you, eating with you, sleeping with you. He completely isolated himself from you without explanation. He stayed in your guest room, only coming out to see if you were still home. It sucked.

You were fed up. The next time you saw him, you were confronting him.

____________________________________________________________________________

That was a month ago. He hasnt come out his room for an entire month. You now moped around you house and cried over your cat’s picture. Sometimes you sobbed out loud hoping that Kuroo would hear and come to your rescue, but it never happened. He had gotten you so used to affection and care that when he ripped it away from you, you were becoming depressed. 

You decided enough was enough and knocked on the guest room door. “Kuroo… Can I come in?” You asked softly in fear of rejection. The door slowly opened and you entered.

You were met with sad yellow eyes and a frown on Kuroo’s usually smug face. You reached out to him and he seemed to fly into your arms. “I thought you were begin to hate me and I thought if i isolated myself you wouldn’t hate me.” He whimpered and you breathed out a laugh. “I thought you were beginning to hate me, Kuroo. I was worried that i was getting too attached and you were trying to tell me that you didn’t to be around me anymore.” Kuroo gasped and looked into your eyes, “That’s not true, you love for your cat is still as strong as it was when you summoned me.” He buried his face into your neck. “If anything I was the one gettin attached…” He mumbled into your neck and you smiled. “So, I’m assuming that its okay for me to get attched too?” Kuroo looked up at you and smiled, “Of course…” He whispered while leaning in to kiss your lips.

____________________________________________________________________________

A few months passed and your relationship with Kuroo had grown strong. You constantly reminded yourself of your cat that had now been dead for over year and you still mourned him like it was yesterday. Kuroo never minded, he understood. Not wanton to be the cause of your death, he encouraged your grieving and gave you the proper space to do so. When you were done, he would always come back to you and comfort you until the left over feelings were gone for the most part. 

Kuroo had been the most patient and loving boyfriend you had ever had. He made you feel loved and secure, he made you feel wanted and welcomed. He told you random facts about chemistry every moring and jokes about physics every night. He always made sure that you felt more than enough and tried his best to fill the void that your hardships had left behind. All in all, Kuroo is the best boy and makes sure you know that.

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #nekoma #Captains x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #nekoma x y/n #nekoma x reader #demon au #ritual au #miya osamu #miya atsumu #miya twins #inarizaki

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - THE FIRST STORY” (Novel)

CHAPTER 1: THE BOY NAMED ISANA YASHIRO (Complete)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

*PROLOGUE: SIDE: THE BOY

A great sword floated in the sky.

As he looked at that, he felt his chest was crushing, and he wanted to scratch his chest and start screaming.

He thought it shouldn't be like this.

He doesn't know where to go from here, his feet are not clear.

His cold body began to tremble and he felt a warm, soft, small object touch his forehead.

Open his eyes.

So, he sees a fluffy kitten with a small forefoot on his forehead. The pad on his forehead is warm and soft.

"Ah... good morning?"

"Meow."

The kitten screamed to reply.

He thought he was sleeping with his head dead, but the haze of drowsiness faded vaguely and cleared, the mysterious dreams in his head that made him feel very sad begin to clear up.

He is Isana Yashiro. Second year of the Ashinaka Academy.

Finally, acknowledging the reality, the boy, Isana Yashiro, got out of bed.

He gives a big yawn, stretches. This is the school bedroom where he lives. A room like an apartment with kitchen and bathroom, which is alarming for a student dormitory.

The wall is a video projection technology that has been popular recently, and it was designed so that the wallpaper can move in any pattern you want.

"I had a mysterious dream. I don't remember, but I think it was a sad and painful dream.”

When he petted the kitten, he worried that the kitty would yell, "Nyaa" again, and rub his face against the boy's palm and give him a little lick with his little tongue.

"I have to go to school. Breakfast is... just white rice and sausages, but you eat it too, right?”

"Nyaan."

This kitty is not a domestic cat. The cat that lives in the Ashinaka Academy, called "Ashinaka School Island", whose land belongs to the entire school, is one of the cats that had become familiar with the boy.

The boy acknowledges that they are friends rather than related to being held back. So for some reason, he did not name this kitten. Even if he doesn’t feel like giving a selfish name, calls his using the "you"

He divides the remaining rice from the rice cooker into its own portion and the kitten portion, take the sausage out of the refrigerator and place it on top of the rice. It is a varied meal, but it is the best that someone who has never cooked can do.

He thinks he can easily eat breakfast and think about what to do with lunch. He has eaten all the rice in the rice cooker.

"Okay."

The boy takes a bowl, washes the rice cooker, and weighs the rice. Gently and quickly, pour clean water on the scale and place it in the rice cooker.

He hung his backpack over his shoulder, carried his favorite red protective umbrella, and picked up a rice cooker. The kitten jumps on the boy's shoulders, knowing he is ready to go.

"So, let's go."

The boy leaves the bedroom. In the hallway, he meets his classmate Sota Mishina, who was about to go to school.

"Oh, Shiro. Good morning... what have you got?”

Shiro is his nickname in that place. The boy replied with a smile.

“It is the restaurant's rice. It's fluffy, moist and sweet, I don't think it's as delicious as freshly cooked white rice.”

The boy likes white rice. And he will spare no effort for what his like. Among the rice cooker in his possession, the rice is probably slowly absorbing water. After that, if he presses the rice cook switch at a good time, another rice will cook at noon.

Mishina has an angry face and sighs.

"You... are you going to school with a common rice cooker? Weird kid. You don't seem to have any worries, you're always happy.”

He certainly is not concerned with the current situation. The boy was in a good mood and went to school lightly while holding the rice cooker.

++++++++++

There is a classmate who is interested in Shiro.

It doesn't mean she's in love.

The boy has a strange atmosphere, and sometimes he seems to fly like a fluffy balloon, and you can't take your eyes off him.

Today he brought a rice cooker to the classroom. In class before lunch, white steam was coming out of the rice cooker, and the teacher was angry, saying, "Who's cooking rice in the classroom!"

However, when his teacher was angry that he was cooking rice, he wrapped his teacher in smoke with a strange smile and a speech, which allowed his to cook rice in the classroom.

This boy, Isana Yashiro, was a very mysterious young man.

His look is not flashy, and the facial features are quite mature, but as he always has a loose smile, he makes a bright and warm impression like a sun. He's a skinny guy, he has cute round eyes and there's nothing intimidating about him, making him a guy that even girls can't make a wall for the opposite sex. He seems clueless, but he's surprisingly smart, and his big eyes sometimes shine wisely. He is wearing a uniform, but he does not look bad or fashionable, he plays with the knot of his tie, he wears brown shoes, without socks. For some reason, he always has a red umbrella as a trademark, and he's dressed as a free person.

Now he is blowing the cooked rice in the rice cooker.

"No, today I forgot the side dishes!"

With a lunch box full of white rice alone, the boy rushes over to his classmate Mishina.

"You lie!"

"Please!"

"Not good! By the way, don't bring the rice cooker with you!"

The boy was already a show at the famous Ashinaka High School, for begging for side dishes for lunch. For some reason he always has a diet of just bringing white rice and getting side dishes from the people.

Whether it's Mishina, whom he's begging now, and who is fighting with the boy for wanting to get his favorite side dishes, many students enjoy giving side dishes to the boy. They feel like they are feeding a sweet cat.

Kukuri stared at the boy's appearance, and spoke to a friend, Inaba Sumika, who was trying to open a lunch box next to her.

"Hello, Shiro-kun."

"Shiro? Ah, Inaba-san.”

"I wonder if he has no friends."

"What?"

Inaba bowed her head. Her long black hair falls out of her shoulders.

"No, he's popular, no matter how you look at it."

What Inaba says is correct. Even now, the boy has managed to catch Mishina's fried chicken and laughs as Mishina locks him up. The students around them look at them with great fun.

"But you know, if you look closely, he doesn't seem to really get close to anyone..."

The boy who walks in the classroom with everyone's garnishes seems to have fun with everyone, but he is not around a specific person. They all like the boy, the boy likes them all, however, he does not approach anyone deeply.

Such a mysterious sense of distance is like a fluffy balloon, and it's something Kukuri can't help but worry about.

"Also, he doesn't have enough vegetables."

Kukuri said it very seriously. Inaba has a strange look.

"Vegetables?"

"He is stealing all the main garnishes, so he is partial to the meat."

Kukuri took the bento box out of her bag and placed it on her desk.

There are two bento boxes that Kukuri has prepared. One is for her, and the other is for the boy.

"Therefore, today prepare boiled foods, salads, hot vegetables, etc. to improve nutritional balance."

She showed Inaba a homemade lunch box full of vegetable garnishes. But in the meantime, the boy has already left the classroom with a spongy step.

"Ah, come on!"

Kukuri hastily covers the lunch box and follows the boy. Inaba looked at Kukuri with an astonished look saying, "You will do well."

When she took the lunchbox and went out into the hallway, she could no longer see the boy.

"Where did he go?"

If you take your eyes off for a moment, he will disappear. This is another characteristic of the boy. Maybe he has its own secret route, he should have been there a little while ago, but suddenly when you realize it, he instantly moves to another place.

Kukuri ran out of the hallway, saying she would definitely catch him.

She sees him through a window, walking along the terrace of the cafeteria with a garnish.

When Kukuri rushed to the cafeteria, he disappeared. Then she saw him receiving candy from a girl in the hallway through the school window.

When Kukuri returned to the school building, he was gone again, and witnesses told her that they saw Shiro go to the dining room, but when she went to the dining room, he was no longer there, and the chef said in the kitchen, "Also, took the garnishes…”

While collecting sightings, she searches the yard, runs down the hall, and out the window again, finds the boy walking in a good mood in the opposite hallway. He had a lunchbox in one hand and a red umbrella on the shoulder of the other.

The place where the boy is is close to where she is.

Kukuri ran as hard as she could down the hall of the student council, but when she got there, the boy was gone and there was only a cleaning robot Tsukumo 99. Kukuri meets Tsukumo with too much energy.

A cleaning robot that speaks the samurai language, which is loved at this school, complained to Kukuri, who had beaten him "Be careful."

"By the way, he's a runaway boy!"

Kukuri looks around and walks towards the missing boy.

At that moment, she could hear the sound of tinkling and bells, and although there was no one around her, she felt a cute aroma like a girl's shampoo for a second.

After all, she couldn't catch the boy, and Kukuri decided to eat the two bento boxes side by side.

The boiled taro in her mouth tasted delicious as she'd tasted it, but she wasn't going to eat it herself.

Besides Kukuri, Inaba, who had already eaten her bento, grabbed onto the table with her chopsticks and took a garnish from Kukuri's bento box and brought it to her mouth.

"Is love. It is not love?"

Kukuri chased the boy, perhaps because he was supposed to have lunch with people, Inaba said in a bored voice.

"No, that is not the case."

Kukuri dropped her shoulders.

"Somehow, that person seems to disappear when I take my eyes off him..."

That is the reason why Kukuri cares about the boy.

He talks to everyone so happily and is loved by so many people, he eats a lot of side dishes at lunch, but she feels like he is leaving when they find out.

Like today where she could see he right there but couldn't catch he, someday really, she thinks he's going to disappear out of reach.

With such a strange emotion, Kukuri chased after the boy with the feeling that she should catch him if he was not strongly connected to anyone.

++++++++++

Thanks to everyone's favor, collecting side dishes for lunch was a great catch.

The boy eats the delicious white rice and the side dishes recommended by all in a lunch box, on a rooftop of the school building.

There was a screech and a bell noise, and a kitten appeared that was going somewhere during class. The boy smiles, "Welcome." and he place a snack on the lid of the lunchbox, for the kitten.

Having eaten a full meal, the boy lay down at the wind blowing across the rooftop. He put the red umbrella open and start taking a nap.

This umbrella was something that the boy found in the school warehouse. He was disappointed because he felt it was something that was used at some school festival, and the dusty umbrella was very attractive. The boy loves this Japanese style umbrella.

The boy spread his arms and legs and stretched.

"Japan is a peaceful country."

He feels sleepy and tired.

The boy who swims between reality and dreams saw a golden light in the dark.

Who is…?

A very tall man was in the golden light. An old man with a strict gaze. He has a hard body and his back is straight. An old man with terrifying intimidation and terrifying atmosphere, but the boy felt the nostalgic light of his light.

The old man opened his mouth.

"This country is over, Weissmann."

It was a heavy voice. It was like scolding and begging for something.

Suddenly, he hears someone laugh.

When he noticed, there was a man in his twenties and a white man who had long silver hair on his back and was smiling mysteriously.

Looking at the silver-haired man, the boy felt as if his head was shaking.

This is different from nostalgia. However, the intense sensation of seeing and discomfort builds up, making the lower stomach feel uncomfortable.

Quickly, the boy opened his eyes.

On the rooftop of the school, it seems that the boy had a strange dream at this time.

He was suddenly surprised by what happened, but the kitten who had curled up due to the boy's weakness, withdrew.

"Now... what did you say?"

The boy asked the kitten that way, but the kitten tilts its neck.

It is not surprising. There is no way for a cat to speak. First of all, this is just a dream.

The boy was able to fight for a fortune in a strange dream that was different from the sad dream it did not remember this morning.

He returned to the classroom at the last minute of class, but everyone in the classroom was humming with their thoughts, and it wasn't as if the class was starting soon. The boy bows his head.

"How about class?"

Mishina, who was working in the front seat, has an astonished face.

“Preparation for the school festival in the afternoon. Work hard!"

That was. It was less than a week before the school festival. The Ashinaka School festival, commonly known as Gakuen Island, which is a gigantic school, is a festival that literally lists the entire island, and the budget and enthusiasm are enormous.

To ensure that no one other than relevant persons can enter and exit the school island, you cannot enter inside the island gate without a student pass or a staff pass installed on the PDA. It is a mechanism that remains. However, on the day of the festival, the door will open and visitors from outside freely.

The Ashinaka School Festival is not just a school festival; it is also a great event that the general public outside the school is looking forward to.

All of the students took the school festival seriously with the goal of not only creating their own memories but also entertaining the people, and in December, when the school festival is held, there were often days when internal students were given allowed preparation work until midnight.

The fact that the school festival is held in December is a little different, but this is because the school festival on Gakuen Island is held at the same time as the annual shrine festival on the island.

The boy looked around the classroom. Everyone seems to be busy practicing theater, making costumes, combining costumes, and various gatherings. When he was watching the scene without help, Kukuri quickly entered.

"Hey, someone asked me to use student council! We are recruiting people who are free!”

Kukuri raises her hand and recruit’s volunteers. Although there is a small natural place, Kukuri, who is a solid, cheerful and kind person, is a member of the student council and everyone can trust her.

In the eyes of the classmates who worked, she walked over to the boy holding a kitten. If you are a leisure person, stay here, everyone's eyes said.

Go to a downtown store to collect fireworks for the event. Even if he rushes from Gakuen Island, it takes over an hour to get to the center of Shizume-cho. Certainly, he was the right one to go as he currently has no job.

Kukuri operates the mission, makes the purchase note, and hands it to the boy.

"Then Shiro, I will send you a note."

The boy thought he would say that and smiled. By the way, what happened to his PDA? He feels like he hasn’t seen it recently.

He looked in his pocket, but couldn't find it. Does he leave it in the bedroom or did he lose it? The boy is not in the habit of playing with his PDA, so he is not in the habit of carrying it.

"Don't you have a PDA?"

Kukuri rolled her eyes. The boy somehow makes a fake smile. Kukuri feels it is a bit strange, but says, "Well, I'll write it down on paper." However, on the way, he realized that...

"Oh, I can't leave school without first looking for it to use."

The pass to enter and exit the Gakuen Island gate is on the PDA designated by the school and that each student has. At school, the PDA serves as an identification card.

However, the boy did not remember wearing it these days. The boy is familiar with the secret passageways at school.

Security seems to be disabled, but the boy knew that even if he didn't have a PDA, he could do anything.

Taking the memo from Kukuri, who had a worried face, the boy laughed and said, "Ok."

The boy has many friends on Gakuen Island, although the relationship is wide and shallow.

There were many "friends" among teachers and staff, as well as among students.

Teachers who are taking lessons directly can be the best people if they really care about a particular student, (Still, old school teachers tend to listen to the boy's requests.) Staff, other than teachers, like security guards thought the boy was like a stray cat.

That is why the boy walked out of the school, not through the gate, but through the guard station. He laughed and said, "I don't use it for long, but I lost my things." The man said, "Please order another one again soon."

Even with good security, there are places where a person tends to be able to pass.

The boy was walking on the bridge connecting Gakuen Island and the mainland, reviewing the shopping notes with the kitten on his shoulder.

All travelers and those on the main island use monorails that pass under the connecting bridge, which is primarily for vehicles and few people walk on foot. However, you need a PDA to travel on the monorail. The connecting bridge is long to walk on foot, but the boy liked to walk on the bridge looking at the sea.

Illuminated by the falling sunlight, the sea is blue and glowing.

The boy leaned on his side and watched the landscape from the bridge. A gentle breeze blows with the scent of the tide, making the boy's hair flutter.

It was a beautiful and calm sight.

Suddenly he feels like staying there forever.

Good weather. Soft breeze. A kitten that clings to his shoulders, and has many bright and fun friends on the way home.

What is here and now seemed calm and terribly difficult to find.

He wondered if something smelled bad about it.

He smiles at his thoughts and is yelled at that he is in the process of being used. He must collect the fireworks she ordered and get a receipt at Shizume-cho, and he must return at six o'clock.

++++++++++

A young man was sitting on top of the building.

He is called "black dog". It is a popular name that sounds like a derogatory name, but he is proud to be the servant of a "King", so he is proud of himself.

Her long black hair in a ponytail flutters in the wind.

Shizume-cho's bustle extends below him.

He saw a boy trying to cross a crowded intersection.

A 16 or 17-year-old boy with a little pink kitten on his shoulder. He's small and has a soft girlish look, with an atmosphere that won't warn anyone.

But…

He saw a guy with a red shirt and a cap who was walking away from the boy with the umbrella a little and made his way through the crowd. The conscience of the guy in the hat is completely directed towards the boy with the umbrella, and his expression is disgusting. Probably a "Homura" member. It's a bad job as a follower, but the umbrella boy doesn't seem to notice.

Looking up at the boys from a height, he took his precious recorder out of his pocket and pressed the play button. The recorder is an important treasure that preserves the voice of his late master and guides his actions.

"The king's shadow lights up."

A deep, slightly bright voice is heard from the recorder. He closed his eyes and listened to the voice.

The boy with the umbrella walks with an unprotected face. Well, he was quiet walking around Shizume-cho city. He doesn't know if the boy has something to think about or if he's dumb.

He put his hand on the sword at his waist. The famous sword "Kotowari" entrusted by his master. He draws that sword only when he fulfills the orders of his master.

"Please look, Ichigen-sama."

He murmured to pray and stood up.

++++++++++

The boy received the fireworks that the student council had ordered at a fireworks store called "Kadamaya" in Shizume-cho. Mainly fireworks, but there are some weird types too, and it was quite interesting that the store owner lectured him on how to use them.

He leaves the store with the receipt received from Kukuri.

There is still time until dusk. Even if he deviated a bit, it looks like he'll be back at six o'clock, and when the boy started walking, something loud was heard slipping on the ground behind him.

When he looked back, he saw a young man on a skateboard hitting a metal bat and approaching.

"Eh?"

The boy opened his eyes and made his thoughts and body stiff for a moment. He visually saw the metal bat swinging toward his head, the stiffness of his body dissolving before he thinks, and he jumps with a reflex.

The downed metal bat destroys the storefront, and the desks and products placed in the store were crushed and scattered.

The boy like a fluffy rice cake on the way was surprised, looking at the young man who swung the metal bat.

A young man who looks like a high school student, wearing a knit hat and a red hoodie around his waist.

He put his foot on the skateboard, put the metal bat on his shoulder, looked back slowly and observed the boy who was confused.

What? What is happening? He wanted to ask, but suddenly the words don't come out of the boy's throat.

The young man on the skateboard manipulates a clock-shaped device on his arm and projects a screen in the air. Carefully compare the boy's face to something projected there and he laughed violently.

"Eh?"

The boy smiled with a cheat, but felt the aggressive will that was near the murder surging from the skateboard guy's body, and he stood up.

Not good. Perhaps this person does not speak. He means, he's so angry he won't have ears.

However, he is not a demon. He doesn't know why, but this young man with a skateboard is angry at "Isana Yashiro".

Why?

The boy tried to engage in boring dialogue while slowly backing away.

"Oh, what is that so sudden? I don't think you have any reason to hit me.”

The skateboarder's brow furrows. That's not good. The boy wanted to cover his face when he responded by pouring oil on the fire. On his shoulders, a kitten clings to the boy with its claws, escaping from the young man on a skateboard.

"Don't you remember being hit? You are brave, shit. So is. I will not stop.”

The body of the young man on the skateboard seemed to sway in red.

The boy scratches his eyes. It is not an error. A bright red light bursts from the young man's body.

When the boy stepped back, the red light appeared, enveloping the young man on the skateboard. Hot. The boy's bangs are slightly burned. The overflowing red light turned into a flame and filled he.

“It's not enough just to catch you. I'll kill you!"

The young man on the skateboard screamed and kicked the ground. He jumps high with his skateboard and shakes the red flame at the boy.

The boy screamed miserably and started running at full speed.

The young man on the skateboard lightly brushes the boy's hair. The sound of the street being destroyed, the explosion and the heat entering from behind, but there is no room to look back.

The boy ran to death.

Run between pedestrians and obstacles, cross the railings and choose a stepped street, he can run on routes that are difficult to ride a skateboard.

He couldn't even pretend and jump onto the street, and he fell onto the back of a truck that stopped at the signal.

With the truck that started to work, he managed to catch his breath.

The kitten looked up at his knees with its front paws. The boy strokes his head.

The man believes that it is problematic to take this boy because it is dangerous, but if he throws it in such a place, it will be difficult for him to return alone to Gakuenjima.

"Sorry for involving you."

With a miserable face, the boy smiled at the kitten.

It's okay to be scared, but in this situation, the kitten doesn't seem particularly dependent and stands on all fours, looking out from the platform with his round eyes. In that figure, he felt a strange sensation as if to say, "You should beat this."

Who is it that attacks the child? Given the appearance of that skateboarder, the boy has probably been mistaken for the person who bought his grudge. He thinks the boy may have unknowingly bought a grudge, but he doesn't think there was a point of contact between the boy who lives in Gakuenjima and the boy on the skateboard who holds so much grudge that he tries to kill him.

The boy had a difficult face, the kitten jumped on the boy's shoulder again, and bit his cheek to tell him to stop thinking.

The sound of the skateboard mixed with the sound of the car. The boy is resistant. Looking at him, the boy on the skateboard just before putting his hand on the shoulder of a young man straddling the back of a two-seater motorcycle, borrows the speed of the boost and drives the skateboard, approaching.

The man who rides the motorcycle is a man with big fat sunglasses, and behind him is a young man in a red jacket and a helmet over his cap. He took a wood with his hand, and was excited to attack the boy.

The truck suddenly stopped when the boy pressed his cheeks saying that the number of pursuers was increasing. The boy hits the load on the stepped platform.

"Ouch!"

The young man on the skateboard jumps while screaming. Jump on a skateboard and shake a metal bat wrapped in a bright red flame. The boy screamed, but managed to dodge the blow.

The two men on the motorcycle approached without interruption, and the young man in the back seat shakes the wood that is still burning.

The boy rushed out of the truck, avoided him, and ran away.

He escapes to the sidewalk, but a skateboarder walks down the road and a motorcycle duo closes behind.

The boy glanced around and immediately found a narrow alley between buildings where a person could pass and jumped over there.

Passing through the alley against the back of the scream and the sound of the chase. He ran down the alley as he listened to his breathing sound as it bounced, and he moved as far away as he could, but it turned into a dirty, secret alley.

When he started running again, he saw a tall man smoking a cigarette in the distance.

A handsome man in his twenties, wearing a tight jacket, with a red scarf around his neck, and blond with sunglasses, creating an atmosphere that is not solid. The boy ran towards the man who was like a host or bartender during the break.

"Sorry! Stay away!"

He is chased by men who wield weapons that eject flames. It is irresistible to be involved in an incident like the mysterious burning of a man in Shizume-cho.

However, the man slowly exhaled cigarette smoke in front of the boy who was working with a sign saying "It's an emergency."

On the back of the boy, there is a bad feeling.

The tall man shook his cigarette in his hand with his thumb.

Burning cigarettes fly in the air.

A small fire at the end of a cigarette puffed up, turning into a fireball, which looked like slow motion. The boy stops.

The fireballs that were born in the air were divided into numerous pieces and flew towards the boy at once. It is a rain of flames. There is no short wish.

But mysteriously, the fear of death was far away. He think your senses are on fire for a series of unrealistic events.

"Ah." While looking at the many high-speed flying fireballs, the boy was prepared to receive the flames.

But the flames did not burn the boy.

A black mass falls from the sky and lands between the boy and the fireball.

A person.

A young man wearing a black coat and long black hair.

He looked up and blew up all the fireballs with his right hand.

At first glance, it looked like he was playing with his own hands, but his hands and the fire were not in direct contact. The space where he places his hand becomes distorted, and the trajectory of the fireball changes. The fireballs whose orbits changed landed everywhere on the back streets and generated smoke.

From behind, the skate boy attacks the young man suddenly and without fear.

The young man with long dark hair raises his hand towards the skate boy.

In the next moment, the skate boy was drawn to the black-haired young man and pushed at the slot with his elbow, as if moving instantly.

It was as if the space between the black-haired young man's hand and the skate boy was compressed in an instant.

The boy was surprised, looking at the skate boy who flew in the air slightly through the groove and the black-haired young man who did a series of things without moving an eyebrow with a simple face.

The young man with black hair grabs and pulls the boy's loose neck and clutches it to himself.

As he was, he shrugged at the black-haired young man and looked him in the face a short distance away.

Their faces are close.

He felt that he had not sensed another person at such a close distance in a long time.

There is a strange tension in the boy's body that may be stronger than when he was chased by a murderer.

"Wooh!"

The boy's feet floated in midair with the sensation that the body was dragged heavily.

The young man with the black hair is reaching the distance. The air at the tip of the palm seemed distorted. The space at the end of the hand was compressed, and it seemed that the boy holding the body of the black-haired youth was up.

The boy, who decided to fly at high speed in the air, hurriedly clings to the arm of the young man with black hair and holds on tight. A fallen skateboarder, a stupid fat young man, and a young man in a red cane cap, and a tall blond man looking at him with a calm expression, the sight of the back alley turned distant and the landscape around him flowed behind.

"Who you are?"

The boy muttered while holding on.

The young man answered nothing, looking at his destination, with a well-organized and determined face.

++++++++++

Kusanagi Izumo suddenly lowered, reported the situation, and gave a small sigh when he saw the young man who flew away with the target.

"Damn... who is that guy?"

Misaki Yata holds his belly that was hit with a strong elbow strike.

"Black dog. Yatogami Kuro. I'm getting in trouble again.”

Kusanagi smiling, looking in the direction the targets disappeared.

However, he confirms the face of the target. A handsome boy with a pretty face, but that's the person in the video.

Kusanagi repeatedly watched that annoying video over and over again.

If he closes his eyes, he will see a child with a terrifying smile on the back of his eyelids.

He will never let him go. No matter which hand he use, he will catch him and mark his fall.

Kusanagi took out his PDA.

"I do not know. Next move.”

The preparation has been completed. Kusanagi tapped to activate it from his PDA.

++++++++++

The boy was taken to the roof of the building on an aerial walk like a roller coaster.

Upon landing, the young man with long dark hair throws his body on concrete. The boy hit his butt hard.

The kitten holding on to the boy is also thrown out, but unlike the boy, it landed well and emerged immediately.

The boy stood up getting ready. Looking around from the rooftop, he saw a large, symbolic monitor in front of the Shizume-cho station.

"Oh, here in front of the station? Thanks for your help! Well then…"

At a glance, with a sense of security that escaped the crisis, the usual boy returns to base. He felt it. It was a little difficult, but it seemed to have worked. Then he would return to Gakuen Island with his goods.

A sword in the sheath of the young man with long black hair blocked the boy's path.

(Huh? Yes, it's a sword, this... Why does this person have a sword?)

The black-haired young man swings the sword in the scabbard, rolling it onto the concrete again.

"I am a disciple of Ichigen Miwa, the previous Seventh King, I am Kuro Yatogami."

The black-haired young man drew his sword quickly as he spoke in a low voice.

The boy cannot understand the young man's words at once, and he bows his head.

"The Seventh King Ichigen Miwa?"

After repeating it as a spell, something comes to his mind.

"Oh, is it a name? My name is Isana, Yashiro Isana.”

He introduced himself as cheerfully as possible, but as if trying to silence the company, Ichigen Miwa's royal envoy shook his sword.

The blade flew at such speed that only a silver trajectory was visible, slicing off the school emblem on the boy's neck.

The school emblem near the boy's throat was cut by a sharp sword and rolls on the rooftop concrete with a little noise.

As expected, the boy breathed silently and looked at the young man in front of him.

Looking seriously, the black-haired young man with the sword, Kuro, seemed to be younger than expected. He may not be much different from the boy, he may be a boy too.

He had a clean and drifting atmosphere with a sharp face. He was like a young warrior appearing in a movie, combining a place where a sword with a naked body looks good with a burn, a hairstyle that combines long straight black hair in a high position, a place where the back seems be serious and upright.

Kuro walks towards him a few steps with a calm expression that does not express emotions.

"Under the orders of my late master, I will defeat the evil "King"."

The voice with which he declared it was calm. But deep in his voice, it seemed that a tragic determination was lurking.

The boy does not know what to accept and what to do, and makes a confused voice.

"What…? King…?"

Everything was strange to him today.

As always, calmly and carefree, he cooks rice at school, he made everyone share a garnish, he ate rice with the kitten, he took a nap, seeing everyone prepare for the school festival happily, Kukuri asked him to help her.

So he was supposed to go back to school and repeat a similar, calm and happy life.

Kuro, who holds a sword, does not have the murderous feeling and burning anger that the skate boy felt.

Instead, he felt a mission sensation like steel that is definitely determined to cut something.

When the boy is stuck, the image on the large monitor in front of the Shizume-cho station, where the promo video was streaming, is suddenly altered and another stormy video appears.

In an abnormal scene, the boy's conscience and Kuro moved together to the monitor.

The monitor screen suddenly changed, and the image that was taken by a hobbyist with a camera was displayed, which was completely different in quality from the beautiful advertising image that had been streaming so far.

The image is rough. It looks like it was taken with an old camera.

At the bottom of the screen, "07.12 23:45", the date and time are displayed.

What was projected was a scene that appears to be the rooftop of the building at night. There is a boy's back resting against the fence.

He was humming.

The voice made the boy aware. Singing Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 "Song of Delight" in a voice he has never heard.

"It's a nice night."

A different voice than the person in the back humming said that. Probably who was recording.

"I came to film the night view, what are you doing here?”

The person in the back doesn't seem to respond to the one who is recording, and he's shaking himself.

Cold sweat pours from the boy's body.

The boy doesn't know about this. He swears to God, an unforgettable sight.

However, he had a bad feeling and his heart was racing.

"I am Totsuka Tatara. And you?"

The person behind looked back. He had a gun in his hand. He fired and fired without any scrutiny.

Bang, the shot sounds.

The image is blurred. The camera appears to have dropped. The screen went black for a moment, and immediately after that, he saw what appears to be the cameraman collapse.

After a while, the camera moves as he whispers. It looks like the person who shot just adjusted the camera with his foot to show himself.

The person's face is clearly projected.

It was the boy. It was the face of Isana Yashiro.

The face he sees in the mirror every morning. However, he had a crazy smile with narrowed eyes and raised corners of his mouth, instead of his usual tense expression.

Someone in the boy's face said,

"I am the Seventh King, 'Colorless King'. Waiting for someone here. Is it a good night? Oh, sure, it is a good night."

In a euphoric voice, someone in the boy's face pointed the gun at the camera and fired again.

Then the video stops.

The boy continued to stare at the large monitor that stopped when the gun was fired and another person's face just looked up.

"Is that correct for you?"

Kuro's voice is heard.

The boy took off the line of sight from the monitor and looked at Kuro.

Without anger or hatred, Kuro, who looks at the boy with a clean face and points his sword, seems like an ideal executioner.

The boy couldn't help but smile at him.

"Uh... does it look like this?"

#K #k project #k the first story

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 200

200

Standing in the childhood home of Keith, Lance felt as if he was trespassing on the site of ancient and important ruins. The shack had been made by Jeong, according to Krolia, his little anger muffin inheriting none of his dad’s skill. After 20 years of abandonment, there wasn’t a space that was coated in thick dust or cobwebs. As much as Lance wanted to explore, he felt it’d be best if he remained outside so as not breath in anything nasty, or be reduced to a coughing fit... Especially not after the extra bumpy drive in which Krolia seemed to find every single rut and dip in the dirt road.

Having the memory of the living space imbedded in his mind, made it easy to fill in spaces with his imagination. Keith and his dad would have totally eaten in front of the TV. Keith would have played with the long discarded toys still left on the floor. No one had packed the house up. It still looked ready for Keith and Jeong to walk back into their lives, if you didn’t take into account the dust. Just how it’d remained standing astonished him more than the fact they were at Keith’s childhood house. This was the place Krolia and Jeong had called home. This was where they’d been happiest. And now it was... empty and hollow. Waiting for it’s owner that’d never come home.

Hearing Keith sneezing, Lance turned to very carefully lean on the front pole that supported a slim roof over the front door. His fiancé bound to have inhaled enough dust now that his nose would itching madly. God. His fiancé... Warmth swelled in his chest as his cheeks dusted red. Yeah, it’d be a long while before he didn’t feel giddy at mentally calling Keith his fiancé. He’d waited, not sure it’d happen quite so soon, and yet, on top of having now known him for 365 days, Keith had agreed. Lance accidentally true to his sentimental heart, not realising the date until he’d seen the date on his phone earlier.

A few moments later, Keith came out covered head to toe in cobwebs and dust, nose wrinkling as he examined himself in the light of day. How lucky he was to have this idiot who resembled a cobweb brush

“This is insane. Dust should have a limit. You should be allowed a maximum quota and once you’ve reached it, it shouldn’t be allowed to settle”

Trying to pull cobweb from his hair, Keith rubbed it between the thick locks. How he’d managed to survive being an adult as long as he did, was kind of a miracle

“Come here, you. I’ll do it for you”

Obediently Keith stood still as Lance dusted him off. Both of them wanted to say something to the other, yet neither knew what to say. Lance didn’t want to push Keith into talking. Not when he had to process the fact he was once again back where everything had started for him. The home they’d had in Cuba had been brought by family, Lance hadn’t had a chance to go there with him Mami and do the whole “I remember... thing”. He wondered if Keith had remembered anything at all, yet suspected he didn’t from the look in his eyes. Guilt didn’t suit Keith. He much preferred him smiling, so he did the only thing he could think of to make Keith smile and kissed on the tip of the nose.

Rubbing where Lance had kissed, Keith’s nose twitched. A sneeze forming then getting stuck as his fiancé partially opened his mouth only for nothing to come out

“The internet says if you say “sneeze”, it should help”

With an unimpressed look, Keith’s breath caught before finally sneezing ridiculously hard. The werewolf wiping at his nose as Lance watched, kind of finding it cute. Not the sneeze but the sheer unhappiness over how the sneeze had gotten stuck then the force of it

“Better?”

“Mhmm. Don’t go inside, it’s dusty”

“Thanks for the warning, babe. I’ll keep that in mind as I watch from out here”

“That’s why you’re the smart one... we...”

Keith sneezed twice, just as hard as that first sneeze before groaning and rubbing his nose on his hand

“We should have aired the shack out”

They couldn’t go back in time and do that now, plus they’d have to remember to close the place back up. Krolia had found the spare house key, buried inside a bottle that was buried in where Lance assumed once was a small garden under the front window. Sand had swallowed it all. Then they’d found lock had seized, obviously, and needed a little “help” to open. It was sad

“It’s too late now. How do feel being back?”

“I... thought maybe I remembered like fragments, but I don’t remember much of anything. Mum does... she’s going from room to room... but I feel like a stranger”

Keith was on the edge of tears. Lance taking his face in his hands

“It’s okay not to remember everything or anything immediately. It’s okay because being here means you get to make some new memories. I know the dust is depressing, but under that, I see a home where you played on the floor. Where you and your dad eat in front of the TV. Where he tucked you into bed every night. It feels depressing and cold right now, probably completely unimaginable that you lived her, but this is another part of knowing your dad. We should take some photos. It doesn’t matter if you’re not up to looking at them now, at least you’ll have them for when you’re ready”

“I wanted everything to come back”

“I know, babe. Maybe some things will once your brain starts putting the pieces together. The important thing is not to be mad at yourself for something you have no control over”

Keith snorted, before sighing

“I don’t know what to do”

“Let the house air a bit, then take photos. Mum’s stories might be hard to hear, but they’re all part of the puzzle”

Trying his hardest to be supportive, Keith simply rolled his eyes at his words

“I think I really fucking hate puzzles”

“Nah. I bet given the chance, you’d be a total ho for puzzles”

“I’m a ho for you”

“I know. You know, it’s kind of nice out here”

There was no one around, other than the other 3. No cars. No noisy traffic. No people... it was essentially a house in the middle of small desert. Weeds seem to even give the grounds around the house a miss, and there were no trees which meant no birds or animals around. What had Joe been through that had led him to such an isolated life? Or was it because people were racist dicks that he’d chosen to carve out his own small part of the world. To think in a way Lance was kind of like him. With his house out where no one was. Living alonish... Now the house was filled with noises, he liked it much better.

“The location does have its charms”

A peaceful existence was all Lance had wanted. With Keith around, Joe’s existence would have become all more happier

“Probably not when you’re a little kid, but you would have had all Joe’s attention when he was home”

“Because there’s a great lot of other things to do”

“Babe, you’re still a handful as it is. I bet he loved every moment he spent in this home with you”

“Maybe”

“Nope. “Definitely”, is the word you’re after. I know from personal experience... well, after you stopped thinking I was trying to trick into thinking you hadn’t turned”

Keith groaned

“I’m never going to live that down”

“Nope. But hey, you’re the cutest not turned vampire around, so it worked out in the end. How’s your ego feeling?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s sad, but mum keeps talking and it doesn’t know what to do”

“If it gets too much, let me know. I can totally fake sick if you need”

Keith kissed his palm, the action soft and sweet, even with his dirty face

“You’re too good to me”

Chuckling, Lance sensed an impending loop on the horizon. Keith could say what he wanted, yet Lance knew he was the one lacking. His fiancé was so fucking strong

“We’re not going into that again. I love you, babe. You should go back in if you feel up to it”

“Will you come?”

He hadn’t wanted to intrude, or face the dust, but Keith was asking so he couldn’t say no

“Sure...”

*

Keith let himself be lost in thought on the drive back from his father’s shack. When he’d been a teen, he’d been so desperate to find his way back there. Now he’d been there, the place was... depressing. Krolia had scavenged up the few photos that mould hadn’t destroyed, as well as a few other small pieces. Shiro kept casting glances at him, and Lance had a coughing fit so hard that Keith winced for his fiancé.

He’d come to find out about his dad... He now knew things he hadn’t known before, but it’d also reinforced that his family was nothing like Lance’s. Lance would have kept up the maintenance of the shack. He would have come out every so often to wipe away the layers of dust lovingly and air the place out. Any repairs that needed doing, he would have done it all without a second thought. Heck, Lance had had his eyes on all the things wrong with the place like he was daydreaming about fixing them all... and now his fiancé was snoring softly as he leaned into Keith in the back of Shiro’s sedan. At least they had a room. Shiro, Krolia, and Curtis were all going to have to check in while covered in filth, whereas he could whisk Lance away and clean them both up.

Slowly they made their way back to town, and Lance managed to stay asleep right up to Krolia jerking the car to a stop in the hotel parking lot. Blurry sleepy eyes blinked up at him at him, Lance realising he’d fallen asleep and going to apologise. Keith kissing the words away. He didn’t need to apologise for anything. Not as far as Keith was concerned. Having Lance with him for all of this was more than enough. Undoing his belt, Shiro turned back to grin at them like he’d never seen them snuggled up before

“You guys need any help?”

“Nah, I’ve got him. You guys alright to check in?”

“We’ll work it out. Want to grab some lunch?”

Lunch would mean talking and Keith didn’t want a concerned Shiro questioning what he did and didn’t remember. He was too busy being mad at himself for not remembering

“I think I’m going to take a nap and grab something later. Today was... enough”

“As long as you’re okay”

Keith rolled his eyes

“Yes, dad. We’re fine. Come on, babe. It’s shower time”

Lance’s staggering lasted a few moments before Keith lifted him off his feet. Steps and stairs were bad enough for Lance at the best of times. Sighing at him, Lance let himself be carried, Keith happy he was being so obedient about it. Carrying Lance made him feel strong. Not that he hadn’t been able to carry him before the turn, just now he had the strength to carry him with the surety he wouldn’t be dropping him.

Balancing his fiancé on his knee, Keith fumbled the key into the lock, opening it to find Lenny had dumped box after box on their bed. His ego hated that their space had been violated, yet opted to sulk rather than be angry because it worried for their tired mate. He’d liked to do things for Lance before, now he felt a rush of pride for everything right he did... Egos’ really were pathetically fragile and in need of constant reassurance... a thought at which his ego huffed unimpressed. Maybe he should buy the damn thing a trophy and let it bask until all it’s pettiness had left his system? If only he’d be that lucky. How could his ego possibly be upset that his father had died when it had nothing to do with it?

When Lance went down for a nap, Keith was just about comfortably cuddled. He’d gotten everything they’d needed, and filled the bedside table with it, so Shiro calling his name only made him groan. Naturally Shiro wanted to talk. This was Shiro. The second he felt any kind of emotion, his brother wanted to know all about it. As harsh it sounded to him in his head, Keith wanted a break from learning about his father. He wanted a time out to process. But no. Said time out wasn’t happening, despite how tempting it was to stay cuddled up with his smoking hot fiancé who’s arse was perfectly aligned with his crotch. Cock blocked by his dumb brother, he and Lance would have their revenge later.

Tugging on a shirt, Keith dragged himself out the hotel room to find Shiro leaning against the railing. The view was of the road and the couple of cars parked across the road that belonged to holiday goers. Boring as heck

“You wanted to talk?”

Knowing he sounded a tad too blunt, Keith knew Shiro well enough to know Shiro knew it was unintentional

“Yeah, kiddo. Is now okay?”

“Sure. Lance’s sleep pattern’s all over the place. He’ll be out until he has to pee again”

“That sounds rough”

“It is... I mean for him it’s rough. Not much I can do to change things”

Joining Shiro in leaning against the balcony, this was better than having him inside with all the files on his father. Now the pair of them were stuck staring at the boring road

“Keith... You’d tell me right. You’d tell me if you weren’t okay”

And there it was. Shiro’s worry. They’d grown almost radio silent apart... There was a time Keith could barely go a few hours without talking to Shiro... Mumbling awkwardly, Keith decided the railing was much more interesting to stare at

“You’re worrying too much... I’m not a snot nosed little brat anymore”

Shiro didn’t disagree, yet he also didn’t agree or praise Keith for his emotional growth. Instead his brother slung his arm around his shoulder and gave a tight squeeze

“I miss you, kiddo. I know how you feel about losing your father. So I know that none of this is easy for you”

“I... I didn’t feel... I felt like a stranger at the shack. I mean... I learned about my dad... bits and pieces, and I think maybe I’ve got a better idea than before, but I’m tired. I can’t stop thinking about what mum went through... and I can’t stop thinking about dad burning to death. I guess I’m not okay, but Lance has been really good. He’s been really patient with me... mostly... I made him cry yesterday and he ended up yelling at me for my stupidity. All of this feels exhausting”

“Yeah? And your ego?”

“Don’t even go there. We were about two seconds away from me ripping Lenny’s throat out. I can’t... cope with all this stuff about my dad and my ego... I honestly just... want to stop thinking about it right now...”

Kissing the top of Keith’s head, Keith mentally sighed at himself. Shiro had pulled his infamous mind trick and his mouth had moved on its own

“It was pretty confronting to see the shack. I know when I picked you up, all you wanted to do was get back there... I’m sorry it wasn’t what you were expecting”

“I don’t know what I was expecting... but... I keep hearing about dad and I don’t know if I feel any closer to him. I don’t know this place. I don’t know his friends. I don’t know why he chose here of all places. I don’t know... He feels further away than ever”

“That’s not true. He’s still here. A bit of him and a bit of Krolia made you, and I’m pretty damn grateful you’re here”

“I haven’t been much of a brother...”

“You’ve got a lot going on”

Keith shook his head. That was no excuse

“We used to be... so close. Now I can’t even stand the city. Even being here... there’s so many noises. I don’t know how Lance does it. He tells me to be patient. But I don’t want to be patient... I... said something really stupid and I really upset him. I told him maybe it’d all hurt less if I’d died”

Shiro sucked in a shaky breath

“I can see why”

“So can I... I’m just... done with feeling so... feeling that all of this is so much. I couldn’t even say... I didn’t know what to tell dad. I probably would still be standing there staring at his grave if Lance hadn’t given me some of his strength...”

“Kiddo, you’ve always been strong”

Keith gave a dry chuckle. He’d been a fucking moron, too hell bent on being angry to accept he was overthinking absolutely everything and paranoid that he’d never be seen as himself or outside of Krolia, and Shiro’s, shadows

“Right. I was a jerk to Krolia. Hated almost everyone we worked with. Stuffed up missions. Caused trouble for you and Adam...”

He hadn’t been oblivious to the fights between his brother and Adam. Now that he thought about it, they’d missed the anniversary of Adam’s death... He hadn’t... he hadn’t even been with Shiro on the day... Shit. His head had been full of Lance, not... the man who’d tried to father/brother/guide him the best he could by Shiro’s side

“We can stand here and talk about all the things you’ve done wrong, or you can accept that you were a bit of a dick and you want to make amends”

“I wanted to see mum yesterday. Her. You... I don’t know how you made it through... I’m sorry. I should have done more”

Shiro squeezed him again

“You know, it hurts and it’s hard, but in a way, we got through all of this thinking about you. I had you to help me through. Krolia had the thought of your safety and one day meeting you...”

That didn’t make it okay. Keith groaning when thought about his past “anger loaf” self

“I was such a douche canoe”

Shiro chuckled

“That’s a new one”

What was what? His brother doing him a temporary confuse

“What...? Oh... not really. Lance has all sorts of weird sayings for things...”

“He’s really rubbed off on you... Is he okay? He seems really exhausted. It’s not going to be like it was on your birthday weekend, is it? Does he need blood?”

“He’s okay. Coran said he could feed off me and it hasn’t seemed to have any negative effects... We um... he... um... kind of... yeah”

“It that your way of informing me you spent all afternoon in bed and that’s the real reason Lance is exhausted?”

No. That was him narrowly avoiding telling me his brother that Lance had sort of proposed and he’d agreed... and then they’d had amazing sex, stinking up the hotel room comfortably until his idiot family ruined it

“Yeah. You didn’t have to say it out loud. It sounds bad when you put it like that”

“You two couldn’t keep your hands off each other before, I’m hardly surprised...”

The passion was still very much there, but there was definitely less spontaneous bouts these days. Lance had shockingly low self esteem, maybe he should jump him more often? Huffing, Keith sounded more whiny than cranky with his mate

“It’s... not like that. He’s been struggling with his body changing ever since he first started showing. He’s an idiot. He seriously thought his body changing was going to ruin everything. He keeps saying that he’s fat and not sexy because he’s so heavily pregnant. Its total bullshit... Like, he’s... he’s still him. And god, Shiro... the sex is still amazing... the sounds he makes...”

His ego was getting riled up at the thought. Shiro’s scent starting to grate on his senses when his mind wanted his body in bed with his mate... Still, he couldn’t bring himself to simply push Shiro away. He was a walking bundle of contradictions and felt almost like he’d lose his mind from all the going back and forth he was stuck doing

“I’m going to stop you right there. Okay. I get it. You want to be a good boyfriend to Lance. If Coran says it’s safe for you to feed him, than it must be... but I’m still going to worry about it”

“It seems his curse kills my curse. It hasn’t negatively impacted on the twins... but he is drinking so much blood that it’s hard to not worry”

“How much is “so much”?”

Enough to be what they’d thought all vampires drank on a regular basis

“He’s gone from one bag split over three meals a day, to four or five bags a day, with fresh blood on top of it. The pregnancy has taken so much out of him. You can see he’s visibly older looking now, and he’s struggling to put on any weight he’s lost from constantly vomiting”

“That’s...”

“A lot. You know what he’s like. He doesn’t like drinking blood”

Shiro snorted, deciding now he needed to pretty much lean his whole weight against him. His brother was a dick, Keith half thinking of feigning weakness just to watch Shiro trip over his own feet, but his ego wouldn’t let him

“He’s the most “unvampire” vampire we’ve ever come across. A bit like you... you’re not a very “wolf” werewolf”

“Fuck off. Lance says I’m manly and shit”

“Sure, kiddo. A manly werewolf that sits outside his boyfriend’s window and cries his head off. Matt told me all about your first moon”

Fucking Matt. Keith couldn’t remember his first full moon... that wasn’t playing nicely

“Matt needs to be neutered. He’s a fucking menace”

Shiro clicked his finger, pushing off of Keith and turning to face him. His brother’s smile so wide it verged on creepy

“A menace that’s engaged. Or is getting engaged. He came to Platt to pick the ring up. He swore me to secrecy...”

“I can see how seriously you took that”

Arranging his expression as neutral as he could, Keith was annoyed. Couldn’t Matt have literally picked any other goddamn day of the year

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. He decided seeing you and Lance were away for your one year anniversary, it’d be a good time to step up and put a ring on it”

“Rieva would hit you if she could hear you, and what do you mean “our one year anniversary”? We didn’t get together until May”

“Ahhh, baby brother of mine, you met Lance a year ago, yesterday. You know he never forgets. Someone’s in trouble”

Keith now knew the date. Had Lance chosen yesterday for that reason? It was more likely his fiancé barely remembered the days of the week given vacation time moved differently from normal time

“Yeah. You. You’re going to be in trouble if you keep teasing me”

“Awww, little Keefy is cranky”

It took all Keith had not to pick Shiro up and throw him over the balcony railing, then kick down Krolia’s door, grab her, and toss her over to land on top of his brother. Stupid Krolia... that name was definitely going to stick then he’d have to put up with hearing it from everyone.

“Fuck you. I’m going back to Lance”

“Too cool to hang with your big brother?”

“Not when he’s all smelly. Go take a shower already, you’re getting me dirty again”

“Consider these cobwebs of love”

That didn’t even make any sense. Shiro was getting senile in his old age

“You’ve got cobwebs between your ears, old man”

“Come on, Keith. Give your big brother a hug”

Dodging Shiro, Keith put up a very half arsed attempt. Shiro wrapping his arms around his waist and hoisting him up backwards. The torture lasting a few moments before he was placed back down again. His idiot brother wiping himself against him, trying to get off one last cobweb

“There. You’re all nice and webby now”

“You suck. You suck and that was totally abusing your brotherly privileges”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway. Okay, you’re all dirty now, you can go away”

Huffing at Shiro, the werewolf didn’t know why he was smiling so happily about things when he was very clearly outwardly annoyed

“Oh, trust me. I am going. You better remember to bring me a peace offering for this”

“Nah. I told you these are cobwebs of love”

“And I told you you’re old”

Shoving him playfully, Keith lunged for the handle to his and Lance’s room, smoothly opening the door and darting inside before his brother got any other ideas. Poking his tongue out at Shiro, Shiro flipped him off. Both of them smiling at each other in a way that reaffirmed that everything was okay between them. With the chance of him saying something teasably sentimental, Keith shut the door softly in Shiro’s face, before realising his brother had sentenced him to have yet another shower for the day. His big brother really was a big bother.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

[angelguk]

→ mon amour... - a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jeongguk

word count: 3.3k

genre: established relationship + domestic + fluff + smut

warnings: rather soft smut / oral (fem receiving) / grinding / fingering / fucking on everything but the bed / jeongguk loves oc a lot / they are horny newly weds / mild mpreg kink

soundtrack: la javanaise, madeleine peyroux

The evening sun is dipping below the horizon, spilling hues of vibrant fuchsia, glowing amber and soft azure in its wake. The colours flux into each other, staining the skies and tinging the hue of clouds scattered above. You’d seen the weather notice. Summer was quickly coming to an end, and the new season was being ushered in by brief rain showers. You’d been caught in one the other day, your shoes ending up utterly soaked and the papers you were meant to be grading were partially damaged too. Although the papers were salvageable, your new velvet heels – not so much. Luckily, you’d decided to stay into today, completing reviewing the last couple of essays with an occasional episode of the Office sneaked into your breaks. You’d finished earlier than you’d expected, so you’d taken the liberty to meander out to your balcony, a silk robe wrapped around your figure and a glass of red wine in your hand, to watch as the day ended and night began.  

The afternoon heat dwindled in the warm air, the scent of rain already settling above the quaint town you’d moved into a little over a year ago. Somewhere on the street, there’s a person plucking a violin. The saccharine melody glides up to your apartment, accompanied by the incessant chatter of voices and tinkle of bell bikes as people head home. You soak it in, taking sporadic sips of wine as you mould yourself into the plush velour balcony cushions. Your eyes keep fluttering closed, the cool breeze caressing your skin has you feeling serene. You should probably head back in soon, shut the balcony doors so the rain doesn’t seep into your apartment and drench your carpet, maybe start dinner. But the pure ease you feel keeps you planted outside, despite the sun nearly gone and your glass empty now, happy like a content purring kitten.

The click of the door tells you he’s home.

Your eyes are shut now, the last rays of sunlight illuminating your face, but you can still hear him puttering about, tossing his shoes into the corner instead of on the rack, dumping his jacket onto one of the kitchen chairs like he always does, until you hear him lean against the balcony doorway, softly tutting at you.

“You look relaxed,” He says.

You force your eyes open, giving him a good-natured glare. “Let me live my best life, you party pooper.”

Jeongguk grins, striding forward to plant a kiss onto your forehead. The glasses on his nose slips down and bumps against your skull but you don’t mind it, melting into the warmth of his kiss. “You’re obviously in a good mood,” He mumbles against your skin. Before you can retort back, he’s pulling you into his arms, yanking you away from your comfy seat and into the air. You lean into it, revelling in the way Jeongguk’s firm muscles feel around your waist, holding you steadily. Your chests are pressed against each other, the rush of both your heartbeats filling your ears and warming your cheeks. Your noses bump together and beneath his glasses, you can see the bright adoration and love in his chestnut eyes. You know you’re staring at him in the same way.

“Hello, wife,” He murmurs against your lips.

“Hello, husband,” You reply, your heart skipping in your chest.

His smile softens, the grip on your waist winding its way down to your bare thighs. He slips his hand beneath the fabric of your robe, lightly clutching at your thighs. You can see the agenda of tonight in his eyes, but you need to know something before that.

“Have you eaten dinner?” You ask, gliding your hands into his hair. He’s due for a cut soon, but there’s something oddly charming about the way wisps of his dark hair get caught in his vision. Jeongguk dissolves into your touch, his own eyes flickering shut and the hand on your thigh suddenly going taut. He hums as you drag your nails against his scalp, the bulge in his pants digging into your hip.

“No. But I’m not that hungry.”

“Jeongguk, we talked about this. You need to talk better care of yourself. Let me go and cook something.”

You make a move to get away but he yanks your right back colliding his chest against yours. He shifts his hips so that his crotch is pressed right against your own. Your underwear is sticking to you but you’re trying your best to ignore that.

“I would rather fuck my wife on the dining table right now, instead of eating dinner.” He murmurs against your warm skin, pressing a kiss against the span of skin between your neck and shoulder. Before you can wiggle your way out, Jeongguk is rolling his bulge into you, eliciting a rush of wetness from your cunt. It drenches your panties, leaving a wet stain you know he can feel. His mouth is on your neck, tongue kneading into the skin and drawing out a dark bruise. You can’t help but sigh into it, rolling your own hips back seeking some sort of pressure onto your clit. It’s obscene, the way you grind onto him in the open, rutting into each other with desperation you never knew you could feel until you met Jeongguk.

He’s reading your body, grasping your hips to steady the way you drag your clothed cunt against his crotch, slowing the pace before bucking into you hard. You helplessly take it, the familiar knot of your orgasm tightening your gut. You’re not close but the build is there, humming beneath your skin with need. You want to give in, want to roll over onto the balcony sofa and have Jeongguk fuck you right there and then but the little comment from Mrs. Min gave you the other day has you pushing him away.

He looks confused, his glasses misty and his once pressed shirt mussed from you gripping helplessly onto the fabric. “Do you not what too?” His voice is small.

“Of course I do. But not here, Mrs. Min said something about seeing me naked on the balcony the other day and I’d rather not have an old woman see my tits twice,” You say, taking his hand and drawing him inside. The bright smile returns to his lips and something strange settles in your heart.

“Of course she shouldn’t. Only I’m allowed to look at your tits.” His glasses are placed haphazardly onto the coffee table and then he’s tugging at your robe, pulling it off onto the floor so that you’re standing in only a loose t-shirt that you’d stolen from his closet. The balcony door is still open behind him, the breeze tugging at the curtains, but you don’t care, focusing instead on undressing your husband as quickly as you can.

“Shut up,” You reply, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “You said you’d fuck me on the dining table.”

“The couch is closer babe and relax, let me love you first.”

Your clothes drop to the ground together, Jeongguk’s shirt and your own crumpled on the carpet, the sounds of your giggles permeating the air. “Alright then, love me, husband.”

There’s a sparkle in his brown eyes as he pushes your naked body onto the couch, the cushions are soft beneath your bare thighs. Jeongguk spreads your legs apart, making room for his bulky body, hands landing on your neck to draw your gaze upwards. He stares down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between yours with words unspoken. Then he’s dipping his head down, slotting your lips together in a kiss that says what his mouth can’t.

His lips are warm, gentle presses of his mouth against yours coaxing your own mouth open. He tastes like coffee, bitter against your tongue, a stark contrast to the sweet wine you were drinking earlier, but you don’t care, eagerly mapping his mouth open. He groans against you, the sound causing your thighs tense up and your stomach to dip harshly. He’s kissing you like you’re the other thing in his world that matters, his palms caressing the base of your skull as he holds your head in place. Your own hands journey over his skin, settling on the waistband of his trousers that should have been off ages ago. You yank at them, feeling Jeongguk smile against your lips. When he pulls away his eyes are glazy, eyelashes brushing against his cheek with every heavy close of them.

“You’re needy tonight.” He nips at your neck, moving to chuck off his pants.

You pout. “You’re the one that came home and tried to fuck me on our balcony.”

The wink he gives you makes your heart flutter. “It’s not my fault my wife looks so beautiful at the damn time.” His pants hit the floor with a thud. Jeongguk roughly kicks them away before dropping to his knees, taking your thighs in his hands so that he can spread them apart.

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans in, licking a delicate strip against your clothed pussy, tongue lingering on the wet spot you’d made on the fabric. You’ve got your hand in his hair, tugging at the strands, as he takes his time. He gently rolls the tip of his tongue over your sensitive nub, pressing through the fabric in a way that has your back arching off pillows and shamelessly grinding into his face. Your moans colour the air, the cool breeze sweeping into the room chilling your sweaty skin. Jeongguk chuckles between your legs, pressing a kiss on your wet panties before hooking his fingers into the band. You help him pull them off, lifting your hips that they slide down. He tosses them across the room, eyes glimmering.

The sun had disappeared entirely by now and the moon had steadily taken its place. Moonlight shimmers down through your open balcony doors, illuminating your dark living room in a glowing radiance, the light appearing like a halo behind his ruffled dark hair. You ache to kiss him again, the love in your heart hurting. But Jeongguk’s preoccupied, eyes dark as he stares at your exposed cunt.

The wet lick of his tongue against you makes you jolt hard, body reacting before you can even register the movement. He devours you, sharp flickers and long drags of his tongue against your dripping folds driving you insane. He knows what you like, knows how to suck on your clit in a way that makes you squeal from pleasure, knows how to sink his tongue into your dripping hole and fuck into it so that your clenching around nothing, wishing that his fingers or cock were filling you instead. But given by the way he’s eating you out tonight, Jeongguk doesn’t want anything but to stretch you out with his tongue. You don’t mind, fucking yourself right back on his mouth until his lips are shiny with your slick and his hair is ruined from the tight grip you’ve got on it. He just grins, the strain of his cock in his boxers spurring him on. He needs you to unravel on his tongue. Wants to see the way your chest will heave and your body will shudder when your high comes crashing down. Wants to feel you squirm beneath his tongue, begging him to stop.

The pit in your gut tells you he’ll get what he’s chasing after tonight. You’re rolling your hips into his face, moaning every time his tongue dips further inside you, playing with your walls, before slipping out and dripping your slick all over your hard clit. When he latches his mouth onto it, sucking in hard, your vision goes white.

“Jeongguk! Baby – oh, f-fuck!” You spill on his tongue, your slick dripping down his chin. You can’t even open your eyes, thighs twitching every time he presses another kiss to your folds. You swat his head away, reeling at how sensitive your clit is right now. “Stop doing that. Just fuck me already. Please.”

He tuts at your demands but he’s up from the floor, palming at his hard dick through his boxers. “Alright then princess, get up for me.” You rise despite how numb your legs feel. You knees threaten to buckle beneath you as Jeongguk settles into the couch, legs spread wide. He’d pulled off his underwear, leaving his thick cock exposed to the night air, red tip hard and angry, leaking come over his lined abdomen. You want to drop to your knees, pleasure your husband the way he’d done for you but Jeongguk is staring at you hard, making your gut twist with want. He pats his thigh, the thick muscle there tense beneath his golden skin.

“Come ride my cock, kitten.”

You clamber into his lap, fumbling around until you’re comfortable enough to settle into a position, knees digging into the couch. Jeongguk’s got a palm pressed against the small of your back, keeping you steady. He leans back, making room for you to line his leaking cock with your wet hole. When the head of his dick brushes against your folds he can’t help but bite his lip, the other hand on your hip urging you downwards. But before you sink down on hip, you cup his chin and pull his mouth downwards onto yours. Jeongguk kisses you like his life depends on it, losing himself in your touch as you shift around, angling his dick before sitting down hard.

“Fuck.” He’s groaning in your mouth, hip bucking up because you’re tight and snug around his cock. Your wet walls milking him for all he’s worth. You revel in the stretch of your husband’s dick, he’s thick and perfect filling you up until you feel him in your guts. You rise, dragging his cock out of your cunt, now coated in your slick, before slamming right back down. You slip into a steady rhythm, riding him roughly, your tits bouncing in his face and your walls clinging onto him. It’s insane, how good he stretches you out, fucking you open like no one has ever before. It’s heady almost, to glance down and see the way he disappears inside you, reappearing shiny with your slick. You can’t believe you get to have this for the rest of your life. This man who loves you like you’re the only burning star in his universe, who’s looking at your riding his dick with the utmost love in his eyes, who makes you feel complete in the most inexplicable way possible.

“You’re so pretty,” He moans into your ear, hands settling your hips so that he has more leverage to fuck you with from below. “My pretty wife, riding my cock. Ugh – fuck. Mine forever. N-never letting you go. You’re – oh like that! Fuck you’re tight – stuck with me.”

His words make your head swim with desire, the familiar knot from before taking residence in the pit of your core once more. “You’re mine forever too,” You say against the crook of his neck, gripping on his shoulders tightly as you bounce on his dick. The wet squelch where you meet punctuates the air, intertwining with your shared heavy pants. Jeongguk thrusts hard into your cunt when you say that, drawing a squeal from your parted lips, another gush of slick coating your thighs.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll put a baby in you.”

Oh – oh. That has you clenching around him hard, walls clinging to his cock until he’s cursing against your ear, begging you let up because he’ll come if don’t. When you do pull off, your thighs are shuddering with every movement, your breath catching in your throat and your thighs are sticky. Jeongguk’s watching you with wide eyes, concern colouring his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah – just. I don’t know what happened.” You do, but you don’t want to admit it.

His gaze softens. He knows. “The baby thing?”

You don’t answer, still hovering above his hard dick. Your skin is hot despite the breeze snaking its way in. You still don’t want to admit it. Jeongguk isn’t bothered by it though, gently taking your arm and guiding you back down.

“Is it alright with you if I fuck a baby into my wife?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

“You’re stupid,” You scoff. “I’m divorcing you.”

“You love me,” He retorts, hand trailing down your stomach. His fingers swirl around your clit, flicking hard so that you lurch forward.

“I do,” You whine, feeling helpless as Jeongguk dips his fingers into your cunt. He’s grinning so bright, filling your heart with an emotion so strong that it feels like it’s going to explode. But you ride down on his hand, squealing when he curls his fingers just right slamming into a spot that has your bones feeling like mush. It hit your hard and unexpected. You come around his hand, clenching desperately on his fingers as you ride it out, your vision fading out and the need to lie down and rest overtaking every twitching muscle.

You’re so blissed out that you miss how hard Jeongguk still is. But he doesn’t let you forget for long. You yelp when he picks you up, eyes shooting open even though you weren’t aware that you’d closed them in the first place. “What? What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck my wife on our dining table,” He says.

You can’t even object, sighing when he sets you down lightly on to the edge of the cool wood surface. You watch, gaze blurry, as he spreads your apart, shifting closer until his cock is pressing into your fucked hole. He slips in with no resistance, filling you up until you’re overcome with pleasure. Jeongguk fucks into you hard, bottoming out and slamming right back in again and again. It’s lewd, the wet noises your cunt makes as you take his dick, the slap of his balls against your ass hitting the air hard. You dig your nails into his back, reeling in the way Jeongguk jolts into when you do so. You’ll be sore tomorrow for sure but right now all you can think about is making him come deep inside you. So you groan into his ear, squeezing your walls around his hard cock and buck into his desperate thrusts. He’s close from the way he twitches inside you, thrusts more wild and needy now, searching for his own high. You urge him on, whining his name until he’s grinding his dick inside you, head thrown back. His skin shimmers with sweat, making his dark hair damp, the strands clinging to his forehead. You watch him reach it, his stomach caving in and his hips stutter into your own, mouth wide open, a groan etched into his beautiful face.

You kiss him hard when he calms down, loving the way his skin is warm and flushed under your hands. It takes him a while to slip out from your cunt and you can feel his dick twitching with promise when he finally pulls out.

“You should stop taking the pill if you want me to put a baby in your,” He murmurs against your lips, hands squeezing your hips.

“Shut up. Pretend that never happened.”

“How can I? My pretty girl nearly coming all over my dick when I say I want to put a baby in her? You know that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Nice to know,” You retort, even though that small statement has something hot swooping in your gut. Another gust comes swooping into the living room, causing your skin to prickle.

“Fuck,” You say, staring at the open balcony door. “Close that, please! Mrs. Min is never going to let this go.”

“Can I fuck you against the wall if I do?” His eyebrow is quirked and there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. You punch his shoulder, shoving him lightly into the direction of the door. The laugh that leaves his throat warms your heart and leaves your skin buzzing.

#jungkook smut #btssmutclub #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe

[flightsoffandom]

The Truth

(The Sitter Part 6)

Pairs: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 1980

Summary: Aaron and the BAU start working on your case. You find out the truth about what happened but you find something else out along the way.

Warnings: Mentions of reader’s family’s death, mentions of child death, mentions of blood

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral.  Collab Series I am doing with the ever amazing @less-intelligent-spencerreid If you are interested in being tagged in the future parts of this comment on this or send me an ask.  

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6*

After the first night at Aaron’s, Penelope had offered to let you stay at her place. Derek also agreed to stay at Penelope’s as basically your bodyguard. Penelope tried really hard to make it like a sleepover. She always had fun movies to watch, junk food, and comfy blankets. So during the night, you could easily forget about your problems and worries for a few hours. It was when it was actually time for you to go to sleep that you had issues. Nothing against Derek, you hadn’t known him long but you trusted him. You just hadn’t been sleeping well at Penelope’s. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. The only time you had been able to get a decent amount of sleep with little to no nightmares was in Aaron’s office.

You woke up startled when Penelope walked into Aaron’s office. Your heart was racing as you sat up on the couch.

Penelope was talking a mile a minute holding a large stack of files in her hands, “It took some digging.” She walked over to Aaron at his desk, “Like some digging, digging. Had to partially hire the internet equivalent to a construction crew and use one of those scoopy excavator things to get through layers and layers of old murder cases from all over the country.”

You stare at the brightly colored woman who was being particularly loud. You tried to follow what Penelope was saying but she was talking so fast and your exhausted brain wasn’t letting you follow along, “What’s happening?”

Aaron was glaring at Penelope and you didn’t think it was just for her to get to the point, “Garcia!”

Penelope followed Aaron’s line of sight and landed on you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes trying to mentally catch up to what was happening.

Penelope made a face, “I am unbelievably sorry.” She didn’t give you a chance to reply before turning back to look at Aaron, “But I come bearing good…” Penelope makes an unpleasant noise, “Well not good actually, very terrible awful news but helpful.” Penelope finds the word she is looking for and continues, “I come bearing helpful news.” She gives an unsure shrug before handing the files over to Aaron.

Aaron looks over them, one by one. You tried to read his face but ever since Aaron took your case he seemed to only have two looks. Exhausted and determined, a lot of the times he was both at once. Penelope waited for some kind of reply.

Aaron got through the large stack of new files, “We need to bring these to the team.”

Penelope nodded and walked out of Aaron’s office to gather the rest of the team. Aaron grabbed the files and left as well. Leaving you behind for a moment. You wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep and you felt like you should know what was in those files. Even if you didn’t want to know was sort of despicable violence the killer stalking you was capable of. So you slide out of the office as well and slowly made your way to the meeting room, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. As soon as you made it to the doorway of the conference room, Aaron spotted you. He walked over, physically blocking you from getting into the room.

Aaron looked at you with concern in his eyes, “You don’t need to see this.”

If you shifted just right you could see around him and into the room. Letting you catch glimpses of crime scene photos and evidence bags. Aaron immediately figures out what you’re doing and shifts with you to block your line of sight.

You glare at Aaron, “I don’t really want to look at all that stuff but I need too. I can help.”

A few of the other team members walk past the two of you, Aaron moving to only let them through. The minor standoff earning you side glances from passersby.

Aaron shakes his head, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to both comfort you and keep you from moving into the room, “I’ll keep you updated and ask you questions when we need more information. For now, you should rest.”

You move just enough to see what is happening in the meeting. Seeing the team pull evidence bags out of boxes. When you see a pair of picture frames you are immediately stunned. No longer able to hear anything even if Aaron was still talking to you. Drawn to the objects you step backward out of Aaron’s grasp and then push your way passed him. Slowly approaching the table you could feel eyes on you but you didn’t care. When you get to the table you pick up the two separate evidence bags.

The bags were both filled with a picture frame. Each photo showing two ‘lasts’. One was the last family photo you ever took with, Mom, Dad, Sammy, and yourself. It had been one of those yearly family photos. Some cheesy fake background with tacky matching outfits but each of you had big genuine smiles on your faces. The happy atmosphere of the photo was ruined by the broken glass that had allowed blood to seep through and stain the paper. The other picture was just as badly damaged. It had been the last picture taken of just you and Sammy. You had been pushing Sammy on the swings and your parents had managed to catch it on film. What should have been a good memory was now stained just like the other one. The rusty-red color of dried blood ruining some of the few good memories you had left of your family.

You finally started to gain some awareness again. You placed both bags onto the table before retreating back. Exiting the meeting room just as quickly as you had entered it. You had thought you were ready to look back at this evidence and even thought you could emotionally handle it. Seeing those pictures again however had proved you wrong. You make it back into Aaron’s office before you start crying. Seeing those happy memories with your family ruined by the same thing that had taken them away from you forever was too much. You had no idea what happened to the dozens of family photos that must have been in the house. The year after their murder was a blur and when you had finally came too you had just written off ever having a picture to remember them by. You cover your face with your hands before letting yourself fall back onto the couch. Letting yourself sob into the palms of your hands.

You don’t hear the door open. You feel Aaron rubbing your back and you look at him.

“You were right, I should have listened to Aaron. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize y/n, I know you just want to help.”

When you were calmed down he said, “I’m going to go help my team. We’ll catch this guy”

***

“Okay, the focus is clearly on the kids. With the vase and the birthday,” Morgan starts, thinking out loud. “I have an idea.” He said, calling Garcia in her office.

“You’ve reached the office of supreme genius, speak, and be dazzled.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to get me a list of kids that died on their birthdays. I need it to be between 20 and 30 years ago.”

“Unfortunately, my chocolate thunder, that is a list of 27.”

“Cross it with kids that have an older brother that is still living. Also, look for suspicious hospital visits for both kids before the death.”

“One! Max Davis died on their birthday. They apparently fell off of a roof. Both Max and their older brother Jordan Davis had multiple hospital visits before Max’s death and Jordan’s continued their’s afterwards.

“Thanks Garcia.” He said hanging up the phone and going to find Hotch.

****

You’re standing in the observation room with Rossi while Hotch and the UnSub, Jordan Davis, are in the interrogation room. Hotch got a confession which ended with the UnSub yelling, “I couldn’t protect Max and these people couldn’t protect their younger siblings! It’s their own faults!”

Agents from a different unit came and took Davis into custody. Aaron came into the observation room and Rossi left. The two of you walked up to his office. He wrapped his arms around you and you put your face in his shoulder, tears running down your face.

“It’s okay y/n, you’re safe, we got him.”

He held onto you until you stopped crying and you pulled away. He looked at you with soft eyes, “Are you okay?”

You nod at him and respond, “It still hurts, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.” 

You offer him a small, genuine small. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He returned your small smile.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” You asked him, knowing he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Sure. Do you want to-uh make it a date?” He replied carefully.

“Do I-yes I would love to.” You smiled at him and he returned the gesture. 

He grabbed his bag the two of you walked out of his office and to the elevator. Once you got out, he wrapped his free arm around your shoulder. It was warm and comfortable. He opened the passenger door of his vehicle for you. 

****

You had both ordered and there was a lull in the conversation. 

“Why were you so surprised when I asked you for a date?” He asked.

You blushed and said, “I may have overheard your conversation with Rossi.”

He chuckled and you let out a small laugh. “He could tell I was lying you know.”

You smiled. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Well, I’m glad you were.”

Just then the waiter arrived with your food. The two of you ate and continued talking. When you were both done, he paid the check. You tried to convince him to split it but he refused. 

“At least let me get dessert then?” You wanted to repay the favor, but you also wanted the night to last as long as possible.

“What do you have in mind?” He asked as the two of you walked outside.

“We could walk to the ice cream shop that’s a few blocks away.”

“Sounds perfect.”

****

At the ice cream shop you ordered a waffle cone with cotton candy ice cream and he got a waffle cone with cookies and cream ice cream. After you paid you decided to take a longer way back to his car as you ate them. You talked and laughed with him the entire time. 

He drove you home and walked you to your door. Before walking inside you turned around to face him. 

“Goodnight Aaron.” You said as you looked up at him. 

“Goodnight y/n.” The two of you held eye contact for a little while before he leaned in. He stopped just short of your lips, looking into your eyes for approval. You gave him a small nod and he gently cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours. They were warm and smooth. It lasted for a few seconds before he pulled away and took a breath. Your hands were on the back of his head and you gently pulled him back towards you. The second kiss was longer and deeper than the first. He tasted sweet from the ice cream. This time you pulled away, needing to breathe.

“Wow.” Was all you said once you caught your breath.

He smiled at you and nodded slowly. 

“Goodnight y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and said “Goodnight.” 

He walked back to his car to leave as you walked inside your house.

Continuation of The Sitter: Part 1–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5–Part 6* 

Tags: @shrimpyblog @hommoturttle @winterscaptain @jovialtimetravelgladiator  @lex-is-a-shipper @cypherthetransmasc @winterparkers @1234-angelika @thosesteelblueeyesaremysafeplace

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner x reader #gender neutral #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #gender neutral reader #hotch x reader #reader insert #slow burn #series #aaron hotchner #fanfiction #fanfic #collab #TheSitterCollab

[catrasredemption-moved]

That whole "an abusive mother shouldn't be seen as a mother figure" sitting not well with me.

So can you elaborate on that and not make it super invalidating to people abused by foster/adoptive/psuedo paternql figures?

This feels like a trap, but sure. Buckle up, we’re going back to my childhood.

(this is long, contains emotional/mental abuse, alcohol and drug references, and is just plain unpleasant)

I was emotionally/mentally abused by my mother and stepfather for pretty much my entire life. I was an oops baby, and my bio dad at least had the self awareness to check out my life early because he knew he’d never be a good father (yes, I give him some twisted credit for that, because at least he was honest). My mom was kind of... I don’t want to say forced to keep me, but her family was very insistent. I don’t think she would have gotten an abortion anyway (put aside that this was 1991), but things might have been different if she’d just been allowed to go the same route as my father. Her parents pretty much raised me for six years, partially because she had a full-time job, and partially because she just had no clue what she was doing. And I think having her parents as a crutch for so long definitely limited her.

And then she met Paul. Twenty years older than her, didn’t even have a toaster to his name, alcoholic, drug addict. I was six, so obviously this all went over my head, but my mother’s parents did not like him (something I didn’t find out until years after they both died). My mom was 27 at the time, and I don’t know if she just thought no one else would want her because she was a single mother, if she was just desperate, or maybe she really was attracted to him, but she started dating him. I don’t remember everything that led up to the Breaking Point, because this was 23 years ago, but I remember the specific night - she was on the phone with Paul, and I kept saying I was hungry. I forget what she made, but it was something I’d eaten before and suddenly decided I didn’t like (as children do sometimes), so I was upset.

At this point my grandmother or grandfather would usually step in and just make me something else. Instead my grandfather went upstairs and told her to get off the phone and deal with it. Was I being a little bratty? Yeah, probably. Should my grandparents have just dealt with it? No, that was my mother’s job. Even if it just meant coming downstairs and making me eat the Thing. But she didn’t want to get off the phone (this was 1997, people still talked on phones. Weird, right?)

One huge fight later, my mother put me in her car and drove me 20 minutes to another city to stay with Paul and his roommate. I didn’t see my grandparents for three days. That’s when they learned they had to play nice with Paul or my mother would actually take me away.

We moved in with Paul, after they’d been dating for three whole months. My mother upended both of our lives, including making me transfer to another school after first grade, for a guy she’d been dating for three months. A guy she knew had substance abuse problems. A guy who, when home alone during the day, would sit out in the living room and watch porn (and one time watched it in my room, which? I was eight, I very vaguely remember walking into the apartment, my mother immediately grabbing me and pushing me back into the hall while saying “get that shit off her TV.”)

Some very fucked up things happened over the next twelve years, some I still haven’t told anyone about (including my wife), and some that were just wrong in retrospect. Common occurrences included (some of this might be considered lowkey sexual abuse? I’ve never thought about it that way, but my perspective is skewered af):

Telling me to turn sideways so he could see how I was “developing” (this started at 10)

Inappropriate comments about my weight and how I eat too much (starting around 8 or 9)

Wildly gross and sexual comments about my body (starting around 13)

Coming into my room while drunk and asking for a hug, then holding me for too long and lowkey groping (starting around 13 or 14)

Calling me a whiny bitch (starting around 8)

Yelling at me for eating food, especially if I finished something, because I didn’t pay for the food so why should I get to eat it all (starting around 15)

Yelling at me for daring to go out into the living room and talk to my mother while they were watching TV (pretty much the entire time I lived with them)

Telling me my mother used to have “a great body” before she got sick and lost a ton of weight (I don’t remember when exactly that started, but the sickness in question happened when I was 7)

Trying to tell me about how he and mother were getting hot and heavy while I was at school (high school; one of the only times my mother actually told him to shut the fuck up)

Enjoyed calling me stupid and calling me an idiot and other things that were entirely damaging to my self esteem

Straight up saying, after seven years of my mother insisting we were family, that I wasn’t his daughter and I never would be (13)

Inappropriate comments while drunk, to the point where I knew when he’d be drunk (because it was always pay day), and me arranging to be out of the house for a couple of days just so I wouldn’t have to be there (high school; I went to my aunt’s, and eventually she started figuring out a pattern and asking me what was going on. I was 16 when she finally realized I hate Paul as much as she does)

...to name a few things. And my mother? Knew about all of this. And sure, she tried to stick up for me once or twice, like about the food thing, but even that came with the caveat of “maybe you should stop eating so much.” (before anyone asks, yes, I’m slightly overweight, and this was some grade A body shaming). But for the most part, she enabled him. And when he told me to stop being sensitive and it was “just a joke”? She sided with him and told me to stop “whining” (whining being “trying to defend myself”). She took his side about 95% of the time, while still insisting that he was my father, because he was there and he was helping “raise” me. They’ve been together for 23 years, and she’s basically chosen him over me at this point (because I chose to get the fuck out of the house and take a job in a state 300 miles away just to escape that hell). We actually got into a huge fight about him back in June because I didn’t call to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. He has never met my wife (whom he referred to as my “friend”, and my mother saw nothing wrong with that, then got mad when I tried to say “what if I called him your roommate”), he was not invited to our wedding, and we had a fight last Christmas when I went back to visit and straight up said he wasn’t allowed to visit our hotel (because I never want him to meet my wife).

Do I consider her my mother? ...sure, in the absolute vaguest sense of the word. She made sure I made it from birth to 18, kept me clothed and fed and a roof over my head (while constantly reminding me about how much it cost to raise a kid.)

Do I consider him my father? Fuck. No. I left the house for college when I was 18, moved out when I was 22, have had three therapists, been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and probable PTSD, have gathered a small group of my own found family, and I still carry a lot of shit from that time in my life. I hate showing my body in any way, and tend to wear shirts that are, oh, 2-3 sizes too big. I hate eating “too much”, despite the fact that a) my wife doesn’t care if I finish something and b) I help pay for the fucking food. I get extremely anxious when I try to correct someone about something (like my pronouns), because I’m afraid they’re going to yell at me and tell me to stop being sensitive. My self esteem is still basically at rock bottom, to the point where I don’t believe people sometimes when they say they like my writing. I flinch when people try to touch me (that’s getting better, though).

I can’t even give him the bare minimum credit I give my mother, because he actively hindered my attempts to grow up and move on from the shit he put me through. He was, and still is, a terrible person, and the idea of him being my father makes me sick. I give more credit to by bio father (you know, the one who walked out because he knew he wouldn’t be a good father), because he’s at least made a few half-ass attempts throughout my life to show he cares (and in a way, I think he does, he just knew he wouldn’t be a good father). Paul, though? Paul could die tomorrow and I... I can’t say I wouldn’t care at all, just because he has had such a presence in my life, but I wouldn’t miss him.

If you have an abusive parental figure (be it bio/step/foster/adoptive/etc.), and you consider them your parent, then that’s you, and I don’t judge. But Paul, no matter what my mother says, will never be my father in any way. He actively made me afraid to exist or be in my own home. He left scars so deep that I don’t think I’ll ever totally move on from some of it. I need people to remind me that nothing he did was okay or normal, and that my mother wasn’t right for allowing it.

So basically, I have a lot of experience to back up why I don’t think abusive parents should be considered parental figures. Parents are supposed to help you grow and care about you and want you to succeed. Paul did none of those things. He continues to be an active roadblock in my life, as a matter of fact. And I refuse to feel bad about not considering him a parental figure.

#Mystery Person #Sam Answers

[vickyvicarious]

well now I have to headcanon that Killian enjoys cooking

(Regarding this gifset.)

Anon I agree. I very much agree. To a... schmoopy amount, so prepare yourself.

.

Emma spent most of her adult life living alone, and a decent amount of her childhood essentially raising herself. She’s gained a lot of skills from those experiences - the useful but depressing stuff, like clocking liars and abusers from ten paces, how to get a good deal at a pawn shop, how to shoplift, to break into cars, how to fill the silence with music so loud you stop thinking about how lonely you are, how to fire a gun, exactly how far ten dollars can stretch if you need. Sure, she’s learned all that.

But some of the stuff is just plain useful. Emma’s known for a long time how to manage her money, how to do laundry, how to keep a house clean, how to sew up rips in your clothes to make them last longer, how to cook. Some of those skills she hasn’t needed in a long time, and others she doesn’t use much just because she doesn’t like to, and she no longer has to. Still, even if she doesn’t especially love cooking, for example, she isn’t actually forced to live on takeout. Before Storybrooke, that was more of... a choice.

(Eating alone in your own home has never been something she’s liked. At least in a bar or a restaurant, she could hear other people, watch them.)

Living with Mary-Margaret, she wound up cooking a little more often, and during her time in New York she remembers making dinner with Henry most days. He was pretty awful in the kitchen himself, could burn water, so she didn’t let him do anything too important, but it was more about the companionship. Even having him doing his homework in the kitchen while she whipped something up was just as good. Sure, there was still pretty regular order-in days, and they ate out sometimes, but for the most part they actually had real meals together. She remembers making a decision to do that when he was still small, to always set aside this time to cook and eat together and share their days. 

It was a curse memory, fake, but Emma liked that routine. Even after moving back to Storybrooke, at least once everything eventually settled, she tries to keep that going. She still doesn’t especially love cooking - it’s more about the end result for her, having that time to sit down together as a family and enjoy something you made together.

So when she and Killian started living together, she made sure to tell him. Emma wanted him to know everything that mattered to her, wanted him to be involved in it. She... also wanted to know ahead of time, if he was terrible in the kitchen and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere nearby. His other household skills were a bit of a hit-or-miss. He was really good at cleaning, but could never remember when to take the trash out. Maybe she expected him not to have any skill with plumbing or cleaning out the gutters, or using a washing machine, and to be fair he learned those all pretty quickly, but she was surprised when it turned out Killian didn’t know how to fold anything neatly. If a lightbulb went out, he usually just ignored it, lit an actual gas lantern if there wasn’t enough light. He actually had a lot of interest in how to decorate the house, but hated changing the thermostat for some reason, preferring to just wear more layers if it got cold. 

Anyway, the point was - she was pretty sure he’d be fine with the idea of family dinners, knew he’d be willing to help even if it were just via setting and clearing the table and doing the grocery shopping, but she wasn’t sure if he’d be interested in actually making the food. And more than that, she wasn’t sure he’d be any good. He had, after all, lived most of his life on ships that had actual cooks to take care of that kind of thing. It might just be something he couldn’t do.

She definitely didn’t expect the way his face lit up at the idea.

“That sounds brilliant, love,” he told her. “You’ll show me how to use everything?”

Of course she agreed, and Killian had always been a quick learner (which was why she kept finding herself surprised at the chores he never seemed to pick up). So the way she only had to explain each modern cooking implement once was not a surprise. He was good with a knife, so she put him on veggie duty, and they made a simple but tasty chicken dish. Nothing unusual, pretty much the kind of cooking she always did. Quick and easy, healthy enough, didn’t taste amazing but definitely not terrible either.

When they sat down to dinner Killian’s face did... something.

It wasn’t quite a sneer.

It also wasn’t quite not a sneer.

“Well, it’s alright,” he said.

.

Those comments became increasingly common over the next few days. Emma’s pasta sauce was “a tad runny, but not bad,” and her tacos “could use a bit more spice,” and her ribeyes were “perhaps a little too long on the stove, love?” and her Sunday morning pancakes needed “a splash more buttermilk, I suspect.” Killian wasn’t picky, he ate every bite, and he didn’t exactly nag her about her cooking. Just one or two comments, not necessarily even directed at her so much as him musing aloud about the food. But every side dish he made tasted amazing, even if it was just a simple salad, and he very clearly had opinions and it wasn’t like Emma even liked cooking all that much anyway. She’d never claimed to be a genius at it. But she’d never admitted to being bad either, and the little snubs over and over got increasingly irritating until one day she just snapped that he should be in charge of dinner then, if he cared so much.

Killian instantly looked contrite.

“I don’t want to step on your toes, love,” he said. “If you enjoy cooking - just maybe another shake of the pepper next time -”

“I don’t like cooking,” Emma snarled, “I just like eating together. Except I’m liking it a lot less when I’m constantly getting criticized!”

“Oh,” he said, a little taken aback. “Oh. Well, then.”

And then he completely took over.

It started with him making her own staple recipes, just being the one in charge of the actual meals. He told her she didn’t have to help if she didn’t want to, and Emma was pissed enough to agree that she wouldn’t. Except then the simple pan chicken she’d been making for ten years came out tasting like it never had before, and there was this sort of lemon-y sauce with it? And he’d made asparagus and some kind rice pilaf thing as well, and even though he claimed he’d just “tweaked it a little” it was so clearly a completely different meal. A better meal. Definitely.

He went through all her favorites like that, completely elevating them beyond anything Emma had ever dreamed of making herself. They took longer, of course, but unlike her he didn’t care. He’d be in there for an hour or more; she’d hear him singing sea shanties to himself as he kneaded homemade bread. Whenever she (begrudgingly, at first) complimented his cooking he’d get this very sweet smile on his face. He rarely seemed satisfied with his own efforts either, still making little comments about how it was a shame the bread had come out a little too chewy, after all -

It was ridiculous. And that was before he started trying to recreate various meals he’d eaten over the course of his long life, a wide variety of vastly different foods he cobbled together from memory and instinct alone. She started helping him out more often, definitely over her irritation at this point and dipping right into fascination. She liked to watch him think, the way he’d dip his hook into a sauce then suck on the tip with his brows knitted together, before adding a little more of some seasoning or other. Now that he was in charge and no longer holding back out of respect for her feelings - or whatever the hell he’d been doing at the start - he’d talk through his decisions. Whether that was muttering aloud about needing more garlic, or telling a long and convoluted story about the first time he’d had this particular curry in a tiny dockside tavern and then delayed leaving port until he could at least partially figure out the recipe from taste alone - thus setting off a chain of events that led directly to his first near-death experience at the hands of mermaids. When he’d come back five years later, the tavern was gone.

Their spice cabinet grew, and their fridge filled up. The pantries too, and the cooking implements, though that happened more gradually. They’d started off with a coffee machine that automatically brewed a pot every morning; five months into living together, Killian acquired a French press and, always an early riser, ground beans himself every morning as she woke up. By the time she got out of the shower and downstairs, he would hand her a cup with exactly the right temperature, flavor, and timing. This went along with the breakfast he’d made, of course.

Emma bought him a set of cookbooks for Christmas; Henry got him some kind of complicated food processor that led to a sharp increase in soups and smoothies and sauces. His repertoire increased. Instead of going to Grannies for New Year’s Eve, they had a party for their family, and Killian went all-out on making a giant feast with Emma and Henry as his hapless assistants. She tried to tell him New Year’s was really more about partying than dinner, but he insisted he didn’t care and made a roast. It was obviously delicious, everyone who hadn’t had much of Killian’s cooking yet lost their minds a little and he alternated between incredibly smug and that familiar bashful grin. Later, they had some kind of pudding for dessert, and played board games for a while until everyone had digested enough to actually move - only then did more traditional festivities commence. They drank, danced, sang, all watched the ball drop and shouted the countdown together; and Emma kissed Killian at midnight, feeling a sharp burst of joy that finally, she could have something like this. Starting a new year surrounded by those she loved, and who loved her back, laughing giddily and dancing together with her parents and her son and the man she’d fallen so so hard for.

But even that paled, honestly, to the next morning. They hadn’t bothered with attempting to clean up, just waved everyone out the door where they’d stumbled down the street in a loud, happy cluster. Emma’d sent Henry to bed, then grabbed Killian and yanked him to their bed, and they hadn’t gone to sleep right away at all. When she did eventually fall asleep, it was blissful and slow, sated in every possible way - and well into the night.

When she woke up, late, it was to an empty bed, sunlight filling up the room. Going downstairs, she heard that familiar low croon from the kitchen; stepped over the streamers still scattered on the living room floor and rounded the corner to see Henry slumped at the table, yawning over a plate of pancakes. Killian at the stove, timing his song to a flip of the newest pancake. She could see blueberries in it. Coffee and orange juice waiting for her at the table. Bacon. Three different kinds of syrup.

Emma started crying.

Henry jerked up out of his chair, rushing to her in a panic. He held her arms and called her over and over, “Mom, mom, what is it?”. Killian moved the pan off the heat so it wouldn’t burn then came over to her too, gently touching her arm. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her.

“Mom, please,” Henry said, and pulled her into a hug - and he was so tall now, so much bigger than he’d been when he found her all that time ago. “Tell us how we can help.”

She shook her head, unable to speak clearly enough to explain they already had, that absolutely nothing was wrong and it hadn’t been for a while now. She didn’t know how to tell them exactly how monumental it felt, walking in here and seeing them both calmly engaged in such a familiar routine. How she’d woken up alone and had been doing so for months and never once worried Killian was gone. She knew he was downstairs, making breakfast.

Emma didn’t know how to say this was the moment she finally realized she had made a home, found a family, and that neither was ever going to be taken away. She didn’t even know why this was that moment, after all the more significant events they’d been through. It didn’t make sense that her deepest doubts would suddenly be banished by a simple breakfast she’d had countless times before.

“You made my favorite,” she sobbed instead, hugging Henry back tightly. She pressed her cheek into his hair, reached out to catch Killian’s hand and tried to blink past her tears to meet his gaze. “I-it’s my favorite breakfast.”

So stupid. So insignificant, after everything, so small, so - so important somehow, the most important thing in the world. Killian had made her favorite breakfast. Henry was there to eat it. Emma hadn’t cooked herself or asked him to make blueberry pancakes specifically or for either of hem to share this moment with her, hadn’t done anything besides sleep in. And it didn’t matter. Here they were, and Henry was always sleepy in the mornings but affectionate still, and Killian’s cooking was delicious and he always sang during and Emma loved them both so much.

Henry held onto her tightly, swayed on the spot a little. Killian reached out to wipe away her tears. He moved his hand to Henry’s shoulder, squeezed gently until he stilled, and then touched the back of his hook gently to her cheek and leaned over Henry to kiss her. Soft and slow.

“I know, Emma,” he told her after, smiling so soft and his voice rough with emotion. Emma had no doubt that he understood exactly what she meant; that he knew just what she couldn’t say and he felt that wonder too. That same incredible contentment, somehow more stunning than the fiercest joy. “I know.”

#captain swan #cs ff #ouat #my fic #replies #anonymous #i haven't written an askbox cs fic in so long and it feels so gooood #i got really emotional with this one i dunno. not what i was thinking when i started it at all #but yes killian cooks #also i know there are tense errors and stuff. i wrote this straight into the response box and have not edited. will get to it later

[love-and-monsters]

Wyvern Prince 17

M Wyvern X F human reader, 3014 words.

Davrakoss shifted his cloak around his shoulders, the thick fur partially obscuring his face. He looked sideways at you, brows drawing together. “Aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” you said. It was still early morning, with the sky turning the pale shade of blue it became right before the sun actually rose. There was a thin layer of frost over the castle grounds.

Davrakoss tapped his tail against your leg. It was a gesture he’d taken to recently. It seemed to be his way of contact when you couldn’t obviously touch each other. The motion was small enough to be generally overlooked, but it was still a point of comfort between you.

The carriage rattled over the cobblestones and came to a halt in front of you. A small procession of guards flanked it. You stepped forward and unlatched the carriage door, standing back to allow Davrakoss to get inside.

Once he was in, you made to follow him. Someone nearby cleared their throat and you glanced over to see one of the guards glaring at you.

“Servants ride on the outside of the carriage,” he said. His voice was slightly muffled by the helmet, but you could hear his disapproval loud and clear. “Riding with the prince would be inappropriate.”

You hesitated, uncertain if it was something you could protest on. “I’ve been allowed to ride with him before,” you said.

Davrakoss poked his head out of the carriage. “What is the delay?” he said. He was getting better at adopting the snotty tone nobles were known for.

“Your servant was attempting to board the carriage with you,” the guard said.

“I allow her to ride with me,” Davrakoss said, perfectly arrogant in his tone. He narrowed his eyes. They flickered like fire, sparking dangerously.

The guard was as moved as a stone. “It would be inappropriate for a servant to do something above her station,” he said. His voice was thick with condescension. “She will sit outside.”

As he spoke, he shifted slightly and you noticed a gold marking on his armor, a bolt of lightning. You dipped your head in a subservient bow to Davrakoss. “I apologize for the delay and my presumptuousness, sire. I will sit outside, as is my place.” You stared at him hard, trying to communicate with your eyes that he shouldn’t protest over this. He furrowed his brows, but caught your drift. You clicked the door closed after him and settled in the servant’s seat on the outside of the carriage. The guard turned away and, at his signal, the procession started.

You leaned back in your seat, hunching as the wind picked up. You were wearing a cloak, but it wasn’t furred, like Davrakoss’ and it wasn’t particularly thick. It afforded little protection against the chill of the day. Your eyes watered and tears dribbled down your cheeks, freezing before they could drip off your face.

Luckily, it was only a few hours to Morrigan, so there wasn’t enough time for you to freeze solid. The carriage rolled to a stop outside an inn and you carefully stepped down, wobbling on your stiff legs.

You opened the carriage door and Davrakoss emerged, looking irritable. Under the watchful gaze of the guards, you couldn’t do much more than bow politely and move to grab his luggage. His tail tapped against your calf, and you pointedly ignored it.

The instant you were inside the inn, Davrakoss rounded on you. “You must be freezing,” he fussed, shedding his cloak and wrapping it over your shoulders. He was always warm, but after spending so long in the cold, he was practically bleeding heat. His hands wrapped around yours, cradling them in a nest of warmth. “You’re like ice.”

You sniffed. Your nose was running and stinging from the cold. Davrakoss offered you a handkerchief. “Thanks,” you mumbled, dabbing at your face.

“Of course,” he said. “Sit down, let’s get you warm.”

The bed was, as was usual for his accommodations, large and plush and covered in thick quilts. Davrakoss settled you under one, then walked over to the large fireplace across the room. His back was to you, so you couldn’t see what he was doing, but after a moment, the logs caught fire. He leaned back, coughing.

“Are you all right?” you asked.

He retreated to the bed, still coughing into the crook of his elbow. “I always forget how much breathing fire stings as a human,” he groaned. He pinched his nose, snorting out smoke.

“You didn’t have to,” you said. “I could have started the fire.”

“Faster and easier my way,” he said, shaking off the last stinging embers of fire. “Come here.” He settled into bed next to you and pulled you close. “What was the problem with that man?” he fumed as his fingers pulled through your hair.

“I know him,” you said. You felt Davrakoss startle slightly with surprise under you. “I know of him, anyway.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s part of the upper echelons of the guards, the Lightning class. He’s the son of the Queen’s defense minister, I think.” Davrakoss wrinkled his nose. “Nobles in the guards are the worst, usually. Most guards don’t care about class, but the ones who do and have the power to enforce it get really nasty.”

Davrakoss frowned, curling his tail around your waist. “Asshole,” he growled.

“Don’t push it with him,” you warned. “You may be a prince, but he’s got more power here than you do. You’ll just make things worse for yourself.”

A low growl rumbled through Davrakoss’ chest, but he didn’t protest. You nestled into his shoulder, appreciating the warmth that flowed off of him.

You jolted awake some time later. Davrakoss was resting his cheek on the top of your head, awake but out of it. You shifted and Davrakoss lifted his head.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand over your cheeks and forehead. “Not sick?”

“Catching your death of cold is an expression, Davrakoss. Humans don’t fall sick just because we got too cold.” He’d heard the turn of phrase around the castle couple of weeks ago and had never entirely let go of the idea. “I’m fine. What time is it?”

Davrakoss glanced at the clock. “Close to six.”

“Shit.” You stumbled out of bed. “I should be preparing your dinner and you should be preparing your speech. Why did you let me sleep so long?”

Davrakoss’ expression was somewhat nonplussed. “You seemed like you needed it. You’ve been sleeping poorly lately.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He stared back. You’d never told him you’d had difficulty sleeping. It was unnerving how well he seemed able to pick up on those things.

“I’m going to go get your dinner ready. Work on your speech. You’re giving it tomorrow morning, remember.”

“Yes, I remember,” Davrakoss sighed as you left.

Fortunately, the kitchens in the inn were able to provide you with a meal for Davrakoss in short order. You returned to his room to find him sitting up in bed, skimming over his speech. “Are you done?” you asked, nodding to the speech.

“It’s as good as it’s going to get,” he said. “I’m not worried about the speech, to be honest. I’m more worried about having to talk to the locals afterwards.”

“It’s good for building trust with the citizens. Morrigan is a big trade city with a lot of influence. If they think the wyverns are good, the influence will spread.”

Davrakoss grimaced. “I know why. I just am not much of a people person.”

“You’re fine with me,” you reminded him.

“You’re special,” he said, fixing you with such an adoring look that you went silent.

Once Davrakoss had eaten, you made to leave and he began his usual routine of trying to get you to stay. It had become almost like a dance or a game. He persisted in trying, even though he usually lost.

“Please?” he said, giving you pleading eyes. “Maybe you’ll sleep better if you stay here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep better without someone’s tail whacking me every five minutes,” you said, stepping back toward the door.

Davrakoss adopted a theatrically wounded expression. “I don’t do that!” he protested.

“Look, if I spend the night, people here will definitely notice. Anyway, we have to be up early, so I’ll be back soon.” You leaned back in to press a kiss to his mouth. He sank into it greedily, and when you pulled back, he looked disappointed.

“Don’t do this to me,” he complained, but his mouth twitched a little. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in the morning,” you said. Davrakoss stole another kiss and you slipped carefully out of the room.

It took a little while to fall asleep and when you dragged yourself out of bed before sunrise, you were groggy. You snagged a pastry from the kitchens when you brought Davrakoss his breakfast. He was still asleep when you go there and you let him stay that way for a bit while you organized everything he would need.

He stirred before you went over to wake him up. “G’morning,” he mumbled when he caught sight of you.

“Good morning,” you replied, carefully smothering a yawn. Davrakoss wasn’t fooled.

“Still tired?” he asked sympathetically as he got out of bed. You nodded. “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You leaned against him for a moment, appreciating the contact.

“We should be getting ready,” you said. Davrakoss nodded and started hurriedly eating while you finished gathering his items. Once he was done with breakfast, you helped dress him and pulled his hair up.

“I wish you didn’t have to come with,” he said as you finished adjusting his cloak. “You look so tired.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I stayed here. Too worried,” you said. Davrakoss smiled and squeezed your hand.

“I’m going to force you to take a nap when we get back,” he said. “But I suppose I do prefer it when you’re with me. It’s much more comfortable.”

You boarded the carriage together, with Davrakoss inside and you perched on the outside. It was a brief ride to the center of the town, where there was already a massive crowd. You fussed over Davrakoss for a few moments more before allowing him to step into the center of the crowd and give his speech.

It was a fairly standard speech, and you were fairly certain the crowd was more interested in staring at Davrakoss’ inhuman features than actually listening to him, but no one seemed frightened or angry, so you decided to take that as a win.

Once the speech was concluded, most of the crowd dispersed. Those that remained were the upper crust of the town, those who ran the largest trades and businesses. They were the people who Davrakoss would have to impress if he wanted to secure more support for wyverns.

You followed a short distance behind him as the group of people began to move toward the classy building they were meeting in. Just as you made to step over the threshold into the building, someone caught your shoulder.

You turned to see the guard with the lightning emblem staring down at you. “Servants,” he said in a cool, grating tone, “are not allowed inside.”

If you had been less tired or perhaps less worried about how Davrakoss would fare on his own, you would have backed off. But instead, you shook off his hand and snapped, “The prince has requested that I accompany him and accompany him I will. You are not my master.”

You barely had time to register that his hand had lifted before it came down across your face. The metal opened a slice across your cheekbone and the heavy strike made your head ring. You collapsed back onto the ground, stunned.

“How dare you!” Davrakoss’ voice thundered across the square. There was rage in his voice the likes of which you’d never heard. When you looked up, he was bearing down on the guard, eyes flashing and teeth bared.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“How dare you,” Davrakoss repeated in a softer and infinitely more threatening tone as he stood over the guard. He was only the barest half-inch taller, but in his rage, he seemed much larger. He was almost shaking too, and you had the brief, horrifying idea that he was going to transform right there and rip the guard limb from limb.

“Don’t you touch her,” Davrakoss snarled, making noises that were too feral to be made by an entirely human throat. “She’s mine.”

You began praying to every god you had ever heard of that the guard took that as a statement of owning property and not as a romantic sentiment.

“Then you should train her better,” the guard said. “She’s an insolent, uppity brat.”

Davrakoss growled, a deep and menacing sound. His eyes looked like a forest blaze, quickly spiraling out of control. Shit. You needed to do something.

Hurriedly, you bent over the ground in the most prostrate pose you could manage. “My deepest apologies,” you said, ignoring the awful pain in your jaw. “Sire, I was out of place. Forgive me.”

Davrakoss looked at you, apparently startled out of his rage, at least for a moment. You stared up at him, trying to communicate with your eyes. Don’t make a big deal. Go back inside. Drop it. I’m fine.

He stared at you, for a moment, then slowly, mercifully, the tension drained from his body. He took a step back, glaring at the guard. “Never,” he warned in a low tone, “touch her again.” He glanced at you with concern again, but you looked back resolutely. His brows furrowed, but, with a look of regret, he stepped back inside the building.

You stood next to the door. It was cold and your jaw radiated pain along your face. The cut wept small drops of blood as you stared resolutely ahead. The guard stood near you and you were determined not to show him how much he had hurt you.

Only an hour later, a distracted-looking Davrakoss emerged from the building. You gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement and his tail tapped gently at your ankle.

The ride back to the inn was quick, but unsettling due to your proximity to the guard. You kept your head down, trying not to make any moves that would piss him off.

Davrakoss practically dragged you into his room as soon as you were inside. “Oh, heavens, look at your face!” he cried, cupping your head in his hands. “You poor thing.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, but you could feel how swollen it was. Davrakoss frowned at you.

“Let me fix it,” he said, and bent in to kiss the wound. You ducked back, holding your hands up.

“You can’t,” you reminded him. “That guard knows he hit me. If I show up tomorrow and my face is fine, he’ll know something happened.”

Davrakoss gritted his teeth, face contorting with anger. “I’m going to kill him.”

“You will not,” you said. “Listen to me. I’m all right.”

“You are not! Don’t tell me that you are!” Davrakoss’ voice rose, not with anger, but with clear distress. “You’re hurt.” He hovered a hand around your cheek, fingers ghosting over the bruise like he was frightened to touch it. Abruptly, his face crumpled. “Sara, I can’t do this.”

It felt like someone had punched you in the stomach. Your breath rushed out of you and an anxious tingling began in your extremities. You hadn’t exactly been expecting it, but it wasn’t surprising. “Of course, sire. I… should go, then.”

Davrakoss lifted his head, blinking at you. “What?”

It was your turn to be startled. “You don’t want me to leave?”

“No.” He frowned at you. “Why would I want that?”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore. I assumed you were ending the relationship.”

“No! No, no.” He squeezed you against him. “Of course not.” You sagged with relief, then winced as your aching face pressed against his chest. “Oh, sorry. Come on, sit down. Let’s at least get you something cold to put on your face.”

He entered the bathroom as you sank onto his bed and returned a moment later with a wet cloth. “Lie back,” he said, settling on the bed next to you. He placed the cloth carefully on your face. It was mildly better than not having the cloth. Davrakoss lay down next to you, wrapping one of his arms over your shoulders.

“I don’t want to break up with you,” he said. “I love you. But I can’t just watch people hurt you.”

“I’m used to this sort of thing,” you said. Davrakoss winced.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he said. “It’s awful, watching people treat you like you’re not important.” His fingers trailed in slow circles on your shoulder. “I know you want to keep the relationship secret, and you have good reasons, but I can’t just stand by if someone hits you.”

“You want to tell people?” you asked.

“I know you don’t want to,” Davrakoss said. “But we’ve been together for a little while now. We’re going to have to tell someone eventually.”

You stayed anxiously silent. “I’m just scared,” you said, barely above a quavering whisper.

“I’ll keep you safe, if you’ll allow it,” Davrakoss said. “I know it’s a bit change and it’s frightening, but I think it will be better for you if you can get through it.”

“I want to think about it,” you said. Davrakoss sighed, his warm breath ruffling your hair.

“I understand,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You leaned back into him as he pressed a kiss to your temple and wrapped his tail over your waist. Even with your anxiety running wild, he was something secure to lean against. At least you had him. Maybe that was good enough.

#exophilia #wyvern prince #wyvern #monster boyfriend #monster lover #I liked writing this chapter

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Keep them Warm pt. 3″

Part three guys. We are almost there. Hopefully I will be able to get out some other stories in the next week, and probably another chapter of the book, but for now this is going to have to do :). Hope you guys like it. 

He woke up flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. It was dark, but that was expected when you were living on a space station. Hand to his head, he sat up and rubbed his eyes becoming aware of a now-familiar sensation tugging at the skin of his stomach and sides. 

It had been almost a month since he had been stuck with the alien eggs, feeding off him for support, and in that time he had grown a greater appreciation for women and pregnancy, not to say that what he was experiencing was in any way close, but it did have elements that were rather similar. 

Testing had concluded a likely series of events, which had lead to this strange ability by the adaptids. It appeared as if the original Adaptids had had the usual binary gender system that you see in many species, a male, and a female, and at that time, their eggs had been primarily parasitic until hatching. It may have been, that, originally, they laid their eggs on other species, and a few of the eggs would survive. However, when they met the original version of the host gender, the situation had turned out to be mutually beneficial for both of them. The more mutually supportive, the more the hosts evolved to help the adaptids. Eventually a line of DNA acquisition allowed the host to pass on its DNA through the parasitic eggs.

Over time, this ability had allowed the adaptids  to incorporate other species into their genetic code successfully breeding in desired traits. They probably hadn’t been a species that was originally intended for sentience, but their ability to adapt had changed things. 

It was concluded that the use of a human for adaptids evolution was an inevitability and not an accident. The queen had probably intended to do what she did the moment she saw them, it was in their nature to do so.

For him, the tradeoff wasn’t so bad, he supposed. Granted he had what could best be described as an absolutely MASSIVE tic, but one that allowed him to eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. 

As far as his newfound appreciation for pregnant women, that came with his inability to sleep on his stomach, strange and sometimes unnerving cravings, random nausea, and, recently, an extreme sensitivity to smell, not to mention the almost compulsive need people felt to touch the eggs whenever they saw them. 

The smell though, that was the worst thing. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simply a distaste for specific smells, but he swore on his life that he could Smell things he shouldn’t have been able to smell.

He stood up, stretched and walked over to the viewing window pressing the button to open the shutters on his way past bathed suddenly in the light of  Jupiter’s stormy red eye. He paused there looking out at the view. He took a deep breath closing his eyes and smiling to himself. Not many people get to live their dream, not many people become what they wanted to be as a kid. 

He was incredibly lucky.

A knock at the door startled him from his musings.

Speaking of incredibly lucky….

“Come in!” He called wandering over to the side of the room to grab a glass of water.

THe door hissed open, and Sunny stepped into the room, ducking under the short door frame before it hissed closed behind her. She glanced towards the window, “WHo the hell decided to give you the executive suite.” 

He smirked, “pretty suite view, Isn’t it.” 

“Where do you want this.” She wondered holding the breakfast trey before her.

“Uh…. just set in on the side table there.” He said stepping into the bathroom and closing the door with a sharp hiss.

Sunny heard the water turn on, “Krill wants to see you this morning.” She called, a little louder so he could hear it.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” The man called back as he angrily tried to adjust the water temperature. He swore it only ever got lukewarm especially of those mornings he just wanted to scald the first layer of his skin off.

When that wasn’t enough, he turned off the water and got dressed eventually returning to his room where Sunny sat over a large bowl of salad. Luckily, the Drev, as herbivores, were capable of eating certain types of earth food. It was a real monetary plus as thousands of dollars were spent simply trying to keep the humans fed, much less their alien counterparts.

He sat down next to her and sniffed at the air, “Pancakes, syrup butter, and orange juice.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Am I really that predictable.”

He shrugged, “Well there are only so many breakfast options, but I could smell it.” 

She looked skeptical, “You can smell orange juice.”

He sniffed at the air, “You can’t? It’s pretty strong.”

“Not a human, remember.”

He gave a rueful smile, “Whoopse, sometimes i forget.” 

He pulled the lid off the top of the breakfast dish, and was hit in the face with a rather strong smell of breakfast. Luckily it wasn’t unpleasant, but it was surprisingly overpowering, and he had to shake himself a few times to dissipate the smell, “Wow, that’s strong.”

She eyed him again in confusion, “The smell of pancakes is…. Strong?”

“Even YOU should be able to smell it.”

When she didn’t he finally let it go and ate his breakfast. IT tasted pretty good, more flavorful than usual, but he supposed that was partially due to the strength of the smell.

While he was eating, Sunny leaned over and pulled up the side of his shirt to examine the eggs. He let her. When other people did it, it was kind of annoying, but he was generally ok with sunny doing what she wanted, they were friends enough for that.

“Do they…. Look bigger or is it just me.”

He shook his head, “Eggs don’t grow, Sunny. They are a little bit heavier though, which is a bitch on my back.”

Sunny grunted and sat back in her chair, “Have you shown the admiral.”

He snorted, “You should have seen the look on her face. I think I may have just given her nightmares for a few weeks.”

The Commander finished up his breakfast, and together He and Sunny stepped out of the room and made their way down the hall. It took them longer than they intended to reach their desired destination, as everyone in their dog had to stop and take a look. Despite the supposed “privacy” he was entitled to based on medical procedure, his condition had spread around the station like wildfire. He was no longer “the commander” but the guy “with the eggs” or (erroneously) “The guy who hooked up with an alien spider. 

The amount of times he had to explain was starting to get a little old, but whatever. Those who didn’t want to touch, wanted to ask a million questions, and vise versa. Occasionally there were those who fit into both camps.

As he was doing this, he began to notice something strange. Sometimes less strange and more disgusting.

He sniffed at the air after one of the guys finally left to be on his way wrinkling his nose, “That guy did NOT shower today.”

Sunny glanced over at him,  “I thought some humans only showered every-other day.”

“Well they SHOULD be doing it every day.” 

The more people they met the more issues he began to have. Floods of aftershave, perfume and flowery deodorant. When they didn’t smell like soap, they smelled like body odor, and when they didn’t smell like that, they smelled like the last thing they had eaten. He rubbed at his temples as the headache began throbbing slowly at the back of his skull.

“Are you ok?” Sunny wondered

They had finally made it down the hall and into the docking bay. 

Stepping through the doors into the massive room, The commander was hit by an absolutely stifling wave of ol, grease, solvant, BO, and paint. He grew lightheaded and had to reach out and steady himself against Sunny’s arm as they walked down the length of the room. She glanced over at him nervously, but he only shook his head at her covering his nose with one hand as they made their way across the deck and to their ship, docked at the other end.

The station was an absolutely massive piece of engineering, probably the size of a large city, and being added onto every day. While it wasn’t likely to ever reach anything near the size of something like, say, the Death Star, it would still probably end up very large.

The Harbinger looked almost tiny compared to the room that surrounded it.

Adam was relieved when they were finally inside, and the outside smells had all but dissipated. Walking next to him, Sunny escorted him up to the medical bay where Dr. Katie and Krill were already hard at work. 

Stepping through the doors, Adam was suddenly assaulted by the pungent smell of disinfectant and isopropyl (Rubbing Alcohol). The smell was so strong that it made him momentarily light headed. He swayed on his feet hand to his head, and Sunny was forced to steady him. “Adam, Adam, are you ok.”

The room spun around him as the smell intensified. He leaned heavily against Sunny as the room echoed, the headache intensified. 

Voices rose and fell around him, and it seemed as if he tilted sideways in slow motion. Something stopped him from falling to the floor, and he vaguely recognized Sunny’s armored arms holding him up.

“Get him to one of the beds.” Krill ordered.

“No… no I think he said something about the smell.” Sunny protested 

Dr. Katie interjected, “Then let’s get him into the other room,”\

He momentarily blacked out here, but woke a few minutes later with the smell, mostly, absent and a pounding headache. “Commander, Commander are you ok.” A light flashed from one eye to the other, and he tried to wave them off.

“I, I’m ok…. Just got a bit dizzy there for a second.”

“Your blood pressure is normal.” Commented Dr. Katie

“Yeah, but did you bleach the entire building this morning,'' he moaned. “I feel like my eyes are going to singe out of my head.”

The two looked back and fourth between each other and him, “What do you mean Commander,” Katie asked, “It smells just like it normally does.”

He shook his head, “Guess again…. Can we just to the exam here. I can’t go back in there.”

They were clearly worried, but they agreed to humor him, allowing him to lay back and rest his head. He could smell Dr. Katie's perfume. He would have said that it smelled like cinnamon accept for the chemical aftertaste that it left lingering. Her breath was sharp with mint, but even under that he could tell she had a chocolate chip muffin for breakfast.

He decided against mentioning it seeing as it might sound a bit creepy.

He tried focusing on something other than the smells while the two of them took a look at the eggs, and where they had adhered to the skin. 

“Nothing appears abnormal.” Krill commented, “Skin color is fine,”

“Are you having any other strange symptomes?” Dr. Katie wondered 

“Hungry…… been craving for red meat ... Probably protein or iron…. And then there is the smell….. Oh and ive been unusually cold lately.” 

Checking his temperature, they didn’t find anything abnormal and drew some blood to make sure there weren't any problems hiding under the surface they just couldn't see.

***

As for the smell, that was only getting worse. He had gone onto the bridge to finish off his work, and was bombarded on all sides by perfume aftershave toothpaste, deodorant, body odor and breakfast hours old.

His head throbbed.

He stood, “Alright, everyone get the hell out.” The crew turned to look at him with confusion.

“Commander?”

“You heard what I said, get the hell out, and take a shower, all of you.”

They looked between each other confused, “I don’t understand-”

“What part of go take a damned shower don’t you understand/”

The crew stood, not entirely sure what was going on, “Is everything ok commander?” Someone asked

He groaned a bit, “You all stink to high heaven.”

It was to Sunny’s amusement that almost the entire rooms turned to sniff at themselves discreetly appearing puzzled.

“The perfume and aftershave and the lotion. It has to go. I have the biggest headache you wouldn’t believe.”

“You can smell my deodorant from here?” One of the men wondered skeptically.

“Yeah I can tell it stopped working about an hour ago.” That left the guy frowning as he turned to the other crew members, “Vanilla, leather and musk, poder, strawberry, chlorine from the station pool, and you, you had onions in your breakfast.

“You can’t seriously smell that from here.” One of the crewmember pointed out.

“Let me break this down to you. I can smell EVERYTHING.”\

A few of the crew-members began to look a little nervous, “Everything, sir. The lieutenant wondered.”

He looked at her, expression a little softer, and a tad more long suffering, “yes crewman…. everything .”

She exited the room rather judiciously as did a few other members of the crew still sniffing at themselves, less discreetly now than before, “No perfume, no aftershave, only odorless deodorant, please.” When they were all gone, Commander Vir slumped down in his seat with a groan and a shiver, “Why does it always have to be so cold in here.”| Sunny glanced at the internal ship readings on her console, “Adam, its like 75 degrees in here, and may I remind you that you have specifically told everyone that if they touch the thermostat you are going to make them sleep next to the engine room.”

He spun in his seat rubbing his arms with the chill, “Hmm, the engine room. Doesn’t sound half bad.

Sunny frowned, “Adam, its like 120 degrees just off the engine room.

“Perfect.” he muttered

***

When the crew finally returned from their ministrations, they found the commander missing. Sunny, who had stepped out for a few moments, only to find the Commander gone when she got back had no idea where he had gone.

He was finally located about three hours later curled up on the floor of one of the auxiliary engine hallways. Heat directly around the core could reach dangerous levels, so he had chosen one of the outlying hallways. Even so, it was about 123 degrees, and dehydration had started to set in. He was eventually brought back to the medical bay where Krill acquired some heating blankets.

Over the next few weeks, his symptoms only got worse and even more strange. He was hungry all the time, and always cold. He was often seen seeking out warm areas to curl up and bask like some sort of lizard. Krill was forced to implement a makeshift heating room near the infirmary to avoid allowing him to wander off into more dangerous areas. His ability to smell at this time became uncanny and seemingly impossible for a human. He could smell the very chemicals used to make certain types of perfume. Usually he knew what a person had for their last meal, and even the one before that. He even claimed to be able to smell hormone levels on the other humans, and, as far as they were concerned, he hadn’t been wrong. 

It became such an issue that he was practically forced into a smelless sterile environment for his own health. 

If that wasn’t enough, he was practically taken out by the back pain caused by the weight of the eggs supported by the most unstable part of the spine, especially in men, who did not have the anatomical assistance in carrying weight on that part of their bodies, like women do. It probably didn’t help that ever doctor aboard the ship wanted a look at him for scientific purposes.

As far as his personal life went, one of his brothers had caught wind of the situation, and he dared not guess what was going to happen when he called them up next. He could really only share these worries with Sunny seeing as she was the only creature on the ship, aside form Krill, who didn’t carry any noticeable sent, unless you counted spinach and some fruit to be overpowering smells. 

If Krill was right, the creatures were due to hatch almost any day now.

And no one was entirely sure what was going to come out when they did. 

[meteora-writes]

We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.8

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham Warnings: Angst, Revenge Plotting, Discussion of Cannibalism Chapter: 8. This Riddle Of Revenge Description: Jack receives a call from Alana. Will and Hannibal discuss what they intend to do with Bedelia and Jack when they get their hands on them. Authors Notes: So this took me way longer than I’d like to finish. The muses buggered off on me for a bit. But I’m back in time to get this posted before my birthday =D Yay!  Read on AO3

~~~~~ Read Ch.1.Ch.2.Ch.3.Ch.4.Ch.5.Ch.6 Ch.7~~~~~ 

Eight Days Post Fall

“Did you get the video?”

“Yes, Jack, I got the video,” Alana confirms with a sigh over the phone. She watched it three times before calling.

“And?” Jack asks expectantly.

“You want my professional opinion?” she asks, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She only reached out to Jack via email earlier in the day to see if he had any information not shared in the news regarding Will and Hannibal being declared dead. She figured he would email her back with something other than a video of Will and Hannibal killing Francis Dolarhyde then falling off a cliff.

“That’s exactly what I want. I want to know what you think happened. You know Will better than I do. Do you think it’s possible he pushed them over the edge, or do you think that they fell? And do you think it’s possible they’re still alive.” It’s all he’s been able to think about for the last week. Did Will push them, or did he fall with Hannibal in some sort of staged plan to escape? Whatever the answer he won’t be satisfied until he has some kind of solid evidence. Which he, unfortunately, found none of while searching the area around the bluffs.

Half of the homeowners in the area refused to allow their vacation homes to be searched. Some stated that they had already been down to check the homes themselves and found nothing out of place. Others just ignored them or said they could search them if Jack got a warrant. With no evidence leading anyone to believe Will and Hannibal made it out of the ocean, no judge would issue one.

“I think that given the frame of mind Will had been in while helping you track down Francis Dolarhyde, he probably came to some kind of truce with Hannibal despite his feelings towards him to take the psychopath down. As for how things went with Hannibal in the end, Will knows how ruthless Hannibal can be, he probably saw no other way of dealing with him and pushed him over the edge the only way he could. The way they turned before falling would seem to support that.” Alana manages to sound professional as she gives Jack her assessment of things. Honestly, she has some very small doubts. But she isn’t going to voice them. Jack is wound tight enough as it is, she doesn’t want to agitate him when it’s likely pointless.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Jack confesses with a sigh. He remembers the three of them deciding they needed to kill Hannibal after Hannibal helps him kill Dolarhyde, but he never meant for it to go down like this. “Molly Graham is speaking at my suspension hearing next week. She wouldn’t return any of my calls after we initially spoke the day Will disappeared. I don’t think I’ll have my job for much longer…”

“Well, you did want to retire soon,” Alana notes, trying to lighten the mood of the call even just a little. She hasn’t met Molly, but knowing the kind of people Will is attracted to, she can imagine what she must be like.

“I had been hoping it would be at least a few more years away. When I was completely grey and too tired to hold a gun,” Jack says woefully. “Is everything alright with you? How are Margot and Morgan holding up?”

“We’re all just fine, Jack. Margot is busy teaching Morgan how to swim right now. I tried to tell her he’s a little young for that, but they’re having a good time so I won’t spoil their fun,” Alana tells him with a small smile to herself. She can see her wife and son out swimming through the window of her office. The estate they’re staying on is big. Not as big as the one in Virginia. But it’s substantial. And it has a pool. Which works in their favor since it’s summer in the southern hemisphere. 

“Must be nice. It’s still cold here,” Jack tells her with a chuckle. It’s warmed up a little since the storm that made the search for Will and Hannibal difficult, but it’s still only in the forties out most days.

“It is… Listen, Jack, I don’t honestly know if Will and Hannibal could have survived that fall or not. But I think if they had we would have had some sort of sign by now. Will would reach out to Molly or you if he could. Hannibal can bide his time when he wants something, but if he’s got Will with him I’m not so sure he would hold back for long.”

“It’s a waiting game. One that might never end…” Jack says as he turns in his chair to look out his office window. It’s a nice enough day out. Warming up enough to allow more snow to melt. 

“I need to go. I promised Margot I wouldn’t be too long. Email if you need to get in contact with me again. You’ll forgive me for not giving you another way to contact me, but we can’t be too careful,” Alana says, feeling just a little bad. She knows she can trust Jack. But wants to protect her family, and that means not trusting anyone despite what her gut tells her.

“I will. Thank you, Alana. Take care.”

“Take care, Jack.”

~~~~~

Twelve Days Post Fall

“You’re certain you’re ready to move forward with things?” Will asks as he removes the last stitch from the healed gunshot wound in Hannibal’s back. Hannibal removed the ones in the front on his own, but he needed Will’s help with the ones in his back just as he had in getting the wound stitches properly closed a day after receiving it. 

“Absolutely,” Hannibal answers with a glance over his shoulder at Will. He’s seated in one of the wooden chairs at the table, Will kneeling behind him. He would have liked to take the stitches out a little sooner, but Will had taken one look at them after nine days and said he needed more time to heal. He finds that hard to believe, but he went with Will’s judgment in this case. He suspects it was something more along the lines of Will not feeling ready to remove them for him as he still felt off-kilter from dealing with his own.

“Then we should go for Bedelia first. She more than likely went off on her own again rather than going into FBI protective custody. And even if she had that would have ended shortly after we were declared dead,” Will notes as he moves to help Hannibal put his shirt back on. Not that he needs the help, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He feels cooped up. And he misses his dogs.

“Tracking her down won’t be difficult. She let slip one night that she used to summer in Connecticut. I believe her family still owns a home there that we can locate easily enough.” She had made the comment at a party they attended when first arriving in Italy. She didn’t think he was within earshot at the time, or she never would have said it. Everything she told the people they met was either a half-truth or some other variation thereof. He could always tell when she was lying. And she knew it. So, she didn’t bother lying beyond the deception of their true identities. “Tell me, do you intend to help me deal with her, or do you simply wish to watch?”

Will steps around the chair Hannibal sits in to stand in front of him, watching as he carefully buttons his shirt while he thinks on his answer. A small part of him almost likes Bedelia. But knowing she got away with the lengths she went to lie and cover her own skin after willingly leaving the country with Hannibal bothers him on some level. She was honest with Will in private. He can appreciate that. But she’s used her experience with Hannibal to make a name for herself and gain a level of professional esteem that she never would have achieved otherwise. It’s almost as irritating as what Chilton did with his damn book.

“What exactly is it that you plan on doing with her?” Will asks leu of answering right away. He knows Hannibal intends to eat her. The question is, does he plan to kill her and then eat her, or keep her alive like he did with Miriam Lass so he can toy with her first?

“I was thinking I might like to give her a similar treatment to that of the one I gave Dr. Gideon,” Hannibal explains as he finishes buttoning his shirt and moves to stand so that he and Will are eye to eye.

“The forensic report said his limbs had been amputated,” Will recalls with a tilt of his head. He didn’t ever get a look at the body in person, just read the paperwork and look at photos later on. “Taken one by one over the course of roughly two weeks. His stomach had his own partially digested remains inside.”

The smile on Hannibal’s face is one of his rare genuine ones. “He made for a most fascinating dinner guest. It was almost a shame to kill him. He ate everything I prepared and served him. Even when he was down to a single arm and had very little appetite left,” Hannibal recalls. The man was absolutely insufferable on some levels, but he took his fate in stride and could keep up a conversation. He can respect that at least.

“I don’t know if I’m more impressed or disturbed by that,” Will says with a shake of his head. He’s joking, just a little.

“I seriously doubt that you find anything I’m capable of to be truly disturbing at this point,” Hannibal speculates. “If the idea of my keeping Bedelia alive bothers you, you don’t have to participate. I’m more than capable of taking care of her on my own.”

Will considers the offer. Thinks about what it would be like to sit at the table with her and Hannibal as he serves up some piece of her like a fine holiday meal. See the look of defeat in her eyes as she accepts her plate. A small, fading part of him still screams somewhere deep down that it’s wrong. But he doesn’t honestly feel bothered by the idea. Especially given the fact that he knows he’s eaten people before… Unwittingly as it was at the time. “It doesn’t bother me,”  he finally admits as he turns away to look out the window.

“You’re certain?” Hannibal questions carefully. They’ve not really talked about this yet. Killing Jack together was a given. But Bedelia is Hannibal’s own personal vendetta. He knows Will accepts that Hannibal intends to eat them both. But he hasn’t said if he intends to join him or not. Which Hannibal won’t push. He won’t force him to do something he isn’t interested to in this case.

“I don’t feel any desire to eat her, but I would like to see the look on Bedelia’s face when you serve up a piece of her up for dinner,” Will admits as he glances back to Hannibal. He doesn’t miss the way his words affect the other man. Something in his eyes becoming almost primal. It sends a shiver down his spine as it reminds him of the look in Hannibal’s eyes when he ripped out Francis Dolarhyde’s throat with his teeth. “Do you intend to do the same to Jack when we go after him?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, but I leave that decision up to you. After all, you are the one who was most wronged by him. He treated you like an animal, Will. And an ill cared for one, at that. I think it’s only fair you should be the one to decide what’s to be done with him in the end,” Hannibal says as he turns to grab his notebook from where he left it beside the bed. He doesn’t doubt that whatever Will decides upon will be in some way satisfying for him also. He remembers quite well how vivid the other incredibly man’s imagination is. “You should take your time deciding. Nothing has to be settled upon until after we’ve finished with Bedelia.”

“I already know what I want to do with Jack,” Will says plainly as he watches Hannibal walk over to take his usual seat on the far end of the couch. He always lets Will take the side closest to the window so that he can sit and look outside if he likes. It also means he’s facing Hannibal if he does so. And he’s not blind to the fact that he’s been the subject of more than one of Hannibal’s sketches in that situations.

“Oh?” Hannibal doesn’t look up, just turns the pages of the notebook until he finds the latest sketch he’d been working on.

“I was thinking about how he and I first met,” Will begins as he takes his seat opposite Hannibal on the couch, body turned towards him with one leg pulled up onto the space between them at an angle. His posture is wide open. One arm resting on the back of the couch while the other rests so his hand is in his lap.

That gets a curious look from Hannibal, who pauses in the shading he’d begun to work on. “The museum opening?”

Nodding, Will scratches at his jaw and looks out the window once again. There are still patches of snow on the ground. Early March weather changing the landscape to a muddy semi-frozen mess. “I have some ideas on how we might contribute our own exhibit to it.” 

The smile that creeps on to Will’s face is enough to give Hannibal an idea of what the other man is thinking, and it sends a thrill through him at the thought of Will having thought this through already in detail. “He did seem quite invested the one time we spoke of the museum.”

Will huffs a laugh, because that is a serious understatement. “Jack was intimately involved in creating and establishing that museum. He helped track down half of the items on display personally. He was like a proud parent come to watch their child graduate when it finally opened.” He remembers their argument over the name that night well. And he remembers thinking Jack was a fool that would probably end up part of a display in his own creation someday. It only seems fitting that he and Hannibal be the ones to put him there. “He was almost as invested in the forming of that museum as he was in finding the Chesapeake Ripper,” he notes. “How do you feel about making him into an exhibit in his own museum? I was thinking something along the lines of the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits?”

“A mosaic forged from the elements of my previous kills?” Hannibal finds himself imagining Jack strung up like a mannequin, body cut open, various pieces missing or artistically arranged along with him. Posed in a way that lets everyone who lays their eyes upon him see the scope of their work at a glimpse. It gives him an idea of what to do with the rest of Bedelia when he’s finished with her as well. “Beautiful.”

“I thought you might like that idea,” Will says almost fondly with a shake of his head before looking outside once again. The sunlight makes his eyes sparkle with an almost ethereal glow. 

It makes Hannibal want to flip the page and draw him yet again… “What about your own contribution? This would be your work of art as well as my own,” Hannibal reminds him. He honestly loves Will’s idea, but he wants him to contribute his own elements to this creation.

“I have my own twist to put on things,” Will says vaguely as he turns his head and glances towards the tacklebox where it rests by the table. “Don’t worry, Hannibal, I intend to leave my mark alongside yours when the time comes.”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal confesses with a small smile. He’s watched Will for almost two weeks now. Making his fishing lures and daydreaming. He wishes he could see the things that come to that fascinating mind when it drifts. He knows Will likes to go to his stream when he has nothing else to do, but he also lets himself wander to darker places from time to time now that he only dared go when Hannibal asked. Because of that, it’s easy to spot when he does. His eyes take on a more feral sharpness that isn’t there other than when he’s ready to kill. It never fails to bring a similar desire out in Hannibal when he sees it.

“When do you want to leave?” Will asks with a tilt of his head after a moment silence passes between them. His gaze has drifted to the sketch in Hannibal’s hands. It’s of his old office. The furniture and fireplace are what give it away at a glance. Will still sees the room in his mind regularly enough to recognize the half-drawn shapes.

“I’ll give Chiyoh a call tomorrow and ask her to bring us to my house in New York. She can get us a temporary vehicle and more supplies while we get the house ready for guests.” He hasn’t been there in over four years. Having last gone some time before ever meeting Will. He’ll need to get new medical supplies and restock the pantry before they make their move to retrieve Bedelia.

“How far away is this place, anyway?”

Humming, Hannibal thinks a moment. “About four hours or so. It’s in the lower mountains, close to a town called Rhinebeck.”

“Great,” Will mutters with a slight look of discomfort flashing across his face. He doesn’t know how to feel about being in a car with Chiyoh for that long. He’s still a little bitter about their last interaction on the train. Her visit to bring them supplies was awkward enough for him as it was. He can only imagine what a road trip with her would be like. Especially with Hannibal and his ability to read people most of the time.

“You worry too much, Will. Chiyoh holds no feelings of ill will towards you. She is aware of how important you are to me. That makes you important to her as well. You’re family, and she would never do anything to hurt family,” Hannibal does his best to assure. He had spoken with her in private outside before she left the other day. She could tell from one look at the two of them together that something had shifted in their dynamic. He didn’t need to explain and she didn’t ask. Only promised to help the two of them finish what they needed here so they could find a quiet life together when all is said and done.

Will shifts almost uncomfortably in his seat, hand going to that torn bit of leather on the couch back to fidget with. “Did she tell you that or are you just making assumptions based on interactions?”

“She gave me her word,” Hannibal says in way of clarification. “She promised me to assist us in getting our affairs in order so that we may leave together after things have been taken care of.”

Will raises his eyes from Hannibal’s drawing and once again meets Hannibal’s gaze, uncertain blue meeting confident whiskey-brown. He relaxes after a beat and nods. “Alright,” is all he says before averting his gaze again and letting his thoughts drift. It’s good to know she’s willing to help them in some way. That she made that promise to Hannibal. 

His thoughts find their way to images of them confronting Jack. Going through various scenarios of how they might surprise him to get the upper hand in a fight against the well-trained agent. What things they might do with his body after to leave their farewell masterpiece. 

The only thing that draws his mind away is the realization that Hannibal is watching him from mere feet away with a smile on his face. It makes him look younger. And draws Will’s gaze to his lips more than once. He tries to hold back the thoughts that come with looking at them. He’s not quite ready for them. At least not yet.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal x will #will x hannibal #hannibal lecter x will graham #will graham x hannibal lecter #murder husbands #angst #murder plots #we could be perfect one last night

[ultradiplr]

First Impressions

A SFW Sigma & OC fanfiction

Tags: Sigma, OC: Uahi (H453), mentions of death and regret, sort of Talon Sigma mention?

A/N No fluff, no smut, just a little practice at writing Sigma, its been a very long time since I’ve written so go easy on me!

Sigma sat alone in his room, well his lab, well not entirely a lab. It was a studio apartment as well, lab and apartment, not much different from when he was….. It was his home inside of this building inside of the ground. Well partially in the… it wasn’t important. What was important was that he was mostly alone, doing work, and counting down the seconds until the next guard came to watch him.

Endless shifts of guards. Talon Guards. Here to keep him safe. Keep his research safe really. Whether they actually cared about his person however he’d never know or care particularly. They watched, behind a mask similar to his experimental one, with tightly layered kevlar and metal suits holding loaded guns, treating him neither coldly or warmly, regarding him like a job. And he was. He was not their company, not a friend to converse with or a stranger to regard warmly as even a coworker, he was simply him. Subject Sigma. A job.

He didn’t care really, the people from… before…. Treated him like a job as well. No… no they didn’t. They treated him like an experiment. Like a thing to be observed. A thing to be tested. To be strapped down and used and….. No, he can’t get into it, not now, not while he’s working tonight. Or else it’d be another lost night of spiraling. These people here, the guards, at least they weren’t watching him for scientific research, weren’t strapping him down and forcing that melody into his room, weren’t keeping him confined and broken. These guards were just… here, with him, casually. This was their job. At least he could be okay with that.

“H453, for shift change.” A voice cut through the silence of the room and the rambling in his brain, he looked at the wall at a digital clock, strange was it off-

“H453 you’re five minutes early.” Sigma turned to look at the area besides his door to his lab.

A small glass encased room within the room, very small, almost like an old gate attendant box, with a control panel within it. The guard sat on a stool looking tired from his posture, and the new one sent to relieve him for the night stood in the booth’s own doorway, separate from the lab’s real one.

“Are you complaining?” They asked, the one standing.

“Nope.” Said the one sitting as they stood and sidestepped the new guard, “He’s all yours.” 

Sigma turned away then, pulling his attention back to his research, or at least back to his mind where he could think for a moment. H453, that was new, what happened to O657? Usually O657 was here after J223, and when O657 wasn’t here T784 was. Was there new scheduling? He’d been told there were new staff earlier this week but he’d assumed it was for the technical team, and not the guard. What on earth happened to O657? He quite liked them, when they fell asleep they didn’t snore. And when they were awake they’d hum tunes. And there was that one time they warned him about instruments about to fall off a table and he thought that was rather nice. Who was this new person who-

“Good Morning” A voice, a clear voice, not spat out from the speakers of a mask, asked him from the box, and he jumped a little.

He looked back at them, or rather her, firstly surprised at being addressed so directly, and again at the disregard at protocol as he saw clearly her face, she had taken her Talon issued headgear off. She was mature, or at least looked to be, pronounced grey hairs filling her black tied back bun of hair. She looked tired, which was fair considering the time… the time! He looked at her and back at the clock, god, MIDNIGHT.

A hand rose to his face and pinched his nose and rubbed his eyes, he’d been working for a solid twelve hours since his last break, and hadn’t eaten in just as long. He sighed and looked back at her, giving her a raised brow, before staunchly ignoring her greeting and floating over to a kitchen of sorts in this cavernous room.

“Kitchen” being a generous term for it, it was a table with an electric teapot used to make hot water on it, a few boxes of various teas, and a handful of instant foods made with adding hot water. He was allowed to make his own food, though the pickings were slim, not a fresh piece of fruit, vegetable or meat in sight, processed and packaged meals were his whole life, though he couldn’t complain really, better than the tube stuff… much better. 

“Or you can just ignore me.” He heard her mumble rather loudly, obviously meaning for him to hear.

He made a noise to acknowledge that he heard her, opening up a bowl of instant noodles, and pouring in hot water and flavoring.

“Instant noodles, I had the same dinner.” He heard her speak, again, as he watched the noodles cook in front of him, “You’d think they’d splurge a little more on at least name brands.” she attempted to joke.

Truth be told, he was surprised at her attempts to be somewhat friendly, more than the last few, though he did remember some of them being friendly… before…. Before a large hiring of new guards…. New guards….. Every few months there were always new people, all more quiet than the last.

He cut his thought off early from that, not wanting to say to himself why that was, best to move on from that. Sacrifices could reasonably be made in the name of science after all…

“You always this quiet or should I be alarmed?” She asked casually, but the tone of annoyance was not lost on him.

“I am tired.” He answered without turning toward her, fixated on the bubbles rising between the instant noodles breaking up, though he was afraid it came off more intense then he meant for it to be, considering he heard it echoing in the room, his voice louder than he realized.

He heard her scoff and then the squeak of the stool as she settled more back, “Sorry, i’ll be quiet.” she said, and though she sounded sincere, no doubt she was a bit…. Annoyed.

He frowned to himself, squeezing his lips into a thin line and wearing an intense expression as he mixed the now softened noodles around. He disliked how this first impression went, how awkward it must be for her to be stuck in a room with a giant floating man who refuses to talk to you. Though that wasn’t his fault, was it? She should have known he wasn’t the “talkative” type...  well he used to be…. He used to be a lot of things…. But he wasn’t anymore was he?

He shook his head as memories of summits and meetings and lunches began to flood his mind, he disliked thinking of before in such personal detail, in ways where he can feel like he was there, because sometimes it feels like he is….. And that scared him.

“You are fine, I am just tired, I have been up all day.” He says softly, noting the lack of echo, good, he’s at an acceptable volume, “Though I would think you know that.” He said, trying to make light of the situation as he picked up the warm bowl in his hands and floated back to his work table.

“Something like that, the briefing for this station is pretty long.” she said plainly, it seems he’d have to do better if she was going back to her previous tone.

“I would not be surprised, it seems they send a new guard here every other week.” He sat above his work station, comfortable lounging as he picked and ate his food slowly, hunger not overshadowing hard set eating habits.

“Considering the casualties, I wouldn’t be surprised, they’re down to pulling veterans.” She yawned with a stretch, the metal, plastic and kevlar scraping together, much too loud for his liking, even above his slurping.

The word casualties hung in the air, although she said it so nonchalantly, it stuck to the inside of his skull. He disliked the word greatly, murders would be more fitting a small voice in the back of his head would whisper, bodies another would say, fools yet another would say, roadblocks, the price of success, the price of science, the price of humanity….

Before he knew it he was staring down at an empty bowl, completely empty, no soup no noodles, he blinked and then he felt a splash of hot to warm water splash his face as his bowl was suddenly full again.

He yelped as he got drenched with his own floating meal and suddenly touched the ground, standing tall on his own two feet as he trudged over to the meager sink and dumped his food in it, frustrated and upset.

“Get out, I will be going to bed.” he said harshly, his echoing voice barely puncturing his own racing thoughts, already stomping to his bed within the same room.

He stood beside his bed, focusing on the object, grounding himself as he touched the soft fabric to make like he was getting in. Some part of him noticed the sound of the shifting of her suit gear as she got up and the sound of the guard box’s door opening and shutting.

He got into bed and listened to the murmurings subsiding as he stared at the wall, the lights shut off about thirty minutes later, reasoned that him not moving was a sign of sleep while in reality he just focused on a small crack in the wall. Minuscule really, looks more like a dent, a chip in the paint even. Bigger than it had been during his first few weeks, a month ago he had focused hard on the crack and it had grown. The show of strength had scared him greatly and he had not attempted it again. But it stayed here, this crack, reminding him of how powerful he had become. More permanent than any guard, more permanent than the countless others he must have hurt, even more permanent than the fleeting memories and achievements he had made before… before he became this.

He blinked, one, twice, three times, slower and slower, and before long he drifted to sleep, his dreams filled with space and floating shapes and theoretical lines and vectors and math unknowable and incomprehensible. 

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