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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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Hello!! It's me again, I loved what you wrote from my last request, and I wanted to try if I could ask for another one. I know it's a holiday, so I understand if it's gonna be a while, or if you'll be unable to do it.

Picture this, s/o is out busy all day, leaving the slashers on their own. Then, while the slashers are in their duties, they spotted something that reminded them of s/o. It can either be clothings, accessories, or even the smell of something their s/o bakes, etc.

I would love to see how Michael and Jason (even the other slashers, for the other readers out there) would contemplate when something like that happens to them. Like a moment thinking about their s/o and recognizing their adoration for their s/o.

(Ask is a little long but I also wanna say I love you writings so much! Happy Holidays!)

oooooh I adore this!! Happy Holidays to you as well! Just to make it more painful I am going to make it so the s/o is gone for ‘longer’ making them yearn more :) Also forewarning there is quiet a bit of gore in this but not super bad, also includes people getting murdered and angsty vibes! hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS BEING REMINDED OF THEIR S/O WHEN THEY’RE GONE

INCLUDES JASON, and MICHAEL

JASON VOORHEES

A creature quietly stirred in the shadows of the trees, moving rapidly but somehow silently. A ghost. A myth. A legend of Camp Crystal Lake. When you were gone and he was on the hunt, the man that bared the name Jason Voorhees, was ruthless. Everything he was with you as a lover was lost and replaced by violence, rage and a malicious intent. Brutally spilling blood in revenge, becoming one with the forest and lake that hid him effortlessly, waiting for the time to strike.

The small group of teenagers were in the rustic wooden cabin glimmering in the night by with the warm glow of the campfire outside, left abandoned for other activities. He could hear the groans, heavy breathes and muffled music from the drunk teens, creaking the old beds in a rhythmic pace. The creature white knuckled the wooden handle of his machete, forcing bones and veins to appear along the damaged skin.

The normally creaky floorboards of the porch did not creak for him, hiding his presence, almost as in appreciation for the man that kept up the camp and fed the woods surrounding. Jason made his way into the wooden structure quickly meeting a sizable man, shirtless, protecting a young female that stood behind him poised to scream but the air never left her lungs for the machete brutally skewered both teens with little effort. A river of scarlet seeped into the old wooden floorboards beneath the killers muddy boots as the blade was pulled out of the slumped corpses. With forceful steps Jason marched into the small bedroom ripping the door open, the hulking frame of the beast lunged toward the naked skinny teen and with the clean whoosh of metal blood sprayed everywhere, the bed, the floor, on Jason and coating the now screaming women beneath the teen. Quickly the creature grabbed her throat, pulling her up and squeezing, watching the life drain from her trembling body, lips turning blue and eyes bulging, she was gone in a simple few minutes.

The night fell silent again until a new muffled song appeared from the bathroom, a familiar song, one the creature had heard many times before. Turning slowly and gingerly pushing the wooden bathroom door open, steam swept through the air and a phone laid on the counter, a woman was in the shower singing alone to the song playing from the device.

The scene was yours but the smell and voice wasn't. It brought the creature to a strange state, one that placed the man in between his two persona's; deadly murderer and gentle lover. Jason stood observing for a moment, remembering all the nights he would come home and find your little naked body in the hot shower pretending as if you were on stage to thousands preforming your favorite songs. So cute, so pure and vulnerable, coating yourself in the beautiful floral scents you always seemed to dawn. Jason would often step into the stream with you usually fully clothed making you laugh-- Your laugh was even so adorable to the large man-- and he would run massive hands where he pleased along your soft skin, making you look so small under him. Perfection was an understatement to Jason, you were his everything and you took him for what he was, loving the man with all of your heart.

Jason missed you and missed you bad; gone for a week seemed like a year to him. Hating when your family pulled you away to the fast and loud city, which you told your lover you hated too but you both knew you would have to see them sometime, making sure you were fine.

A ridiculously out of tone lyric was sung and it ripped threw Jason’s ears, drawing his ire and pulling him into the killer character. This was not you, not your smell, not your voice. Swiping the phone to the floor the creature destroyed it under his boot with ease and forced the giant blood covered machete through the shower curtain and into the unfortunate soul behind it.

MICHAEL MYERS

A scream broke the air of the cool October night. In the traditional white American home a crimson liquid painted the inside, smeared against the walls, sprayed along the flickering tv screen, pouring out of a woman. A man watched her, head tilted as she clawed against the grey carpet with one hand, while the other futility clutched her neck where a stream of blood ran. His anger was bright at the fact it wasn't you beneath him, bleeding out and crawling away helplessly.

The shape of Haddonfield had made home in the shadows tonight, slipping away between the cookie-cutter houses and stalking with warm glow from the windows. A blur of white and navy hid away for the moonlight didn't even want to touch the sick soul, seamlessly blending into the night.

He had watched her from the bushes with a feeling of desire forming in his core, burning fury and sick thoughts incased him. The shape could do things to her that he never could with you, but it wouldn't be the same, he knew. She had your same hair colour. Similar build. The same black hoodie. Baking something that smelled familiar.

You were gone, not at home but in your hometown. Far away from Haddonfield. Only one more night he counted in his head, one night too long. You had done everything to try and convince Michael to take the road trip with you but leaving his town wasn't something he ever wanted, you knew that and accepted it. However, Michael didn't accepted it, rage grew every hour you were gone, knowing he should have just tied you up in the bedroom, threatening to kill you. Fuck, he wanted to see how your blood would run between his fingers and shimmer on his cold metal blade. Something was different about you, and Michael just couldn't place it why he had kept you alive and allowed your touch for so long. It could've been your smell perhaps, it was sweet with a tinge of musk from himself; the copper smell fell flawlessly against your skin and mixed into a dangerous perfume. Maybe it was your nature, treating the man like a human instead of a demon, not ever wanting to push him on why he was the way he was, you just took what he gave you and it was enough. Every living thing has needs and you met his perfectly, unlike the bitch he watched.

Large boots squelched along the damp grass, striding with a wicked intent the shape quietly opened the back door of the home, stepping into the shadows of the hallway. Michael looped into the kitchen where the woman was; she gazed into the black eye holes of the white mask and screamed, faltering to the living room, Michael walked slowly grabbing the largest knife from the wooden block on the counter. Two large strides had the man towering over her figure, slitting her neck from ear to ear.

Michael had planned this from the very moment he saw her yesterday walking past the house you shared with him. She was not you, and that was the point.

#my writing #asks #requests #horror #slashers #michael myers #halloween #jason vorhees #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #friday the 13th #slashers fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

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I have been seeing those posts about ep 40 jon being injured and sleep deprived in the archives interviewing the others. Jon probably hasn’t come down from that getting wormed fear/adrenaline.. maybe he’s about to have a breakdown.. but tims there. Or martin or both. Also thank you for all the good content this year :)

Thank you for the lovely message! Had fun with this one, though I think I made it a tad more angsty than I planned to. Hope you enjoy otherwise, and happy holidays!

“...It’s just pain.”

Pain. That’s all. He can work through that, he’s done it before. The pills are wearing off, his entire body throbbing and wrestling with the feeling of hundreds of frantic, wriggling worms burrowing in and feasting- no, best not to think about that. He’s got to stay in control.

Control. Control is standing in his own office, leaning against his file cabinet surrounded by the corpses of worms with his boss sitting in front of him. His boss who is currently giving him an unimpressed stare, demanding that he go home. But it’s alright, he can do this.

It’s just pain.

Elias recounts what happened when Sasha came up to his office, alerting him to Prentiss’s attack. His voice is measured and controlled, but his face betrays a level of disgust that they all feel, the living reminder of which sits in front of him, bleeding and fidgeting as he tries to stay upright, squirming not unlike the-no. Stop.

He wishes he had the tape, but Sasha lost it in the confusion. This second-hand retelling is stale and hard to swallow. Elias sounds perfectly reasonable, as always, apologizing to Jon for taking too long with the CO2 to which Jon only replies “It’s fine. We’re alive.”

Just barely.

But then he talks about the scream. And Jon hears it all over again, that impossible sound of agony and rage that sung out as his world faded to black. And then Elias talks about how he stumbled upon them, compared them to fucking swiss cheese and he’s got to stop him, raising a trembling, still-bleeding hand. He doesn’t need to be reminded of that. No, Prentiss is gone. What he needs to focus on now is Gertrude- how she died, who killed her. If the person who did it was sitting in this very room. If he’s going to be next.

He imagines his body, lying forgotten in the tunnels as Gertrude’s did all those months. No one looking for him, no one caring. He’ll never get his answers, he’ll just lie there and rot like all those worms-

Elias gives no more useful information, repeating the story as if Jon’s being irrational and urges him to go home. You can barely stand. It’s true. But if he sits, he’ll have to look Elias in the eye instead of standing over him, grasping what little high ground he can.

“Martin finding her body in the tunnels is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.”

Is it?

He sighs, succumbing to exhaustion and sinking to his seat.

“Can you send in Tim?”

________

Tim’s voice is strange and detached. He sounds...traumatized, which is of course to be expected.

He’s probably still high, too.

It’s odd, how these things affect them. It’s sharpened all of Jon’s edges to an untenable degree, every movement a sharp agony of tangled nerves that sends his mind spiraling. But it dulled Tim, left him foggy and so unlike himself. He stares blankly somewhere to the left of Jon, as if meeting his eyes and seeing his own injuries laid out before him like a warped funhouse mirror would be too much, would undo this strange facsimile of a workday that Jon’s tried to conjure. Just the two of them in his office, discussing a case. Pay no mind to the dead worms or the blood coating the ground and the desk and his arm and his leg and-

“...I mean, I went full Gas-Rambo.” Tim. That sounds like Tim. His voice may be wrong but the words are there, teasing and familiar. He comes back, clears his throat and nods. But then Tim keeps going, slides back into his memories and makes them lucid for Jon.

“You know that worm smell? That earthy, rotten smell?”

Oh, yes.

It’s still there, cloying and wretched reminder that it is. Elias told him to leave the basement, told him that he and Tim needed fresh air. But Jon wouldn’t listen, he never listens. And that’s why they’re in this mess.

But the why is bigger than that, too. He needs to know why Gertrude was in the tunnels, why she was killed, why these statements disturb him so and why the Archives feel wrong, like an intruder’s in their midst. He thinks he knows where he can find the answers.

“Could you...describe the tunnels?” Tim sighs, but Jon presses on. Perhaps through someone else’s eyes he’ll find the one detail he missed, the one thing that explains it all and gives him peace of mind.

It’s quite the opposite.

Because the worms down there, in that room Tim found, weren’t trying to attack anyone. They were crawling, wrapping around each other to form a ring- no, a doorway. Jon’s mind fixates on the word and Tim stares resolutely ahead, looking weary and drained. He has to hold it together, just two more interviews and he can go home and rest (and think and weep and scream). He clears his throat, lowers his voice to the register he finds most authoritative and tells Tim to go home and get some sleep. Tim rolls his eyes at the action, but gets to his feet, slow and pained.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He starts to shuffle towards the door but something twitches out of the corner of Jon’s eye, a tiny, jumping movement like...like a worm. He lets out a whimper as his mind shuts down, starts tearing at his arms, ripping at the bandages because something’s still there, burrowing deeper into his skin and soon it’s going to hit bone and where’s the corkscrew, where’s Martin’s steady hands and strong grip, he needs help-

“Whoa, there!” Tim’s coming back but he shouldn’t be, not when there’s worms all over his desk, crawling and jumping and devouring.

“She’s- she’s still here, can’t you see?” Jon’s tripping over words, stumbling out of his seat as he tries to avoid the writhing mass he sees below him. “Get h-help, we need- Martin! Martin, are you there?” It’s hard to walk, hard to move but he does it anyway, grabbing at the wall for balance as Tim backs away- good, go, get out, get help-

Rapid footsteps sound and Martin appears in the doorway, his eyebrows knit in concern. “What’s- oh Jon, you’ve ripped your bandages, let me-”

Jon doesn’t care about that right now. Not when he can hear their song, not when Gertrude was rotting in the walls for so long and he didn’t know, he didn’t know. She became a mystery and he will too, it’s just a matter of time. He grabs onto Martin’s arm, clawing at his jumper with desperate hands.

“She’s-she’s-”

“There’s no one here, Jon. She’s gone. The ECDC took care of it,” Martin’s just trying to placate him, he can see the pity in his eyes. Maybe he needs it. But if Prentiss is gone, that doesn’t mean the danger is. Even if he can tell himself there are no worms, it’s all in his mind, there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his head- you’re next.

So he holds on tighter, dragging Martin down to his level with a movement that makes him flush. “You- you saw her, Martin. Gertrude. How did she die?”

“Jon, please, just sit down-”

He pulls harder, raises his voice. “How did she die?”

“Jon-”

“How?”

“She was shot! Three times to the chest. Th-That’s what I saw.” Martin’s eyes widen, as if the words were torn from him involuntarily.

Shot. Shot. The words echo somehow in this small, cluttered room and Jon can’t wrap his mind around them. She wasn’t attacked by Prentiss, killed by some unknowable enemy. She was shot. With a gun. A gun wielded by someone who had a reason to take the Archivist out. Someone who might still have that reason.

He staggers back, releasing Martin and collapsing with what might be a sigh or a wail- he can’t hear what’s coming out of his mouth. He dimly registers a hand on his shoulder, gentle and warm but it feels like a threat because something’s wrong here, something’s after him and maybe it’s Martin, who found the corpse. Maybe it’s Tim, collapsed silently in the chair. Maybe it’s Elias, telling him to go home where he’s alone and vulnerable and easy to get. So he scrambles back against his desk, breathing heavily with his arms thrown out in front of him.

Martin was right, there are no worms here. Prentiss is gone. And something worse, and perhaps much more human is waiting in the shadows.

“..just needs sleep and some painkillers. I can take him back, call us a cab-”

“-both full of holes, for Christ’s sake. Jon’s scratching at himself! I’m not going to leave you on your own.”

“This isn’t some fun archives sleepover, Martin, you aren’t missing out on anything, I promise-”

“Shut up!” Martin’s voice breaks through the fog, loud and commanding in a way it usually isn’t. Jon hazards a glance up to see him standing at full height and even Tim looks shocked, leaning back in his chair as much as it allows. Martin goes red, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “That’s not what this is about, just...just let me do this. Let me make sure you’re alright. Please.”

Tim pauses, but gives in with a sigh. “Fine. I drove in, bad day for it. You fine with driving us back, or should we take a cab? I need to sleep.”

Jon raises his voice, tired of being talked about as if he weren’t in the room and can’t make decisions for himself. “N-No. I’m not going back with either of you-”

“Quit it, Jon.” Tim gingerly rises to his feet, shooting a tired look at his hunched form. “Nobody’s out to get you, you just need to get some fucking sleep and you’ll feel better. Now get up, or we’re leaving without you.” He clearly doesn’t mean it, because he pauses and waits for them in the doorway, watching as Martin bends down to offer his hand.

Jon’s hand automatically reaches out to grab his, but he stops himself. Maybe it’s his best shot- if it’s one of them, they may not make a move if the other one’s present. If it’s someone outside of their group, their odds are better for fighting them off. But if it’s Tim and Martin, well.

Jon takes his hand. because what other choice does he have? Only bad ones, it would seem. Martin helps him to his feet. “Are you sure you can walk? I can-”

“I’m fine.” If he’s going to die, he’d rather do it on his two feet and spare himself the indignity of holding onto his killer. He lets Martin keep a hand on his back, though- he can’t walk without it.

Every slow step is agony; he ignores Sasha smirk on the way out and eventually finds himself bundled in the backseat of Tim’s beat up silver sedan. He considers asking for the passenger seat as his nausea might get the best of him back here, but thinks better of it. Better to be back here and alone.

But then he isn’t alone, because Tim hesitates and moves to the back, wincing as he sits beside him. Why would he do that? What does he want? Jon wraps his arms around himself and scoots as far as he can to the side, trying to focus on Martin fiddling with the car and not the presence beside him. The radio blasts as soon as the engine roars to life and Jon flinches back, fingers burrowing deeper into his arms.

Martin begins to drive, not saying a word as he pulls out into traffic; he knows where they’re going, but Jon doesn’t. Tim must see his confusion.

“Were you not listening? We’re going back to mine.”

Jon casts his eyes to the floor. “I-I don’t want to-”

“Do you have unexpired food at your flat, Jon?” His face heats up- he’d been living on leftovers in the Archives, so that’s a no. “Will you actually rest if you go back on your own? Will you-” There’s a hand on Jon’s own, gentle but firm as Tim pulls it away from his arm and forces it down to the seat. “-stop picking.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, but Tim doesn’t let go, just holds his hand in his and leans his head against the window, staring out at the road. Jon doesn’t pull back, no matter how much he wants to. He just looks down, staring at the larger hand on his own and wonders how easy it would be for Tim to break it. Just one good, hard squeeze and a crush of bone but no, Tim just absentmindedly runs his thumb over Jon’s knuckles and somehow this hurts more.

They must make an odd couple, he and Tim bandaged like mummies staggering up the steps with Martin at the helm. He’s been here a few times and he has to fight against the instinctive ease he feels upon walking through the threshold. Martin’s talking and Tim’s barking out short answers, dropping his belongings as he limps towards the bedroom and makes a dismissive gesture at Martin. Jon feels strangely outside of his body, looking in on a bastardized scene of domesticity through a foggy haze of pain and unreality. With a start he comes back to himself, and suddenly he’s on Tim’s couch; time must have passed for he’s wrapped in a blanket with a steaming cup of tea in his hands and a lump in his throat. And he’s talking, watching as Martin fixes his bandage with a careful hand.

“...tapes are gone, Martin. Sasha said she lost them but I don’t understand-”

“Prentiss practically destroyed the Archives, Jon, I’m surprised more aren’t missing. Look, Tim’s already asleep, you should do the same-”

Sleep? How can I sleep when- “Someone killed Gertrude,” he whispers and his hands shake, tea dripping down the side of his mug and scalding his skin. “And they’re going to get me next. Can’t you see?”

Two hands wrap around his own- big, like Tim’s but softer and unscarred. Kind, but still capable. Of what, Jon doesn’t know. He lifts his eyes towards Martin and sees it- Martin’s scared too, doesn’t know what to do with Jon’s ramblings and doesn’t know how to comfort him or make it better.

“Drink your tea.” There’s an edge of hysteria in his voice, a naked plea that Jon finds unnerving. “And I’ll keep watch. You’ve- you’ve got us, Jon.” It’s so sincere.

Jon wants to believe it. “I do?”

“Yes.”

He drinks his tea and feels the fogginess from painkillers he doesn’t remember taking slip over him, quieting the voice in his head to a barely audible whisper. The pain’s gone but the memory of it doesn’t fade; he stifles a manic giggle as a childish tune pops into his head. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out!

His eyes drift shut as the cup is pried out of his grip, a gentle hand pushing him to lay down on the sofa. He hears the dull murmur of comforting words and a sniffle- he’s going to go to sleep soon, Martin will be the only one awake, and Jon doesn’t know what he’ll do or what he’s capable of. But he’s so, so tired. And he may not trust Martin, but he wants him to stay.

He wakes only once during the night to see the outline of Martin sitting in a chair, scribbling something in a notebook. It’s so innocuous he can’t help the tiny noise of relief that slips out of his mouth.

Martin doesn’t even look over, just quietly tells him to go back to sleep as if he’s hushed him a few times already. Maybe he has. The normalcy of it is like a peek into some universe he’s not yet privy to; Jon knows he shouldn’t trust the comfort of it. And yet.

He goes back to sleep.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252950

#prompt fills #my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #cw worms #panic attacks #general grossness that comes with worms #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #jon's paranoia coming in hot #Anonymous

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nordics-out-for-harambe · 7 years ago

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You know when you make a really cute au/have a really cute idea for an otp, then someone says something and all of a sudden you just have angsty/dramatic ideas??? That has now happened. I still want to continue the nøkken au that I’ve made, and I’m more than willing to write out of chronological order, but this development will entirely alter some future fics. Just a heads-up, there is main character death.

“I Suppose I Do”

Mathias had been living in the cottage for two years now. While his fishing didn’t bring in too much money, it was enough to be comfortable in the house. It was also worth it to visit his neighbors – a pair of nøkken that lived in the lake near his home that he had grown close to. Well, he supposed, close wasn’t the right term for it. He and Lukas had become increasingly more and more intimate, now flirting outwardly with each other – much to Emil’s disgust. Mathias grinned. No, close wasn’t the right word. Romantic and familial were more appropriate.

The three had gotten into a routine – Mathias would visit every afternoon at two, then stay until six. Sometimes he would arrive earlier, some days he would leave the lake later. It really depended on when he was done fishing and selling his catch. Today, he was incredibly early – he arrived at nine in the morning.

The winter air was bitterly cold, so he wore a thick winter coat and boots. “Hej! Lukas! Emil! Don’t tell me that you’re asleep!” He carried a large bag of fish on his back, the weight of it heavy on his broad shoulders. “Guys!!! I brought some mackerel! I know that it’s your guys’ favorite.” He laughed to himself as he remembered two brothers fighting over the single mackerel that he had brought last time – he had yet to make that mistake again. Reminiscing, he was distracted and completely overlooked a slick patch of ice near the lake’s edge.

Had he not been weighed down by heavy winter clothes and a large burlap sack, he would have been better able to catch his balance. Had the lake not been so close he wouldn’t have fallen into the icy waters.

The frigid water quickly closed over his head and he saw nothing but darkness. He blindly struggled to take off his coat, hoping to lighten himself enough to swim back up to the surface. Still, as he scrambled and fumbled for his coat buttons, he sank deeper and faster. Lungs burning, he clawed upwards, the light of the sun so tantalizingly close. Yet the light steadily grew dimmer as he struggled.

As the remaining air burned in his lungs, he reflected. Mom and Dad won’t have anyone to take care of them. Berwald won’t have anyone to get him to ask Tino out. That lady in town won’t have anyone to give her food for her family. Emil will be alright, I guess. He has Lukas. Lukas…

Finally, he stopped struggling. His last memories of the nøkk flashed through his mind: meeting him on a dark October night, nursing him to health, laughing many nights away with him and his brother, learning to swim, sweet and salty kisses under the moon. The dark obscured his sight and his eyes closed for the last time.

Lukas.

“Emil, you must go slow. You are scaring away all of the prey.” Lukas patiently tried to teach the younger nøkk how to hunt, yet he was steadily approaching his last nerve. The boy groaned. “I don’t even know why we still hunt. Mathias brings us fish all the time! Can’t we just eat that instead?”

Lukas frowned. “We will not take advantage of his kindness. We must try to repay the debt in some fashion. Perhaps we can show our gratitude by killing a deer for him. He has mentioned that he likes venison.”

Emil smirked. “You mean you two talked about what you like to eat, and you just happened to take note of everything that he said. Right?” Lukas’s eyes smoldered. “Emil. Walk. Quietly. Now.” “Ugh, fine!”

An hour later, the brothers had failed to catch anything – mostly due to Emil’s loud complaining and purposeful stomping. When they arrived at the lake empty-handed, they paused before entering it. “Emil, do you feel that something is wrong?” The young one crossed his arms, “Yeah, it’s cold” His tone was sarcastic, yet his eyes reflected his brother’s apprehension.

“Lukas, is that Mathias’s bag?!” The elder water creature snatched the still-full bag up from the ground, eyes steadily widening. “He brought fish, yet…” Their heads simultaneously snapped towards the water. “You don’t think…” Without answering, Lukas threw himself into the water, Emil following soon after.

The two abandoned their human forms in their stress; Emil became a sleek white horse and Lukas’s eyes glowed yellow, razor sharp teeth jutting from his jaw. They frantically searched the entirety of the lake bottom until Lukas found him.

Mathias had long since passed – his skin was a deathly pallor and his eyes were still shut. He was cold to the touch, and his long blonde hair flowed with the lake’s waves. Lukas’s tears disappeared in the water as he pulled the soaked winter clothes off of the man.

Out of the water and in the cave, Lukas’s wailing became both audible and heartbreaking. Tears coated his pale cheeks and fell onto the corpse below him. His now-sharp nails practically ripped through the man’s shirt with how tightly he clutched it. “Mathias!!!” His unearthly wails were interjected by his occasional pleas and screams.

Emil slowly pulled himself out of the water, now returned to his human form. Tears fell from his lashes as he clung to his still-distraught brother. “Lukas, Lukas, Lukas…” he sobbed his name brokenly, unable to form a full sentence.

After a while, the wails and sobs slowed and quieted to soft hiccups. Emil touched Mathias’s face, his neck. “Lukas, he’s d…d…” The words choked and were lost in his throat. “He cannot be dead, Emil. He cannot be dead. He cannot.” Lukas took the man’s shoulders and shook him, “Wake up, Matt!!! NOW!”

He frantically shook the man, glowing eyes fearful and angry. “Wake up, jævla rasshøl!!!” “Lukas! Stop!!!” Emil pulled the other of the man, crying as he did so. Lukas stopped and slumped where he now sat.

“He is gone.” The words echoed, final. “Yeah…I guess.” They sat in silence, neither moving.

“We cannot leave him here. We must…do something.” Emil turned to his brother, who turned to him as well. “We might take him to his house. Bury him in his yard.” “But what about his family? Should we leave a note or something?” “I..I am not sure right now. But he cannot stay out like this.” Unbeknownst to the two, Mathias’s hands had begun to clench into fists.

“Maybe we leave a note. We can’t have no one know what happened. His family-“ “I understand that his family will be hurt. But if we lead them to know that he drowned, our lake will be examined. Dredged. We will be discovered or our lake destroyed.” “But he has friends in town, they’re gonna notice he’s gone.” Before Lukas could reply, a hoarse coughing interrupted them. Mathias was now lying on his side facing away from the two, hacking up lake water.

“Mathias!!!!” They chorused and leapt towards him. “Matt! We thought that you died!!!” Lukas and Emil bawled, salty tears falling onto the already soaked man. He finally stopped coughing and laid on his back again, eyes still closed. “Is it just me, or is the light really bright?”

Lukas and Emil faltered. “Maybe a little, yeah. But aren’t you used to the sun?” “Ugh, not like this…” He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands. Lukas took notice of his still-deathly pale skin, hands gently rubbing the man’s cheeks. “You are probably sick, Matt. Let us get something for you to wear and something to eat.”

Mathias groaned and nodded, pulling his hands from his face. “Yeah, I feel awful.” Lukas and Emil gasped when he opened his eyes. “Mathias, your eyes…” “They are yellow.”

“Yellow?! Like, Lukas on a rampage yellow?!” The brother nodded, though Lukas did so more slowly and with a narrowing of his own eyes. “They’re literally yellow. Wait, open your mouth!” Stunned, Mathias slowly parted his mouth. Inside rested a single row of sharp fangs. “D…Does your jaw or anything hurt?” “Now that you mention it, it feels like my wisdom teeth are acting up again.”

The nøkk brothers glanced nervously at each other, eyes reflecting each other’s concern. “Matt, I must now tell you something that you will find hard to believe.” Matthias noted the tone of Lukas’s voice and almost sat up in fear. “What? What’s wrong with me?!” Lukas took a breath before continuing; gently placing his hands on Mathias’s shoulders once more.

“Matt, when a human and a nøkk love each other, they are separated by mortality. The water creature must live while the human passes one day. But when that human dies in the nøkk’s waters and has nothing but pure love for the creature then…” He paused, worrying his lip with a now-human tooth. “Luke, tell me. Please.” Lukas sighed. “We believe that you may have been transformed into a nøkk as well.”

Matthias’s pale face became ten shades lighter. “I’m…I’m a-a…” His eyes promptly rolled back into his head and he fell backwards with a thud. Silence reigned once more. “Well, at least he heard the news.”

The process of turning actually took an entire week. During that time, Emil and Lukas took care of the new creature. Especially Lukas.

“Matt, you must eat the fish. You need the energy and strength.” “But it’s raw! That’s gross!” Lukas huffed and rolled his eyes. “You are a nøkk now, you eat raw fish. It tastes quite good, actually. You caught this one – mackerel.” Lukas practically drooled as he held the delicacy out. “There is a reason that it is our favorite fish. Eat it.”

Matthias indignantly turned and narrowed his now blue eyes. “No, it’s gross and smelly and fishy and-“ He finally caught a whiff of the offending dish, “-really. Good. Smelling.” His pupils dilated as he reached for the fish. Lukas offered it again, and it was ripped from his grasp. Mathias tore into the food voraciously as both bones and skin disappeared.

When the meal was gone, Lukas smirked. “‘Gross and smelly’?” Matthias grinned. “Maybe not.” He held out his arms. “I wish someone would lay here in this lonely cave with me. I’m alone all the time.” Frosty blue eyes rolled once more. “Matt, I must go help Emil hunt.” “I’m sure he’ll be ok for a little bit. Please?” He pouted, eyes watery. “Besides, I’m on mandatory bed rest for three more days.” “The process takes a full week, we’ve been over this.” Even as he spoke, he moved to embrace the other.

“Would you have missed me?” “Hm?” Matthias glanced away. “If I hadn’t turned into, you know…Would you have missed me?” Lukas bit his lip and glanced away. “I am not very good at expressing myself.” “I know, try your best.” His expression was the most morose and honest that the elder had ever seen it. “Yes, I would have missed you terribly.”

He paused. “…Do you remember that I mentioned that the human must have a pure love for the nøkk in order for this to be possible?” A nod. “…The feelings must be reciprocated.” “You mean-“ “Yes, I love you, more than life itself.”

Matthias tackled the smaller creature in a death-grip, then kissed him roughly and lovingly. “I’ve been waiting for years to hear you say that.” His dopey grin nearly brought a wide smile to Lukas’s own face. “Yes. But do not do anything like that again. Or, I swear, I will kill you.” “Hej, but you love me.” He kissed him again, this time with no resistance.

“I suppose that I do.” This time, the smile was returned.

I realize that this is not very close to folklore. I had to make up my own version for how a human can transform into a nøkk. Icelandic ones are generally ‘water horses’: they appear as a beautiful white horse and lure children and farmers to touch it/climb on its back. Like I said, I will gladly write more if you guys want more of this. I figure that I can write more from before Matthias was transformed. I hope that you guys enjoyed!

#aph denmark #aph norway #aph dennor #aph iceland #nøkken!norway #nøkken!iceland #nøkken!au #mun writes a thing with words #nordics fanfics

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teecup · 4 years ago

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Update to the First Idea. Me and A friend on discord where overthinking this... a lot and have a lot to add to this.

So the Idea was to take a side charactere from no longer human to have their own place in a lightnovel and tell us about dazai's past.

My Idea was to take Takeichi in this place since he was the First and only Person in yozo's life that ever exposed him hideing his real self.

But thinking about haveing a charactere In bsd that actually can read dazai would be really interesting.

The reason why I thought it would be hard to writhe about dazai's backstory in that way was manly because: Takeichi would need to be killed in Order to not have a lot of 'plotholes' or just confusion of why he never was mentioned at all in the story later on.

But there is actually a pretty easy (,angsty) and good way to do that. Dazai would have to kill him or do something resulting in his death. And that idea isnt even that random.

In 'No longer human' yozo tells that killing Takeichi crossed his mind After he got 'Exposed' by him.

After we had fix that plot hole our heads where going wild so and I habe to get this shit in order somehow so dont mind thi not looking great from now.

To go a lot more into Detail with the interaction between yozo and Takeichi I need to read 'No longer Human' again.

But I Think haveing Takeichi In bsd would add so much to dazai's charactere.

We don't See Dazai getting overwhelmed in bsd a lot. I personally can remember .

1 being dazai crying wile oda die's. This one is pretty self explainatory.

But the secound one always was a bit random to me. When dazai shot the body In the '15 year old' lightnovel/anime arc. Dazai Is an emotioncold murderer why would his emotions take over like this in that Situation?

Together with our Idea of his backstory.

A flashback.

Imagien dazai hurting Takeichi so bad , Out of sorrow from getting exposed, that there was no way for him to survive and he ask's dazai to end his Suffering. Dazai does because he doesn't want his friend to suffer.

Now going back to the scene we where talking about. Dazai asked the man If he should 'end his suffering' and also wile shooteing him he says 'thats more than you deserve' could be implieing a flashback to that Situation.

Chuuya grabbed the gun from the side and stopped it.

Dazai saw the handgun that he grabbed, saw the corpse under his feet, and then looked at Chuuya. He had a mystified face.

"He's already dead. Don't shoot dead bodies in vain."

Dazai looked at him blankly. He was more like a boy than anybody had ever seen, an expression appropriate for a child.

Then, Dazai sniffed and gave a dull smile. "You're right. You're absolutely right. That would be the normal way to think."

He threw the pistol away like it was dirty and walked as if he had lost interest in both Chuuya and the corpse.

His expression returned to his usual Dazai thing. It was a gray expression that wasn't interested in any concept.

Also the way how fast dazai switched After chuuya stopped him from keep on shooteing the corps.

Wile shooteing the corpse dazai was in a Kind of Trance stage.

After that the time of Realisation.

The wierd statement towards chuuya

And how he snapped back into his role.

In the time of Realisation I Think he realised that he had fallen out of his usual role.

This all is kinda wierd konsidering we had absulutely no context to this scene. But imagiening jim haveing a flashback here would explain a lot about how he is acting.

(Again I am so sorry how wierd written this all is its 3 am and I can't sleep)

(Didn't know how to form that new so here just the Screenshots of what my friend said)

After the kids got blew up in the truck dazai tried to convince oda to stay, telling him about why he joined the mafia (kinda revealing his real self) and grabbed After him without rewatching. After that instead of following him he wen't to mori asking for help. This could be him makeing shure not to kill a friend (again) out of sorrow.

~probably gonna update this again but thats enoph for now~

(I am really sorry for my grammar and writhing. English isn't my First language and on top of that i have an learning disorder.)

I wanted to Talk about dazai's backstory a bit or more how we could get to know about it. The idea for this Post is from @delidazai from Tik Tok so check their rencent Videos out for more context.

(I only read the "15 year old" lightnovel yet so I dont have any deep Information on the dark era or Origin of the ada, also again I wanna apologize my grammar since english isnt my First language and I have an learning disabillity.)

The problem with dazai's charactere is that we can't really Trust his Information about his own live. What we know from dazai's backstory rn all has been told from the view of people near dazai at that time. Exaple 1 "The Dark Era" is About Oda and both "15 year old" and stormbringer are about chuuya.

In her recent video where 2 options discussed in who coult tell about dazai's life befor the age of 14/15.

1. (The Option I would absulutely love to have in bsd)

A side charactere from "No longer human" get's their own lightnovel in bsd. We already saw this with Fritzgerald In the anime and kunikida In his ova.

(Since I thought about this a lot I realised : this Could be really hard to get working, for the example of dazai.)

The only side charactere I could possibly Think about here is Takeichi. He was an Highschool "friend" of yozo and also the First and only Person to expose that yozo was playing a charactere.

I would absulutely love this Option since I loved this charactere In no longer human but that could be really hard to writhe in a way that it makes sense with the Rest of the story.

-option 2. Is more likely and really Interesting.

A lightnovel from the view of mori.

Mori Isn't a really liked charactere In the fandom but a lightnovel out of his view would make sense for a lot of reasons:

1. Dazai's past: (obviously this is what this Post is about) Mori had an Big impackt in dazai's life.

-Dazai witnessed the death of the old boss and was the reason why mori is the Boss of the pm In the First place. We still dont know why mori choose Dazai to be the witness and how he came in contact with him in the First place.

An Idea I had was since mori was an underground doctor Dazai had come to him for treatment/ mori treated him. Possibly because of dazai's First suicide attemd at that age. An Big reason for why I Think that is an possibility is this Part of Bsd Beast (In the epolog):

"You become determined," Mori said in a voice full of shadows. "When there is a boy who wants to die in front of you. If you manage to save him from that, you don't want it to happen again a second time."

I do know that the most Parts of the Beast novel aren't Canon but even with the knowlage that mori is cold and recless this also seems like It could be His actual charactere. I do Think that he did care about dazai in some way.

With mori takeing dazai In and knowing under wich circumstances dazai was when mori took him in would let us know a lot about dazai's 'childhood'.

-The Rebuilding of the port mafia:

The old boss left with a mafia that was almost compleatly destroit due to his actions.

Mori needs to rebuild the Organisation to work again.

We do know that inbeween mori takeing over the mafia and the start of the "15 year old" lightnovel is a time of about a year. In this time mori would already have to rebuild the mafia to the point where ir was by the start of the 15 year old arc.

I somehow Think that in this time he "raised" dazai in some way since he wasn't an offical Part of the Organisation yet.

- What I would also Think would fit perfect into a novel under the concept of it being from the view of mori:

More Information about Natsume sensei and moris relationship to fukuzawa (aka. Boomer Soukoku).

-Why is Natsume so interested in dazai (this could also be linked to his backroundstory)?

-And more Importently for this point the actual relationship of fukuzawa and mori. We do know that the both had Natsume as their teacher and some Background of them ,b ut there is still a lot to unpack.

-I just wanna know more about Natsume I really like him.

So that is everything from me teorizeing about how/what we could become of dazai's childhood.

Feel free to use my theorys to add your thoughts or overwork then as long as you give me credit.

Byeee~

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zevakritpel · 8 years ago

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Hell-bent: Chapter 3- It Ain't Over 'Till It's Over Buzzer Beater Mind-State

Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke

Pairing: Aokise, MomoRiko, Kagakuro, MuroMura, more???

u can find this on AO3 lol

Summary: Adult AU, Criminal Underworld AU. Where Kagami Taiga is a young heir suddenly targeted by 6 rather dangerous members of the criminal underworld (each with their own set of personal troubles), and Kuroko is a bodyguard with a dark past.

Warning: Violence, Strong language, a lil dark and angsty sometimes. Getting spicier ;^)

[Saturday. 03:23. Unbelievable Part I]

The way those hot sleepy fingertips just barely touch the skin of his exposed back, where his shirt had ridden up; the sensation of those long arms wrapped around him, clinging like a child.

The soft murmur of Murasakibara's voice tickling the side of Himuro's neck.

"You're so warm, Muro-chin."

That's not fair play at all. He dozes off for like an hour, and this is what he wakes up to?

Himuro tries to swallow, but his throat is too dry.

At times like this, when Tatsuya's too overwhelmed to defend against these brutal attacks on his already shoddy self-control, the smartest course of action is to get up and cool off with a nice cold shower.

"Yeah," he whispers back, neither getting up nor cooling off, instead opting to run his fingers through the tangled mess of Murasakibara's violet hair. Atsushi responds with a satisfied hum, which further incites a now unrestrained, over-tired Himuro to guide his hand along to the other man's shoulder, then push him back until they're facing each other.

"It's hot."

Ahh, this is hell.

He tries so hard to keep himself in check, to avoid taking advantage of this volatile human weapon, or slipping up and causing irreparable damage to himself, to Masako or Atsushi. But even Himuro has a breaking point, and this isn't the first time he's reached it, either.

Maybe one day he'll be able to say out loud everything he feels without restraint, but for now he'll just steal a taste....

He brushes his thumb against the slightly frowning lower lip, then presses gently until Atsushi obediently opens his mouth so that Himuro may slide the rest in even further. Murasakibara is watching him all the while with half-lidded eyes, somehow appearing both demure and sinister at the same time.

Himuro tilts his jaw forward and moves in to...

Well, it doesn't matter what he moves in to do, as he's interrupted by the sound of rapid gunfire at the front door.

[Saturday. 03:47. Unbelievable Part II]

A mistake has been made.

Man F realizes he has fucked up around the time Murasakibara Atsushi's massive hand makes contact with his face: nothing like some broken bones to get him to seriously reflect on the error of his ways.

The force of impact sends F flying into the nearest wall. His body crumples to the floor, where he lies gasping for breath as warm blood gushes from his nose. Either from the excruciating pain or the blunt head trauma, but to Man F's fading vision it looks as though the killer looming before him is surrounded by a menacing deep violet miasma.

...Okay, several mistakes have been made. For one, Man F wouldn't have had to come across this fucking purple abomination if he hadn't foolishly trusted that fucking dickhead, who just conveniently forgot to mention that the apartment of the so-called "easy target" belongs to none other than the Araki Group's infamous Reaper...

"He ....fucked us over.... that basta..rd...put us up to it.....we didn't...know..." Man F manages to cough out, blood dripping down his chin as he struggles to pick himself up. Before he can explain himself further, Man F's words yield to an agonized cry as Murasakibara digs his heel into the fallen man's groin.

"Huuhhh?? I don't care," Murasakibara hisses, increasing pressure with little stomps.

"You killed my fridge. How are you going to make up for that?"

That's what he takes issue with?!

Not the armed break-in, or the attempt on his life-

"I'M SORRY" Man F screams, rather sincerely. But Murasakibara isn't in the mood to hear apologies, not when the corpse of his massacred kitchen appliance lies useless and riddled with bullet holes.

"Ahh, settle down, Atsushi," says the Reaper's companion from the side, where he is handling F's comrade, G. He's not as immediately recognizable as Murasakibara, but there's something uncomfortably familiar about the elegant dark-haired, undereye mole beauty queen man currently striking G across the face with the back of a Glock 19. Someone's feeling a bit aggressive today...

F would try and get a closer look, but he is getting his ass handed to him by a nightmare human, which is distracting to say the least.

"We can't find out what our guests want if you play too roughly... ahhh, oops. I got blood on my shirt..."

To Man F's surprise, Murasakibara relents immediately, pulling back with a slight pout. F crawls backwards quickly until his back hits a cabinet under the kitchen sink.

Who is this mystery man, that not only addresses this monster so familiarly, but actually gets him to obey...

"Mmmm, I already know what they want. They're a message from Haiz-...."

Murasakibara pauses mid-sentence, then pulls out his phone and just stays quiet while he focuses on that.

"Atsushi...?"

"Mmm, one sec, Muro-chin. I just gotta let Sa-chin know about this, 'cause she told me she'd get me a box of okonomiyaki Maiubo next time she goes to Osaka if I.."

The killer continues to ramble on about things Man F doesn't understand. The only thing that's sticking so far is Muro-chin.....Muro......

An ominous shudder passes through Man F before he fully realizes why, though his answer comes soon enough, in the form of mystery man lifting his blood spattered shirt up enough to reveal what is unmistakably the tattoo of a black dragon etched against his white skin.

The realization hits Man F like a brick: Muro... Himuro Tatsuya, Madame Araki Masako's notorious 'pet dragon'.

Which is just great, really. The Dragon and The Reaper live together in this humble happy home F and G were told to attack, like sacrificial lambs sent as some shitty human warning message.

That's it, if Man F makes it out of this alive ... and honestly, if either of these two wanted him dead, he'd be fucking dead...he's fucking quitting this shitty criminal life and going back to school. Become a welder or something, he doesn't have the nerves to suffer through this again.

Well, before anything, he needs to buy Murasakibara a new refrigerator.

[Saturday. 07:09. The Best Way To A Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach]

"Ah."

Kuroko awakens to the smell of food wafting in from an open door. What an unfamiliar phenomenon...

The bodyguard finds himself sitting up on the floor of Kagami Taiga's bedroom, his back pressed up against a part of the wall directly under a window. He blinks a few times, adjusting his eyes to the few strays of morning light peeking from beneath drawn blinds; he's a bit disoriented by the fact that he managed to fall asleep after all.

Three whole hours, at that. How rare.

Conditioned from a young age to sleep lightly and in unnatural positions, Kuroko picks himself up off the ground rather gracefully. He stretches his joints out, pulling his hand back only to be greeted by the sharp, throbbing pain in his right wrist: proof of the punch he had finally managed to coax out of the young master last night.

Though the hit was blocked in the end, and clearly nowhere near Taiga's full strength, Kuroko still can't help but smile fondly at his bruised arm: there is hope of teamwork here yet...

The bodyguard tucks his knife back into his pants' pocket (he never falls asleep without at least a weapon at the ready for worst case scenarios), then proceeds to step out the room and make his way to the kitchen, following the trail of that delicious smell.

In the kitchen area, he finds Kagami Taiga, young master and heir to the Kagami Empire, hard at work wielding a frying pan full of sizzling sliced pork and vegetables. Soup and white rice have already been prepared and set aside on the kitchen table.

The real treat here is how...domestic Kagami looks, with the black apron draped over his tall, muscular frame, hands busy preparing an unnecessarily heavy breakfast.

"Good morning."

"Oh, mornin'-- geh, what's with the ridiculous bedhead? You didn't even sleep in a bed..."

Kuroko doesn't feel the need to respond to this. Having confirmed Kagami's safety, he does a quick check around the rest of spacious apartment, including the balcony and the outer hall. He also checks in with the guards stationed in the surrounding area of the apartment complex to see if anything abnormal has gone by unreported in the past few hours.

All clear.

So no one's making any hasty moves yet. Biding their time, perhaps they've matured...

After trying and failing to contact Aida Riko, Kuroko moseys on back into the kitchen, perching onto a nearby stool and silently continues to watch Kagami. The young heir is looking down, his brows furrowed and mouth turned down in a slight frown as he tends to his stir fry, just about finished. It's difficult to tell whether he's feeling or troubled or if he's simply focused on the task in front of him.

Somehow, to see him make such an expression...

Of course, it's only natural for the young heir to be stressed out in his current situation. In fact, after Kagami's initial bout of rebellious beahviour subsided, he's been surprisingly adaptive and well-behaved. He may grumble constantly that he doesn't need a 24-hour guard, but not once has raised a question about the arrangement.

Perhaps he really does know...

There was something Miss Aida had offhandedly told Kuroko shortly after his employment into the Kagami family, and her words are coming back up again for some reason:

"People have been dragging Taiga into their affairs ever since he was a small child, only to abandon or lie to him afterwards. I haven't known him for that long, and he comes off as a fucking idiot...but I can tell it really wears on him."

At the time, Kuroko hadn't thought much of it, but now he finds himself reflecting on his own ulterior motives for involving himself with the young heir. He hadn't expected Kagami Taiga to end up being so honest and so...

"...what."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're staring at me...do you have a problem?"

"Ah, I'm just impressed to see that Mast-..Kagami-kun can even cook for himself."

Kagami squints at Kuroko, visibly suspicious, and raises his spatula threateningly.

"...Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all."

"Ah! You looked away!!"

"Please, Kagami-kun. There's no need to be so noisy in the morning; you're hurting my ears."

"Damn you, Kuroko...."

Kagami scowls as he slides a bowl of rice and a plateful of his cooking over to Kuroko, leaving his bodyguard to marvel at how his charge expects him to eat so much food this early in the day.

A hot home cooked meal...

Kuroko utters his gratitude in a soft voice before digging in.

[Saturday. 11:45 . It's Not Like I Care Or Anything Part I]

"Aawww, what's this? You're reading all the files I gave you! I knew this game would finally get Dai-chan interested in something other than himself."

"Do you really have to- Geh. What are you all dressed up for? Don't tell me someone's actually made the mistake of asking you out on a da-MMMMF"

"^_^ Actually, I've made plans to meet up with Ki-chan!"

"Wh-............ Wow. Isn't that great."

"Yep, and you're coming with me."

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuh?! Don't wanna."

"Hmmm.... but weren't you saying last night how much you miss him?"

"The fuc-....Oi. Satsuki."

"What, am I wrong? But if Dai-chan needs to keep hiding from reality, you can just wait outside until we're done talking. :) "

".....uhh, why the fuck should I? I have nothing to say to him, and his face just fucking pisses me off."

"....Isn't that what they call sexual frustration?"

"What was that?"

"I said, 'I wasn't going to mention this, but since you're being problematic I have no choice. Muk-kun texted me this morning with some very interesting news about a certain old...teammate of ours.'"

"What..."

[Saturday. 11:48. Enter Trashman]

Haizaki Shougo sneezes violently into the crook of his arm, the fifth one today.

Someone must be talking shit.

[Saturday. 12:12. Reconnaissance]

"Hey, Shin-chan," Takao begins cautiously, adjusting his focus as he peers through the lenses of his binoculars.

"I'm glad you decided to rely on me so soon, but uhh...is there a special reason we're doing recon of one of the major Kagami Corp. buildings?"

"Fool. Don't ask questions you already know the answer to" is the curt reply. As expected...

Takao isn't sure whether he should be worried or not (he really should), but he feels it's better to just shake off the dark instinctual sense of foreboding and enjoy the pleasant afternoon breeze.

Whatever happens, he can tell it's going to be very entertaining.

"Well?"

"Ahhh, it's hard to say. The windows are bullet-resistant and at this distance, even if you could--..."

As Takao dips his view down to the ground level, two very colourful somethings catch his eye.

"Oh... Hey!"

"What is it?"

"Those people ...aren't they your friends or whatever? The two we met last year at the...that thing?"

Midorima frowns deeply, very clearly unsettled by the mention of 'friends'.

"What are you blabbering about ..."

"You know, the flashy crying guy and the pink girl with the" [hand motion over chest].

"WHAT."

Midorima snatches the binoculars from Takao's hands in a panic, his bandaged fingers shaking. After a few silent moments, he lets out an irritable hiss: looks like he's found them.

"Tch. Causing a scene together, as always."

Shin-chan seems rather frazzled... Takao accepts this as a gift, and observes happily as Midorima peers down at whoever those people are, muttering petulantly under his breath. Those two must be something special to get him to lose his composure like this.

Sadlly the amusement is short-lived:

"Uhhmm, you guys can't be here?"

So says the security guard of the public library rooftop Midorima and Takao are currently sitting on, and so the two assassins are forced to apologize and humbly take their leave.

[Saturday. 12:14. Absolutely Flawless]

A brief hush falls upon the patrons of this expensive café, and everyone turns their heads in unison to get a better look at the couple of rare beauties passing by.

The woman is clad in a simple pastel blue sundress that falls just above her knees, leaving the rest of her lovely legs exposed. She carries herself lightly and with grace; her long, rose-coloured hair flows behind her as she walks. Her soft mouth, curved into a sweet smile that betrays only the slightest hint of mischief, does not go unnoticed by the watchful restaurant patrons.

Her companion is equally radiant: tall, with a slender (though still muscular) build, silky blonde hair, and well-dressed to boot . He's sporting red-rimmed glasses that poorly mask a pretty face with delicate features. Actually, he does look a bit familiar...

Especially dazzling under the bright rays of the afternoon sun, the unreasonably good-looking pair take their seats outside on the patio, chatting together quietly in some foreign tongue, which only strengthens their appeal.

"What could those two possibly be discussing? Where are they from?? What is the nature of their relationship???" This is the nature of questions circulating amongst the customers and staff of the coffee shop.

The two just take relaxed sips of their respective beverages (black coffee for the lady, vanilla latte for the man), seemingly indifferent to the sudden influx of excited whispers their every move incurs from the people around them.

"....Maybe we should have met up somewhere a little less...busy" Kise remarks dryly, eyeing the blatant stares from the surrounding tables.

"Haha it's fine, it's fine. As far as I can tell, no one here understands Russian, and the crowd will give us cover in case anything happens" Momoi chirps happily, though Kise detects a slight edge of weariness in her voice. They're both used to this kind of treatment, and usually it's not a problem, but somehow the ogling is always ten times worse when they're together.

So beautiful, it's a curse...

"Besides," Momoi begins with a tilt of her pink head, peering up at Kise cheekily.

"Isn't Ki-chan always operating under the public eye? Even doing business with the likes of C in broad daylight, from what I hear. How bold!"

"Wahaaaa~, and you're as scary as ever, Momocchi. Really, nothing gets past you."

Momoi takes this as a compliment.

"Hehe. But I'm surprised you were willing to give him the time of day. To go to such lengths...you must be in a hurry to start things."

"Of course I am... I've been waiting so long for this moment, to be called out with everyone again. And now that Kurokocchi's gone and broken the rules...I just..."

"You're hoping to talk him out of it." Momoi concludes, sitting back against her chair. She twists a strand of her hair around her index finger, regarding Kise expectantly.

"Mmm...something like that. But Kurokocchi can be crazy stubborn once he's made his mind up. So if he's taking this seriously, then I can't help but get fired up, even if it means putting up with...shit."

Kise sighs, resting his chin on his hands, and flicks his dark golden eyes up at Momoi.

"What about Momocchi? Seems like your challenges have got you ready for blood, too. That Aida Riko is right up your alley, right? In more ways than one..."

Momoi's lips purse into a guilty smile as she is reminded that she's not the only dangerously shrewd one here. Perhaps from their equally undying love for Kuroko Tetsuya, and from sharing such skills as super-analysis, effortless seduction, and obfuscating naïveté, Momoi and Kise have also developed an intuitive understanding of each other's 'tastes' and 'preferences'.

The difference is that Momoi's directly interfering with Kise's sex life, though it's unlikely that he's caught on.

"She's certainly more troublesome than I ever could have hoped. She's getting uncomfortably close to finding out about us, but I set up a nice tr- ooh, that looks so good!"

Kise looks over as well, and the two watch as a cherry cheesecake is served two tables away. Being stared at by not one, but two angels is a bit too much for the blushing recipient of said cheesecake to handle.

"Ahh, but I shouldn't be eating so much sugar..."

"Did you want to split one?"

"Oooh, okay!"

They continue to chatter in Russian, despite not having anything more clandestine to say, until their dessert arrives. Momoi immediately plucks off the cherry from the top and pops it into her mouth. Delicious.

"By the way," Kise sinks his tiny fork into the cheesecake and eats the bite slowly before continuing, dropping his voice to a disparaging tone.

"How long is Aominecchi going to lurk in the shop across from us? I think he's scaring off some of their customers..."

Momoi can't hold back a snort of laughter, though she recovers with an airy giggle and dismissive wave of her hand.

"Don't worry about Dai-chan, he's just feeling shy. He'll come around, I'm sure."

Kise makes a tiny skeptical noise, but doesn't press any further.

He'll have to deal with this on his own, nothing new.

[Saturday. 12:44. It's Not Like I Care Or Anything Part II]

Ugh, that's right. Those two get along annoyingly well...

Aomine shoves an absurd quantity of noodles into his mouth without looking, too busy glaring at the scene that's developing at the coffee shop across the street.

God, are they trying to draw attention to themselves? Honestly. When it comes to attracting crowds (along with all sorts of unsavoury people), Momoi and Kise individually are bad enough. The result of their combined forces is that much more frustrating.

...it's no wonder their missions were so successful when they were paired together, back in the day. Damn pretty- boys and... whatever the appeal of Momoi is...(???)

Aomine's noodle-devouring becomes more aggressive with each passing moment, alarming all nearby customers. As if he let Momoi fool him into coming this far, with those 'Haizaki Shougo on the move again' scare tactics. That asshole isn't even really a threat, so enough of this bullshit. Once Aomine finishes this meal, he's fucking going home to stare at his beloved Mai-chan and maybe take a nap.

The man himself is unsure as to where all this annoyance is coming from.

.........................he for sure.........has no idea.......

Not a single clue.

His phone vibrates, so he picks it out with his left hand (while still feeding himself with the right), to read:

[Satsuki: Lol he's already noticed you. Stop being pathetic and just come out to say hi.]

A vein in Aomine's temple throbs.

Definitely going straight home after this.

[Saturday. 12:47. Scar #33]

Ahh, that smarts.

Riko grits her teeth and tightens her grip around the steering wheel, willing herself to ignore the jarring pain in her shoulder. She's leaning forward so as not to dirty the car, but it's meaningless, really, what with half-conscious Koganei bleeding out in the passenger's seat.

She had known that following the sketchy information trail attached to the name Momoi Satsuki would lead to danger, but she hadn't anticipated being attacked in broad daylight, only moments after hearing mere slivers of information about 'Miracles.'

Still. These wounds are mere scratches compared to all the hits Riko's taken for the Kagami Family. And a little dry-cleaning and a couple band-aids (okay, so Koga might need some more...advanced medical attention, but he's fine) is a small price to pay for the crucial leads Riko gained today.

Her intuition had been right: there really is a connection between all the killers and criminals hired to come after young master Taiga. But there are still too many unknowns for Riko to begin to understand why this is happening.

Sure, there are plenty of people and groups who would love to get their hands on the young heir, motives ranging from ransom money or blackmail, to a grudge against the father, to culling this random heir that they feel does not deserve the inheritance. Typical stuff, really.

But with Kagami Taiga, there is an added element of what happened during his...messy childhood, the reason why he's been hidden until now, and the groundbreaking power his fiery red head holds. It's only natural for those privy to this knowledge to try and take action. To use the young master, or to silence him.

And these people are all those who have hired one of the five...no, six including Momoi...big names. So what does that mean, if anything?

Riko intends to answer all these questions soon, though it means she'll be shedding more blood yet.

"Nooo....too many...pigeons......nya..." Koganei mumbles feverishly, convincing Riko to stop mulling over conspiracies and just apply more pressure to the gas pedal.

Hang in there, Koga, buddy.

Notes (from AO3):

forgive me, akashi, my sweet pink heterochromic yan mafia princess...you weren't in this chapter, but i will do right by you yet

also not that anyone asked, but i'm dying to write saucy scenes for dark blue tsundere doof x blonde fake ass ho, but alas, pacing or whatever that thing is called that i'm bad at

also also today's shitty chapter title brought to you by: select, but not necessarily relevant line from PI's 'In the Zone'

LMAO I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR EVERYTHING I'M SO SLEEP DEPRIVED AND BLESS YOU ALL FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY BS

#kb fanfic #murasakibara atsushi #himuro tatsuya #muramuro #kagami taiga #kuroko tetsuya #kagakuro #midorima shintarou #takao kazunari #momoi satsuki #aida riko #momoriko #aomine daiki #kise ryota #aokise

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