#his paws are out and empty chop chop

[insurged]

afo's birthday is dec 25th. yes, it's supposed to be ironic and the dichotomy is intentional. \o/

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 2. (part 1 here)

-

The urge sits right under his skin.

It’s a month out from hibernation, the torpor not quite sunk in all the way just yet. Plenty of time still to stockpile supplies, train the new rangers before his leave of absence, and chop all the firewood needed for the winter months. Plenty of time on the surface, that is—with only a month left to go, John quietly acknowledges to himself that maybe he bit off more than he could chew this time around. 

It’s exhausting work though. The new batch of recruits are fresh-faced, hardly experienced enough yet to last the season without him, but he hadn’t had much choice with Gaz taking the year off to go back to school. He’s been regularly putting in sixty to seventy hour weeks, hardly leaving him any time to cook or clean or prep for hibernation. Time goes by in a flash. He hasn’t even done a quarter of the repairs around the house that he’d wanted to finish before slipping into the winter torpor.

Hard to figure it out. He’s been putting it off without a real reason, getting lost in the forest for long swaths of time, trudging through the new snow up high in the mountains. Hardly ever in his bear form, conscious of not totally giving over to the animal, but occasionally he can’t help slipping into like tumbling down a snowbank, just losing his footing for a moment and sliding, sliding, sliding until hours have passed and he finally hears his own chuffs and feels branches crack under the weight of his paws.

He winces when he turns back, bones creaking and cracking back into place. 

John has been smelling something around town for weeks now, something sweet and delicate like sap over a branch, but work has left him too busy to start anything. Instead he stops by the grocers every other day, where the scent is strongest, to pick up miscellaneous items. Canned soup here, steaks there. He stockpiles canned and tinned goods in his den, preparing for the long winter when he’s lulled into sleep for extended periods of time, but every time he enters his den, it feels oddly bereft. Empty. Missing something.

The month or so before hibernation always leaves him feeling groggy and laconic; it makes his eyes go half-lidded and his speech descend into grunts and one-worded answers. He spends so many weeks hoarding food and blankets and firewood for the brief moments when he wakes that he can’t stop himself from eyeing even the pretty cashier like another thing to hoard.

He holds himself back, but just.

John wakes up on the couch after a particularly rough shift, groggy and out of sorts. Flecks of sleep stuck in the corners of his eyes still. He’d run into another bear (a real one) on the trail hassling a couple hikers during his shift and it’d taken a couple stressful minutes to gently guide the hikers away before dealing with the bear himself. It’s easier to deal with them in his bear skin, but he generally avoids shifting in the month leading up to hibernation for a reason. It settles him deeper into his bear, draws the sleep closer.

He’s full of cuts and bruises, his side covered in a barely healed, particularly nasty gash, the flesh knitting itself together slowly. His stomach growls. He hadn’t had a chance to cook himself any supper when he got home before collapsing on the couch—had barely eaten lunch as well. That’s part and parcel of his way of life; even during the summer, the days had been long, extending well into the twilight hours. 

And bears need food. John burns calories faster than most, an enormous amount of energy expended when shifting into his other form. He’s a familiar face at every restaurant, grocery store, and market in town for a reason, even if that reason isn’t widely known. In the summer, there was at least some time during the day to gorge himself on berries or fish from a nearby stream, but the berries and fish have long disappeared with the coming of winter. It shouldn’t come as a surprise—hunger dominates his mind during the months leading up to winter—but it’s somehow caught him off guard this year. 

His head perks up when the doorbell rings. 

It doesn’t ring again, but he can hear someone on the other side of his front door, shifting from foot to foot. John isn’t expecting anyone and doesn’t remember inviting anyone over, but he gets up anyway to answer the door. 

There’s a pretty little thing waiting for him on his front porch with a bowl of stew and homemade sourdough bread. He recognizes her from the grocery store, the sweet smelling thing always looking over at him from the till. 

“Sorry to trouble you,” she says, peeking around him. Probably trying to be inconspicuous. 

It slots something in his chest into the right place. He shifts slightly to let her peer over his shoulder into the empty house; no wife or kids scurrying behind him. It eases some of the tension in her shoulders.

“No trouble,” John says. “What’s got you on my doorstep after hours bringing over supper?”

She’s exquisitely shy, almost nervous when she steps from foot to foot before holding the food out closer to him. He takes it, if only to avoid watching her strain. In his hands, it smells entirely too good; makes his mouth water. His bear huffs in his head. John can’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal. Certainly not since well before his mother passed. 

“You seemed like—I saw you come home. You looked dead on your feet, so I thought…well, I’d already made soup, so it wasn’t much trouble.”

“You saw me come home?” he repeats.

“Oh, I, uh—I live next door.”

“That so?”

She flushes prettily, just the slightest deepening of the colour over her cheekbones. “Yeah. Six months now. Moved in just before the summer. Anyway, I, well…sorry if you were in the middle of supper, I wasn’t sure if—I heard from Kate that you’ve been busy, so I thought you might appreciate not having to cook.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” he says. There’s a pause where neither of them say anything. “Can I—I have, uh, a bowl in the kitchen if you want—”

She holds up her hands at that, taking a step back. “Oh no, sorry, I don’t want to…I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d…you know…friendly neighbour and all.”

“It’s no trouble, really. Come inside.”

“No, I—I really have to get going,” she insists, finally turning away from him and descending back down the stairs. “Enjoy your supper!”

He watches her turn and scurry off back to her house, glancing down back once only to give a little start when she catches him still watching her. His nose twitches when he notices that even with the tupperware stacked in his hands, the distinct sweetness that had been hovering outside his door gradually dissipates in his neighbour’s absence. 

His bear rumbles inside his chest. 

In the mountains, he ruminates on his neighbour’s small kindness. It builds in his chest like a slow burning fire when he stands in the brisk cold and stares down into the valley below. The snow squeaks under his boots on the hike back down. The ache of hunger echoes through him again; he thinks of tupperware offered to him in two soft hands. Next time, he’ll invite her in. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she comes by again not a few days later, this time bringing along with her a pan filled with berry cobbler, tinfoil crinkling under her fingers when she hands him the entire pan. The next day, she stops by with a jar of homemade apple cider. 

It takes awhile for John to coax her inside. She brushes off his invitations to join him for supper for days before he notices the cracks in her resolve. She lingers on the porch for longer than she should, body oriented towards his house even when she says that she has to go. John considers for all of a few seconds just dragging her inside, but there’s something immensely rewarding in reeling her in slowly. A slow hunt and the promise of a meal so decadent that it leaves his tongue heavy in his mouth.

When she finally concedes, his blood roars hot, the beast in his chest thickly nuzzled under his skin, satisfied. 

She’s skittish in his house. Hardly stays for more than ten minutes the first time he succeeds in getting her in. Just long enough to take a couple bites out of the gingerbread loaf that she’d brought over and he’d cut a few slices off before retracing her steps back to the front door. John holds back the instinctive urge to follow her and trap her in with a hand flat on the door when she tries to open it. It’s better to earn her trust. 

His interest just goes up and up as she continues feeding him throughout the week. Perfect mate keeping his belly full, keeping him nourished after a hard day’s work. She keeps him company on the couch when he invites her over on the weekend, dragging her little socked feet over the carpet and snuggling up on the other side of the couch like he might reach out and grab her. He might.

Part of John can’t believe that he’s been living beside this girl for going on six months and never scented her before. It permeates his house now, baked into the walls and carpet. He wishes sometimes she’d stop by and use his bed for a nap, if only so that he could come home to a bed smelling of her; he’d wrap a firm hand around his cock with the scent of her under his nose and tug himself off with his face pressed to his pillow, imagining her trapped under him, the plush pillows of her ass turned up to let him rut between her thighs. 

Her feeding him and spending time with him is confusing though. It confuses his bear, who associates all those things with mate. It’s nature to want to keep the thing feeding him. 

So he can’t help the way his bear expects her now. When he wakes up in his bed without a smaller body tucked away in his arms, it leaves him foul-tempered, short with his men. Picking up groceries becomes more difficult than ever when he instinctively beelines to her when he walks through the automatic doors, pleasure coiling in his chest at the sight of her staring wide-eyed at him. Always a bit shy, even as it slowly melts from her like old snow. Timidity from a season ago, still frosted over but shrinking. 

He doesn’t stop himself from dragging her into his lap before passing out on the couch after a long day at work, leaving her befuddled and uncertain. His arms don’t let her up though; they keep her pinned to his chest until he wakes back up an hour later, nuzzling the bristles of his beard over the soft skin of her neck and dragging a big palm up the inside of her thigh, seeking out the warmth between her legs even half-asleep.

His hand pauses its upward trajectory when she shifts. He’s slow to come back to consciousness, but far slower to move his hand. Mate, his bear rumbles in his chest when his fingers dig into the clutch of her thighs and John hears her muffle a yip. She should be soft and pliable for him, should let him drag his hand up into the space between her legs that she’s kept hot and tender for his touch. 

John lets her pretend at sleep until he finally moves his hand away, moving to sit up and leaving her curled up on the couch. He goes off to the kitchen to put on the kettle and comes back to find her awake, stammering out an apology for falling asleep. 

“None of that,” he grumbles, setting two mugs down on the coffee table. He sits beside her before she gets the bright idea to get up and leave. 

“Sorry, I didn’t plan on staying this long. I should get back—”

“Someone waiting for you at home?” John interrupts, curt despite himself. 

The idea of her going home to someone instantly aggravates him. Even knowing for a fact that there isn’t a man living in her house doesn’t tamp down the anger. He’s scented the exterior of her house once or twice; John would’ve caught the smell of another man by now if there had ever been one living in her house. He’s held off marking her house with come or piss, but that might have to change if she keeps dangling the possibility of there being another man over his head.

It’s his fault for not marking her yet. The trees in the mountains have been marked up over the years that he’s lived in this town, deep gouges in the bark marking the forest as his territory, but he hasn’t yet rubbed his scent into his mate’s skin. It’s his fault she’s still acting like an unattached sow. 

She hesitates; risks lying to him. He can see it plain on her face. “…No.”

His face softens, eyebrows pulling together sympathetically. “I’m not such bad company, am I? Stay for a little longer—all that food’s gonna go to waste otherwise.”

“I—I guess I can.”

“Brilliant. Drink your tea, honey.”

She picks up her mug and sips it quietly while John shifts her feet into his lap and digs his thumbs into her right sole. He shushes her when she jolts and tries to sit up, digging this thumb harder into the arch of her foot. 

“Enough of that. Back down,” he scolds.

“You, but you shouldn’t—you don’t have to do that,” she stammers, trying to pull her foot away and moaning inadvertently when he digs into a sore spot. Her hand clamps down on her mouth.

“Don’t give me that, aren’t you on your feet all day? And then baking for me after a long shift? It’s the least I can do, honey.”

She’s reluctant at first, but then squeaks again he rubs his thumb over the ball of her foot. Hardly able to deny the truth. It isn’t long until her little squeaks and moans start coming out unbidden, exhaustion opening her up. He can smell her sex leaking if he breathes in deep enough. 

“Promise to stay here and wait until I fix up supper?” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. 

She hums, eyes having slid shut. Without even really moving her lips, she mumbles, “Promise.”

“Good girl.”

Sleep warm, she finally settles into his house like she belongs, like she’ll be spending the long winter here as well. Her scent is as imbued in the couch as his. It’s cinnamon sweet. 

“Why do you even…buy so much food if you aren’t gonna use it?” she asks, drowsy enough that even if he were to respond, there’s a chance she wouldn’t hear it. “You hibernating or something?”

John smiles. “Something like that.”

[simonbrain]

part one

you awaken the next morning to the smell of something delicious, something familiar. like what your mother makes every morning.

you suddenly jolt up to find the bed empty, the thought of your family sending a wave of panic down your spine as you hastily pull the thick furs off of you and make a break for the front door, almost forgetting about the man who carried you home with him last night.

"oi, where are you off to?"

the deep voice from behind you causes you to yelp in surprise, and the arsehole has the audacity to chuckle.

you could only turn around and stare at him, unsure if you should run. he looks like he could snatch you up in a few strides, even if he gave you a head start. you glance back at the front door and remember just how long it took to come back here; there's no way you'll make it back home without getting lost.

"...my village. i— i need to go see my family, please." your voice breaks as you think about your loved ones, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. you try to blink them away, and the blank look on his face only makes you feel more helpless. he doesn't look bothered in the slightest.

"your village went up in flames—nothing but ashes now. no use going back." he says it so bluntly, moving past you to block your only exit and disregarding the dejected look on your face. you shouldn't be so ungrateful; he saved you from those beasts, didn't he? a poor thing like you would have been torn to shreds by them if they had found you crouched behind that tree. sweet little lamb wouldn't have been shown half the mercy simon showed you.

even if you did manage to escape them, what would be the point of walking around the endless forest in hopes of finding help? you wouldn't have made it. no, the pretty thing looking up at him with glossy eyes would have tripped over her own two feet.

"but— but i—"

your bottom lip quivers when he steps forward, crowding your personal space. he stares you down so intensely that you lose the ability to speak. go on, love, his eyes say. try me.

he huffs softly when you sniffle and look away. sensitive thing you are.

your stomach growls quietly, and that's simon's cue to place a rough hand on the nape of your neck so that he can guide you to the table.

he watches with quiet satisfaction as you eat breakfast, an even quieter interest bubbling in his stomach as he observes you. the sullen expression on your face almost makes him feel bad, but you'll just need to understand that this is for your own good.

as days pass, you find yourself growing more comfortable in your new home. simon (you've come to learn his name) is quite odd. he doesn't reveal much about himself, but he does listen when you ramble about your family, and he feeds you the most delicious things. it's quite a lot to eat, but you shouldn't be surprised; he's built like a damn bull, so it's no wonder he makes enough food to feed four people.

you try not to stare at his back too much when he's in the kitchen cooking, or at his arms when he's outside chopping up firewood, or at his hands when he absentmindedly places a paw on your leg.

however, simon—the mutt—is shameless. he drinks in the sight of you, with or without your knowledge, eyeing any exposed skin with a hunger he hasn't felt in years. he doesn't push you to do anything; he wasn't raised like that, but at the end of the day, simon is still a man. it's in his nature to go a little dumb in the presence of a sweet girl.

he quenches his thirst with a hand on your thigh during mealtimes. his palm against your back, slowly trailing down to rest on your ass as he teaches you self-defence outside. an arm wrapped tight around you as you both lay down for the night.

still, it's never enough.

then one day, when simon returns home after spending several days out, looking more rugged than usual with torn clothes and dried blood on him, he pulls you in for a hot kiss. he doesn't give you a chance to tear up at finally seeing him after so long or question him about what he did while he was away.

he only takes what's all his.

you let out a squeak, grasping at his hands, desperately trying to keep up with how he devours you on the spot, his greedy tongue licking into your mouth. the tension radiating from him is palpable, his itching fingers trailing down to squeeze at your hips, tugging you closer to him. simon swallows up your little noises before pulling away, humming in satisfaction at the dazed look on your face.

"even taste sweet," he muses quietly to himself, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

"you're injured." you frown, finally finding your voice. your face is still burning, but simon just chuckles softly, interlocking his hand with yours and leading you to the table. the quicker he patches himself up, the quicker he can get back to pulling more of those sweet sounds out of you.

[pedge-page]

Nobody Knows My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

Joel Miller x Werewolf F!Reader

Here's my late halloween contribution!

Warnings: monster sex, werewolf!reader, brief rimming, ball nipping, oral m!receiving, breeding kink, battle of dominance

18+ ONLY

- - - -

‘HeY! Tommy—shh!—no sorry not you I’m just—fuck, stop that!”

Burying the receiving end of the phone into his shirt, Joel puts his finger to his lips to shush you before shoving your clawed hand away. He puts the speaker back on his ear. “Sorry we—“

A strong growl rumbles below Joel.

“You got a dog or something?” Tommy chuckles on the other end.

“Uhhh--“ Joel looks down at you, now on all fours and nudging his clothed sack with your pointed snout. “StoP! Shit--“ he tries to push your nose away but you keep coming back, inhaling deeply through your blackened sniffer with heightened senses. You let out a low howl from your throat of approval, pawing at his jeans now to get them off. “Y-yeah— I mean no! We’re watching a friend’s dog—“

“You gonna keep it?”

“Wh-no. She’s being a —very-bad-dog!” He enunciates at you. “I’m gonna tell them she can’t play here anymore when she’s like this.”

You scoff, knowing deep inside your wolf brain he’s full of empty threats. 

If you really wanted to annoy him, you’d crush his phone under your foot, pin him down, and force you needs onto him. you'd actaully done that before, only to wake up with little memory next to a Joel who looked like he got hit by truck.

You were actually being a VERY good girl tonight given the circumstances.

He pushes you away with finality, walking away towards the bedroom.

You should try to behave, but its so difficult once this shape takes form. It's like asking a kid on halloween to wait to open candy until he's out of his costume and washed up for bed. you couldn't communicate with him, your wolf-like vocal cards unable to form words. But your gestures lead to pretty obvious intentions, and Joel was not getting it one bit.

Luckily, he isn’t prepared when you pounce on his back, making him grunt an “oof!” And falling flat on the bed.

“Joel?” Tommy asks, concern laced in his voice from the other end of the call.

“Shit—Yeah I’m—alright…stubbed my toe.”

You flip him around like he’s nothing. In your current state, he actually does weigh nothing to you. He tries not to yell as you start literally tearing his jeans off, the shredded denim falling by your side.

He coughs, trying to play it cool as if some monster didn't just rip all his clothes off with a single swipe. “I’m gonna have to—“ your sharp teeth pull down his boxers, revealing his rapidly hardening cock. A devilish grin spreads across your elongated mouth, salvia pooling in drops and falling to his stomach.

“Don't!—F-FUck!” He yelps as you wrap your sticky, long tongue around his member, a full 360 covering from base back up to the tip. Your warm breath is fanning his mushroom tip as your tongue jerks him off, granting you a hum of approval. Joel’s eyes go a little crossed, leaning back into the pillow and feeling himself float. “Tommy—No I’m not getting off right now—“ he furls his brows, unable to put his eyes on you and instead, pushes his palm along your furry forehead, knees digging into the matress trying to get away from your grip.

You growl again at his profuse denial of you. 

Shredding his shirt off as well, your leathered paws glide roughly over his chest and soft stomach.  You lick over his nipples, down to his naval and soaking his happy trail with slobbery kisses before returning to suckle his cock easily in your mouth.

In human form, Joel’s girth is impossible to take in one go, leaving you often choking and having to jack the rest of his member with your other two hands. But when you’re in wolf form, with your now larger frame and more importantly, longer chops, he fits just perfectly without any trouble. You had gotten pretty good at avoiding scraping with your larger teeth, instead now pressing your twitching nose deep into his pelvis while his cock breaches your throat heavenly. He closes his eyes, arched up in bliss and forgetting his brother on the phone.

“Tommy—I’m—not feeling great… this dog…I gotta—I’m—“

You flips him over again to his face, your tongue slitting between his ass cheeks and gliding over his taint. Joel lets out a shocked whine when you prod at his hole, glazing over it until slick from your saliva coats his entrance enough to slip the very tip inside. 

“‘Mgonnahavetocallyouback—“ Joel smashes the end call button with stumbled fingers. 

“You’re not putting anything in my ass tonight,” he groans as you lap at his entrance. 

You snap at him angrily, nudging his balls with your nose again. He feels your teeth nip along them as gently but hungrily as possible, hoping he’ll finally take the hint.

“Do you want me to fill you or not?” He asks, turning over and tossing his phone.

Your tail wags excitedly, fast panting jiggling your belly.

You lean back, spread your legs, as two clawed fingers spread your hairy folds. He can see it glistening with hormonal juices even with the slick fur around it. You lazily roll your paw in circled motions, a general amount of your wolf pussy juices dribbling down below and fillinig the room. Tongue lolled to the side with a heavy look in your eyes, your quick breaths dry you out, licking over your chops over and over again as Joel positions himself between your legs, his leaking cock in one hand.

“Ugh—wait—“

He reaches behind him to fish a few viagra’s, knowing even he will tire after a few round of half dozen, but you’ll be needing his seed pounded deep into your womb for at least 15 times tonight.

He mounts you like a dog, one foot propped up on the bed while the other steadies on his knee. “You gonna be a good pup tonight?”

You shake your head no teasingly, spreading yourself wider for him.

“No? How else am I gonna fill ya with a litter?”

You whine out dramatically, pleading with him. He keeps slapping his dick along your slit, giving himself a good warm pussy soaking without actually doing you any favors. “Not sure you’re worth breeding with pups since you’ve been so—“

Your jaws snap shut with a vibrating growl. One whole paw wraps around Joel’s waist as you hoist him towards you, his dick finally penetrating your walls. You let out a delicious howl, using him to fuck yourself. 

“HEY I’m not—shit baby—not a fuckin—toy!” It’s so easy for him to get lost in your cunt, internally much warmer and almost sucking him back in for more. You’re probably meant to take another werewolf’s cock, a werewolf’s knot, something proportionate, but you always go feral for Joel. And Joel’s a blessed guy down there. You enjoy the fact that you can be stretched wide in human form, but needing no preamble in wolf form.

And wolf or not, Joel Miller has breeder balls. The scent alone of his seed swimming inside them sends you into early heat each time, leading to nights like this where you’re biting at his sack then pinning him down until he dumps load after sticky load into your womb.

He doesn’t have a knot, but having human cock in werewolf pussy has its perks. Like how he can push deep inside, his balls snugly pressed against your entrance until they slip inside too. The two of you groan lowly as he ruts himself inside you. Your walls practically swallow his cock and balls all in one, refusing to let him pop them back out. Warm and wet, you can feel all of his twitching inside you, ready to give you those pups you’d been begging him for. Whether he understood that or not from you, it didn’t matter.

Joel grips your fur tight as he splatters his cum inside you. Maybe this time, it’s deep enough that it’ll take.

Even so, you’ve got the rest of the night to find out.

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[of-love-and-loyalty]

Strays - Part 2.5

Zuma woke up to the sound of soft footsteps approaching the cardboard box, which he and Rocky had been sharing as their makeshift shelter. He lifted his head to look up, blinking the sleep away, and smiled when he saw who it was.

“Katie! You’re back!” he said happily.

“Of course!” Katie crouched down as soon as Zuma stood up to trot over to her, tail wagging furiously when she reached over to give him ear scratches. “I told you guys I’d be back to give Rocky his medicine.”

Rocky stirred awake from hearing their voices, but hadn’t moved until he heard his name. He frowned, disgruntled, and turned away from them.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Katie, who chuckled, amused.

“Come on, Rocky. This will help you get better.”

“But it tastes so bad,” the mutt whined quietly.

“I know, I know…” she replied apologetically. “But that’s why I brought something to help this time!”

She sat down on the ground and placed her small backpack down beside her, opening it up to dig around for something. Whatever she was looking for, it was the scent that initially caught both of the puppies’ attention.

Zuma’s ears perked up. He tilted his head to the left, watching curiously.

Rocky’s ears lifted in intrigue as well, turning his head to finally look in their direction while sniffing the air. Whatever it was, it smelled so good.

“Ah ha! Here they are!” Katie exclaimed triumphantly. She pulled out two small pup bowls — one was orange, the other was green. They appeared worn down, old, scratched from probable overuse by previous pups at some point.

She placed them down to the side, before searching around in her backpack again to find a small plastic container. She opened it up and poured its contents into both bowls.

The puppies’ eyes widened. Zuma was almost drooling at the sight. The warm smell invaded their nostrils like a truck crashing into them at full speed, almost overwhelming, reminding them that their stomachs had been mostly empty and twisting with hunger for a while now.

Sausage. It was sausage.

Both bowls were now filled with sausages chopped up in pieces. For Rocky and Zuma, who had only been eating cold leftovers taken out of garbage bins for several days… it was like a dream.

“Is… is that… for us?” Zuma couldn’t take his eyes off of the closest bowl — the orange one — but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Rocky still appeared slightly wary.

“Yep!” Katie confirmed with a nod. “Let me just…”

She picked up a sausage piece and stuffed the pill inside of it, put it back in the green bowl, and mixed everything together. Rocky frowned, tilting his head, puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m hiding your antibiotic. I’ve seen the techs do this at my dad’s clinic,” she explained, placing the bowl a little closer to the box in hopes of encouraging him to eat. “The taste of the sausage should cover up the taste of the medicine, so you won’t even notice when you swallow it. No more bad taste for you!”

“Heh, that’s smart!” Zuma wagged his tail. “If I ever get sick, will you do that for me too?”

“Of course! But… let’s hope we won’t need to do this for either of you ever again after this week.” Katie chuckled, then looked expectantly at Rocky.

The small mutt eyed the bowl suspiciously, but despite his hesitance, still made an effort to sit up. The scent was successfully luring him, promising him relief from his constant hunger. Slowly, Rocky stood up and took a few tiny steps, legs wobbling dangerously and barely lifting his paws from the floor as he dragged himself out of the box. He moved towards the green bowl with the stuff that smelled like paradise.

“Do you need help?” Zuma offered, but Rocky subtly shook his head.

“No. I can do this.”

Katie and Zuma watched silently. Rocky seemed to be in so much pain, and combined with his weakened state making it such a huge effort to move, the two of them were afraid of disturbing his focus.

Katie suddenly moved forward like a bullet as soon as she noticed his legs start to give out due to how badly they were shaking.

Rocky felt the strength leave his body. His legs felt so heavy just a moment ago, and now… it was like they didn’t even exist at all. They gave into his weight. He squeezed his eyes shut, fully expecting the bruising impact of the ground.

But the pain never came. Something caught him, just under his chest and under his neck, supporting his head.

Confused, Rocky slowly opened his eyes to see Katie holding him up. She offered him a gentle smile, carefully lifting him until his paws were firmly on the floor once again.

“You can do this, Rocky,” she encouraged. “I’ll just keep my hand here, just in case. I won’t let you fall. But I know you can do this! Just keep going.”

Her hand was under him as promised, but she wasn’t touching him anymore. Rocky blinked, trying to figure out what her intentions were, but the warm and pleasant smell wafting through the air from the green bowl just a few steps away clouded his thoughts.

Slowly, step by step, he made it to the bowl and nearly collapsed when he sat down to start eating. His front legs didn’t have the strength to hold him up either, so he ended up laying down on his stomach to eat.

Only after Rocky had started eating did Zuma allow himself to literally advance on his bowl too, absolutely demolishing the entirety of its contents in a matter of seconds, which earned a giggle from Katie.

“Woah, slow down!” She patted the Labrador’s back. “You could choke if you eat so fast! The food isn’t going anywhere!”

“S- sorry!” he apologized with an embarrassed grin. “It’s just… it’s just…”

“I know.” She scratched behind his ear. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring you guys some more of this in the morning. Maybe some other snacks too.”

Zuma was thrilled to hear that, and turned to look at Rocky, hoping to share his happiness. Rocky was eating slowly, but his ears were turned towards them, indicating that he was clearly paying close attention. Zuma’s own attention was pulled back to Katie when she patted him again.

“I’ll bring you guys some snacks and treats after he’s done with his medicine too,” she reassured. “My dad really won’t let me take you guys home with me… but I can keep visiting you guys. I won’t leave you alone. Promise.”

“Does he know you’re doing this…?” Rocky questioned, eyes shifting away and keeping his face buried in the bowl.

She shrugged. “He knows I’m bringing your meds.”

“And after that?”

“I’ll just be careful.”

“He’ll be mad at you.” Rocky finally lifted his face to look up at her, his brow furrowing in concern. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I won’t get in trouble,” the girl insisted. “Who’s gonna tell him? No one else knows about you guys.”

Zuma and Rocky exchanged a glance.

They didn’t have anyone else. They only had each other. And here was Katie, promising them food, company, scratches, smiles. They needed this.

“Alright.” Rocky sighed in resignation. He was exhausted. He had almost finished eating his sausage and desperately wanted to go back to the box.

“Oh wait! There’s one more thing!” Katie rifled through her bag once more and pulled out a blue towel. She rushed over to line the surface of the box with it before Rocky could lie back down. “Now you won’t need to rest on a hard surface.”

Rocky walked cautiously back inside. Zuma followed him in once the gray pup had settled down, excitedly wagging his tail and cuddling up next to him.

“This is so fluffy! And soft!” Zuma exclaimed with an appreciative grin, nuzzling up between Rocky and the towel. “Thanks, dude!”

“No problem!” The girl nodded with a smile. “Rocky, keep resting, okay? Bye, guys! I’ll be back in the morning!”

Rocky nodded and watched as she skipped away again, just like the previous day… only this time, he wasn’t feeling… whatever that sick feeling was that he had felt yesterday — when her father had called him a mutt and refused to allow her to take them home. When he outright said that Rocky could be aggressive. Hearing someone say it like that… it hurt. A lot. He really didn’t like that.

But this time, Rocky didn’t feel anything at all.

Thankfully, that meant none of those unpleasant sick feelings either.

“I knew she would help you.” Zuma smiled, eyes still on Katie as she turned a corner and disappeared out of the alley. He turned to look at Rocky. He seemed relieved. “Katie helped me before… you know. Before I got on the streets. I just knew she would help you too.”

**********

Katie came back the next day, just like she promised. This time, she brought some pieces of chicken to help Rocky take his meds.

Rocky liked the taste. He liked it a lot. It was definitely better than the small amount he could scrape off bones that he would find in the dumpster.

**********

On the third day, Katie brought them what Zuma immediately decided was the best and tastiest snack to ever exist — peanut butter. Rocky was already up and walking around by the time Katie arrived, which made her beam brightly. She also removed a few of the bandages, explaining that he should only need two of them now. His deepest wounds still needed some protection.

**********

On the fourth day, Katie was a little late. She managed to make it soon enough, huffing from the effort of running.

“I was looking for something for you guys,” she excused herself while she pulled out a strangely shaped orange object. It was a curious thing. Neither puppy had ever seen anything like it before.

“This is for you, Zuma!” She handed the object to him, placing it on the ground for him to inspect.

“What is this?” Zuma inquired curiously.

“It's a chew toy,” she explained. “You can chew on it. It feels good… or so I’ve been told. Go ahead! Try it!”

Zuma caught it in his mouth and lightly bit it. His eyes widened and he grinned, biting again more enthusiastically. Katie giggled as the puppy quite literally lit up, wagging his tail excitedly, all while chewing on his new toy.

“What a weird shape!” he commented once he finally let go of it. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“It's called an anchor! It's an object that they keep on boats. It’s made of heavy metal, so it sinks to the bottom of the sea and holds the boat in place. That way, the ocean won't take them away!”

“Oh, that's cool!” Zuma chewed on it a little more. “I’ve never seen the ocean, only on TV. Do you think I'll see it someday?”

“Maybe! Who knows? And speaking of water…” Katie smiled while she went through the contents in her bag, this time pulling out a red towel.

“Another towel?” Zuma tilted his head curiously.

“You told me Rocky doesn’t like getting wet,” Katie turned to Rocky to hand the towel over to him. “So you can use one towel to keep you off the hard floor, and the other one can dry you off in case you get wet for whatever reason.”

Rocky grabbed the towel with his teeth, carefully, and dragged it inside the box. He tucked it in the corner where he liked to sleep.

“I… uh…” He shuffled his paws on the floor, then looked up at her with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Katie continued to smile, giving him a gentle ear scratch.

**********

On the fifth day, Katie brought sausages again. Zuma cried dramatically (just for the show) for more peanut butter. Rocky pretended like he didn’t care, but Katie caught the way his eyes were literally shining and how his tail wagged slightly at the mention of the snack. She laughed and promised she’d bring more the next day.

**********

On the sixth day, much to Zuma's (and not so secretly Rocky's) delight, Katie brought more peanut butter.

And, for the first time, Katie saw a real, genuine smile on Rocky’s face. His tail wagged. His ears were up, even the injured one. He didn't seem wary, uneasy, or afraid anymore, and now that she saw a glimpse of his actual self, she couldn't be happier.

Because this meant that he was recovering well, and she was just so happy that she had been able to help him with his healing process.

Rocky was so busy enjoying the peanut butter with Zuma that he didn't notice the way Katie smiled at him.

**********

On the seventh day, Katie brought something different.

The puppies were already awake when she arrived. At this point, they were used to waiting for her arrival, and as usual, Zuma was the first to catch her scent even before she turned the corner. He stepped out of the box to anxiously wait for her. Rocky yawned and stretched, but waited inside the box.

“Katie!” Zuma greeted as soon as he saw her. “What did you bring today? It smells different!”

“You got a sharp nose!” Katie joked as she put her backpack on the ground. It seemed heavier than usual, which caught Rocky's attention. “Bring your bowls here, boys!”

Both puppies did as requested and Katie opened her bag to reveal another bag. This one was half filled with something they had only ever seen in pet shops.

“Are these… cookies?” Rocky tried to guess, tilting his head curiously as she poured some into their bowls.

“Close enough,” the girl mixed the last antibiotic pill inside the green bowl. “These smaller ones are called kibble, and it’s actual dog food. This version is for puppies. It has everything you need to grow strong and healthy! And these bigger ones are pup treats! I'll leave the bag here so you can eat more tomorrow morning.”

Rocky glanced up, frowning slightly. “You're not coming tomorrow…?”

Zuma's eyes widened in alarm. “But you promised!”

“I know!” she quickly reassured. “I can't come tomorrow because I'm going to visit my uncle. We’re going to spend the weekend there. So I'll leave some food with you guys for the next two days, alright? I promise I’ll be back Monday morning to see how you're doing.”

Rocky tilted his head. His concerned frown had turned into one of confusion. “Uh… What's an uncle…?”

“It's what we call a parent's sibling. In this case, it's my mom’s older brother,” Katie explained. She found it weird - and sad - that he didn't know one of the simplest terms for relatives, but chose not to comment on that.

“Oh. Is he nice like you?”

“No one's as nice as Katie!” Zuma responded, already trying out his new food. “She brings the best food and gifts ever.”

“I'm just doing what a good friend does.” She patted Zuma's back, earning a very enthusiastic wagging tail for it.

**********

Later, that night, Rocky was cuddled up with Zuma in an attempt to sleep, but something was keeping him awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Katie said earlier.

‘Just doing what a good friend does’...

What did that mean? Did she consider them her friends? She barely knew them. She hadn’t spent that much time with them — only about a half an hour every morning for the last week.

How could she already think of them as friends? Rocky didn't really understand that. Wasn't this supposed to only happen after someone knew the other longer?

“Dude… you're still awake.” Zuma half opened his eyes to look at him. “Is something hurting…?”

“N- no. I'm fine.”

It wasn't a lie. He didn't feel any pain.

Zuma looked at him funny. Rocky averted his gaze for a moment, but could still feel his honey green eyes fixated on him. He was about to ask Zuma why he was staring, but Zuma yawned and cuddled up again, closing his eyes.

“She said she'll be back in two days. Go to sleep,” he mumbled drowsily.

How did he know he was thinking about her?

Rocky stared at him for a moment, before realizing that Zuma had fallen back asleep. His breathing evened out, barely audible snores sounding softly with each inhale.

With a sigh, Rocky cuddled up, closing his eyes as well. The next morning would feel weird without Katie visiting them, though he still couldn't figure out exactly why. She was done bringing him his medication, and yet, she promised that she would keep coming back for them. She kept bringing them things like snacks, toys, towels… She didn't need to do any of that.

She said it was what friends do.

Was she becoming their friend…?

[dinoshimaaa]

Cabo

You and Ajax make dinner at nine PM together. (fluff, modern au)

masterpost - sher's bday

tag: @souglias

(this is a repost of an older work that didn't make it in tags lol)

-

You register the warmth around you when you open your eyes, finding it to be both familiar and expected. The man squished between you and the backrest of the couch is still fast asleep, soft snoring in your ears slowly falling into the same rhythm as your heartbeat. Romeo, the orange tabby (and the undoubted king of the household) stays curled up between you and Ajax, but his eyes blink periodically, having woken up just before you did.

The phone reveals the time to be six in the evening when you extend your arm to check it. Turning back towards Ajax, you lightly pat his chest, “Wake up. We need to prepare dinner soon.”

“Mmh,” his chest rumbles, and his hold around your waist tightens. “Not now.”

“I’m hungry.”

Ajax’s eyes open. He stares at you for a second. Then he smiles and closes his eyes again. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you sigh and it comes out as laughter.

“Go back to sleep,” he shifts his head down, nose pressing into your neck. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Romeo might be hungry, though.” As if to prove you wrong, the orange tabby jumps down from the couch and nonchalantly pads towards the bedroom, possibly to hop on your bed and mess up the sheets before bedtime. The two of you watch him as he does so, and once he is out of sight, you face each other again. “Or maybe not.”

“See? No one to worry about,” he hums and gently pulls your head beneath his cheek. “Stay.”

You obey. Sleep catches you in its grasp once again, and the next time you wake up it is past nine. Your stomach is definitely growling by then, and Romeo is also pawing at the couch, upset that he has yet to receive his feast (canned tuna) for the night.

Ajax reluctantly joins you in the kitchen minutes after you pull out of his slackened grip. Wordlessly, he grabs the chopping board, but stills when he sees the instant ramen cups in your hands.

“It’s late,” you answer to his disapproving glance, “I don’t know about you, Gordon Ramsey, but I’d rather settle for a quick meal tonight than a full course meal I have to wait an hour for.”

“It’s bad for your health,” he walks over and presses his lips to your hair, “I literally cook quality meals for you for free. Do you have any idea how much Kaeya pays me to do that for him?”

You shrug. “You can do that tomorrow. I’m hungry now.”

Ajax grumbles and places the cutting board back to where it was. Then, he takes the ramen cups from your hands and pours just-boiled water into them in your stead. When he’s done, he sits next to you on the kitchen island and the both of you stare at the ramen cups.

“Romeo hasn’t eaten,” you break the comfortable silence. “Get the tuna for him.”

“Let’s get married.” Ajax replies. You turn to him with a deadpan look.

“We’re already as domestic as we can be,” he smiles and tilts his head. “We sleep in the same bed and house, I cook and clean for you, and you repay me with kisses and cuddles. Getting married won’t make a difference.”

“Romeo still hasn’t eaten.”

“I’m being serious,” his voice drops to a whisper now, and his eyes drop to your left hand. You are very aware of the heavy gaze on the empty fourth finger. “There’s no one else I’d rather wake up from a nap at nine PM and cook bland instant ramen and neglect our hungry cat because we were too busy bickering in the kitchen over dinner choices… with.”

The fatigue has gotten up to him, you think. You blame his abrupt decision on the sleep-lidded eyes and tousled ginger hair and his unsound mind still filled with fantasies from his slumber. You want to scold him about how important of a decision marriage is and why he shouldn’t carelessly throw the word around like he’s suggesting a movie night. You want to smack him head from the back for joking around and getting your hopes high for a split second.

And yet Ajax is never one to make hasty decisions with zero thought. Shyly, his eyes flit up to meet yours and the sincerity in them makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll buy you a ring.” he nervously adds, which is uncharacteristic of him. “Soon. I’ll buy your dream dress, book your dream location, and give you your dream wedding. All you have to do is say yes.”

He doesn’t need to prove himself with material worths, and you want to let him know that. You love him just as much as he loves you and possibly way more. Shifting your hand to link with his and squeeze it, you watch the way his eyes soften.

Ajax caresses your left ring finger. You give him the answer he is waiting for.

“Feed Romeo the tuna,” you answer, with all honesty, “And I’ll say yes.”

Your orange tabby has never had a better dinner before today.

[bearr02]

Safe and Sound |Chapter Six|

Pairing: Hybrid!ot7 x F!Reader

Chapter warnings: Not proofread

Summary: You have worked at a hybrid rehab and adoption center for years, enjoying being able to help people others only see as their animal side. You thought you might end up taking in one or two, what you didn’t expect however, was to take in 7.

Genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, non-idol au, hybrid au, strangers to friends to lovers au,

Word count: 4.3k (damn I’m proud)

Member’s hybrid types: Namjoon: Bear, Yoongi: Bobcat, Hoseok: Ferret, Jin: Wolf, Jimin: Red panda, Jungkook: Bunny, Taehyung: Marble fox

A/n: I’m sorry for any weird parts or typos, I just wanted to get this chapter out. I’ll proofread it soon, I promise. New memberssssss 🤫 yayyyy

Last - Next - Masterlist

When you wake up the next morning, the cat is still nestled close to you, his head tucked under your chin as one of his paws rests on top of your arm. You smile, scratching his head with your free hand.

The sound the cat makes borders between a meow and a purr (Y’know how cats do that? Or is it just mine?) as he stretches the leg that was previously resting on your arm. “I need a name for you, buddy.” You mumble, running your hand from his hand down his back. The cat picks up his head and looks at you through tired, lidded eyes before laying his head back down, this time on your arm.

You smile, scratching behind his ears before reaching for your phone. The cat huffs at the loss of your hand, rubbing his head along your arm. You giggle, scratching his head making him purr. You pat his head softly before slowly removing your arm from him and taking the blanket off of you, standing up.

The cat huffs again, turning to look at you with a glare. “Sorry, buddy. I’m hungry.” You say with a pout. The cat huffs again before curling into a circle. You give him one last pat before making your way out of your room and downstairs to the kitchen.

—

As you sit on the kitchen counter, scrolling your phone and eating your cereal you see something out of the corner of your eye.

You lift your head from your phone to see the cat waltzing into the kitchen and jumping on the counter beside you, rubbing his head on your arm. You smile, setting your phone down next to him, your other hand holding your bowl of cereal. “Are you hungry?” You ask the cat. He looks up at you before blinking slowly and you take that as your yes.

You hop off the counter, setting your now empty bowl on the counter before getting a plate out of the cabinet. You walk to the fridge and get some chicken out, putting it on the plate before putting it in the microwave.

You take the chicken out when the microwave goes off, double checking to make sure it isn’t too hot before you put the plate in front of the cat. He looks at you and blinks before eating the chicken. You frown as you watch him eat.

‘What should you name him?’ You think.

The cat seems to feel your eyes on him as he looks up at you, licking his chops as he stares at you. The cat cocks his head ever so slightly to the side as he stares at you. You give him a smile, “Just thinking of a name for you, buddy.” You say, as if he could tell you’re upset.

The cat stares at you for another second before he goes back to eating. You reach out and give his head a pat before grabbing your bowl and putting it into the sink then making your way to the living room.

You’re in the living room for hardly a minute when the cat comes prancing in, looking around a few times before he spots you and hops up onto the couch beside you. He crawls into your lap immediately, laying his head on your thigh as his chest starts rumbling with purrs. You smile, reaching down to stroke his fur.

“I need to get you a bath, sweet thing.” The cat's head shoots up at your words, watching you with wide eyes making you laugh. “I don’t know how to take that.” You say with a smile. The cat huffs as his ears pull back before he lays his head back on your thigh, his purrs no longer rumbling in his chest.

You giggle, scratching behind his ears, “I take it you don’t like baths?” You say with a small smile, continuing to stroke his fur. The cat does something eerily akin to a head shake, along with his signature huff. You frown as you scratch behind his ears, earning purrs from the cat in return.

‘What if he’s a hybrid?’

You scoff lightly at the thought. It could be a possibility though, plus his actions are weirdly akin to human actions. You frown slightly as you mull over every action the cat has done in the past few hours since you’d found him.

The cat butts against your arm, and it’s then you realize you’d stopped petting him. You give the cat a small, apologetic smile before you continue to stroke his fur. As you watch some random show that was playing on the tv, you can’t help but wonder if the cat is really a hybrid. It wouldn’t bother you if he was, really, it'd be like having a roommate.

You brush it off for now, relaxing further into the couch as you focus on the tv.

—

You’re unsure how much time has passed, but you know it’s been enough time since you’ve last eaten for you to gather up an appetite again. You look down at the cat in your lap to see him dead asleep, asleep to the point of twitching bringing a smile to your face.

You ease your hands under his body slowly, gently lifting him up and setting him on the couch beside you. You groan as you stretch out your limbs, enjoying the satisfyingly small pops that echo in the room. You get up, making your way to your kitchen.

You open the pantry, scanning its contents and finding nothing to sooth your craving making you move onto the fridge. You pout when nothing catches your eye, closing the fridge and leaning against the counter, mentally listing what food items you may be craving.

You decide on going out and getting Chipotle, heading back to the living room for your keys and shoes. You peek back at the cat to see him still passed out, smiling softly at the sight before opening the door and walking out of your house.

—

When you’re on your way back home, you stop at the pet store you had seen on your way over, figuring you might as well get a few things for your new furry friend. When you walk into the store, you make your way to the cat section.

You look closely at the food brands, making sure you won’t be putting anything bad into the cats system.

You eventually decide on just getting a few cans of tuna and chicken, setting them into the basket hanging off of your arm. You wander further down the aisle, doing one last scan over everything to make sure there’s nothing else you’d need before making your way to the next one over.

The first thing you see are cat toys and catnip, looking over the wide variety of the different toys on display. You grab a bottle of catnip, a small one for now, and a few small toys that will hopefully entertain the cat. The rest of the aisle is mostly cat beds, a few cat towers on the end, none of them very eye-catching, however.

The next aisle holds the rest of the cat towers, and you look over them to see if any would be fun enough for the kitty at home. One catches your eye, it seems decently tall, with a few boxes that the cat would be able to hide in, two perches and a scratching post built into one of the two ramps. You pull the box off the shelf, huffing at the weight.

“Would you like help with that, Miss?” You look up at the voice, seeing a man looking at you with a small smile. You smile gratefully at him, “Yes, please.” The man nods before advancing, lifting up the box like it’s nothing.

“If you’re ready to check out, I can help you out with that, if not I can set this at the front for now.” You nod, “I’m ready to go, yea.” The man nods before leading you to where the checkouts are.

—

You sigh in relief when you set the cat tree down by the door, locking it behind you before pushing the cat tree further into the living room. You look up when you hear claws practically rushing your way, seeing the cat tearing down the stairs and straight toward you.

“Well hi, Kitty.” You say with a smile, bending over to pet him when he got close enough. The cat looks up at you before standing up on his hind legs, resting his front paws on your thighs as loud purrs begin to rumble through his body.

Your smile widens before you sit on the floor fully, scratching behind the cat's ears as he crawls into your lap. “I got you some things.” You say, gesturing to the bag and the cat tower. The cat looks at both items before back up at you, his paws kneading into your legs.

You give him one last pet before gently patting his middle, “I’m hungry, buddy, let’s go eat.” The cat huffs before rubbing against your arm, slumping against you more. “We can cuddle after we eat, buddy, I promise.” The cat huffs again, lifting his head up and staring at you for a moment before getting off of you.

You groan as you stand up, grabbing your bag of food and the bag of things you got from the pet store before making your way to the kitchen. You put the bags on the counter, rifling through the pet store bag and pulling out two cans. You look down at the cat rubbing against your shins before back up at the cans, deciding to go with the hopefully better option, tuna.

You open the can, grabbing a plate and emptying the cans contents on the plate. You grab the plate, looking down as you step back, making sure you don’t either accidentally step on him, or kick him. The cat looks up at you when you step away, following after you as you move to the living room.

You set the plate on the floor beside the couch, heading back to the kitchen to grab your food, taking it back to the living room with you. The cat isn’t anywhere in the living room, confusing you.

You set down your food on the coffee table, turning around, about to go looking for the cat when a meow by your feet stops you. You look down, seeing the cat looking up at you before rubbing against your legs when he grabs your attention.

“Eat buddy, you haven’t eaten for a few hours.” You say, sitting down on the couch before reaching over and gently scratching his head. The cat looks from you to the tuna before back at you, jumping onto the couch and trying to sit on your lap.

You gently push him away, bending over to grab the tuna, setting it on the couch with you. “If you eat we can cuddle, okay?” You mentally laugh at yourself for talking to a cat. The cat huffs before turning to the tuna, as do you turn to your food, taking it out of the bag and opening it.

You’re only about halfway through your food, your attention stuck on a show playing on the tv when you feel something soft against your arm. You turn your head to see the cat staring at you expectantly, bring a small smile to your face as you lift your arm up, giving him access to your lap.

The cat immediately climbs into your lap, laying down and getting comfortable before loud purrs are spilling out of his chest freely. Your smile widens, reaching down to gently stroke his fur with one hand while the other sets your food on the coffee table. The cat turns onto his side, then to his back, stretching out his limbs, staying in the stretching position.

You giggle, gently scratching his stomach, earning, if possible, louder purrs from the cat. You turn your attention back to the tv, relaxing into the couch with a content sigh. You groan when you hear your phone ringing, looking down at your phone beside you. You bite back another groan at the caller ID. Your boss.

You pick up your phone, answering the call before bringing your phone to your ear, “Hello?” You mumble into the phone. Your eyes widen as you start moving the cat off of you, “Yes, yes I’ll be there soon.” The cat huffs as he’s set onto the couch beside you, watching you intently as you stand up before practically rushing upstairs.

When you get back downstairs, this time changed from your pj’s to actual clothes, the cat is off the couch and walking toward you. “I’ll be back buddy, I promise. I just gotta go into work for a little, okay?” The cat stares at you before walking the last few steps between the two of you, rubbing against your shins making you smile.

You reach down to give the cat's head a few soft pats before making your way to your front door, grabbing your keys, then exiting the house.

—

By the time you make it to the facility, Mr. Dubose is outside, rushing to you as you get out of your car. “Thank you so much for coming in, Y/n. These two hybrids showed up a few hours ago but no one has been able to get them to calm down, one looks to be injured, and the other won’t let anyone near the two of them.” You nod at the information, following Mr. Dubose inside and to the room the hybrids are in.

“We managed to get them inside, but they wouldn’t go in without a fight.” You nod, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open. The faint metallic scent of blood is the first thing you notice, the next are the two hybrids huddled in one of the corners, one covering the other with his body. The latter turns to look at you as soon as you enter, squeezing the hybrid further behind him as you fully step into the room.

You crouch down before sitting back on your heels, gently closing the door behind you, your focus solely on the hybrids. “Hi..my name’s Y/n..we just wa-” You’re interrupted by the hybrid launching himself at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You freeze, hands hovering just above the hybrid's body as he sobs into your neck. You turn to look at the hybrid that was previously covered only to see him watching you intently, his eyes glossy as he tries to crawl forward.

“W-we thought we’d n-never fi-find you again..” The hybrid plastered against you whispers, circling his arms tighter around you. “I…I’m sorry what?” You ask, your attention focused on the hybrid crawling toward you. “Don’t-dont you remember u-us?” The hybrid crawling towards you asks, finally beside your body.

“I’m sorry..I can’t say I do.” You say with a frown, trying to figure out where you might’ve seen the two hybrids before. “Y-Your dad a-adopted us wh-when we were ki-kids?” Your eyes widen as you immediately wrap an arm around Hoseok, wrapping the other around Jungkook and pulling him close. “Oh my god..I thought I’d never find you guys again oh my god.” You whisper, tears clouding your vision as you pinch your eyes shut, leaning your head onto Hoseoks.

Jungkook plasters himself against you as best as he can, sticking his head into your neck. “God I missed you both so fucking much.” You whisper, pursing your lips to hold back a sob. “We missed you t-too.” Jungkook whispers, wrapping his arms around your middle over Hoseoks.

A knock at the door startles both of the hybrids in your arms, their bodies stiffening as Hoseok subconsciously begins slowly moving the three of you to the wall opposite of the door. “Come in.” You call out softly, squeezing the hybrids tighter to you. Mr. Dubose enters, surprise evident on his features when he sees you on the floor cuddling the hybrids who had refused to even get near anyone. “I see you’ve calmed them down.” Mr. Dubose says with a small smile, only peeking his head in.

“They’re childhood friends of mine.” You say, lifting your head up to look at Mr. Dubose. He nods, eyes flitting between the three of you. “Can you look them over? Make sure they don’t have any injuries or that they at least aren’t bad?” You nod, knowing neither of them will probably want someone near them at the moment with how they were acting earlier.

Mr. Dubose gives you a short nod before his head disappears and the door closes behind him. Hoseok and Jungkook visibly relax, now practically limp in your arms. You give the two one last squeeze before trying to pull them back from your body. Hoseok fights you with a whine, pushing closer while Jungkook sits back on his heels, watching you with tear stained cheeks making you frown.

You reach a hand out, wiping the wet streaks from Jungkook’s face as Hoseok gives you one last squeeze before parting from you, his own cheeks tear stained just like yours and Jungkook’s. “Are any of you injured?” You ask, gently taking Hoseok's face in your hand as you look him over, roaming your gaze over his body, looking for any blood stains or tears in his clothing. Just as you finish your quick scan, Hoseok shakes his head, turning to look at Jungkook, “Kook is though..” He says quietly.

You immediately pull Jungkook closer to you, quickly overlooking his body, seeing small nicks and scratches littered across what you can see of his arms and legs. You start to feel over his body, freezing when he lets out a whimper as you touch his elbow. You look up at his face to see it scrunched in displeasure, cradling his arm close to his chest. You frown, gently pushing up the sleeve of his shirt, looking at his elbow.

You frown at the slightly swollen limb, the area a shade of pink. “What…what happened to you guys?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer as you shift your gaze between the two hybrids. “We uh..we ran away from our o-old home..I got caught in a rose bush..” You frown at Jungkook's words. “And your arm?” You ask, watching Jungkook’s face closely. “He uhm..I wasn’t be-behaving..” your frown deepens as you gently pull Jungkook into your side, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry..” You whisper, gently rocking you and Jungkook back and forth. Jungkook shakes his head against your shoulder, “Was worth it..we found you again.” You sigh, reaching up to tangle your finger in Jungkook’s hair earning a small shudder from him as he goes lax in your hold. You reach down to your belt, picking up your walkie and radioing Mr. Dubose, asking for medical assistance.

You see Hoseok stiffen out of the corner of your eye, giving him a reassuring smile as you put your walkie back down. “Don’t worry. Everyone here is extremely nice and just want to help you guys.” You say, reaching out to gently grasp Hoseok's hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze. Hoseok nods, pulling your hand into his lap and playing with your fingers.

Jungkook whines, nuzzling against your neck making you laugh, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. “Are you gonna take us home?” Hoseok asks, slotting his fingers between your own, looking up at you with nothing but hope in his eyes. “I’m gonna make damn sure I do.” You say, earning a smile from Hoseok and a small laugh from Jungkook. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to take you with me today, though.” You say with a frown, “Dr. Martin will probably want to keep tabs on Kookie for a bit before he leaves.” Hoseok frowns, eyes flitting between you and Jungkook.

“I know you won’t want to leave him. I don’t either. I can see if I can stay a few nights here with you g—shit! I can't.” You groan, laying your head on Jungkook’s with a pout. “What if…what if we stayed at your house and he checked up on us there?” You look at Hoseok, seeing a matching pout playing on his lips as he stares at you. “Maybe…I’m sure I could figure something out.” You say, jumping slightly when the doors open.

You feel Jungkook stiffen in your arms, and see Hoseok stiffen as he drags you and Jungkook close to him. “Y/n? You said you needed medical assistance?” Dr. Martin says, gaze shifting between you and the two hybrids. “Yeah, Jungkook has something going on with his arm, I’m not sure if he broke it or not.” You say, attempting to pull said hybrid from your body. He fights you with a small whine, keeping his body smushed against yours. “I take it you’re close..?” Dr. Martin asks, unsure. You nod, giving him an apologetic smile, “Yeah, my dad adopted these two when I was young.” Dr. Martin nods, sitting down a few steps away from you.

“Can I take a look at your arm, Jungkook?” Dr. Martin asks, gaze shifting between Hoseok and Jungkook. You manage to get Jungkook’s injured arm away from your body, yet his body seems as if it’s super glued to you. “I can work with this, Y/n. Don’t worry.” Dr. Martin gives you a small smile before inching forward.

Hoseok inches back, hand still tightly grasped onto yours, taking you with him for a moment. You turn to Hoseok, giving him another reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand gently. He freezes, eyes locking with yours before he sighs, bending forward until his head rests on your thigh, his unoccupied hand coming up to wrap around your leg. You feel a small jolt from Jungkook, accompanied by a small whimper making you turn your head to Dr. Martin. “Sorry.” He apologizes, giving both you and Jungkook (the side of his head) an apologetic smile.

You jump when Jungkook lets out a small yelp, jumping in your arms. You fight the urge to send Dr. Martin a glare, instead giving him a sideways glance as he sighs. “I can’t really tell, but I think it’s broken.” You frown at his words, pressing your cheek against Jungkook’s hair, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “We’re gonna have to get him an x-ray, but, thankfully we have a machine here.” You nod, gently rocking Jungkook as Dr. Martin backs away and gets up.

“Bun? You’re gonna have to move. We gotta follow Dr. Martin to get your x-ray. We need to know if your arm is broken or not.” Jungkook whines, shaking his head against your neck. “I know, I’m sorry Kook. But I’ll be here, okay?” You look up at Dr. Martin for confirmation, receiving a nod in response. Jungkook still takes a minute, taking a few deep breaths before finally parting from you, his eyes glossy and nose red sending a pang to your heart.

You stand up before helping Jungkook and Hoseok up, offering your hand to Jungkook. He takes it immediately, pulling himself as close to your body as he can. You look up at Dr. Martin, giving him a small nod to which he reciprocates before opening the door and walking out, you, Jungkook and Hoseok following close behind.

“Y/n! You’re back!” You pause, looking behind you to see Jimin coming toward you, Taehyung behind him, a wide smile on the former’s face. “Hi, Jimin. How are you and Taehyung doing?” Jimin and Taehyung finally catch up, walking beside Jungkook. You don’t miss how Jimin gives an unsure glance at the two hybrids beside you, “Ah, we’re good. I’ve missed you.” You smile, “it’s only been a day.” Jimin shrugs.

“Alright, I’m gonna have to take Jungkook in alone.” Dr. Martin says, stopping at a door. You feel Jungkook freeze, his body clinging further to you. “Do I..do I have to go in alone?” You frown at Jungkook’s voice, letting go of Hoseok's hand to place yours on Jungkook’s cheek, gently tilting his head up from your shoulder. “You’ll be okay, yeah? We’ll be right out here.” Jungkook nods, albeit still hesitant as he slowly lets go of you, walking into the room with Dr. Martin.

You let your eyes linger on the door before turning to the three hybrids. “Jimin, Taehyung, this is Hoseok, Hobi this is Taehyung and Jimin.” Jimin looks at Hoseok, giving him a smile, Taehyung doing the same. “This is one of my two best friends I told you about.” Confusion crosses Jimin’s face for a moment before his eyes widen, Taehyung still looking confusedly between you, Jimin and Hoseok. “Ah, sorry, I never told you, my dad adopted two hybrids for me when I was young, Hoseok being one of them,” You say, gesturing to Hoseok. “They were taken by hc when I was young.” Taehyung lets out a small ‘ah’ as he nods.

“Who exactly…are Jimin and Taehyung to you?” Hoseok asks hesitantly, gaze flickering between you, Taehyung and Jimin. “They’re one of the main hybrids I care for.” You say with a smile. You jump when the door behind you swings open, whipping around to see Jungkook rushing out of the room and straight to you. “Kook wha-” You wrap your arms around him as soon as he crashes into you. You freeze when a sob escapes his lips. “I-I hated it in-in there.”

You feel another pair of arms wrap around yours and Jungkook’s body, looking up to see Hoseok looking at Jungkook worriedly. You look up to see Dr. Martin coming out of the room, a small frown playing on his lips as he sees the shaking hybrid in your arms. “He got a little spooked by the x-ray machine..” Dr. Martin says with a sigh. “His arm doesn’t look broken, it seems like it might just be a mild sprain.” You let out a relieved sigh. Maybe they’ll be able to stay at your house after all..

Last - Next - Masterlist

A/n: again very sorry about any typos or parts that don’t make sense, I’ll try and proofread soon!

[voidcxltist]

Abel & Narinder's wedding

Hello! This took me a very long while and I believe y'all kight like it!

TW as per usual, mentions of sui not seriously, suggestive comments, swearing here and there, TOWW being a whiny bitch, & some more, go ahead when ready

Ive been writting this for two or three days almost restless and consecutively (if it weren't for my sleeping schedule and school shit), I'm not even joking

It was a lovely day of a quite chilly day. Abel, waking up on the wrong side of the bed after an unsuccessful crusade, took his time to quickly unwind, pray a moment for his lover, like usual, and breathe to ease the lingering dissapointment of himself. While he was shaking off the growing anxiety, he looks to a photo of Narinder laying near, with an inscription that read "Lovers!" and a grumpy faced feline with a very smiley and cheerful self.

"You little feline... You were always so grumpy, mad at everyone... but I cracked that thick skull. And also cracked into your heart."

Meanwhile, in the other side, Narinder had barely slept at all, a maelstrom of worry and anxiety, looking at the golden ring that fitted perfectly to his paw. He was trying to ignore a lingering voice of The One Who Waits, that spoke low on the back of his mind.

"I'm going to kill myself..." - Narinder mutters, trying to shut up TOWW in the back of his mind, adding with a sigh - "This bitch is the worst guest to my wedding, and the worst part is that I can't expurge it out."

A couple of days ago, Abel had took his sweet time to do a perfectly tailored proposal ring for Narinder, doing in it details of skulls, bones and hearts, and perfectly decorated in silver, an inscription on a pretty much dead human spanish, "¿Cuándo?" it read.

As far as he knew, because of Shamura's old books, that meant, "when?", and he already knew when the wedding was happening. Today. Narinder knew Abel by far since two years, and it was no surprise that he had the opportunity to marry his love in the same day of his anniversary.

In by Abel's pov, he was pacing around the room, making a mental checklist of the things he had done on the cult.

"Okay, crops are just growing after a nice harvesting ritual, so they're on it, and since it seems cloudy, we can make it work. Narinder will be discharged for being in the wedding, so I get... fairly 2 or 3 hours before the cult starts to wake up."

(It was 4 A.M.)

While he was getting prepared his new wedding fleece, that once again, the spider had first-handly tailored for him, he decided to take a quick crusade to Darkwood for handpicked camelias. As he jumped onto his berserk fleece, he couldn't help but imagine Narinder's face when he came back.

"I wonder if the rest of the bishops are starting to do their job... It has to be perfect."

•••

"Leshy, wake up, we have to do things for our leader's marriage day..." - Calix shakes the moss worm, clutching to his hips and his head over his shoulder, pepping his fkuffy cheek with kisses.

"Mmmh. Don't want to." - Leshy mumbles, who was dressed in his nightlife attire, composed of just a black bodysuit with a heart shaped hole on his chest.

"It's kinda your fault for getting the night with that one. Told you he was fucking huge." - Calix teases, getting up. As much he loved to stay in bed, them two were assigned in the kitchen to work in an exquisite dish and a beautiful cake, with the materials given.

As they made their way to the empty zone, eith no one around being barely the rise of the sun, they checked over the things they had to chop, cook and serve.

Since Calix wasn't pretty much into the cuisine, not as Leshy, he was gently guided aside so he could write down everything. After all, he wasn't up for leaving unnoted such important day.

"So... What are we cooking now, dear?" - Calix asks, taking a bit of the weirdly chopped strawberries, he was actually surprised that they were tasting so sweet, despite the usual lack of these in the whole lands.

"Excuse you? We? You're taking notes of what I cook!" - Leshy says with a chuckle, that made Calix snicker quietly.

As Leshy swiftly cooked the first try of a dish, Calix was looking slightly confused at what Leshy was pouring into it. After he saw the marked "Oil", he smiled.

"Is this edible? Hope you aren't planning on poisoning the groom today. Because here this says oil, and I'm afraid I relate it to the one we use for lamps." - Calix jokes, taking the oil and looking at it.

"It's not poisonous... yet. We can make it work if you keep talking."

"Meh, we can always blame Shamura." - The feline adds

Leshy let out a small laughter for a moment, before he burnt himself with the stove, letting a small groan and walking to the sink to pour some water over it, he wondered something...

"Heket hadn't got up? Thanks to everything, I can't stand her."

•••

The silence in the tent, sweet yet still filled with the tiredness of a hurried turn, Heket stretched lazily, yawning, as her dearest lover sinks her head in between her chest, something similar to a chuckle came from her throat.

She took her hand, since her lover was asleep, and took a moment to write in it - "Wake up. Work."

Judes, who was pretending to be asleep now, wrote in over Heket's shoulder - "No. Dead. Bleh."

Heket chuckled with a heartily laugh, before coughing. Despite being healed of her throat, she didn't really knew how to speak for herself, so her vocal chords hurted when she laughed. She got over her lover, who let a small "Oof" due to her strong, muscular body.

Heket wrote on her lover's neck - "Why?"

Judes wrote over her shoulder again - "You. Cute. & Heavy."

After a small tussle of pillows and silent protests of the frog girl and the dog, Heket got her lover up, helping her to get dressed and Judes doing so, thing that was by now the common thing between the fiancés. She kissed her gently, despite her rough exterior, she had some soft spot for this girl.

As while they looked into the mirror, Heket signed slow - "You're pretty"

Judes, smiling, gestured back - "Thanks, you too!" - Emphatizing his movement on the you too, before walking with Heket to the bar.

While they were on their walk, with the now quite warm breeze of the morning, Heket spots Leshy in the kitchen. This moss worm, apparently noticing her too, flipped her off. Calix rolled his eyes, waving hi the dog girl, who shrugged with the feline. After Heket flipped her silibing off, more in a playful way, Judes did a pacing gesture on her before walking with her to the bar. They had to work down onto a beverage.

"So, it's lime?" - Judes signs, as she takes a yellow lemon, another of the precious treasures of the cult. There weren't much on the wilds.

"No, yellow lemon. This one is sweet, green is acid." - Heket explains, cutting a slice and then cutting a green lemon slice.

Judes took a small bite each of the pulps, before doing a small face to the green one. Heket chuckles quietly, before petting her lover's head. It was all calm... before someone screamed.

"Do you heard that noise?" - Judes signs with a confused face, as another one was heard suitly in answer.

•••

"TAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYRN." - Darius screams from the bathroom.

Ah yes, the lovely sound of three guys who loved each other with a fierce heart, Kallamar, Darius and Tayrn... and an unmatched desire to fight for a brush at an ungodly 5 A.M. With all the cult on silence, except for the bar which was already working, and the kitchen's stoves and furnace.

Kallamar, gesturing them both to silence, stood up fron his shared bed, covering with his robes of devotion giver, and, if it wasn't enough... he added himself to the fight.

"IT WAS MY BRUSH YOU TWO DEVIL SCUM!" - Kallamar says with a small groan, trying to smatch from Darius the brush, the soft handle of wood sliding from his hand to fall down onto the floor.

"YOU HAVE FUCKING NOTHING OF HAIR, IT WAS MINE!" - Darius barked out as he tried to pick it up, pushing aside Kallamar. The thump of a body falling let the partially deaf trio know that He succeded on pushing him.

"SAY WHAT? IT HAS MY NAME ON IT! I PUT IT IN CASE YOU TWO STOLE FROM ME!" - Tayrn takes the brush, pointing at a blurry mark that had a huge T in it. As he helped Kallamar up, and Darius quietly apologized, they started arguing again.

Well, after the push and shove, Kallamar finally ceived to give Tayrn the point. After like half of the cult's adepts got up for the yelling, Kallamar and his partners walked to in front of the temple to pray, before going in front of the cult's statue, and sitting down. They had to give a small speech for Abel & Narinder, and they had pick to do it last minute.

Heket, looking st Kallamar, denied with her head, the blue squid flipped her off, and she did too. Ah, the art of being mean to your silibings.

There was just one to go, the oldest of them five.

•••

"My darling, I believe it's a good hour to wake up, time to rise and shine again, my little lovestruck goat..." - Shamura spoke kindly, taking their dearest's hand and petting it

"Innaminit."

Shamura's smile dropped to a nothing happy face, Cayn, feeling that they made them a little upset, jolts up from their sleep, chuckling, and tackling them to the cushioned bedding. Them both share a chuckle, before Shamura takes their hand and kisses a silver ring posed in Cayn's hand. They did the same, taking one of Shamura's hands and kissing the ring that layed there.

Them both start the day with the reflexion, and a time to stretch, a quick reading of their books, and getting deep onto bussiness. They were quite the working souls. As they made their way to the weaver's hut, Shamura took a deep breath, smelling the intoxicating sweetness of the bar's dearest coffee maker, and the crunch of the dry leaves that were scattered on the floor, finally they arrived. They had been assigned to decorate the cult and give it a good look. So, without any hint of laziness, started doing some decorations.

•••

As Abel returned, everyone was deep into working in their things, and as while Leshy was doing the cake, Heket was practicing the drinks and finishing the beverage, Kallamar was trying to find a good speech, Shamura was on placing a banner in the floor... and Narinder?

"Fuck, fuck! Love! Violette was killing me here, come on! He have to practice the vows!" - Narinder gestures to Abel to enter in the tent, as he tushes in, he gulps

In the tent, Violette was sitting, looking at them both with a serious expression, she cracked her fingers, waiting for them to start.

"Uh... Uhhh... Abel, my, my... my..." - Narinder mutters, clearly looking worried.

"Narinder, you don't have to be perfect, you just have to be fine for this... and you're already above it. Come on, you know what to say?" - Abel reassures, taking his hands with a gentle touch

Narinder gulps, before noding, eith a deep breath, he started.

"Abel, my... light in a world of darkness, my former vessel, my new life, I... I vow to you eternal loyalty, love and trust, no matter what, supoort st the end of the days, until the... the..." - Narinder's covers his face, Violette denied with her head

Abel kissed his forehead calmly, petting his ear, before taking his firm stance again, and sighing

"Maybe if you see me try you'll feel more comfortable?" - He asks, smiling at the felin.

The lamb cleared his throat, smiling, taking Narinder's hand with a gentle yet firm grip.

"Narinder Darnte Bishopthorne, my light in a world of darkness, my former master, my new life, I vow to you eternal loyalty, love and trust, support to the end of the days, wishing you bright days of happiness and sweet, calm nights, even in the most stormy and hard times. I praise you and cherish all the things we've been through these two years of mutual concern and love. I vow this to you with this ring, until the day the sun comes down to never go up again and the stars fall. Amen."

Narinder's eyes filled with tears, which he shaked away with a sweet chuckle, Violette nods, gesturing Narinder to do so. He nods, taking Abel's cheej with a gentle, yet firm hold.

"Abel V. Lambert, my heart in a world of cruelty, my former vessel, my new life, I vow to you eternal loyalty, love and trust, support to the end of the cult, wishing you the best life and the safety you need to go on crusades, no matter how far you go, or how dangerous it is. I praise you dearly, worship your body and cherish your way of teaching our adepts to grow strong like you. I vow this to you with this ring, until the moon loses its shine at the missing of a sun, and the stars dim light dies down. Amen."

Violette looks at her clock, giving them slow claps, Narinder exhales with relief, about to kiss Abel, but she pushed them, speaking for the first time in months of a vow of silence. Pretty much self-imposed, since and because Abel didn't really liked that idea...

"You better not. Bad luck comes to the people who share a lustful physical touch before marriage."

Abel bit back a comment that bubbled in his mind. And Narinder just looked away with a dark blush, knowing what his lover thought about it.

While leaving the "purified" space of the devotee, Narinder and Abel chuckled warmly, looking at each other.

""I love Violette, but she's sometimes too strict... I wonder how she'll react when she knows all the times I rode you on summer~"

Narinder pushed aside the older, chuckling - "Do not put it like that! We're in public!"

As they walked past the kitchen, Abek did a thumbs up to a very nervous Calix and a focused Leshy, who was writing something on the top of the delicious-looking heart shaped cake.

•••

Calix was staring at the fucking cake with teary eyes and a concerned smirk. His eye twitched at the sight of the phrase written at the last of the three floors. "The of bishes west". He started pacing around as Leshy seemed to realize too when he wrote in the air what he just placed.

"LESHY, WE'RE GONNA GET SACRIFIED, HOW THE FUCK YOU MESS UP IN WRITING SUCH THING?" - He snaps.

"WELL, IT'S NOT MY FAULT, I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS WRITTING THAT!"

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW?! YOU DIDN'T-?!" - Calix repeats, froaning in worry as he steps down the stair and jumps, off the table they set to put the cake.

Well, Leshy had baked a lovely piece of pastry, filled with strawberry jam, topped with camelias, being blind anyways, he mispelled it really bad. Leshy tried to think on something, just to Judes and Heket to come next to them.

"Calix, we need—" - Judes started signing, but Calix gestured Heket some steps away from him. Judes sighed, knowing well how uncomfortable he was with the former bishops, continuing - "We need some camelias for a drink. We heard Abel left some."

"Camelias?" - He repeats confusedly, nearing theplace where Leshy had butchered some to make perfect heart petals, giving them some, he sighed too. - "We need to fix something on the cake, this... dumbass wrote "The of bishes west.", we are totally getting slaughtered with this one. Abel already tolerated me mixing up his schedule, bur I can't permit—"

"Can I?" - Heket signs, Calix looks away with a little of uncomfortableness, Leshy pets his head, before he reluctantly lets her come near the cake.

Heket took the glazing and did small flower like things, before leaving a perfectly written "Best Wishes" on the side.

Leshy sighed as his lover described the decoration so he knew what she did. He had to admit that Heket did help, even though he hated her with a gut...

As they left to the bar, the moss worm and the feline share a breath they didn't knew they held back, as Keshy continued decorating, Kallamar was practicing near there the speech.

It was 10 A.M, the wedding would begin at 8 P.M

•••

"My fellow devotees and... And I don't know, what could we say?" - Kallamar asks, looking up from his notebook to his two lovers, who were sitting down on the wooden "stools", that were more like platforms to kneel in front of the statue.

"We? Dear, you're stepping in there alone, remember that we can't really intervene on that. You offered yourself, even though Naitre told ya' he wanted to give the dialouge." - Tayrn says with a shrug

Kallamar sighed, sitting down on front of there, thinking long and hard, trying to conjure up in his mind something to say to the grooms and to the followers.

"What does this sound like? "Dearest Leader and Narinder—"

Abel neared Kallamar with a smile, looking at him with a slightly concerned face, gesturing him to talk a moment in private. Kallamar knew what was coming next.

"I thought you had it ready! Why to do it last minute?! I think I explicitly told you that even Aym and Baal were expecting to do a part, and the fact I priorized his older brother over his disciples is something you should be thankful of!" - Abel scolds Kallamar, who was looking a little uniterested of him

Honestly, if it were his choice, he would've never attended. Why to attend Narinder's wedding?

"Look, I really don't know what to tell you, I wanted it to sound natural, leader. Plus, it's the heart what counts, doesn't it?"

"Well-" - Abel stammers, but Kallamar continues

"And, you'd like me to give the greatest words for such good leader, yes? Give me time, I'll dearly make the best speech for your dear, lovely wedding."

"Okay, new plan, you present the speech to me in... Dammnit, 11 A.M... At 4 P.M I want you in my tent. No more, no less." - Abel states with a hurried tone.

Abel sighed, dismissing him for the moment, Tayrn and Darius, who were also very reluctant to go to the wedding, did a small thumbs up to him, before getting onto preparing with the swuid the speech.

As while Kallamar prepared the words, Shamura and Cayn were lifting new banners, on red, with a black crown on it and a small text that read "Congrats for the grooms!". Kallamar smiled, looking at them with a sly smirk.

"How are the weathers up there, goat guy?"

"Pretty fine, and how are the messed up speech attempts going down there?" - Cayn says with the same tone, somehow sticked to the head of the statue in almost an horizontal position, trying to get some ribbons tied on the crown above.

Known for having an ability to get onto difficult surfaces, and being a total madman when it came to do risky things, jumped from the head, falling painfully on his legs. Tayrn basically blacked out of the sight, and Darius looked away. Despite of the horrid looking scene, he cracked his knees forward and his hooves too. Kallamar nodded to himself, to evade any commentary to Shamura and Cayn themself

"You two scare me. No wonder why you all are seen as the freaks." - Darius couldn't let the comment slide, as the couple walked away.

They stopped in their feet, just to crack their backs in 90° to look at them with a scary face. Darius jumped on his place, standing up and trying to run away, Kallamar did so, and the both of them hit each other, falling on their backs with a groan.

"Always works" - Shamura snickers, as they take their lover's hand and walk away.

•••

In while Narinder was getting dressed for the wedding, Shamura interrupts a moment their decorating with Cayn to enter in the tent, hearing a quiet sobbing comong in short gasps.

"Silibing...?" - They ask, as he tried desperately to cover his arms.

"I'm... I'm too scared. He- He's too much, I'm too little. What if he turns me down and leaves me in the altar?! What of Aym and Baal?! They are coming with Forneus too, and I'm gonna be a JOKE!" - Narinder breaks down, covering his face.

Shamura knew how he struggled, much more than their silibings, but they hadn't seen him be so... upset and worried. They place a hand over their shoulder, taking a deep breath.

"Narinder..." - They pet him, as he tried to soothe himself with deep breaths. They wanted to say something, but they couldn't risk TOWW to find a weak point on a word and get back. - "You're... you're strong. You're safe here and nothing will ever happen to you. Be not afraid... He loves you like the sun loves the camiles."

Shamura opens their arms wide, as the feline hugged them tightly, looking up to them.

"Do you believe he's going to like it? I mean... You know that parasite's thoughts about the fact it looks as our... old robes." - He says, pulling back to look down.

It was a lovely all white cloak, with red details and golden accesories, the most remarkable is the pin shaped in the Red Crown's form.

"Well, it's only a matter of time. Abel will surely like it, and you'll adore his outfit too. And, can you do something for me?"

"Well, sure, what is it?" - Narinder looks at Shamura, a big eager to know what they had in mind

"When the dances with other oeople begin, be sure to pick me first, okay?" - Shamura says with a smile,

Narinder nods, before waving them goodbye, since he couldn't step out of thr tent because of Violette's... curious beliefs. He stayed in there, him, his thoughts... and the whiny little bitch on the back of his mind.

"Narinder" - The voice spoke low.

"Fucking—! What do you want?" - Narinder answers to the call of his name, rolling his eyes as TOWW nears closer his mind to speak more clearly

"Honestly, you believe he's going to love you? You betrayed his trust that day when you admited using him." - He continues, clinging to the back of his mind - "Aren't you worried he's going to be like all the other adepts you had that said that they loved you and randomly stepped over you?"

"Shut up. We're gonna be here for a while... Ugh, 2 P.M..."

•••

In the bar, almost finishing the main course of the beverages, Heket was instructing Judes on how to do it properly, since she wanted to help since some time ago.

"Alright. Now, you put the grenadine and stir." - Heket explains, placing a hand over hers and helping her take the bottle

"Here goes nothing—"

"Ah, Judes! Heket." - Leshy greets, as Calix nears close them, but still staying some steps away from the frog girl - "We wanted to know if you're done because we need some of the sugar that had been provided for the kitchen and the bar."

"You already have too much!" - Judes gestures

After Calix translated what she said, Leshy wished he could roll his eyes. He puts a hand over the table, leaning to Judes - "Come on puppy bastard, don't be so mean with me now. I need the sugar and you already had your shot, but nothing, as far as I can smell. So, if you're not using it—"

Judes slapped Leshy, and both Heket and Calix had their mouths open. Leshy, takes a hand to his chest, looking offended.

"I am not tolerating your lack of respect to me, go and f-u-c-k yourself and I will dearly give you sugar by f-u-c-k-ing it into your damn A-S-S." - Judes signed

"... She said she'll leave the sugar soon if you leave." - Calix drags Leshy away, as he did a gesture of hearing them, sonce he couldn't like directly do a gesture of seeing.

Heket nods in approval, before lifting her partner over the counter and kissing her for a moment. As while the kitchen and the bar were working, the 4 P.M were nearing quicker than expected. In while the kiss, Judes accidentally kicked the grenadine, which stumbled back and the bottle rolled and rolled, falling next to an empty bottle in the grass

•••

As the clock hit 5 p.m (3 hours before the wedding was celebrated), everyone had finished decorating their personal tents.

Leshy, with help of his lover, had been doing all the food, and Heket with Judes, they were doing the shots and the beverages.

And as while Shamura and Cayn decided to go to the temple to decorate a bit more, with one of the adepts gone to pick up something from the Lonely Shack, everyone was calming down a bit more.

Naitre was leading the practices to do a perfect entrance to the temple in middle of the cult's terrains... But, as the adepts spoke up wondering where the last former bishop was a loud, high pitched scream was heard.

"KALLAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—"

Abel screams from the bottom of his lungs, the whole cult went dead silent as it cut admist all kind of banter, conversations and sound.

Kallamar was shaking violently, he hadn't even wrote half a paragraph.

"You'll be fried squid next week." - Tayrn says confidently, as he stands up, patting his shoulder, Darius follower suit, and them three walk steady to the tent of the leader.

"Maybe if we put some salt in you, you'll taste better?" - Darius adds

"You're not fucking helping. He's gonna feed me to the cannibals of the cult." - Kallamar sighed, entering in the tent with worry.

"The speech. Now."

Kallamar wasn't even mentalized, when Abel said those words with such a commanding tone. He hadn't heard him as mad and upset to him, not since he cheated over him back then when they were something. He took his notebook, opened it and started reading.

"Dear and fellow members of this thrieving cult, it's a pleasure to me be the one giving this speech. To the grooms, my silibing in particular, a heartfelt apology to the things I may have said at you, and to thr leader, a enormous congratulations—He stopped a moment, since he would try to invent something on the go.—, may your lifes be full of blessings and a good health, and the dreams you always had wished for be true. Stay loyal to your beliefs and motivations, and never, never let anyone tell you what or who are you to do something"

Abel nods slowly, sighing - "You could've done better... but it's decent. Hope you can say it out loud to the members at the party. Dismissed."

Darius, Tayrn and Kallamar looked to each other with disbelief. They managed to trick the leader. Kallamar was still hearing in his ears the words that Abel said, "decent"... It honestly hurted his ego.

As while they went to change for the wedding, problems last minute start to rise...

•••

"THE FUCK YOU MEAN 'AN ACCIDENT'?! THE FUCKING CAKE IS A MESS, FABIEN!"

Calix was panicking, since he was the one helping Abel to look after everything, holding his arms tightly, trying to contain his rising anger and frustration, as Fabien tried to explain, and Leshy was having an outburst to the poor snake. Thankfully, Abel wasn't outside.

In an attempt to do something noce for the leaders, putting two small ceramic statues of a lamb and a cat, Fabien fell above the cake, splitting it half and spreading it all over.

As they argued over the cake, Gabrielle tried to put the glasses on a tray, as Heket gestured her to be careful. But, when she tried to move them to the tables that were set specially on a small wood platform, Marlene passed by in a hurry, making the spider trip on her feet and spill the beverages.

So, with these destroyed and the problems just going up, they had to be quick on solving them. It was 6 and 30, and the rehearsals for the entrance were finished a couple of minutes ago.

"AAAAH, FUCK. WE HAVE NOT ENOUGH TIME TO REDO ANYTHING." - Leshy swears to himself, pacing around as Fabien apologized repeatedly.

"Check on Gabrielle, make sure she is okay. I will pour more." - Heket signed to her partner in a hurry, before taking the bottle she left near the base of the counter... the grenadine.

She took glasses and hurriedly started serving one into a cup she used to prove if it was the correct thing... she left it back without daring to take the second sip.

Everything was going to shit in seconds... to make it worse, one of the decorations fell down of the place, a place that took Shamura and Cayn several hours to get into.

•••

"No. Fucking. Way."

Cayn was with his head low, but everyone around them could swear their eye was glinting with a purple shine, Shamura's eye was twitching.

It was 7:30. And the cake was done a shit, Heket was barely finishing the beverage again, and the main decoration fell. The couple sighed at the same time, and Calix neared them, slamming the clipboard in Cayn's chest before groaning. An obvious signal that patience died. Time to push orders.

"Okay... first things first. LESHY, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO IT, BUT FIX THAT. HEKET, THE BEVERAGES ARE AT 7:45 OR GIVE NOTHING. KALLAMAR, HELP ME AND SHAMURA TO PUT THE DECORATION. EVERYONE HAS TO BE AT 7:55 TO DO THE ENTRANCE FOR NARINDER, AND THE PARTY WILL GO NICELY OR I'LL BE BUTCHERING YOUR HEADS AWAY!"

Everyone started working hurriedly, as while the fixing went fine, Shamura and Kallamar exchanged thoughts.

"Good mercy, this is a mess." - Kallamar said, lifting Shamura in his shoulders while Cayn climbed swiftly to reach the thighest point of the statue

"It is, indeed, but it seems that my lovely goat is working diligently to make this work, hm?" - Shamura says, as the mentioned smiled and finally ended putting the decoration. It was easier than they thought.

After placing that, the three of them hurried to check with Leshy how was going the cake. Calix was giving him instructions on how to use the edible dye, and he was swiftly painting with black the destroyed side of the cake, to leave the strawberry filling outside. sit would work.

And then, they went with Heket, who was finishing with help of Judes. As the adepts hurried to get on their robes for the wedding and got on a line, Violette stays in front.

It was time.

•••

8 P.M sharp, Narinder was entering in the temple woth the adepts walking behind of him, finding the first of two chairs sitting in middle of the temple. The followers had set benches to sit down, and it was decorated with lots of flowers. Narinder knelt to the table, kissed it, before turning to the door.

The feline, dressed in an all black suit, with red details and a small Red Crown pin placed in his left, he was trembling, but not of anxiety, it was pure hope and wait.

And five minutes later, with the temple's new bell ringing, Abel enters, holding Violette's arm in his.

The lamb, dressed in a white fleece with a red choker with a black Red Crown pin in it, his pants wrre also white, and he was wearing a white veil that covered his eyes, Shamura did a small celebration gesture, since it looked perfect like in their mind. As they clapped with the rest of the adeps, Abel walked to the altar, and Narinder couldn't help but cover his face with tears, smiling.

When Abel reached, he did the same as Narinder ten minutes earlier, before letting his lover take the veil away, he had his face in natural, revealing the black freckles that hid under the makeup he used to cover them.

"Brothers and sisters of the cult. Tonight, our leader had took the choice to me, Violette, to do the ceremony, so the ritual was more meaningful. On this full moon of the month, we're presenciating Abel V. Lambert, and Narinder Darnte Bishopthorne, join their souls in this matrimonial celebration."

•••

After the reading of the words of the cult, a small sermon and Abel and Narinder nodded, the tome of the vows...

But, Abel was looking very anxious, he was shaking violently, as Violette passed the microphone to him, he tried to control his panic. But, Narinder placed a hand over his shoulder, extending his hand to him. It was time for him to help his lover.

"Abel V. Lambert... my heart in a world of cruelty, my former vessel, my new life, I vow to you my whole life, my love... I'll always be wishing you the best for everyday. I praise you dearly, worship you and cherish your way of teaching our adepts to grow strong like you. I vow this to you with this ring, until the moon loses its shine at the missing of a sun, and the stars dim light dies down... Do not fear more. I am yours. Amen."

Abel smiled with tears in his eyes, despite his attempt to not show his emotions in his voice, an obvious tone of a lovestruck guy.

"Narinder Darnte Bishopthorne, my light in a world of darkness, my former master, my new life, I vow to you, everything I have it's yours too. You always had made me smile, no matter the day or the moment... I vow this to you with this ring, until the day the sun comes down to never go up again and the stars fall... Thank you for helping me always. Amen."

Violette smiled gently, as they looked back at her, and she did so. She nods, as she gestures the two adepts assigned to put the lasso of unity. Them both let out a small snicker, knowing they had done well.

She closes the doctrine book, looking at them.

"Narinder Darnte Bishopthorne... You can kiss the groom."

They wasted no time, Abel interwinded his hands with Narinder's head, and he held his waist, kissing with passion.

•••

In the party, everything was going fine, eating and sharing happy moments with the grooms, when Forneus walked with Aym and Baal across the teleporter. The two felines had been traveling for the lamds, and seeing Narinder was a joyful moment. Them both ran to hug their master, and Narinder recieved them with arms wide open, kissing their foreheads.

"My children! I'm really happy you've made your way here! It's sad to know it's just for the moment, but I'm glad you've done it here." - Narinder greeted them, as Baal was visibly sobbing, while Aym just had some tears in his face, but a serious face plastered.

Them both didn't spoke much as they also went to greet Narinder and the people they knew in the cult for the time they were recieved in there. The tall feline woman looked at Narinder with a littke of mixed emotions, but smiled at him at the very end.

"O the pleasure of seeing my sons' master on person... Thank you for taking care as your truest children. My heart is all gratitude to you. You'd be a great father."

Narinder tried to explain something, but as Forneus passed near him to go with her sons, she mumbled something to him

"The silence of yer mouth speaks volumes of thy fearful heart. Fear not, they'll come... Make sure he is on your tent with one rice grain on left and one camelia seed on right, and it shall be given. Sprouts rise from dry dirt with only a droplet of water." - She pats his shoulder two times.

What a cryptic message... still, he would keep it in mind.

•••

Ah, the tome of the first vals wasn't something to forget, since it was something they planned. Abel, dragging Narinder to the center, with his disciples taking the instruments tailored by Tayrn, started playing. The vals, being soft and calmed, shared a undertone of darkness that fitred perfectly that match made in paradise. As they danced, they talked to each other lowly.

"You make me so happy and it's barely been three hours since we got married..." - Abel murmurs, kissing his forehead, still dancing with him

"You also do... you also do." - He says with a smile, returning the kiss, but in his cheek.

Then, the music stopped to let the vals with family begin, Narinder reached for Leshy, who forcefully held his hands to Narinder's.

"Hear me well, for the sake of the cult." - He hisses, before kinda pushing him aside

Then, Heket enters in the dance, pushing Leshy softly aside and hugging the feline, before dancing with him too. Leshy for the whole, was dancing with Abel, who tolled his eyes visibly.

"Be happy...... And stay...... faithful......" - Heket says with her low voice, coughing slightly. Narinder's eyes fill with tears, for a moment his mind flooding with memories of an old time, he hugged her for a moment, letting her go with his groom, and taking Kallamar's hands.

Kallamar took them by the fingers, dancing with him with a face of disgust, that hid well under a facade of a smile. They didn't shared words, but sure Abel and he did.

"You know I was better than that cat." - Kallamar hisses with a venom in bis voice to Abel.

"To cheat on me? Nah. You are still alive for Narinder's sake. Be thankful, because I would have already fed you to the wolves of the cult. And trust me. They want meat."

After that small comment that left Kallamar shaking of anger and fear, Shamura finally reached for Narinder's hands, dancing, they let a little snicker.

"I'm seeing my little brother become a man... How cute and heartwarming." - Shamura spoke

"You'll always be my oldest silibing, and my favorite. Thank you for forgiving me. And for making our robes." - Narinder answers.

"No, thank you, for showing me what is to forgive. You are my silibing, after all."

•••

Even thought the dance floor filled with people to dance to different songs as soon as it finished, Abel was feeling a sense of loneliness. He didn't had no familiar to dance with... That for Naitre, interrupting the whole music with an announcement.

"The leader today didn't had a familiar... But in name of someone who did cared, we brought something!"

As the dancers left, and Narinder was called to Abel's side, them both look at the young disciple.

"Leader... In me you see nothing your dear disciple, but tonight, in name of the cult..."

He took out one of Ratau's failed paper crowns, he covered his face, trying to hold his tears, Narinder also filled with a sense of guilt, empathy and another myriad of emotions.

"I present to you the essence of your mentor."

Abel took it with his hands, cradling it eith such care that it was painful to see. Narinder hugged him, before he fell on his knees, sobbing, the tears running down his cheeks as he muttered apologies. Narinder also did too, hugging his husband. The followers clapped in support of them, everyone knowing that their leaders had lost a friend, a parent to the Fox.

After the dance of them both taking Ratau's crown, them both heard a subtle "Congratulations", in their backs, before they turned around, confused. They shrugged it off, and gestured everyone to enter in the party again.

•••

The interactions were starting to get blurry roght after cutting the cake's first slice.

The cake, which one side had a cute detailed decoration, with flowers and camiles, and the other one was partially destroyed, it had a Red Crown's form. Honestly, Leshy had reinvented himself.

As for Abel, with a drinking addiction problem, suck a bottle and a half of the beverage Heket prepared, being high as a kite, he leans in close to Narinder, pining his hand in the red eyed feline.

"Heelllowww handsummm cat. Aaare you signleee if I may ask?" / Abel says with his speech slurred, caressing Narinder's cheek. Narinder rolled his eyes playfully, chuckling

"No, I'm not single."

Abel took a hand to his forehead and stumbled back, as his husband reached a hand to help him on his feet.

"Maaay I shteal yer handds from thaaat gal whos keepin you from me?" - Abel leans in Narinder's shoulders

"You already did, we're husbands. You dummy."

"We're what." - Abel's alcoholizrd mind flew away as he processed that, taking a hand to his cheek with a surprised look

Narinder chuckled with him, before the mentioned joined the party sucking down the other half of the bottle.

•••

It was 4 and 30 A.M, and the alcohol had took a toll of most of them, but they were sobrr enough to finish the party. As Abel and Narinder ran across a tunnel of adepts that threw at him rice and camile petals, them both chuckled like idiots, rushing to their tent. When they arrived, Narinder layed in the bed, with Abel straddling his hips and grinding slightly

"Can I? Pretty please?" - Abel hisses, his breath coming in short gasps

"Nope, get down, you have a normal day tomorrow, dummy"

Abel sighed, stumbling in the bed and looking at the cat.

"It was one hell of a wedding... sleep well my husband."

"Sleep well."

With that, the lights started dying down, to leave the cult in the darkness...

•••

Cayn and Shamura were climbing up the temple's roof, chuckling quietly, laying to watch the stars for a moment, Leshy and Calix were too tired, so they just hit the bed with a loud sound and started snoring, Kallamar and his lovers fought over a pillow again, Heket layed sown on her back and Judes jumped over her, using her chesg as pillow, and for the rest, they just did some prayings before sleeping.

At last, one thing escaped from in between Abel's lips while dreaming.

"This is paradise..." - Abel mumbles

"You are my paradise..." - Narinder says with a sober yet calm tone. At last, drifting onto sleep.

The next day was going to be cleaning and getting onto the routine. But, with Abel by his side... maybe it wasn't that bad.

[captainkurosolaire]

Burned

Brazier torches splayed over a cobwebbed spiral-case of stairs left abandoned. Only a singular blaze of resistance billowed; the lone-survivor, awaiting for rekindle owner to return. That ember's existence fought to prevent one descending into the chasm-passage below itself and joining the mad abyss, forevermore. Radiant outlines of a shadowy figure were aligning, discovery in the dark... identity attempting to surface. Buried to the valley of suppression. Pillaging glove's searched over a recently deceased Venomous assailant finding a room-key to an apartment. Returning to his feminine ally and surprisingly gestured bow, "I apologize, Kunoichi, one last request. Stow-away my client to safety, this key certainly belongs to a room of the deceased who never got a well-fare check, making the spot invisible. Likely, Hydo was given a time-contract, with him not attending, more will-follow for scent to the unfinished, unless. The hand is severed." A final murderous mission displayed, against his own Don's Estate, wielder of his sculpted cruel-design. Chortle came between the sultry assassin, "This vixen, truly has you smitten." Hiding a pout behind a mask, "I'll agree but I might sink my paws, demanding repaid favor." Naturalness came as he stepped away. She thought about forewarning gravitates again. Alas, every-time. He proved irrefutable, there's feelings she'd dwell for one who carried unbridled security and sheer discipline. Upon his exit. The Killer Queen, pressed her lethal-nail's against the unconscious girl's throat near-puncture, a cat-like jealously that brought down her harbor. "Seems I've a rival with you I should eliminate, you girl." Flashed drama, revealed... "...But I'm interested in seeing if you're who sharpens, or dulls that particular blade." Retracting claws with playfulness then cradling her away. ...Meanwhile the Burned Shadow who was going to strike down his own feeder arrived, plethora of bodies of the Estate's men were already skewered to massacre. Descending into the courtyard was further disarrayed butchery, was something political happening? A lone-figure took pace across with Spectacle-glasses, another assassin, who glance-towards but held zero murderous intent, only a colorful-grin that shot across before Hoku. Then escaping beyond with a potent aura. Seeker's ankles conflicted to turn for pursuit. However the interior Don's Estate men flocked out, "There's the perpetrator!" Instantly assuming him behind transgressions. He withdrew steel from confines, rushing towards them it was his plans to eradicate them all-anyway. Just unexpected leg-work was done. Stopping before a taller figure's he demonstrated a deft-dodge, slashing his blade from sternum to the giant's throat in a violent wave. Cutting down, losing himself again in red-rivers. Instinct-driving his manufacture-making, he moved elegantly like killing was floating atop waves, drifting effortlessly. Reaching the main room. Everyone else laid erased, outside one and a missing Don. The vigilant-survivor held blade, shook afraid; soaked to blood of peers, knowing he'd not cut-difference. <"..Y-y-you'll never find the Boss. You-fail fool!"> He'd tried mustering courage against this golden-eye, killer. Although pant's were soiled. He'd never be tortured of the intel within timely-matter, the boss would've escaped. ...Yet, Rozan the Star, engulfed meteor-resolve. An Uchigatana was thrown like spear through the last-alive, impaling the man to seat. Hoku fetched chop-sticks of an empty ramen bowel. "We'll see." Came coldly in pitch. The poor-soul remaining couldn't predict the gruesomeness act or skill this assassin held. His head was expertly carved open; brain left to air, this Assassin with chop-sticks, played brain-operator, questioning. "Where is he?" Prodding at the hippocampus for answers. "B-bb-ook cca-se." Forcefully pulled truth. Assassin vouched, finding a secret-button, he mercy-slew the tortured informant. One last life to take... This would end an inferno, Extinguishing all to its beastly wake.

[Prev:Chapter]: Cold Adversity ~ ♪"Built for Sin"♪

[monakisu]

i'm very sorry to bother you, but since i didn't get a chance before it was shoved in the dusty storage closet, i just wanna say that the cat & the crow is such a PHENOMENAL fic. i was literally so emotional over baby akira the entire time i was reading it. his loneliness is so acute and it is SOUL-WRENCHING. you characterize both him and goro so well. your prose just makes it too omg. it switches so well from a jovial, childhood summer to a scene that makes me sob. it's so so good. goro too is such a little shit in that i need to knit him a sweater right now. anyways yeah that's all i wanted to say gl with whatever project you're currently working on!!!

wow this is great thanks. my current project is: chapter 4.

i remember seeing this notification and smiling widely to myself but right now im feeling like a dust mite so im not very verbose HOWEVER as thanks i'll just show you a section of ch.4 i've more or less completed. i would never do this normally but i like your message a lot so know that you are Sublimely Special. enjoy!

Goro had personally shown up at Akira's doorstep twice now, but not once had he stepped foot inside. This was a tragedy, a travesty, and a tremendous oversight on Akira's part. What a horrible host he'd been! His guest would come all this way and Akira would make him loiter at the welcome mat as he held open the door just wide enough to show off the inside of his house, but not so wide to let anybody actually enter. It was like setting up a candy shop during a famine and catering only to the roly-poly rich who had more than enough to gorge themselves on, while the hungry could only paw forlornly at the window displays. 

It was, in short, terrible, taunting torture. 

The second Goro stepped gingerly into the clearing, prim and pretty, Akira flashed up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders—firmly, the way one stopped a bull by the horns.

"My house today," Akira ordained lowly.

Goro's eyes blew wide open. His shoulders locked up tighter than a maximum security vault. His mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds. "O—Okay?"

It would be interesting to see how Goro contrasted with the interior decor. This was a completely normal thought. 

"Is there anything we need to specifically do at your house?" Goro asked cautiously. 

Akira pondered this, then decided that a normal thought ought to work well as a normal response. "I need to see how you contrast with the interior decor."

Once again, Goro went wordless. 

His silence persisted all throughout the trek to Akira's house. It wasn't a terribly long trek; they needed only to stick to a straight path. The forest that housed their clearing belonged to an elevated hillside, as did Akira's cul-de-sac. The further up one ventured in the hills, the bigger and farther spaced apart the houses became. Community was most prominently condensed in the heart of Inaba, down below with Junes, the mom-and-pop shops, and cozy neighborhoods, where people couldn't go two steps without running into a familiar face. This community fractured into thin spiderweb strands high up in the hills, where residents veered more on the stand-offish, reclusive end of the spectrum, loosely linked by gossamer silk that could break off at any sudden movement. Once one made it high enough that the hills became mountains, however, community came to a full stop. Nobody lived there, save for the rare few crazy people. The crazies fell into two categories: those who had gone crazy from the isolation, or those who were simply crazy for nature. 

Those sickos went on hikes... for fun. 

Here on the hills, wide expanses of land could go empty for a great many steps before someone's backyard began. Once out of the forest, there was minimal shade to hide Akira and Goro from the relentless sun, motivating them to quicken their pace. Some land developer decades ago had chopped down a good chunk of the forest to make room for houses. Compared to the odyssey it took to get to Junes, they reached Akira's house in no time. 

The uncharacteristic absence of complaints following behind Akira unsettled him. A chatty birdy was a healthy birdy. A quiet birdy was a... concern. 

Like a candlestick succumbing to a flame, Akira's confidence had melted steadily with each silence-laden step towards his house. By the time they were standing at his doorstep, he had grown quite clammy. 

"Ummm... this is my house." Which Goro already knew. "You know this." 

Goro finally broke his silence. "Yes, I do?" 

Hearing his voice, Akira's candlestick confidence quickly rebuilt itself, invigorating him enough to chance a glance at Goro's face. Instead of the scary blankness he'd been dreading, Goro just looked a little confused. His eyebrows were furrowed and his stare was one full of studious intent, as though Akira had presented him a new, never-before-seen puzzle to solve by the end of the day. 

"Is there a reason you've dragged me here? A real one. Other than to compare me to the interior. By the way, cat, that's an extremely odd thing to say. Be more self-aware, why don't you?"

Aw, beans. Not normal at all.

"Well?" Goro crossed his arms. "Are we going in or wasting the day on your welcome mat?"

Akira looked down at his shoes, where they stood on nothing but stone.

"Figuratively speaking," clarified Goro. 

Akira supposed it was high time to get a move on things. "I don't lock the door—"

"You really should."

"—but the key's usually behind the water fairy." He was referring to the never-once worked fountain statue of a pretty lady carved from stone, cradling a big blossom from which water was presumably meant to sprout. If there was a hidden button to activate the fountain mechanism, then it remained lost to all the residents of the house. 

"Seriously? The first time you're inviting me into your home, and you're immediately granting me the power to swing in anytime I want? Why is this the first thing you tell me about your house?"

Goro sounded awfully judgmental for what was supposed to be a nice gesture. In a brilliant feat of rational thinking, Akira reasoned, "It's fine if it's Goro."

"And only me, alright?" stressed Goro, voice dragged down low by ominous implications. "Never extend this right to anybody else. You recall that chain of murders two years ago. Who knows what they'd do with this sort of power. Sneak into your house and slash your throat while you sleep? That's the likeliest possibility. A preventable possibility. Not even the worst thing that could happen. There are fates far more savage than a quick death. It's a foolish thing to do: handing your death wish to any random stranger who happens to look your way, then pointing them to the welcome mat. Don't tell anybody else about this key, Akira. It's enough for me to know. Got it?"

That was a huge PSA prompted by one little key. Akira patiently humored him, "Got it, Goro. Only you."

Goro seemed to like how that sounded, because his sternness was stolen away by a twitch to the corner of his mouth, which then grew and grew into a big, proud, peachy-pleased smile. "Don't you forget that, cat."

The door swung open with its customary creaaak. Akira had organized the shoes populating the mudroom in advance in jittery anticipation of Goro's visit. It was a plum thing that he'd done so; his mother's last visit seemed to require digging out every pair of shoes in her possession from the shelves and cabinets and closets, and then another requirement had been to flood the floor with mismatched shoes and gutted boxes, and then the last requirement had been to leave promptly. It only just now occurred to Akira that he'd have been awfully ashamed to show Goro something so sloppy. 

"It's nice to see more of your house beyond a tiny crack when you open your door," Goro said, but where his voice would usually be brimming with bite and energy, it sounded off. Shoes still on, he stood listlessly by the entrance. 

Akira took out a pair of newly purchased slippers and set it in front of Goro. Each slipper had its own smiling frog face protruding from the top, big and bulbous. Akira had seen them at Junes, thought them charming, and bought them promptly. While Goro stared incomprehensibly at the slippers, Akira swapped his sandals for his own pair. 

"These are house slippers," Akira informed him, when Goro still had yet to make a move. The frogs seemed to be offending his eyes. "You can wear them if you want." It hardly mattered if he didn't; Akira had recently swept the floors, so there was no dust to kick up. He had to rely on brooms and mops instead of their handier relative, the vacuum cleaner, since it was too bulky for him to maneuver just yet. 

After a few more nudges, Goro stiffly, stiltedly swapped his loafers for slippers, then had to be lured out of the mudroom with encouraging words like a spooked horse. 

Akira's birdy started the house tour with immense, palpable discomfort. Disappointingly, he and the interior didn't seem to be meshing very well. He took small steps, feet feather-light, as though reluctant to even touch the floor through the pads of his slippers. Did he hate the floorboards so sorely? Maybe he thought they were dirty? Hoping to put his worries at ease, Akira assured him that he'd swept it two days ago. He could sweep it again, right now, should Goro wish for it. 

"Wishing is for losers!" Goro snapped with unforeseen fury.

W-Wow. Okay.

Thankfully, expressing his anger in a new environment was enough of a foot in the door for him to finally relax. He began taking big, stomping strides forward, slippers slapping the floor, as though to physically distance himself from his unease. Akira hurried after him. 

By the time he caught up, Goro had made it to the living room. He was frowning at the admittedly excessive number of lamps littering the space. It was as though every lamp in the rest of the house had been squirreled away into this single room—a lamp monopoly. That was Akira's doing. Recently, he'd discovered a fondness for lamps from the lighting section in the furniture store. After spending all day under the sun, returning to a dark and dreary house had been rather jarring. The lamps had been his choice of remedy. There were actually more lamps than there were electrical outlets. 

Across the hallway, separated by big, rectangular columns that rose up into ceiling-high arches, were the sitting rooms. The Red Room waited insidiously in the corner of his eye. Akira had drawn open the thick, velveteen curtains of every window in the house early this morning, to allow sunlight to stream into what was usually a gloomy interior. In addition to Goro's natural influence, the whole house seemed that much brighter. 

"Oh, it's your monster under the bed." Goro was referring to the little cat plushie slumped over on the couch. That's... one way of putting it. "There was also one on your shoe stand. Don't tell me your whole house is populated with these things."

"Alright," agreed Akira. "I won't tell you." And then he pointed at a lamp. "This is a lamp." He felt like he was doing a pretty dandy job of this tour guide thing.

Goro glowered at him sourly, then resolutely looked at anything but the lamp. In doing so, something else caught his hateful eye. "Hey, is that your landline?" He seemed to doubt the validity of this landline, because he went over specifically to the little side table by the couch so he could pick up the phone, listen to the dull beeeeep of the dial tone, and set it back down. "Fantastic. I'll make a note of this."

If Akira could, he'd have a giant question mark bobbing above his head. 

"Your couch takes up too much space," was the next item on Goro's list to gripe about. Actually, Akira had yet to figure out if that phone tangent qualified as a gripe or not. Goro had been shockingly cordial with it. 

Akira settled on a shrug. "There's a lot of space... to take up."

"That's regrettably true. You know what?" Here came the follow-up item on Goro's list of gripes: "Your house takes up too much space."

Akira had nothing to say to that. 

"What's that thing?" Goro pointed an accusing finger at a big, table-like object cloaked in an embroidered tapestry, tucked away in a corner of the living room. It seemed he had found his next target to tear into. 

"That's the piano. Nobody uses it." Akira corrected himself, "Nobody has used it." 

For as long as he'd been alive, he'd never once witnessed its use. It might have been a gift, once upon a time. His mother liked to brag about the various sumptuous offerings the "background characters" had lavished her with, on the most important, most momentous, most mostest day in history: her wedding. This was in conjunction to bragging about her wedding in general. She was a woman who thrived exclusively on the memory of a single day.

Once a reflective obsidian sleeker than silk, the grand piano had now faded away into a mundane fixture of the house—another piece of decor against which to prop more decor. Oftentimes, Akira struggled to recognize it as a piano and not as a uniquely shaped table. 

Goro was prompt in concocting a condemnation for it. "What a waste. Sitting there and rotting away. The keys have probably collected so much dust, mold, and dirt that they're more biohazards than instruments. You've never even bothered practicing?"

"Practicing? For what?"

"Practicing playing the piano, Akira."

"Oh." Akira nodded. That made sense. "No. I don't know how."

"Then why is it still here?" agonized Goro. "Why don't you just—sell it off already?"

Akira wrinkled his nose. Selling required socializing. "That sounds like a lot of work." And the piano wasn't hurting anybody. It seemed to have adjusted well to its new life as a table. 

"Hopeless," was Goro's concocted condemnation for him, personally. 

"Would Goro like to try?" Pause. "Practicing?" Pause. "Playing the piano?" No more pauses. 

Goro grumbled, "You don't have to clarify what you mean so thoroughly. I'm not you." Objectively true. "And, no. What if I'm not immediately good at it? What if I fail from the get-go? I'd never live it down."

 Akira suggested more than said, "Nobody's immediately good at anything...? I don't think..."

"I am," declared Goro with unshakable certainty. 

Someone was missing the obvious here. "But you don't try things."

"I try the things I know I'm good at."

"But how do you know you're good at them if you've never tried them before?"

"Let's move on, Akira," Goro concluded abruptly. 

They moved on.

"Why do rich people insist on depriving their homes of every conceivable color besides white?" Goro's complaints were ceaseless. "They're so obsessed with mimicking mental institutions. All this money, but they still can't buy taste!" He did finally cease, however, when they walked past the Red Room. "T...That's... new."

"If you like perfume or blood, go in there." Akira pointed helpfully. With the way Goro was staring at him, as disturbed as a cow in a meat-packing factory, Akira wagered that he probably didn't enjoy either option very much. "That room's got a lot."

Goro's disturbed cow stare was growing more complex. "Of... blood?" 

Akira had learned the hard way of how ineffectual wet paper towels were when pitted against blood-stained Persian carpets. The same for vacuum cleaners. And hand soap. And dish soap. "Yeah."

"Oh." Goro didn't sound too happy. "Hey, look, there's your kitchen, cat."

"This is my kitchen," agreed Akira. 

Goro examined his surroundings with the critical eye of a health inspector, gaze panning from one end of the room where the fridge sat humming and wearing its winter coat of papers, magnets, stickers, and glue, then panning all the way to the other end, where the length of the black marble island came to a sleek stop and the circular breakfast table (rarely used) came to a circular beginning. The vase of sunflowers, having been moved from the middle of the hallway to the middle of the breakfast table, was slightly wilted and missing some of its petals, but its striking yellowness meant it especially stood out from its black and white environment. Goro lingered on it for a prolonged second, a faint smile ghosting his frown, before he swept over the rest of the kitchen once more. "How excessive." 

Nothing could satisfy his eye, it seemed. 

The second thing Goro said upon entering the kitchen was, "Why is there another cat on the windowsill?" 

"We need eggs for omelettes," announced Akira abruptly. He'd realized partway through the house tour that he'd really, really like to cook something for Goro. 

"Now that I think about it, you really do have those things scattered everywhere. Hoarder much?"

"Eggs."

Side-eyeing him, Goro huffed, "I'm hardly your maid," but went to retrieve the eggs from the fridge, which—Okay. Hadn't been Akira's intention in the first place, but was still awfully nice of him anyhow. Goro was ever-so thoughtful. 

His thoughtfulness extended to his need to narrate his thoughts regarding the state of Akira's fridge. According to those thoughts, it was not a very good state. "Why's this great big casket so empty?! Tsk, what a waste! And what is that? It looks like it used to be a tomato, but now it's growing itself an empire of mold. Disgusting!"

"The tomato lives there," Akira tried to explain, but, in truth, failed to achieve much of an explanation at all. "Ummm. Residency."

The fridge door was closed with a shuttering, shivering SLAM! that had it shedding some of its winter coat. Magnets clattered to the floor in one go. 

"Was that on purpose," asked Akira mildly. 

Goro didn't deem him with an actual answer. "You need to purge that thing." I'm not going to do that. "Here. Your stupid eggs." Whoa. Egg hatred. 

Akira thanked Goro genuinely and generously, because Goro was acting as though the egg retrieval had been some terribly taxing task that he'd nearly broken his back bending backwards and over completing, and thank you's ought to match the severity of the injuries incurred along the way. "Birdy's the best."

"That's right, cat," Goro preened, before he practically slammed the egg carton onto the countertop, the same way one might slam a plank of wood into someone's skull. The egg hatred went to the extremes, it seemed. 

Akira stopped this hate crime at the last second, shooting his hands out to cradle the carton from its tabletop torment. "Thank you so much," he stressed.

Goro frowned. "If you want the eggs so badly, just ask for them." He handed them over with considerably greater care, in a manner that conveyed his earnest belief that Akira was more fragile than an egg. If only he'd been that gentle when he'd been slapping cartons onto counters. "Also, why are we suddenly making omelettes?"

"Aren't you hungry?" 

A careless shrug. "I usually am. So what? It's nothing new."

How horrible! "Omelettes and onigiri," decided Akira.

Goro was astounded. "Stop adding more food?!"

Akira hadn't been nearly as thoughtful as Goro, and so had neglected to tell him to retrieve the rest of the ingredients with the eggs. As this was entirely his fault, Akira brought back the leftover rice from yesterday, a square frying pan, a spatula, and the seasonings by himself. 

Goro didn't like that. "Hey!" 

"What's wrong, Goro?"

"Why'd you bring back ten times as many items as me? That's a fundamental injustice!"

"You can hold them if you want." Akira shoved bottles of soy sauce and sesame oil into Goro's hands. Hopefully, these would keep him and his sense of justice occupied. 

Goro immediately went to complain, "This is a thankless task." But the complaints ended there, so he couldn't be that mad about it. 

"Thank you," Akira added, just to be sure.

Growling, Goro creaked his hostages rather dangerously. Akira didn't know bottles could creak like that. 

O-Okay, back to cooking. Akira announced hurriedly, "Let's prepare the eggs."

Goro halted his creaking to squint down at the eggs. "What do you do with them? They're eggs, so you crack them, don't you?"

Cracking eggs took serious skill. "Do you know how to crack an egg?" Goro was Goro, so of course he knew how to do something as skilled as this, right?

"Of course I know how to do something as simple as that!" Right!

Delighted by Goro's Goro-ness (this was a common occurrence), Akira accidentally let loose an enthralled, "Really?"

It was taken the wrong way. "Yes," Goro hissed, steaming-hot with offense. And then, dropping his hostages, he ripped an egg out of the carton, reeled his arm back, and smashed it onto the counter.

Akira watched it splatter in the most spectacular, most gruesome manner he'd ever seen an innocent egg be massacred.

...Maybe Goro doesn't know how to crack an egg. 

Goro took notice of Akira's stare and bristled, all pent-up rage and porcupine-y. "It's cracked now, isn't it?" 

"It... sure is," was what Akira eventually settled on. Because it really was cracked now—cracked all over the counter and all over the floor, with bits and bobs sticking to the wall, too. The blast radius was truly admirable, all things considered. He might have admired it a touch more had it been localized in a mixing bowl, where eggs were meant to be cracked—not exploded, simply cracked—and yolk was to be mixed—not exploded, either. 

And what else had cracked? The bottle of soy sauce. Goro was a wonder. 

"What other ingredients do I have to conquer?" Goro asked darkly, and then Akira was hastily re-introducing him to the wondrous safety of rice.

As it turned out, not even rice could curb Goro's bloodlust. 

It became obvious at a very quick, very destructive rate that, for all the years she'd been alive, Goro's mother must have been actively barring him from the kitchen and handing him only the easiest, least explosive foods to manhandle. Because Goro and cooking were clearly two intrinsically incompatible forces of nature. 

"What are you nattering about?" scorned Goro, voice curved high from instinctual defense on his mother's behalf. "Of course I was allowed into the kitchen. We didn't have the luxury of sectioning the kitchen into its own massive ballroom, you know. We ate in there." Having defended her memory an adequate amount, his voice calmed down to its usual melody. "But my mother did never allow me near the stove, or any ingredients, if that's what you mean. She also stopped letting me touch knives near the end, for some reason."

Clearly, Goro's mother had been a sublimely smart woman. 

"She wouldn't even let me wash the dishes." If Goro had been treating those poor dishes the same way he'd treated the fridge and the eggs, then Akira could certainly see why. 

Goro slapped the onigiri he'd been shaping (more like: compacting into the world's most condensed ball of matter) onto the table. Not a plate, nor a cutting board, but the table. Thank goodness Akira had already wiped down every surface in the house that morning. Akira silently relocated it to a plate. "Now, cat, let me have another go at those eggs." 

After three eggs ended up splattered on the wall and the butter stuck to the ceiling, Akira sent Goro off to the living room to watch some commercials and maybe calm down. 

"NO!" Goro snarled, covered in yellow yolk and looking more than a little feral. "I can do this! I can—pulverize some eggs!" 

"How about you pulverize... some... television," Akira suggested gently, then tried to tidy Goro's face with a towel and immediately gave up after three of his fingers were nearly bitten clean off. 

It was a wonder how caustically, catastrophically cataclysmic Goro was when it came to cooking. Akira was suitably impressed—and doubly fearful of what he might have done had the stove been on.

Without Goro afflicting his idea of "help" onto the ingredients, Akira wrapped up the dishes with refreshing ease. Thanks to Goro, he could now appreciate what he'd been taking for granted before: the ability to cook unimpeded by threats of bodily harm and property destruction. Goro exerted a certain revolutionary effect on perspectives. He could make Akira thankful for even the most itty-bitty details of his life. 

Akira surveyed the damage done to the kitchen. A teeny-tiny sigh escaped him. It looked like another wipe-down was in order. 

At the very least, he tried to reassure himself, it's not as bad as letting loose a stampede of wild hogs into the house. This was a very average and comforting philosophy that had him cheering up in an instant. Thank goodness Goro was less destructive than a hog stampede—if only by a little bit. Yet another detail to be thankful for. 

Following the distant rabble of pew-pew!s and sha-shing!s, Akira found Goro sulkily holed up in the living room, in front of the blitzing, blaring television. He was cleaned of yolk, slightly damp, and in the process of making a soggy, Goro-shaped imprint on the leather couch. A stray plushie was half-buried in the cushions of the couch next to him. This was, in every way, better than a hog stampede. It looked like he'd just emerged from the downstairs bathroom, which Akira recalled had a layout of dizzying red tiles that covered the walls and floors and also had zero windows. He hoped Goro had enjoyed that visual experience.

On the television, masked heroes flew across the screen. They wore all the colors of the rainbow, tip-topped with golden, feathery frou-frou. It made perfect sense; naturally, Akira's birdy liked to watch his fellow birds. 

Akira came to a silent stop behind Goro's watery seat. "Would birdy like to eat at the breakfast table or the dinner table?"

Goro whipped his head around. Water droplets ricocheted like bullets. "YOU HAVE TWO TABLES?!"

Akira hesitated, unsure of what he'd done to set Goro off this time. "We don't have to eat at a table?"

It took a while, but Goro did, at least, with equal parts grand mulishness and grander reluctance, concede, "...The dinner table."

"'kay!" A happy clap! rang in the air. Having sufficiently expressed his joy, Akira peered around Goro at the television. "Oh, I like that show, too. Featherm—"

Goro's finger practically speared itself clean through the remote out of bloodthirsty vigor. That poor power button never stood a chance. The television blinked black. Akira had half-expected some of the remote's abuse to travel to the television, perhaps short-circuiting it with an electric zap! and reducing its screen to screaming neon color bars. Miraculously, everything remained relatively intact. 

"Is your finger okay?" Akira cradled Goro's hand as though it might clatter apart at any moment. 

"Irrelevant." Regardless of that ruthless remark, Goro allowed Akira to lightly blow on his finger. Hoo! "And I wasn't watching what you thought I was watching. That was simply a... commercial. Those trifling wastes of time. I've got no power over what cable throws at me. Before the commercial, I'd been watching a crime show. About investigating crime. With detectives and legalities."

"And crime?" Akira absentmindedly patted Goro's hand. The pat-pat's lent it structural strength. 

Goro pointed his nose high up in the air. "Yes. The crime is critical." Akira hummed. "Since it was a crime show," Goro apparently thought this was necessary to expound, "as you know." 

"As I know," nodded Akira, then tugged him up by the hand (although, it was really more like Akira had lightly suggested getting up with an even lighter tug, and Goro had been gracious enough to comply). "Let's get our omelettes, birdy."

Goro's noise remained sky-high 'til it was time to settle into their respective seats, after which he finally deigned to look down. Before him waited two plates, one for each of them. On each plate lay a fluffy omelette—tamagoyaki—rolled up and sliced into plump pieces, and a triangular ball of rice grilled and sauced to a golden crisp. A warm, savory aroma wafted through the air. Akira had foregone any filling for the yaki-onigiri, for two reasons: 1) despite his fondness for experimenting with the cookbook, he didn't have the ingredients on hand, because hoarding ingredients that would sooner or later spoil with nobody to eat them was a wasteful thing to do, and 2) he worried it'd be too much to eat in conjunction to the omelettes. There was a separate plate of more yaki-onigiri in the middle of the table, since it would have been a shame to let the leftover rice go unused. It was leagues more food than the amount Akira would make for himself, but leagues less than what a nuclear family on television would chow down on. 

His recipe book had featured these two dishes in separate sections, but since both required a pan, Akira had figured he could combine them into one meal with minimal difficulty. Using his square pan, he'd rolled the omelettes into fluffy prisms first, sprinkled them with salt, then sizzled the seasoned onigiri second. The recipe book had advertised the eggs as such: "These eggs will be wondrously savory and so soft that you'll barely need to bite down before they're splitting apart in your mouth!" 

"These onigiri... You only had to mash the rice together with the seasonings before you grilled them, didn't you?" Just from listening to Goro's tone, anybody could tell that he was feeling slighted. "With a spoon or something. It wouldn't even have required an open flame at that stage. Just mashing."

This was true. "Birdy's right."

"I could've done something as tedious as destroying grains for you, but you simply had to kick me out of the kitchen." Goro looked remarkably royal sitting in his seat, with the carved mahogany backing of the chair framing his head just so, the way the best oil paintings had the fanciest frames. He didn't look out of place at all. Akira always felt a little awkward sitting in these chairs. They dwarfed him miserably. Goro, on the other hand—oh, wait. Goro was still saying something. "Mashing's not a feat of rocket science."

This was also true. "Birdy's right again. I should've thought of that." Akira didn't sound very sorry when he said, "Sorry."

"What're you always apologizing for?" Rather than wait another tedious ten seconds for a one-word reply, Goro answered himself with a sigh. "As long as you learn from this and take it into account in the future, it's fine. Besides, I don't like sitting around while you do everything. It's unequal. You hate that, don't you? Inequivalent exchange?"

"Inequality?" parroted Akira. It had historically led to a great deal of bad things. "Sure. Hate it."

Goro puffed himself up proudly. "I'm never not right."

Akira nodded. "Birdy's right about that, too."

"See?" Puffed to the max. "When things work themselves out so effortlessly like this, you know that's how they're meant to be."

Meant to be... Akira rolled the idea around in his head, feeling it run along the grooves of his brain, its glassy surface as smooth as water, and felt it roll to a stop in a perfect marble-shaped nook. Clink. A thought occurred to him. It was a good one. Proud to have arrived at this thought but not nearly so puffy about pride as Goro had been, he voiced it aloud, "Like us."

"What?" Goro looked startled. He thought about it some more, then looked even more startled. Stupefied, really. "What?"

"Omelettes," Akira instructed him. 

"Alright, alright!" Goro looked at him witheringly. Withering look turned apprehensive, Goro picked up a fluffy omelette slice between two delicate chopsticks, inexplicably held it there for half a minute, and took what could be an insultingly small bite of his already small piece if Akira chose to feel insulted. He chewed, looking deeply pensive, then lit up with astonishment. "Oh! It's edible."

Edible.

Akira supposed expecting anything more than barebones acknowledgment from Goro was a pipe dream. The aggressive sushi acknowledgment had been more than enough to last a lifetime. Besides, this was high praise compared to the usual dialogue his cooking would win from his mother. "What is all this green rot for? I don't want this. I want that. No, I'd like this instead. No, no, back to that. It's got a peculiar odor. Why is this so small? This is far too big. Also, I'm on a diet right now. I'm not eating."

Akira couldn't be more pleased than if Goro had actually liked his food.

"I... I do actually like your food," confessed Goro in a quiet mutter, before he grew louder. "It's better than watery gruel, at least. A step above fertilizer. It's not going to land you a Michelin star any time soon, but you're getting there. Your progress is too slow. Can't you speed up? This needs more seasoning."

"You think I could earn a Michelin star?" asked Akira in his own version of a quiet mutter, except his mutter wasn't deliberate but a default setting for him. Awe colored his voice. Wings fluttered in his chest. He felt almost airborne. 

Goro harrumphed, nose in the air. "Think what you want, cotton brains."

"But this is about what you think, birdy."

"Oh, so you're stuffing ideas into my head now, are you? Thinking my own thoughts for me, hmm? How presumptuous of you. How right you are. I did need the help, thinking for myself. It was getting troublesome. Being mindless—isn't that better? You would know, darling cat. You truly are too generous, too philanthropic—" And off he went, stomping down that long, winding, and well-worn trail that the rickety sign, shaped as an arrow, decreed to be "Deflecting." 

Moving past all that deflecting, it became clear: Goro liked his cooking. This was new. This was big. Nobody had ever liked Akira's cooking before. In fact, up 'til now, he'd been staunchly convinced that his cooking was horrible. Subpar at best. But if Goro liked something, then that meant it was top-of-the-line. Goro only liked the best of the best. 

The best must have extended to the yaki-onigiri, because Goro had stabbed his chopsticks into one and was aggressively chomping a bite out of it. So, it's not only the omelettes... The onigiri, too? 

He liked them both!

Akira felt so happy, so flighty, that he had no idea what to do with himself. Left with little else to do and far too much energy to spare, he hopped down from his seat, bounced over to Goro, and flung his arms around him. It was extraordinarily warm. Sunny rays after a rainshower. Hot chocolate on a winter's day. He murmured into soft hair, "Goro. Thank you, really."

Goro immediately began choking to death. 

Frightened, Akira tripped backwards into the fireplace. "Goro?!" 

A cloud of soot exploded into the air. Eggs on the wall, eggs on Goro, and now soot all over the place. What a great, big mess. 

It seemed a third wipe-down was in order. The stampede of wild hogs was beginning to look better and better by the second. 

•••

By some miracle, the omelettes and onigiri had been mostly spared by the uproar of soot. 

After washing up in the nearest bathroom, Akira set aside the few that had been misfortunate enough to gain a coat of soot, but as for the ones who had a light sprinkling on their edges, Goro refused to part with them. He insisted that it would be a grievous waste of precious food. Akira was at a loss. His birdy who was usually such a stickler for cleanliness was now clinging stubbornly to some sooty eggs? 

"Come now, it's hardly a big deal." Goro's voice was pitched to be pleasantly placating, in stark contrast to his actions: hunching over and caging his plate within his arms like a jealous dragon. "Just leave them be."

Helpless, Akira could only acquiesce, "Um... If birdy likes soot that much..."

"Don't imply weird things!"

Akira scratched his head. There wasn't much to imply what wasn't already screamed aloud for all to hear. He climbed back into his seat, looking down at his own egg. It was still as untouched as it was before The Soot-ening. A gentle pleasure buzzed in his chest. The last time he'd made an omelette, it had gone dissected and uneaten. This time, his omelette was being treasured so devoutly. What wasn't there to be pleased about this turn of events? 

Distantly, from beyond the breezy screen door of the patio, he could hear someone's pet musician practicing the piano, as well as the crunchy roll of a car's wheels against pavement. Wind chimes tinkled twinkly tunes. A dog was barking, as always. 

"Are you going to take a bite sometime this century?" came a drawl across from him. Goro had his chin in his hand and his eyes fixed lazily on Akira. 

"Huh?" queried Akira smartly. 

"You've been staring at that thing for—" Stare still fixed, Goro tilted his head towards the digital clock on the wall. "—two minutes, fifteen seconds, and counting. Are you some alien species that only eats with your eyes? How novel."

It'd been two minutes already? Akira looked at Goro's plate. Empty! He hopped off his chair. "Birdy! Do you want more sooty eggs?"

"Sit down!" Goro barked, jabbing a fierce finger. 

Akira sat down. 

"You're not leaving this table until you finish that." Uwagh. "And quit associating me with soot!" Ugagah. 

Akira went back to staring at his egg, only this time with heaps more misery slouching his shoulders. He poked his egg despondently. Imprisoned in his own house! What a fate. 

Goro had his brows all twisted in vexation. "Just take a bite. Is that so hard? It's not even disgusting to eat. It's quite good, actually. I don't understand you."

That's right! Akira's birdy thought his food tasted good! And—and, last time, he'd called his sushi delicious. Goro thought Akira might earn a Michelin star one day. Michelin stars were Big Deals. Any restaurant, from food carts to big buildings, would jump over the moon from the electric joy of winning a star, and then they'd plaster news of this star all over their carts and buildings, so that any passerby might learn of this star and be lured in for star-ful food. Akira had nearly forgotten this Big Deal because of Goro's near death experience in the fireplace. 

His self-esteem freshly invigorated, Akira picked up a little portion of egg and stuck it in his mouth. Akira was shocked by the presence of flavor. Usually, food was little more than bland mush to work his jaw around until he grew sore and bored of the whole charade. These omelettes had been whisked and cooked 'til they'd turned soft and fluffy; unlike tough grilled omelettes or slippery boiled eggs, biting into a roll required so little effort that the egg split in half with the ease of wind sluicing through a cloud. And it really did taste quite good—surprisingly so! A bit cold, perhaps, but that barely detracted from the taste. He even realized that he had a bit of an appetite. 

It was a resoundingly fresh revolution to his life experiences up 'til now.

"How have you survived this long?" Goro asked in genuine wonder, watching Akira delicately chew his omelette, his eyes wide from revelation and looking like he'd had his mind blown to smithereens. 

Akira ate his omelette, Goro ate one yaki-onigiri, and the rest was either stowed away in the refrigerator or packaged up into a big bento box for Goro to take back (he was not made aware of this bento box just yet). The mysterious, dense ball of matter that Goro had made was squirreled away for safekeeping. 

The ball had come out... remarkably solid. Consuming it required copious amounts of gnawing that had his jaw aching, so Akira was forced to set it aside for later. He'd also had to nibble on it in secret, because the second Goro had seen that thing he'd raised a ruckus about throwing it into the trash where it belonged, and only turning the television on to Feathermen had distracted him enough with a new ruckus to raise that allowed Akira to sneak off with his prize. Maybe this ball, larger than his hand, would grow mushier with time. Like a grape. One could only hope it might someday reach a stage of semi-edibility. 

Also squirreled away, flush against his heart, was the quiet joy of having someone finally enjoy his cooking. 

Happiness was tasty. 

•••

ITEMS GET!! Leftovers

★★★★★

Lots of leftover yaki-onigiri. Looks like you'll have to postpone your daily melonpan for a little while, huh?

•••

Come evening, Akira sent Goro off with the bento box of yaki-onigiri. He'd had Goro leave earlier than when they usually went their respective ways in the woods, lest Goro be forced to navigate the mountainside in the dark, which could be treacherous terrain to navigate without light. Tree roots and cliff sides and loose rocks abound and aplenty! More than one person had been reported missing, only to be found months later at the bottom of a sheer drop sprouting fungi. 

The persnickety subject of hugs was still on Akira's mind while he stood outside on the doorstep, the muggy evening air simultaneously soaking and steaming his skin dry and sticky, and in front of him was Goro, inspecting the bento box with squinty suspicion. Paranoia was par for the course when it came to Goro and food. His reaction to hugs, on the other hand... Had that been considered par for the course? It had proven to be hugely consequential and catastrophic. Akira sort of feared what new catastrophic consequences might be wrought with a repeat incident. 

"'kay!" Akira clapped his hands. The sudden, sharp sound seemed to sluice through what had been a lazy sunset ambience. 

It also startled Goro out of his investigation of the underside of the bento box. "What? What is it?" In retrospect, to Goro, that clap really had come out of nowhere. 

"You're going now."

"Huh? I am? I mean, I was already going to, but you don't have to boss me aro—"

"Bye-bye, birdy!" Instead of hugging Goro the way Akira really, really wanted to—because hugs were on his mind, and he wasn't able to stop thinking about how nice it'd felt—he settled for softly headbutting him the way cats did when overwhelmed with contentment. 

"Y-You—You—" This still had the alarming effect of flustering Goro to the point of stuttering and repeating words, like a skipping CD. He'd nearly dropped the bento box, which—not really the most durable thing on the planet—would have been consequential and catastrophic. At the very least, not hugely so. But it would've cracked open and wasted food, which was certainly a consequence that was catastrophic. 

Well. They had all the time in the world to work their way up to hugs, Akira supposed. 

•••

ITEMS LOSE!! Leftovers

★★★★★

Welp, nevermind. Looks like melonpan's back on the everyday menu. 

•••

It came in the quiet of the night: a shrill, shrieking RING-RING-RING-RING-RING—

"Wallop whatever that is!" Mona demanded. 

Whatever turned out to be the landline, going off the rails with a call. Standing barefoot in the dark of the living room, yearning for the slippers he'd forgotten in his haste, and illuminated solely by weak, barely-there moonlight, Akira held the phone up to his ear. He'd missed the first time, smacking the receiver into his cheek and looking around blearily for the culprit. The second time, he just about barely lined everything up nice and proper.  

What was one supposed to say in a situation like this? 

"Hello?" 

That seemed about right.

"Akira? Is that you?" Goro's lovely, honey voice crackled over the line, sounding a lot like how pop rocks felt on the tongue. 

"Goro!" Akira exclaimed. In his shock, he nearly dropped the phone he'd exerted so much effort to line up. Cue clumsy fumbling, which undoubtedly translated into a hideous racket for Goro to endure on the other end. "I can't wallop you!"

A dragonfire sigh dominated the line. "What is it with you and walloping innocents? And what was that? Did you drop the phone?"

A million questions were running through Akira's head. He picked one at random. "Birdy, you know my number?"

"It's not like it was hard to find," scoffed Goro's voice. His scoff sounded even sharper than it did in person. The phone had him sounding tinny, flinty, and jagged. "All I had to do was pull out the phone book and look up your family's number."

"Ohhh, right." Phone books did indeed exist. 

A soft silence settled over the line. Eyes having adjusted to the minimal lighting, Akira studied how his living room looked in the dark. It was fascinating how what was once so yellow and bright could now look so blue and shadowy—eerie, almost, when one looked at misleading shadows from the corners of one's eyes. He toyed with the loopty-loops of the telephone's coiled cord and shifted from foot to foot. The floorboards, previously ice-cold, had warmed up the tiniest bit. 

Goro broke the silence to complain. Of course. "You sound different."

"Probably because I just woke up," Akira said innocently and not snarkily in the slightest. "In the middle of the night." Zero snark here. "It was very sudden." Absolutely snarkless. 

"If you're trying to get to something, A-kira, just say it out loud. Subtleties are lost on you."

"I'm not getting at anything."

"It's probably the phone," Goro posited, clearly giving up on acknowledging Akira's snark, or lack thereof. "People always sound different over phones and in recordings. If you were to meet a beloved actor from television in-person, you'd be shocked at how much worse they might sound. How much worse they'd look, too. It's easy to mask oneself through technology. With phones, there's no face to be burdened by, so you can pretend to be anything and anyone. Then, even with TV, there are filters and edits, along with the natural blur of camera quality. Did you know—there was once an actress renowned as a great beauty when, in actuality, she had deep pits marring the face that brought her millions? Her husband had to engineer a special camera lens just to obscure her faults and fool the public. Isn't that troublesome? In all mediums, humans crave acknowledgement, but cower from true recognition." 

Had Goro gone through the trouble of excavating Akira's number and rousing him awake at an utterly obscene hour just to gripe about humanity again? What an... interesting upgrade to their relationship. "Wow. That's. Great."

"Are you aware that you're always in a foul mood when you've just woken up, Akira?"

"No." Akira didn't feel very foul, just very woozy. "I don't know. Goro, why're we..." How to put this... "Why are you... um..." 

"Why did I call you?" Goro saved him the toothache of fumbling his words. "I wanted to see if I could."

That sure was something. "Have you seen enough now?"

"Yes. I've determined that this is an acceptable avenue for communication. I'll call you at a better time in the future, when you're less moody."

"I'm not moody," Akira argued, a bit moodily. 

"I'm hanging up now," Goro warned. "You need the sleep, I'm sure. Don't forget—you have to exchange goodbyes to conclude a call."

"Okay, then," Akira obliged. "Bye-bye, birdy." 

Goro's voice was softer than dandelions. "Goodnight, cat."

The line fizzled out. 

Moving proved to be a mistake. The world smeared itself into a mess of shadows as Akira flailed atop numb feet. His head felt light as a pound of air one second, then heavy as a bundle of bricks the next second, leaving him wobbling around, top heavy and bobble-headed. It took a great deal of blinking and breathing for vision to return to him, then a great deal more for the phone to click back into its cradle, instead of clanking onto the table or the floor. After carefully reviewing his situation, Akira elected to spend the night on the couch. Even though it was cold and leathery, it was a familiar bed. Many nights had been spent snoozing in a half-asleep state on slowly warming leather, the curtains pulled back to frame the moon in whatever state of dress it had chosen for that date. 

Besides, Mona was here, too. 

"What did your rival want?" Mona's curious eyes reflected silvery glints of moonlight. 

The leather couch creaked and squeaked with every movement Akira made as he curled up comfortably by his friend's side. "Nothing, really."

[noturlondonboy]

No More Excuses//Katelena

Chapter 3: Common Interest Between an Assassin and a Dog

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Chapter Summary: some internal Yelena angst.

A/N: enjoy!

Chapter warnings: angst

Yelena leaned heavily against the wall, eyes trained on Kate's sleeping form. The moonlight filtered in through the blackout curtains over the windows, casting a silver sheen over the room. Lucky's deep doggy eye stared back at her from where he sat next to his human, his tail thumping softly.

"You are an excellent guard dog, Pizza Doggy," Yelena whispered to him, tilting her head to lean it against her own shoulder, her hip propped on the railing of the loft's edge.

Lucky whined quietly and licked his chops before flopping down, burrowing his nose under Kate's arm.

Yelena sighed and rubbed her eyes with one hand, using the other to run through her loose hair, catching a few tangles. A cluster headache was starting to form behind her brows.

"Oh, Kate Bishop. What am I going to do with you?"

Yelena had been hiding out in Kate's apartment for the past week or so, using the space as a safe house until she figured out what the hell to do with herself. The fight with Clint Barton felt like a lifetime ago, but the hours and days afterwards had been an absolute nightmare for the blonde assassin.

She recalled the tears, the makeup and sweaty hair in her eyes as she ran through the frozen and brightly lit streets of New York. People had yelled, dodged out of the way as she streamed past them in a blur of black and weaponry, honked as she weaved through traffic with no regard as to whether the streets were clear or not.

All she could hear was that whistle. Her whistle. Natasha's whistle. Something so special, because it was only for them. But Clint Barton had it too, which meant Natasha trusted him. Both with herself, and her little sister.

Yelena shook her head and pushed off of the wall, making her way silently back to the couch. She hadn't neared Kate's bed while she'd been crashing in the archer's apartment, always sleeping on the couch whenever she was able to close her eyes without the fear of seeing blood and death against the insides of her eyelids.

Tonight was not a night for sleeping, it would seem. Yelena stared up at the dark ceiling, her hands folded over her stomach under the fleece blanket she had found on the floor. The fan above her spun slowly, slowly, the blades a gentle whir in the muddy shadows.

Yelena had originally reasoned that she was staying in New York to get that drink Kate Bishop had mentioned, but once she had found the archer's apartment empty, she hadn't quite known what to do. She quickly ran out of excuses for her behavior.

She wanted to talk to Clint, to hear stories about Natasha. But he wasn't in the city either. Fine then- she would walk around New York to see the sights, experience the places and the people. But the tall buildings had quickly grown imposing, and without the promise of Christmas, the city seemed to lose most of its glow.

Maybe she would lay down on a bench in Central Park and just let herself starve until she faded away completely.

Counterproductive.

So she had decided to wait for Kate to get back from where she was presumably spending the holidays with Barton. Yelena bought more forks for the terribly bare kitchen, went through every single cupboard, drawer, and closet, (out of sheer boredom, really) and eventually did an entire and extremely extensive background check on the Bishop family. Again, she was bored. Not much else to do for the world's best child assassin, after all. She was trained to kill and calculate, not make herself at home.

Soft paw steps snapped her from her thoughts, and Yelena was sitting up in a flash, watching keenly through the dark as Lucky padded down from the loft to the couch to visit her. She held out a hand for him silently, and he licked at her fingers before flopping his head down on her knee in order to stare up at her.

"You didn't bark because you already smelled me around the apartment," Yelena muttered, running a hand over his golden head. "Clever dog. You would like Fanny. You are both very cute, but she is definitely smarter than you."

Lucky just grinned, his one eye sparkling absently.

Yelena huffed a laugh under her breath and petted him until he eventually made his way back to Kate. She watched him go, chest aching. She missed her own dog, her sweet girl. Maybe she would be able to fetch her from the canine hotel she was currently at and bring her here to crash with the golden retrievers. Soon. Maybe.

The assassin made another attempt at sleep, finally falling under hours later in a fitful rest. She had to figure out what to tell Kate Bishop in the morning.

After all, Yelena wasn't sure why she was still here, either.

Translations: none

Kate Bishop counter: 3

This chapter's meme:

Comments/reblogs/notes make my day :)

[camels-pen]

( @wisteriavines )

“Sanji!” Usopp called as he entered the galley. “What’s up, Nami said you needed...?” He trailed off as he looked around the empty room.

There was a pot simmering on the stove, chopped vegetables and herbs on a cutting board, and a steaming cup of tea on the table. 

Usopp sighed. “Out for a smoke.” He plopped himself down on a chair, sagging into it. “Ugh, all her meddling is bad for my heart.”

At least this time she waited until I was finished doing all of my weapon maintenance, he thought as he reached for the teacup, lifting it to his lips. It was her climatact though, so of course—

There was a distinctly non-tea substance touching his tongue. It wasn’t even a liquid. And it was on his tongue.

He jolted, pulling the cup away. “Who put a rock—?” 

There was a lizard. In the teacup.

It was yellow with black paws and horns, swirled lines of black scales above its eyes, and it was glaring at him.

There was smoke pouring out of its nostrils.

Usopp did what any normal person would do in that instance.

He dropped the cup and screamed.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE FOREST BRIDE

@princesssarisa @adarkrainbow @themousefromfantasyland @tamisdava2 @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @professorlehnsherr-almashy @sabugabr

(Finnish Folktale)

The Story of a Little Mouse Who Was a Princess

There was once a farmer who had three sons. One day when the boys were grown to manhood he said to them:

“My sons, it is high time that you were all married. To-morrow I wish you to go out in search of brides.”

“But where shall we go?” the oldest son asked.

“I have thought of that, too,” the father said. “Do each of you chop down a tree and then take the direction in which the fallen tree points. I’m sure that each of you if you go far enough in that direction will find a suitable bride.”

So the next day the three sons chopped down trees. The oldest son’s tree fell pointing north.

“That suits me!” he said, for he knew that to the north lay a farm where a very pretty girl lived.

The tree of the second son when it fell pointed south.

“That suits me!” the second son declared thinking of a girl that he had often danced with who lived on a farm to the south.

The youngest son’s tree—the youngest son’s name was Veikko—when it fell pointed straight to the forest.

“Ha! Ha!” the older brothers laughed. “Veikko will have to go courting one of the Wolf girls or one of the Foxes!”

They meant by this that only animals lived in the forest and they thought they were making a good joke at Veikko’s expense. But Veikko said he was perfectly willing to take his chances and go where his tree pointed.

The older brothers went gaily off and presented their suits to the two farmers whose daughters they admired. Veikko, too, started off with brave front but after he had gone some distance in the forest his courage began to ebb.

“How can I find a bride,” he asked himself, “in a place where there are no human creatures at all!”

Just then he came to a little hut. He pushed open the door and went in. It was empty. To be sure there was a little mouse sitting on the table, daintily combing her whiskers, but a mouse of course doesn’t count.

“There’s nobody here!” Veikko said aloud.

The little mouse paused in her toilet and turning towards him said reproachfully:

“Why, Veikko, I’m here!”

“But you don’t count. You’re only a mouse!”

“Of course I count!” the little mouse declared. “But tell me, what were you hoping to find?”

“I was hoping to find a sweetheart.”

The little mouse questioned him further and Veikko told her the whole story of his brothers and the trees.

“The two older ones are finding sweethearts easily enough,” Veikko said, “but I don’t see how I can off here in the forest. And it will shame me to have to go home and confess that I alone have failed.”

“See here, Veikko,” the little mouse said, “why don’t you take me for your sweetheart?”

Veikko laughed heartily.

“But you’re only a mouse! Whoever heard of a man having a mouse for a sweetheart!”

The mouse shook her little head solemnly.

“Take my word for it, Veikko, you could do much worse than have me for a sweetheart! Even if I am only a mouse I can love you and be true to you.”

She was a dear dainty little mouse and as she sat looking up at Veikko with her little paws under her chin and her bright little eyes sparkling Veikko liked her more and more.

Then she sang Veikko a pretty little song and the song cheered him so much that he forgot his disappointment at not finding a human sweetheart and as he left her to go home he said:

“Very well, little mouse, I’ll take you for my sweetheart!”

At that the mouse made little squeaks of delight and she told him that she’d be true to him and wait for him no matter how long he was in returning.

Well, the older brothers when they got home boasted loudly about their sweethearts.

“Mine,” said the oldest, “has the rosiest reddest cheeks you ever saw!”

“And mine,” the second announced, “has long yellow hair!”

Veikko said nothing.

“What’s the matter, Veikko?” the older brothers asked him, laughing. “Has your sweetheart pretty pointed ears or sharp white teeth?”

You see they were still having their little joke about foxes and wolves.

“You needn’t laugh,” Veikko said. “I’ve found a sweetheart. She’s a gentle dainty little thing gowned in velvet.”

“Gowned in velvet!” echoed the oldest brother with a frown.

“Just like a princess!” the second brother sneered.

“Yes,” Veikko repeated, “gowned in velvet like a princess. And when she sits up and sings to me I’m perfectly happy.”

“Huh!” grunted the older brothers not at all pleased that Veikko should have so grand a sweetheart.

“Well,” said the old farmer after a few days, “now I should like to know what those sweethearts of yours are able to do. Have them each bake me a loaf of bread so that I can see whether they’re good housewives.”

“Mine will be able to bake bread—I’m sure of that!” the oldest brother declared boastfully.

“So will mine!” chorused the second brother.

Veikko was silent.

“What about the Princess?” they said with a laugh. “Do you think the Princess can bake bread?”

“I don’t know,” Veikko answered truthfully. “I’ll have to ask her.”

Of course he had no reason for supposing that the little mouse could bake bread and by the time he reached the hut in the forest he was feeling sad and discouraged.

When he pushed open the door he found the little mouse as before seated on the table daintily combing her whiskers. At sight of Veikko she danced about with delight.

“I’m so glad to see you!” she squeaked. “I knew you would come back!”

Then when she noticed that he was silent she asked him what was the matter. Veikko told her:

“My father wants each of our sweethearts to bake him a loaf of bread. If I come home without a loaf my brothers will laugh at me.”

“You won’t have to go home without a loaf!” the little mouse said. “I can bake bread.”

Veikko was much surprised at this.

“I never heard of a mouse that could bake bread!”

“Well, I can!” the little mouse insisted.

With that she began ringing a small silver bell, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. Instantly there was the sound of hurrying footsteps, tiny scratchy footsteps, and hundreds of mice came running into the hut.

The little Princess mouse sitting up very straight and dignified said to them:

“Each of you go fetch me a grain of the finest wheat.”

All the mice scampered quickly away and soon returned one by one, each carrying a grain of the finest wheat. After that it was no trick at all for the Princess mouse to bake a beautiful loaf of wheaten bread.

The next day the three brothers presented their father the loaves of their sweethearts’ baking. The oldest one had a loaf of rye bread.

“Very good,” the farmer said. “For hardworking people like us rye bread is good.”

The loaf the second son had was made of barley.

“Barley bread is also good,” the farmer said.

But when Veikko presented his loaf of beautiful wheaten bread, his father cried out:

“What! White bread! Ah, Veikko now must have a sweetheart of wealth!”

“Of course!” the older brothers sneered. “Didn’t he tell us she was a Princess? Say, Veikko, when a Princess wants fine white flour, how does she get it?”

Veikko answered simply:

“She rings a little silver bell and when her servants come in she tells them to bring her grains of the finest wheat.”

At this the older brothers nearly exploded with envy until their father had to reprove them.

“There! There!” he said. “Don’t grudge the boy his good luck! Each girl has baked the loaf she knows how to make and each in her own way will probably make a good wife. But before you bring them home to me I want one further test of their skill in housewifery. Let them each send me a sample of their weaving.”

The older brothers were delighted at this for they knew that their sweethearts were skilful weavers.

“We’ll see how her ladyship fares this time!” they said, sure in their hearts that Veikko’s sweetheart, whoever she was, would not put them to shame with her weaving.

Veikko, too, had serious doubts of the little mouse’s ability at the loom.

“Whoever heard of a mouse that could weave?” he said to himself as he pushed open the door of the forest hut.

“Oh, there you are at last!” the little mouse squeaked joyfully.

She reached out her little paws in welcome and then in her excitement she began dancing about on the table.

“Are you really glad to see me, little mouse?” Veikko asked.

“Indeed I am!” the mouse declared. “Am I not your sweetheart? I’ve been waiting for you and waiting, just wishing that you would return! Does your father want something more this time, Veikko?”

“Yes, and it’s something I’m afraid you can’t give me, little mouse.”

“Perhaps I can. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s a sample of your weaving. I don’t believe you can weave. I never heard of a mouse that could weave.”

“Tut! Tut!” said the mouse. “Of course I can weave! It would be a strange thing if Veikko’s sweetheart couldn’t weave!”

She rang the little silver bell, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, and instantly there was the faint scratch-scratch of a hundred little feet as mice came running in from all directions and sat up on their haunches awaiting their Princess’ orders.

“Go each of you,” she said, “and get me a fiber of flax, the finest there is.”

The mice went scurrying off and soon they began returning one by one each bringing a fiber of flax. When they had spun the flax and carded it, the little mouse wove a beautiful piece of fine linen. It was so sheer that she was able when she folded it to put it into an empty nutshell.

“Here, Veikko,” she said, “here in this little box is a sample of my weaving. I hope your father will like it.”

Veikko when he got home felt almost embarrassed for he was sure that his sweetheart’s weaving would shame his brothers. So at first he kept the nutshell hidden in his pocket.

The sweetheart of the oldest brother had sent as a sample of her weaving a square of coarse cotton.

“Not very fine,” the farmer said, “but good enough.”

The second brother’s sample was a square of cotton and linen mixed.

“A little better,” the farmer said, nodding his head.

Then he turned to Veikko.

“And you, Veikko, has your sweetheart not given you a sample of her weaving?”

Veikko handed his father a nutshell at sight of which his brothers burst out laughing.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” they laughed. “Veikko’s sweetheart gives him a nut when he asks for a sample of her weaving.”

But their laughter died as the farmer opened the nutshell and began shaking out a great web of the finest linen.

“Why, Veikko, my boy!” he cried, “however did your sweetheart get threads for so fine a web?”

Veikko answered modestly:

“She rang a little silver bell and ordered her servants to bring her in fibers of finest flax. They did so and after they had spun the flax and carded it, my sweetheart wove the web you see.”

“Wonderful!” gasped the farmer. “I have never known such a weaver! The other girls will be all right for farmers’ wives but Veikko’s sweetheart might be a Princess! Well,” concluded the farmer, “it’s time that you all brought your sweethearts home. I want to see them with my own eyes. Suppose you bring them to-morrow.”

“She’s a good little mouse and I’m very fond of her,” Veikko thought to himself as he went out to the forest, “but my brothers will certainly laugh when they find she is only a mouse! Well, I don’t care if they do laugh! She’s been a good little sweetheart to me and I’m not going to be ashamed of her!”

So when he got to the hut he told the little mouse at once that his father wanted to see her.

The little mouse was greatly excited.

“I must go in proper style!” she said.

She rang the little silver bell and ordered her coach and five. The coach when it came turned out to be an empty nutshell and the five prancing steeds that were drawing it were five black mice. The little mouse seated herself in the coach with a coachman mouse on the box in front of her and a footman mouse on the box behind her.

“Oh, how my brothers will laugh!” thought Veikko.

But he didn’t laugh. He walked beside the coach and told the little mouse not to be frightened, that he would take good care of her. His father, he told her, was a gentle old man and would be kind to her.

When they left the forest they came to a river which was spanned by a foot bridge. Just as Veikko and the nutshell coach had reached the middle of the bridge, a man met them coming from the opposite direction.

“Mercy me!” the man exclaimed as he caught sight of the strange little coach that was rolling along beside Veikko. “What’s that?”

He stooped down and looked and then with a loud laugh he put out his foot and pushed the coach, the little mouse, her servants, and her five prancing steeds—all off the bridge and into the water below.

“What have you done! What have you done!” Veikko cried. “You’ve drowned my poor little sweetheart!”

The man thinking Veikko was crazy hurried away.

Veikko with tears in his eyes looked down into the water.

“You poor little mouse!” he said. “How sorry I am that you are drowned! You were a faithful loving sweetheart and now that you are gone I know how much I loved you!”

As he spoke he saw a beautiful coach of gold drawn by five glossy horses go up the far bank of the river. A coachman in gold lace held the reins and a footman in pointed cap sat up stiffly behind. The most beautiful girl in the world was seated in the coach. Her skin was as red as a berry and as white as snow, her long golden hair gleamed with jewels, and she was dressed in pearly velvet. She beckoned to Veikko and when he came close she said:

“Won’t you come sit beside me?”

“Me? Me?” Veikko stammered, too dazed to think.

The beautiful creature smiled.

“You were not ashamed to have me for a sweetheart when I was a mouse,” she said, “and surely now that I am a Princess again you won’t desert me!”

“A mouse!” Veikko gasped. “Were you the little mouse?”

The Princess nodded.

“Yes, I was the little mouse under an evil enchantment which could never have been broken if you had not taken me for a sweetheart and if another human being had not drowned me. Now the enchantment is broken forever. So come, we will go to your father and after he has given us his blessing we will get married and go home to my kingdom.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They drove at once to the farmer’s house and when Veikko’s father and his brothers and his brothers’ sweethearts saw the Princess’ coach stopping at their gate they all came out bowing and scraping to see what such grand folk could want of them.

“Father!” Veikko cried, “don’t you know me?”

The farmer stopped bowing long enough to look up.

“Why, bless my soul!” he cried, “it’s our Veikko!”

“Yes, father, I’m Veikko and this is the Princess that I’m going to marry!”

“A Princess, did you say, Veikko? Mercy me, where did my boy find a Princess?”

“Out in the forest where my tree pointed.”

“Well, well, well,” the farmer said, “where your tree pointed! I’ve always heard that was a good way to find a bride.”

The older brothers shook their heads gloomily and muttered:

“Just our luck! If only our trees had pointed to the forest we, too, should have found princesses instead of plain country wenches!”

But they were wrong: it wasn’t because his tree pointed to the forest that Veikko got the Princess, it was because he was so simple and good that he was kind even to a little mouse.

Well, after they had got the farmer’s blessing they rode home to the Princess’ kingdom and were married. And they were happy as they should have been for they were good and true to each other and they loved each other dearly.

[pages-of-us]

Blue's Blues

The house felt quieter without the familiar pitter-patter of paws. It had only been a day since Blue, the Zane family’s golden retriever puppy, was taken to the vet for a few days of observation, but Ralph was already feeling the absence acutely. The vet assured them it wasn’t serious—just a precaution to monitor a mild digestive issue—but that didn’t stop Ralph from moping like he’d lost a part of his soul.

Ralph sat at the kitchen table, staring forlornly at Blue’s empty dog bed by the sliding glass doors. His chin rested on his palm as he poked at his dinner with a fork, a far cry from his usual post-work enthusiasm for Andrew’s cooking.

“Daddy,” Ellias began cautiously, glancing between Ralph and his plate. “Are you... okay?”

“I’m fine.” Ralph replied, though the sigh that followed was anything but convincing.

“You don’t look fine,” Yazmin pointed out, leaning over her chair. Her tone was playful, but her expression betrayed concern. “You’ve been staring at Blue’s bed for, like, five minutes. What’s next? Writing him a letter?”

Ralph straightened, shooting her a half-hearted glare. “He’s family, Yaz. I’m just worried about him.”

“Oh, we know he’s family,” Elliot chimed in, barely suppressing a smirk. “You only built him his own house in the backyard, Daddy. A house. Not a doghouse—an actual house. With insulation!”

“It gets cold in winter.” Ralph defended, though his cheeks reddened.

“Daddy,” Yazmin giggled, “it’s heated. You gave the dog floor heating.”

Ellias chimed in, grinning now. “You also got him that fancy memory foam bed for inside the house. You know, the one that probably cost more than my bed.”

Ralph huffed, crossing his arms. “He deserves the best. He’s a good boy.”

“Daddy,” Yazmin teased, her voice dripping with faux seriousness. “You love Blue more than you love us, don’t you?”

Ralph finally cracked a smile, though it was small. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love all of you equally.” He paused before adding, “But Blue doesn’t talk back, eat my leftovers, or ruin my domino towers.”

“Thanks, Yaz.” the boys muttered in unison, earning a playful scowl from their sister.

**********************************************************************

The next day wasn’t any better. Ralph came home from work and immediately called out, “Blue! I’m home!”

The silence that followed was deafening. He frowned, dropping his work bag by the door. Andrew, who had been chopping vegetables in the kitchen, leaned out with an amused smile.

“He’s still at the vet, love.” he reminded him.

“I know,” Ralph grumbled, kicking off his boots with more force than necessary. “It’s just... a habit.”

Andrew chuckled, stepping closer to plant a kiss on Ralph’s cheek. “He’ll be back soon, love. You’re acting like he’s gone forever.”

“I’m not acting,” Ralph muttered, slumping onto the couch. “This house feels empty without him. Who’s going to greet me at the door? Who’s going to bring me his slobbery tennis ball when I sit down?”

“I could bring you a tennis ball.” Andrew teased, winking.

“It’s not the same.” Ralph replied mournfully, burying his face in a cushion.

The kids watched from the hallway, stifling their laughter. Yazmin leaned closer to Ellias and whispered, “Daddy's officially lost it.”

Ellias nodded solemnly. “Should we stage an intervention?”

Elliot, always the practical one, raised an eyebrow. “What are we going to do? Bark at him until he snaps out of it?”

Yazmin grinned mischievously. “Don’t tempt me.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — — — —

By the third day, Ralph was practically counting the hours until Blue’s return. He’d texted the vet three times for updates and even considered driving over to “check on things.”

The kids, meanwhile, had fully embraced the opportunity to tease him.

“Daddy, do you miss him more than you missed us when we went to camp last summer?” Ellias asked over breakfast.

Ralph didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Wow,” Yazmin gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Not even a pause.”

“I can’t believe you admitted that out loud.” Elliot added, shaking his head.

Ralph looked up from his coffee, his expression deadpan. “He doesn’t argue about bedtime.”

“That’s not fair!” Yazmin protested.

“Or try to sneak extra cookies,” Ralph continued, raising an eyebrow at Ellias.

Ellias’s jaw dropped. “That was one time!”

“Or take over the TV with boring documentaries.” Ralph finished, directing a pointed look at Elliot.

“They’re educational!” Elliot exclaimed.

Andrew walked in at that moment, hiding his grin behind a cup of tea. “You three better be careful. If Daddy gets a vote, Blue might take your rooms next.”

“Don’t give him ideas.” Yazmin growled, narrowing her eyes at her father.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —— — — — — — — — — — — — —

When the day finally arrived for Blue to come home, Ralph was the first to the car, pacing with impatience. Andrew drove while the kids chattered excitedly in the backseat, though Ralph barely heard them.

As soon as the vet brought Blue out, tail wagging and eyes bright, Ralph’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He knelt to greet the puppy, who leapt into his arms, licking his face enthusiastically.

“Hey, buddy,” Ralph murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Missed you so much.”

Yazmin leaned over to Ellias, whispering loudly, “I’m starting to think Daddy likes Blue more than he likes Dadda.”

Andrew snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

Ralph stood, cradling Blue like a toddler. “All of you can laugh, but this guy? This guy’s got my back.”

“Until he chews your work boots again.” Ellias quipped.

Ralph looked down at Blue, who barked innocently. “He didn’t mean it. Right, boy?”

As they drove home, the family couldn’t stop smiling. For all their teasing, they loved seeing Ralph so happy. And if Blue’s wagging tail was any indication, he was just as thrilled to be back with his favorite human.

[howlingday]

Ren enters the dorm room, finding it completely empty. In fact, it seemed the entire building was empty. Finding the door already unlocked and even slightly ajar, he cautiously entered.

Ren: Hello?

The door slammed shut behind him and the lights came on, revealing Mr. Callows, his landlord, wearing a trenchcoat.

Tyrian: Hello, Ren~. (Pulls out paperclips) Are you looking for these~?

Ren: Wait, you were the one who bought all the paperclips?

Tyrian: It was all a ruse, you pathetic little ant. For you see, I, your landlord, was the mastermind THE ENTIRE TIME~! Every single thing that's happened to you over the last twenty-four hours was orchestrated by ME, AND MY INSANE MIND~!

Ren: Wait, so even when I got robbed, that was you?

Tyrian: Yes, all delicately coordinated beforehand using paid actors and animatronics.

Ren: What about Adam chopping off the Grimm Hound's head?

Tyrian: Yes~! All me~! The whole thing cost me over 750,000 Lien and over 8 months of planning, just to lead you right here into the palm of my hands~.

Ren: Wh-Why would you do this?

Tyrian: To make one simple request...

Ren: Okay? What is it?

Tyrian: I was just wondering if you, as my tenant, wanted to hang out with me and smoke weed and fill our bellies with diet soda and play Burnout: Revenge for the PS2?

Ren: How about I just come knock your block off and take those paperclips from you?!

Tyrian: Ah, ah, aaaaaah~! (Opens coat, Reveals bomb) If you lay your filthy paws on me, I'll blow this entire academy to smithereens!

Ren: ...

Tyrian: So, what'll it be, Ren~?

Ren's Morning

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Ren: (Gets up, Yawns)

Ren: (Showers, Brushes teeth)

Ren: (Gargles and spits, Smiles)

Ren: (Puts in contacts, Gets dress)

Lady: (In bed) Oh, Ren, you really know how to treat a woman~.

Ren: ...Okay. (Opens door)

Tyrian: (Right outside) OH, REN! Hello~! Fancy running into you here~!

Ren: Oh, hi, Mr. Callows.

Tyrian: I was just wondering if you, as my tenant, wanted to hang out with me and smoke weed and fill our bellies with diet soda and play Burnout: Revenge for the PS2?

Ren: No but thank you. I have to go to work.

Tyrian: SUIT YOURSELF~! (Cackles manicly, Scuttles up the walls)

[cloudyyangel]

Nanami Kento thinks you look best in his blue button up. He enjoys seeing the stretch and pull of the fabric against your plump body. He also enjoys the events leading up to you tugging on his shirt.

3.3k

nsfw, cw: lack of prep, dry humping, body inclusive reader, afab reader, slight praise kink, one ass smack

△ △ △

Nanami watches as you gather your underwear from the foot of his bed and slip back into them, a small smile playing at your lips. Your wiggles to get them just right over your thighs and ass has Nanami sighing softly as he leans against the headboard- eyeing every piece of plush flesh that bounces with your movements.

He had tried to coax you to stay in bed, dinner can wait sweetheart, but you had been adamant about feeding the over worked and stressed sorcerer (No Kento, I am not a suitable meal! You told him for the fifth time). He had came straight home from work and gotten you into bed before any greetings of hellos or how are yous.

You glance around for your shirt, the one he won’t mention is on the opposite side of the bed by the wall. It’s a game for him; getting you to throw your shirt off in a lust fueled haze and losing it. You always try to find it afterwards, sometimes even nudging him to roll over so you can search under him. Nanami was patient as his gaze followed you around the room- he knew the ultimate victory of the night was close. It sent a pleasant warmth through his chest as you finally give up and pull on the only shirt on the floor.

Nanami is built different, as you’ve jokingly told him many times. He’s tall with broad shoulders and a toned physique from fighting curses over the years. You, in a great difference, are soft with rounded edges that contrast with his sharp angles. You love to watch him flex as he chops vegetables for dinner, or see the taut skin of his stomach as he stretches before bed- it’s everything you’re not and it use to sting a bit, cut into your heart that maybe you weren’t good enough.

Nanami Kento, on the other hand, loves the opposition of your bodies. He loves the soft skin of your shoulders under his hands, to feel fat squeezing between his fingers as he grips your thighs, loves to watch your belly match the pumps of his hips as he drives his cock into you. He loves you, truly and wholeheartedly, and everything about you. Over time his sweet words, sinful praises, and all consuming actions have nestled their way into your body to take home in your skin.

They settle in your heart- the logic conscious man had no time to string someone along or for empty compliments. Fine, Nanami had relented one night after you explain why you’re not enough for him, you are big. You’re also beautiful, smart, amazing, talented. It’s just another word that describes why I love you. You start to believe it after that.

The blue button up you pull on after a session of love making is what he loves the most. Out of all the looks you had, it was his favorite. The fabric clings to the fat of your arms while the wrists are loose. It stretches across your full chest with only three buttons fastened in an attempt to hold you even as they pull taut (you know they’re reliable, just like the man who wears it). It couldn’t cover your tummy, even with how broad he is, but the material covers enough for you to trot around the room in.

It’s ill fitting- not necessarily too small, but made for a slimmer and taller build. Tailor made for Nanami Kento. On you, it’s a frumpy mess- the blue material wrinkling at odd places, bunching up around your arms but god if he doesn’t melt at the sight of you. His blue button up, stretched safely around your bigger form- it reminds him that you are his, that you love him, that he can protect and cherish you. He tries to keep it out as often as he can, fighting his urge to keep everything smartly in its place, just in hopes of you tugging it on. He soon found out that you were more willing to pull it on when you were in a dazed state, wanting to put on some semblance of clothes after an extended period of being exposed. Nanami was more than happy to provide that mindset for you.

This evening, his shirt had been tossed to the floor as soon as he entered the bedroom. His tie was somewhere in the living room, his glasses by the front door, shoes strewn across the entrance. Nanami is a smart man, however, and was careful with this shirt- he let that drop right in the middle of the room, to be sure it was the only thing you saw after he had satisfied both of your needs.

△ △ △

“Impatient, hmm Kento?” You teased as his hands groped at the fat on your hips to pull you even closer to him. He was home exactly on time despite the complaint of overtime and caught you by surprise. Nanami had strode into the bedroom with no words as he let his shirt drop to the floor and immediately captured your lips in a kiss.

The normally composed sorcerer had called on his break to rant about useless colleagues and a curse getting too close for comfort and that he just wanted to hear your voice. He promised to try not to work too late, I miss you darling, but you knew he put everything he had into work and told him you would be waiting for him with a smile.

Nanami hummed as he bruised your lips in a needy kiss. “I just need you.” He had muttered with a rut of his hips against yours. His length was already pronounced and it made you pull back with a slight gasp- light glistened off the string of spit that connected you two.

The situation at work must have gotten to him, his controlled façade had slipped completely off as he attacked you with an usual fervor. His hands squeezed your hips before they roamed over your tummy- it was one of his favorite places to touch and kiss and squeeze and worship.

He never faltered on his slow, methodical, rut against you, not slowing down to even remove both of your bottoms. “K-kento, we can-“ Your suggestion to continue in bed was cut off when his hands wrapped around your back to grope at your ass.

He always did go straight for what he wanted. Which explained why he was rutting you into the wall with spit spread around your lips.

His hips sped up and harsh pants met your face as he pressed forward. Nanami’s brow was furrowed, fingers griped tight on your ass as he slotted between your legs. His composure, his calmness, had been tossed to the side along with his shirt the second he saw you. Now, his cock was leaking into his slacks and he was just so desperate to feel you against him that the wall would do for now.

The new closeness brought his hard cock right against your cunt, still both clothed but the friction was enough to make you grow wet and grind back against him. The angle pushed you up on your toes, desperate to feel even more of him and if you angled your hips just right, you could feel Nanami’s length slide right over your clothed slit.

You had refused on multiple times to be picked up, even when he insisted on multiple times that he could. Instead, he accommodated your needs and wants, simply finding a way to be able to grind against you while he pressed your back against the wall. He bent down to suck the smooth skin of your neck into his mouth, only to increase the speed of his ministrations on your now dripping cunt.

His hips rubbed harder against you, effectively pining you to the wall and it started to burn against your skin. The sting only amplified the feeling every time it rubbed against your pussy lips and you couldn’t help but whimper with every thrust.

Deep in your stomach, something tightened and grew into a comfortable pressure, your orgasm growing with every thrust of Nanami’s hips. One hand left your ass to roughly paw at your chest, his fingers easily found the pebbled nipple and rolled it a few times before he gave a light tug. As you gasped he took the opportunity to shove his mouth over yours, to lavish his tongue against yours. It wasn’t enough for you, or him, but you were the first to break.

You needed more, needed him and needed something physical to touch you. "Kento, please” you whined into his mouth as you felt the soaked fabric of your underwear stick and cling to you.

The broken cry brought Nanami back as he pulled away from your hips, not able to control his harsh pants. The sudden stop made you jerk against him, desperate for any relief against your clit that throbbed under your pants. Nanami stared down at you, blond hair stuck to his sweaty forehead with darkened eyes, and heaved a few deep breaths. His expression cleared as he took in your state- the caretaker role slid back on as he saw how wrecked you were from just a few minutes of dry humping. Your eyes were half lidded and cloudy with tears from the friction, hips still stuttered from the loss of contact, and your chest heaved. When he didn’t move, you reach forward with a grabby hand to tug his belt towards you. He easily caught your hand and slightly ‘tsk’ed when you voiced your displeasure with a frown.

“Look what you do to me.” He sighed and brought both of your hands to his cock that strained against the fabric of his slacks. You desperately gripped at the hardness which earned you a sharp hiss from his kiss bruised lips. You mewled at the sound but Nanami was never one to be outdone.

He eyed your own sex and let out a small chuckle. “Look what I do to you.” He said amused as he rubbed your hands over the wet spot of your pants. The pressure made the fabric catch against your slick lips, swollen from the rough friction and you arched into it before he pulled the hands away. He chuckled at your pout and wiggle to find friction again.

“I can’t believe how needy you are,” you bit out in frustration at his tease, “dry humping me like a virg-.” He swallowed the rest of your retort with a heavy kiss and quick swat to your ass. The small spank had you flatten yourself against the wall with a surprised gasp.

“You’re the one soaked through two layers of clothes. I think you’re the needy one, sweetheart.” He commented with a harsh tug on your ass which slammed your hips against his. It pressed your lips against your clit and sent a jolt through your body and the loud whine that left your lips already proved his point as he dragged you towards the bed. He brought his hands back to himself and left you to stand in front of him.

Nanami didn’t break your gaze as he went to unbuckle his pants and flung them off somewhere (you would tease him later how messy that was, throwing his clothes around like a teenager). You shifted as you watched his thick cock spring free of his slacks. The pretty red head slapped against his flushed stomach and you swallowed a whine as your cunt continued to throb. You would drop to your knees if he asked, pull your knees as wide as they would go, press your face into the mattress- anything to get his perfectly thick pretty cock inside of you. Nanami was observant as ever and smirked as he sat down on the bed.

“Like I said, needy.” His voice was a rumble and the comment sent a flutter through you. Nanami eyed you up and down, still fully clothed even as he sat naked on the bed, and gave a solid pat to his thigh.

“Take off your pants.”

Nerves shot through you- even after being with Nanami for so long. It was a force of habit to hide your body, to not show off and it made your movements lag as you unbuttoned and pulled off your pants. Despite his preference to see you naked- he rarely undressed you himself. He allowed you to take off whatever clothes you felt comfortable enough to remove, and at your own pace.

He was patient, as he always was, while you worked to obey him and not listen to the doubts that swirled in your head. His command, soft as it was, fought against those doubts you had. You wanted to please him, feel the praise run through your body, and that beat out whatever words had been thrown at your body in the past. His pale eyes watched as your thighs were freed and jiggled as you lifted you feet to kick them away.

His legs parted slowly (god what a sight to see Nanami Kento spread his legs wide for your body) and you slotted yourself in between his strong legs. “Look at you,” it came out breathless as he softly slid his hands under your shirt and you took the silent command to throw it off along with your bra, “sweetheart you’re gorgeous.” He pressed a few kisses to your stomach, his lips sinking into your skin. Your hands threaded through his blonde locks to let your nails scrape against his skull.

That was the praise that made every piece of exposed skin worth it- his gentle tone and sweet words sunk into the fat on your body and sent a shiver through you. He responded with soft bites into your even softer skin; his lips sucked a few red marks next to your navel to prove his point.

“Come join me, please Angel. Let me feel you.” He spoke quietly as he lead you onto his lap. You obeyed wordlessly- his words, his voice washed over you and made you compliant. Your weight pressed against his strong thighs, the bed dipped beneath your combined weight, and your stomach trapped his cock between the two of you as you settled down on his lap.

Nanami’s lips instantly latched onto your nipple, sucking and licking the hard bud. His hands roamed across your back, dipped to your love handles to pull you against him and you pressed up closer to his cock. His hips thrusted up on instinct to fuck his cock against your soft stomach, and drew a small moan from your lips. You rolled your hips against him which left behind a nice slick of your juices on his lap. His cock twitched against your stomach just as your clit pulsed from lack of stimulation.

Nanami was more than happy to lazily roll hips against hips until someone gave in. Once again, you broke first. “Wanna feel you Kento, please.” You muttered as your hips sped up on his lap. Your clit throbbed with every light push and you could feel the quiver travel through your thighs.

“You will, sweet girl. I’ll fill you up, give you what you need.” He promised as his hand travelled down to finally touch your wet pussy. His long fingers teased your slit and one easily slid between the folds. He had been the one to storm into the room and dry hump you to a wreck, but now wanted to properly get you ready.

You tried not to pout at him being a gentlemen to prep you but at this point he had teased you too long. You whined and weaved your fingers through his light hair to tug his gaze up to your own. Your empty cunt was painful as it pulsed around nothing. “No, please Kento, I need you now. I promise I can take it I promise just- I need you right now please please-“ he kissed your babbles away and moved his hands to grip the back of your thighs. He was patient, but even he had a limit.

Nanami pulled back to lock his pale gaze onto your teary eyes. “Can you handle that sweetheart?” He asked firmly, any tease gone.

You nodded quickly, blinking away tears at the need of his fat cock inside of you. “Promise Ken! I promise!” You whined and he shushed you again.

“That’s enough baby, lift up for me.” You pushed up on your knees and pawed at his chest as he lined up at your entrance. Your little whines of ‘please’ were silenced as the tip of his cock slipped through your slick hole.

As Nanami helped you lower yourself, he let out a string of encouragements, “You can take it, I know you can good girl, just go slow, don’t rush yourse-“ his words were cut off with a broken moan as you spread your knees and sank further down on his cock. “F-fuck baby.” His head dropped against your shoulder and he fully moaned.

Nanami was vocal in the aspect that he would praise you, give you commands, but those moans were special and sent an electrical shock right to your core. You griped at his hair and wrapped your arms around his neck with your own whine as his thick cock stretched you out.

It burned. As wet as you were, it practically dripped down your legs, his fat cock still stretched and squeezed itself inside of it. You slowly sank down until you met his lap once more, thick cock buried in your fat pussy. Neither of you moved for a moment, enjoying the fill and stretch of each other. His hands clawed into the extra fat on your thighs, sure to leave pinpoint bruises in the morning, and gave a small bounce.

“Ah! Not yet, wait,” you stammered out with a whimper to his hair, your pussy throbbed around the intrusion.

“You can do it for me sweetheart, move and bounce on my cock, yeah? You’ll be a good girl.” He coaxed into your neck with a few swipes of his tongue.

You nodded instantly, his words wiped out any doubts or pain you had. “Ye-yeah. I can.” You confirmed and raised up on your knees slightly before you dropped your weight back down.

He let you set the pace, happy to feel the rise and fall of your thighs on his, watch your tits bounce, feel the tight squeeze of your cunt on his cock, hear the pants right by his ear. “Kento, Kento,” you chanted as your rises got higher and quicker.

His own pants and moans were almost lost in the mix of your vocalizations and the squelch of your pussy around his cock. The tightness that formed deep in your belly came back, egged on by the sounds and feel of Nanami. “More! Ken, I need more, please, just, just a lil’ more.”

You leaned back from him to grind your hips down just as he moved to thrust up to hit right there oh god that was the spot. Your moan was loud and delicious to him as the head of his cock brushed the spongy spot inside of you that left you slack jawed. He took advantage of your leaned back form and laid back on the bed before he bucked his hips. You fell forward, catching yourself on his chest. “More, sweet girl?” He questioned with a smile of adoration and lust.

Nanami was nothing short of a giving and loving partner, always happy to give you exactly what you asked for. In this new position, he was quick to thrust up so hard that it jerked you forward. That warmth in your belly grew sharper, brighter, as it weaved through your body with every hit of his cock inside of you. He continued his thrusts as you threw yourself back to meet his hips. Wet slaps of his cock being driven into you mingled with your loud moans and his quieter grunts.

He never could keep his hands still at this point. His hands groped at your jiggly ass, moved to cup your belly that hung over him, pinched at your nipples on your tits that swung right in his face, and pulled your thighs apart to watch his cock piston in and out of you. It was too much for him, just to watch you and everything about you as you bounced on top of him with such lewd sounds and faces. He loved you. “My good girl, you’re taking me so well, bouncing on my cock so nicely. How does it feel princess?”

Your arms threatened to give out as your hands clenched into fist on top of his chest. “Good! ‘S good Kento! Your- ah! your cock ‘s hitting so good!” You managed to respond as he continued to jack hammer into your soppy cunt. Nanami deepened his thrusts at your words, pleased that you always listened to him even with his cock that wiped most thoughts out of your mind. “Close, gonna...wanna cum with you.” You whined over his quiet grunts.

One hand left your ass and settled on the fat of your pussy right above the sensitive little bud that begged for touch. Your clit throbbed with the closeness and you leaned closer to him. He responded by snapping his cock deeper into you, a wet smack echoing with every thrust. “ ‘m close too princess, your so tight around me. ‘M gonna fill you up nice and full, okay? Make you bigger with all my cum.” His thumb found your clit and gave it a soft rub.

A jolt of sensation travelled through your body. “So deep, cum so deep inside me, puh-, puhlease!” Your begs and pleads became a mess as Nanami sped up the circles on your clit. Only utters of “Ken!”, “puhlease!” “Cum ‘n me!” fell from your mouth as your orgasm grew. You slunk down on his chest, almost laid out flat on him as his hips kept up their relentless pace. The circling of your clit, your cunt leaking around his fat cock, the warmth in your belly, Nanami’s praises of good girl my good girl- everything snapped.

You came loudly with stars behind your eyes, called out his name with a quiver that ran through your thighs and a gush of your juices that coated his lap beneath you as you full collapsed against his chest. He fucked you through your orgasm as he gave you one, two, three deep pumps- his hips only stilled with his cock buried balls deep as he emptied his cum inside your pulsing cunt and his lips praised your name. It took a moment to feel your thighs stop their shake, feel his cum settle into you, as you both recovered from your orgasms.

His chest heaved under you, arms wrapped around your waist to drag you up off his softening cock. You whined at the drag, positive both his lap and the sheets would be a mess of your combined cum. These moments, basked in the afterglow, neither of you could care about stained sheets and leaking cum.

Nanami settled you against his side and his lips dropped a slow and deep kiss against your own. “Love you, love you Kento.” You mumbled. “I love you, my darling.”

△ △ △

So yes, seeing his shirt on you- face still flushed, hair a mess, red bite marks decorating your plush stomach- it was his favorite look.