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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

Five Birthdays (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.4K Warning: Implied adult situations Premise: Ethan’s birthdays with her in the next five years.

Author’s Note: A birthday fic that I wrote a while ago and wanted to post on my birthday. Dedicated to @perriewinklenerdie , @scorpiochick8 , and all the beautiful Scorpios out there. November babies, this is for you too! Thank you @aestheticartsx for reading through this mess! Hope you like it.

Year One

A soft knock pulled Ethan away from his latest patient chart. Interruptions were always a source of irritation but tonight he almost welcomed it. His body ached with exhaustion and his eyelids were heavy after the sixteen hour day.

The door opened to reveal Dr. Allende, looking uncharacteristically bashful as she entered, hands behind her back.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, his attention falling quickly to the chart. This he only did as an excuse to glance away because she was biting her bottom lip the way she did when nervous. It was a quirk that always drove him to distraction.

She said nothing as she approached, and Ethan could see in his peripheral that she did so cautiously. After a small pause, she set a tall to-go cup of coffee on the desk in front of him, successfully getting his attention.

“I brought you coffee,” she said by way of explanation. She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it immediately, looking uncharacteristically flustered and even a little anxious. She tried again, “The Vienna. From the coffee house you took me to a few weeks ago.”

Ethan removed his spectacles, staring at the cup. “I can see that. Though I commend you on the choice, I am still uncertain why you went through the trouble.”

The pretty intern flushed, looking prettier still, much to Ethan's frustration.

“I didn't know what else you liked. And I wanted to get you something.”

Ethan's confusion lasted only a second before realization sunk in. His stomach dropped and he all but groaned. For some reason, this seemed to ease some of her tension. She even looked a tad bit amused.

“Who told you?”

“Dr. Banerji,” she responded, not surprising Ethan in the least. “He let it slip while I was drawing blood for that full work up you ordered.”

Ethan huffed, sincerely doubting the old man had let the detail slip accidentally.

“Happy birthday,” she added and this time, the amusement was undeniable in her voice.

“You can't tell anyone,” he implored, feeling his face grow hotter by the second. He shuddered to think of the fuss people in the hospital would make if they knew, particularly the nursing staff. “I've worked too hard these past years to keep that a secret. Trust me, it's not an easy feat when Marlene is in charge of the birthday board.”

Lilac laughed, the sound so pleasant he almost forgot to be mortified. “Imagine the parties they'd throw in your honor, Dr. Ramsey. I don't think I can rob everyone of such a good time.”

“Lilac.”

More laughter. “I won't tell a soul,” she said solemnly. Ethan was still unconvinced and she rolled her eyes. “Just drink your coffee, Ron Swanson.”

___________________________________

Year Two

Lilac glanced around with interest, pressing her clipboard tightly against her chest. Ethan almost snorted at her feigned attempt to seem invested. There was nothing particularly interesting about the supply closet they both occupied.

“Interesting choice, Doctor,” she commented anyway, sounding thoroughly amused.

“I didn't think you'd mind meeting here,” he returned, feeling emboldened enough to flirt with the pretty young resident before him. He had already pulled her into a supply closet with the enthusiasm of an intern. Ethan might as well enjoy the full thrill of breaking the rules. “If you have moral qualms, however, just say the word and we can both go back to work.”

Lilac proved she had no complaints by closing the already small space between them and kissing him fully. The clipboard clattered to the floor as her hands slid up his shoulders and clung around his neck. Ethan responded in kind, his hands settling on the dip of her waist, his lips eagerly moving against hers.

She hissed a little as their kiss went from passionate to desperate, hands, lips, and teeth tugging at one another. These days, it only took a matter of seconds to reach that level, both growing needier by the day.

“I didn't take you for the type to make out in a supply closet,” she said breathlessly when they finally pulled apart.

“Honestly? The idea seemed juvenile until I started making out with you.” He gave her a half smile that made her eyes linger on his lips. “I've been thinking of nothing else ever since we broke into Mass Kenmore.”

Ever since that event, he'd had several detailed fantasies that included Lilac in a supply closet with him, but he decided not to disclose them as the majority were irrefutably not safe for work. Then again, the way she pressed her body flush against his, her rosy lips trailing kisses along his jaw, was anything but appropriate for the workplace.

“Whatever the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

Ethan involuntarily shuddered at the word birthday, which in turn made her pull away in laughter.

“No one is going to hear us here. You picked the supply closet in a construction zone that no one is allowed to be in.”

She was taunting him but Ethan didn't mind. If anything, he concluded that two could play at the game. With a devilish, lopsided smile that caught her attention again he said in a dangerous, low whisper, “I just thought you'd want to scream my name without the whole hospital hearing you.”

The surprised look that turned lustful in seconds sent a thrill of satisfaction through Ethan. He claimed her lips again without restraint, successfully opening the buttons of her blouse before him. There was no time to admire the black lace that left little to the imagination, when his pager demanded his attention.

He groaned but fixed his clothes and hair at once. When he was presentable once again, Ethan paused to give her one last, longing look. A familiar, mournful feeling settled in his stomach as another clandestine encounter came to an end.

Her responding smile was understanding, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. At this point, he was certain that she did.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, lifting herself to press a sweet, tender kiss to his cheek.

Not for the first time, he wished for nothing more than to be able to kiss her whenever, however he wanted, no matter who saw.

___________________________________

Year Three

Ethan pressed her against the wall, escalating their usual goodbye kiss after a long day at the hospital. Though a little surprised at first, Lilac quickly recovered and kissed him back just as eagerly. When they broke the kiss for breath, she raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

Ethan shrugged, the pad of his thumb trailing the faint freckles on her cheeks. The truth was now that he could finally kiss her without needing a reason to and without caring who was around, he couldn't seem to stop.

In this particular instance, it was Naveen who entered the office, clearing his throat meaningfully. They didn't spring apart from one another as they used to, pretending (rather poorly) that they were only colleagues. Instead, they remained in each other's arms as they looked at the Chief. The older man did not seem to mind one bit for he watched them with a warm, proud smile.

“Ready for our meeting with the Board, Ethan?”

“No.”

Naveen chuckled good-naturedly. “It'll be a short one. I'll make sure of it lest Dr. Allende hates me for making her finance work late on his birthday.”

It did not go unnoticed by everyone that Ethan didn't exactly have a visceral reaction to the word, unlike the past years. Naveen shot him a fatherly smile and Lilac pressed a loving, chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I'll wait for you at home.” She waited until the Chief was out of the room to whisper in Ethan's ear, “I have a surprise for you.”

The heady promise stole his attention for the rest of the evening, which was a good thing because the meeting was as useless as he had expected. An hour and a half later, he discovered he was right in rushing home to Lilac.

She was waiting for him in the living, perched on the backrest of the love seat and clad in the shortest silk robe he had ever seen. Her shapely legs were exposed for his viewing pleasure, save for the sheer, black stockings ending with lace at her thighs. The echo of her previous promise adorned everything from her coy smile to the scandalous patch of lace peeking from the neckline of her robe.

“Took you long enough,” she teased in a breathy sort of voice that had an instant effect on him.

She hopped off the sofa, walking toward the dining room, hips swaying with each step. On any regular day, the sight would have been enough inspiration to tease her until she begged him to take her on any given surface of their apartment. In her current attire, he wished to pin her against the wall with primal urgency in ten seconds or less.

“I ordered us food from—”

In one quick stride, he spun her around, his mouth devouring hers in a scorching kiss. Lilac matched his passion, her silk-clad body melting deliciously against his, her arms locking around his neck.

“Happy birthday,” she moaned as he ran his tongue down her neck and into the exposed valley of her breasts.

Ethan had never been happier.

Not only because he was currently peeling the flimsy robe off with his teeth, revealing a lacy black number underneath, but also because of the three words that left her lips, as natural and wondrous as the beautiful sunset through the window.

“I love you.”

He could never tire of hearing them.

___________________________________

Year Four

Ethan awoke to soft, lazy kisses and a curtain of dark hair enveloping them both. When she straightened with a tired smile, he missed the floral scent of her shampoo at once. He groaned in protest and pulled her body against his for another quick kiss, cutting the small shriek of surprise short.

“Good morning,” he greeted between slow, delicious sips of her mouth.

“Good morning indeed,” she sighed in return. At last, when they fully pulled apart, she picked up a tray from the nightstand and set it on his lap. “Happy birthday! I made you pancakes. ”

He took in the pretty array before him, complete with coffee and a small vase of red carnations. Ethan flashed her a grateful grin, not missing the dark circles under her eyes or the exhausted sigh that escaped her as her head sank into the pillows.

“Is that what was burning earlier?”

Lilac laughed dryly, eyes shut. “Laugh all you want, Ramsey, but at least I can actually make them.”

“Touché.”

He savored her offerings in silence, admiring how her cooking had improved dramatically in her years with him. Lilac continued to rest against the pillows, looking so blissful, he couldn't help but smile. Within minutes, her muscles relaxed and her breathing became more even as she drifted into sleep.

The crackle of the speaker on their bedside startled her awake. If that hadn't done it, then the wailing that soon followed would have done it. “He's awake,” she mumbled, already moving to sit up.

Ethan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, easing her back into the pillows. “I'll go.”

His son's crying subsided as soon as Ethan scooped him up and swayed him gently. He grinned down at his three-month-old, unable to contain the warm pride expanding in his chest.

“Good morning. You're up early after keeping us up for most of the night,” he murmured, kissing his tiny forehead. Ethan would give up all his hours of sleep if it meant holding his perfect son in his arms.

By the time they returned to the bedroom, Lilac was sound asleep, face buried unceremoniously in the pillows. Ethan smiled fondly at his wife, making a mental note to lovingly tease her about the snoring later. Quietly, he settled in bed next to her, carefully setting Jonah facedown on his chest.

Lilac mumbled something incomprehensible, sleepily burrowing into his arm. Jonah, meanwhile, drifted off into an easy sleep against his father's chest. Ethan smiled broadly, the gesture coming much more naturally than in past years, as he enjoyed a quiet morning with his perfect little family.

___________________________________

Year Five

“Happy birthday!” his wife exclaimed. Ethan wasn't sure what his toddler son had shrieked out. All he knew was that he matched his mother's enthusiasm as they presented the small, thickly frosted cake on the counter.

Ethan raised his brows at the creation before him. “You two made this just for me?”

Lilac beamed. “Yep, just Jonah and I.”

The slight pitch in her voice made Ethan chuckle. “I find that hard to believe. One of you barely has the fine motor skills needed to operate in a kitchen.”

“Cachen!” Jonah exclaimed, claiming his father's attention. Ethan bent down and kissed the top of his head.

“And the other is a one year old toddler,” Ethan finished, earning him an adorable glare from his wife.

“You think you're so funny, Ramsey.”

“I know I am, Allende.”

“That’s Allende-Ramsey to you.” Without warning, she scooped up a dollop of frosting and smeared it on Ethan's mouth.

Unfazed, Ethan licked off the excess before pulling her into a kiss. Lilac laughed against his sugar coated lips while Jonah shrieked with happiness, forcing them to pull apart.

“Either way, thank you for making this for me,” he said, gesturing toward the now marred cake.

“Antsina!”

Ethan glanced at his son curiously. “What is he saying?”

Lilac, meanwhile, shook her head comically at their son.

“Ant sina!” the baby repeated, his short arms outstretched towards the cake.

“Aunt Sienna?” Ethan guessed with a small laugh, looking at his wife. “Sienna helped you with this, didn’t she?”

Lilac seemed abashed, looking as though she had half a mind to deny it. Her shoulders dropped in defeat, however, and with a small laugh she said, “I didn’t think my baby would give me away, but yes.” At her husband’s smug smile, she added, “But Jonah and I helped! Jonah tasted the frosting and I helped with the batter.”

Her smile turned sheepish as she thought of something and added, “Actually, your daughter may have helped with that too. This makes for the perfect bowl stand.” Her hands lovingly caressed her very pregnant belly.

Ethan leaned in to kiss it and Jonah, always mimicking his father, leaned in to do the same. Both parents laughed, kissing their son in turn.

“Make a wish,” Lilac instructed as she lit the candles.

A knot formed in his throat as Ethan considered there was no need for that. In the past five years, he had been fortunate enough to find everything he could ever want.

___________________________________

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! I love you all <3

Also, I have hit a major writer’s block when concerning Part 2 of the Miami chapter in the Picta series. Slowly but surely, I am getting there. Thank you for being so patient!

Finally, if you asked me to add you to the tag list and I haven’t, please message me. I am so disorganized and forgetful. I’m so sorry!

___________________________________

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @kaavyaethanramsey , @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover,

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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ibijau · 4 years ago

Text

Price of Wishes / on AO3

Nie Huaisang learns a few things and has a mild breakdown over it

It will take a full three weeks for Nie Huaisang to get to Gusu for his second attempt at studying there, because he is such a weak flyer that just attempting the trip on Chiwen would kill him in about a shichen.

That means three weeks of traveling with Lan Xichen, alone save for two pairs of other Nie disciples. Nie Huaisang must be paying for some crime he committed in a past life. This much time with Lan Xichen, this much time to stress over how the Lan will react to this new young master thrown into their midst… this is going to be torture.

The first day doesn't go too badly though. Lan Xichen can ride a horse, which is a relief for sure. He also chats quite easily with the other disciples, asking about their lives like he cares, taking time to really listen to their answers. Of course, that too was on Nie Huaisang’s list, but he can't help being a little star struck at how perfect Lan Xichen is. If he were a real person, there's no way Lan Xichen would look twice his way, but he is so kind that sometimes Nie Huaisang almost forgets none of this is real.

At night, they stop in a small inn on the side of the road. It isn't a very luxurious place, but everything is clean, and there's a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen. The down side is that there aren't a lot of rooms available, so they'll have to share.

"Since one of the rooms can only take two people, I'll share with Nie gongzi," Lan Xichen offers. "Unless that is objectionable?"

"Of course not, we trust Lan gongzi," Nie Tianru says with a laugh before Nie Huaisang can object. "And Nie gongzi will behave himself, right?" she adds with a wink.

Nie Huaisang is mortified, his face aflame. He scampers away to order their dinner, ignoring the snickers of the Nie disciples, and Lan Xichen's gently amused smile.

They all think he has a crush on Lan Xichen. Even Nie Mingjue does. Which is… it's not wrong. Lan Xichen is everything Nie Huaisang could ever want, except for the fact that he has no choice in this matter.

Nie Huaisang eats his dinner quickly, and goes to bed at a much earlier hour than he ever would normally. His plan is to jump in bed so he can pretend to be asleep by the time Lan Xichen joins him. It's an excellent plan, but Lan Xichen spoils it by leaving the table at the same time as him and following him to their room.

As far as inn rooms go, it's not a bad one. Well, Nie Huaisang guesses it's not bad. He barely looks around, half sick with nervousness. It is the first time in his life he's sharing a bedroom with someone outside his family, and of course with this situation, with the reason Lan Xichen exists… nothing between them has been particularly romantic so far, but maybe Lan Xichen was just waiting for the right moment, maybe he'll say something now that they're alone, or try to kiss him, or…

"Nie gongzi, could I have a word with you?" Lan Xichen asks, suddenly standing far too close to Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang squeaks and leaps away.

It's happening.

Just because he asked for it, it's happening.

He can't let this happen.

"Lan gongzi, can't this wait?" he asks nervously. "I'm really tired, and we have to be up early. We don't want to get to Gusu late, right?"

We don't want to get to Gusu at all, Nie Huaisang thinks, terrified of what will happen if the truth about Lan Xichen is uncovered. He will be in so much trouble.

"You must miss you uncle and brother after so long," Nie Huaisang babbles, desperate to stop Lan Xichen from saying anything embarrassing. "I know I certainly miss them. Well, I miss Wangji anyway. I don't really miss master Lan. No offence! But, I mean, well, I mean…"

He trails off, unnerved by Lan Xichen's calm smile. Nie Huaisang, already nervous by nature, keeps losing his cool whenever Lan Xichen smiles like this.

"Nie gongzi, I'm sure my uncle and brother are wonderful people," Lan Xichen says, his voice deep and soothing. "But we are both aware that I have never actually met them yet, so I cannot say I miss them, that would be a lie."

Lan Xichen continues smiling peacefully, while Nie Huaisang’s blood turn into ice. The shock of that casual admission is such that his legs start giving under him, and he’d have fallen on the floor if the bed weren’t so close. He stumbles toward it, just barely managing to sit on it before the trembling of his legs becomes too great to stand. Even like this his body feels heavy, and his chest so tight he might just puke out of nervousness.

“What… what are you?” Nie Huaisang manages to ask.

He regrets asking, because Lan Xichen walks closer, kneeling next to the bed so their heads are at the same level. It’s meant as a comforting gesture, Nie Huaisang guesses, but really it’s just terrifying him.

“Are you something evil?” Nie Huaisang insists, all too aware it’s a stupid question to ask. He’s on the verge of tears, and wishes everything could go back to normal… but it’s wishing that got him in trouble in the first place, so that’s probably not a solution, is it?

“I don’t believe I am evil,” Lan Xichen says, lifting his hand to touch Nie Huaisang’s shoulder, only to stop midway when Nie Huaisang flinches. Lan Xichen’s smile falls, replaced by what appears to be sincere concern. “You really fear me so much?”

He sounds disappointed, or hurt, and it’s unfair that he is so handsome because Nie Huaisang can’t ignore him or scream for help, not when this gorgeous young man kneeling before him could be hurt… or hurt others.

“Of course I’m scared!” Nie Huaisang sniffles, his eyes burning with tears he won’t contain much longer. “You… what are you? Why are you here? I don’t understand, it was just… I didn’t think…”

“You prayed to me,” Lan Xichen explains, making Nie Huaisang freeze in terror. “Nobody had prayed to me in so long, and your mind and heart are so strong that for the first time in centuries, I had strength again… but not strong enough to find a person such as the one you were asking for,” he sighs, sounding sincerely sorry. “So I thought that I would offer myself, in exchange for what you promised.”

Tears fall down Nie Huaisang’s cheeks while he laughs almost hysterically. He promised a road, and followers, and then dropped that stupid list about his dream husband.

Nie Mingjue is going to kill him.

Or else, this god is going to kill him for failing to fulfill his part of the deal.

Either way, he’s so dead. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s…

“From my point of view, you have already done your part,” Lan Xichen says, his warm voice gentle and careful in answer to Nie Huaisang’s panic. “You made me offerings, and convinced others to do as well. My temple has had its first visitors in many lifetimes. I am very grateful to you, and I will do my best to be everything you wished for in a husband.”

Nie Huaisang laughs harder and sobs just as hard, tears and snot staining his face. This is madness. He’s gone mad. He’s gone completely mad, maybe he’s still lying on the floor of that abandoned mountain temple, ravaged by a fever and slowly dying while hallucinating all this. It would make more sense than what’s happening, than a god talking about marrying him.

But suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, warm even through the fabric, irredeemably solid, a presence such as his mind couldn’t have invented.

Nie Huaisang flinches away from that touch, scrambling back on the bed, putting as much distance as possible between himself and…

“What’s is your… what is my lord’s name?” he asks, hiccuping from crying so hard. “This humble one has been so rude to my lord, this humble one…”

He should get up from this bed, and kowtow. Nie Huaisang is being so rude, it’s a miracle he hasn’t been struck down yet, but just breathing feels like an immense effort, he can barely speak, and if he gets down from the bed he’ll have to get close to this god and he can’t, he just can’t.

Lan Xichen, still kneeling, looks at him with an air of sadness, perhaps even of pain.

“Nie gongzi can continue calling me Lan Xichen,” he says.

“But my lord’s real name…”

“I don’t know my name,” Lan Xichen whispers, his voice so low Nie Huaisang barely hears him, and he looks away as if in shame.

His first prayer in centuries, he’d said earlier, and in the midst of his panic, Nie Huaisang feels some pity. What must it be like to be a god without followers? To be this alone, for this long?

“Is that your only temple?” Nie Huaisang asks, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

Lan Xichen nods, and lets out a forlorn sigh. “It is my last one,” he admits. “And before you found it, I only had one altar left, in the house of an old woman. But you gave me a new one in your home, you made offerings to me… I was on the brink of death, and you gave me new life, Nie Huaisang. For this I am eternally grateful, and I will repay you.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, and doesn’t notice that he’s finally stopped crying. This is still a huge mess, but he feels a little less terrified now, because the situation is less unequal than he previously thought. He didn’t contract a crushing debt just out of foolishness, and Lan Xichen could probably have found other ways to repay him for that offering in the mountain if Nie Huaisang had been repulsive to him.

“Would you really have married me?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“If you will have me,” Lan Xichen replies, sounding more insecure than any god has a right to be.

Nie Huaisang almost starts laughing again. He certainly can’t fight a manic grin, and feels a few new tears on his cheeks. This is absolute madness.

“I need to think about it,” he sniffles. “I… I know I had this list, but I’m not quite ready to marry yet and I… I don’t really know you, right? I think I’d prefer to know you a little before making a big choice like that.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen says with a smile. “Nie gongzi is wise not to rush into things.”

“I don’t think that’s a quality people usually associate with me,” Nie Huaisang says, chuckling. Then, feeling a little less anxious now, he scuttles closer to the edge of the bed, toward Lan Xichen. “I’ve really made a huge mess of things… but also… I mean, please don’t be too mad, my lord…”

“Lan Xichen. Or just Xichen is fine.”

“Fine, I can try. Lan Xichen, you’ve made a huge mess too, I think. What are we going to do when we get to the Cloud Recesses? They know that Wangji doesn’t have a brother!”

Lan Xichen doesn’t answer right away, carefully thinking things through. Nie Huaisang, in spite of himself, admires him as he gets so serious, amazed that even the slight crease between his eyebrows is elegant. Truly, only a god could be this handsome, and Nie Huaisang’s heart thumpers wildly in his chest at the thought that he could have such a person as his partner for life, if he just says the word.

“So far, when I’m with you my powers are strong,” Lan Xichen says at last. “I can’t explain it, but you have a very strong mind, and your belief feeds me like that of a thousand people. I think as long as you believe that I can pass as a young master of that sect, nothing should be a problem.”

Nie Huaisang’s cheeks heat up. People have called him stubborn often enough before, but when Lan Xichen says he has a strong mind it feels different. Like it’s a compliment, instead of another item added to the list of his defects.

“Then that might give us a little extra time to deal with…” Nie Huaisang waves his hands to signify this crazy situation they’re in. “We’ll still need to be careful though, my l… Lan Xichen. I have to say, so far you’re doing very well at impersonating a Lan. Have you met some of them before?”

It would make sense, Nie Huaisang figures. Gusu Lan is a much older sect than Qinghe Nie, and perhaps this god’s territory extended south once, or else maybe some Lan cultivators came near Qinghe, back in the days before there was a sect there to protect common people.

That neat little theory crumbles when Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“I was able to look into your mind for details about that requested husband,” he explains. “I found the man you wanted me to look like, checked the type of dress his sect would have favoured, and hoped for the best.”

“You do look like Wangji,” Nie Huaisang mumbles. “I’m sorry for that, it must be uncomfortable to take a face that’s not yours…”

“I don’t remember what I look like,” Lan Xichen replies in a casual manner. “And this is not a bad face.”

A mix of dread and pity worms its way into Nie Huaisang’s heart. Without really thinking, he slides off the bed to sit crossed legged next to Lan Xichen, and once again observes him.

“You really don’t mind?”

“No. And this,” Lan Xichen gestures elegantly at himself, “pleases you, right?”

“Yes. But… not if it doesn’t please you as well. I… I don’t like that it’s not real,” Nie Huaisang admits, looking down at his legs and fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just your face, but also… you’re behaving according to my list, right? That’s just… it’s not…”

“If any item on your list had been unbearable to me, I would not have entered a deal with you,” Lan Xichen replies. “But it is a very reasonable list, and I found you wanted a husband similar to what I think I once strived to be. It is no hardship for me to be the sort of man you want.”

“Oh. That’s good if you don’t have to force yourself for that,” Nie Huaisang says. “Still, you’re forcing yourself to be around me.”

At this, Lan Xichen falls silent. He remains quiet long enough that Nie Huaisang risks a glance at his face, only to find Lan Xichen staring at him with great attention, as if he were appraising a painting. It is so embarrassing that Nie Huaisang quickly looks away, mortified to be the center of such focus.

“It is no hardship either to be around you,” Lan Xichen says after another long moment passes. “You have a good heart, and a pleasant personality. It has pained me to feel your fear toward me up until now, but I hope this will be less of an issue from now on. I…” he stops for a moment, looking for words. “I have been alone for a very long time, and I told myself I did not mind. But now I see you chatting with your brother, enjoying your hobbies, and trying your best to do what you think is right and… I am reminded that it is pleasant to be around others. That it is pleasant to be alive. And I hope whether or not you decide to have me as a husband, you will at least have me as a friend. That would bring me great joy.”

Nie Huaisang looks up again, to find Lan Xichen smiling shyly at him, as if unsure whether that request might be rejected. It is a rather odd feeling for Nie Huaisang to have his company desired this way. Sure he gets along with some of the Nie disciples fine, and of course he’s friends with Lan Wangji, but this feels different. The Nie disciples don’t have much of a choice, they have to put up with their young master. As for Lan Wangji, well, it’s the same, he can hardly afford to openly reject the young master of another sect, not when they’re both sect heirs, can he?

But Lan Xichen has a choice. He had a choice in the mountain, when Nie Huaisang dropped that stupid list in front of him. And he has a choice now, when he could just say he’s only doing this because he feels obligated to it.

Lan Xichen has a choice, and he’s choosing Nie Huaisang.

“I also hope we can be friends!” Nie Huaisang says, eagerly grabbing Lan Xichen’s hands for a moment, only to suddenly remember he’s still talking to a god and probably shouldn’t be so familiar. “Ah, sorry, my lord! I just got a little excited here…”

“It’s quite fine,” Lan Xichen replies, grabbing Nie Huaisang’s hands before he can fully pull away. “I don’t mind.”

Nie Huaisang looks away again, wondering if blushing so much is perhaps unhealthy. It’s got to be. It feels mortifying for sure, and also a little irritating. Lan Xichen is just too unbearably perfect, and it is going to be hard to deal with that.

“So, hm, you only know about the Lan because I know about the Lan,” Nie Huaisang says, eager to change the subject to something that will not make his face burn like this. “That could be a problem, because I don’t know that much about them. There’s a reason I failed my tests so badly last year. It’ll be hard to pass you as one of them, unless…”

“Unless?”

Nie Huaisang tears his hands away and jumps to his feet so he can check the qiankun pouches he’s carrying his things in. It takes a few tries before he finds the right one, but before long he sits again on the floor next to Lan Xichen, careful to leave a respectful distance between them as he presents the god with a heavy book.

“Gusu Lan’s rules!” Nie Huaisang announces. “I’m supposed to have learned them by heart, but I really haven’t.”

Lan Xichen gingerly takes the book, a slight frown on his handsome face as he opens it and quickly checks the pages. It is a normal reaction. There’s just too many of those damn rules, it’s unreasonable to expect anyone to remember them all… yet Lan Wangji does, so it figures that a brother of his would as well.

“Nie gongzi, what do you want me to do with this?” Lan Xichen asks.

“Read them, learn them if you can. It’ll help pass you off as a true Lan.”

“Ah,” Lan Xichen says, closing the book. “An excellent plan, certainly, but there is an issue.”

“How so?”

Lan Xichen sighs deeply.

“Nie gongzi, I cannot read.”

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #xisang wishes au #next update might take longer but I got very excited over writing this so yeah

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ghostsray · 5 years ago

Text

Ch2: Flowers

(prev - next)

"Danny, your clone is adorable," Sam said.

Danny looked away from the plant he was observing and said, "You mean Niel?"

Sam tapped her chin. "Well, Danielle is adorable too. But yes, im talking about Niel, considering he's the one I saw yesterday."

"Oh yeah, you went to Vlad's mansion, right?" Tucker asked from where he was seated among a group of potted plants. "How was he like?"

Sam shrugged. "Like Danny, except peppier, and with a better appreciation for goth culture."

"You turned my clone goth?"

Sam stopped spraying her venus flytrap to point at Danny and say, "Hey, he's his own person, thank you very much."

Tucker leaned back and stared out the greenhouse walls. "I feel left out. How come both of you get to meet this new clone--er, person? I want to see him too..." He trailed off, staring at something in the distance, then pointed out and asked, "Is that him?"

Considering the timing, Danny almost thought Tucker was joking, but then he followed his finger and saw that Niel was, indeed, walking toward Sam's greenhouse. He didn't look very goth in Danny's opinion, although his hair was shaved on one side--but that was more punk than goth. As he got closer, Danny noticed that he was carrying a bundle of yellow flowers in his hand.

Sam went to the greenhouse's entrance and opened the doors to greet him. "So, did you get my adress from the mayor or from Google Earth?" she said.

Niel rubbed his neck nervously. "Did I do something wrong?"

"'Course not, Dracula. Come in." She made way for him, then eyed the flowers and asked, "Are those for me?"

Niel held them out, blushing slightly. "Danny said you like flowers. Uh, completely platonic flowers, of course."

Sam took the flowers from him. "I do like flowers," she confirmed, "though not so much cutting off flower roots and selling their corpses for money."

Niel blinked. "Oh."

Sam have a half-shrug. "It's fine. I'll just give it to my mom, since she loves decorating our house with flower corpses."

"I'll...be sure to get a potted plant next time."

"You better," Sam said. "Meanwhile, I'll go find somewhere to place these dead flowers so they can provide some decoration while they rot away."

Niel looked mortified as she left the greenhouse and went indoors. As soon as she was gone, Tucker burst into laughter.

"Oh man, you should see your face. Nobody is ever prepared for ultra-recyclo-vegan Sam."

Danny watched Niel with a smile as the younger boy glared at Tucker. He nodded at his hair and said, "Nice hairdo."

Niel ran a hand over the shaved part of his head. "It was Sam's idea. Something to make me look different from you." He looked across the various plants in the greenhouse and said, "She really does like plants, doesn't she?"

"You have no idea," Tucker agreed. He gestured across the room and said, "I promise you, every plant in here, Sam named. Like, those two flowers over there--what did she name them again?"

"Hecate and Nyx," Danny supplied. "Or Nyx and Hecate. I don't remember which one's which."

Niel frowned at the twin flowers. "They look the same."

"Yeah, well, Sam has some way to tell them apart," Tucker said. He cupped his mouth with one hand and whispered conspiringly, "If you ask me, I'd say she still has plant-whisperer powers from Undergrowth."

Niel ignored Tucker. He was still scowling at the plants. "Why bother keeping two of the same kind if they're basically the same thing?"

Danny had a sneaking suspicion Niel wasn't just talking about the flowers. Either Sam really trained him to become dark and brooding, or something was troubling the boy.

"Hey," Danny asked, "things okay with your dad?"

Niel shrugged, not tearing his eyes off the plants. "I think so."

"You think?"

"They're good, I think. I mean, yeah. They are." He smiled and added, "I got him to call me by my name."

"Really? That's great," Danny said, and his tone was sincere. He knew how many times Vlad insisted on calling Niel by Danny's name. Yet, for some reason, Niel didn't look as happy as he should have been regarding the news.

Danny was about to ask him what was wrong, but Tucker chose that moment to lean forward and say, "So, are you crushing or Sam, or...?"

Niel spluttered and shouted, "I am not!"

Danny would have felt irritated at Tucker, but he had to admit seeing Niel's face turn as red as Sam's anthuriums was hilarious. Maybe that was what Tucker was going for: lightening the mood a little.

"You're not what?" Sam asked, and the three boys whipped around to see her reentering the greenhouse.

"Nothing," Niel said quickly. He scratched his cheek and turned his attention back to the flowers. "Just appreciating Nyx and Hecate here."

"Hecate and Nyx," Sam corrected.

"Yeah. That." He glanced at his wrist and said, "Um, I guess I should be leaving now."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "You just got here. Don't you want to hang out a bit?"

Danny could tell Niel wanted to, but he shook his head and said, "Dad's pretty strict about my training schedule."

"Training schedule?"

"Yeah. For my ghost powers." His eyes moved to Danny, almost out of reflex. For a long time, the clone had tried to get Danny to join him as his brother, but that was before he started questioning Vlad's integrity. Now, he just kept quiet and looked away.

Sam's lips thinned. "I dont mean to offend you, Niel, but I gotta be real with you. Your dad is kind of a--"

"A horrible villain who wants to take over the world?" Tucker said.

"--a jerk."

Niel crossed his arms, not meeting any of their eyes. "He's the only parent I have. I don't know. I don't know what to feel about him."

"I thought you said things were cool between you last night."

"I did, but..."

"But?"

Niel shook his head. "It's nothing. I better go."

The trio's eyes followed him as he left, but no one tried to stop him.

Niel wasn't lying about the training schedule, but the truth was, his training wasn't due for another hour. Rather than return to the mansion, he stopped by an alley on the way.

There was a fast food restaurant nearby, and he bought a takeout burger and brought it with him to a small spot nestled between two buildings. He was disappointed but not surprised when he found it empty. He wasn't sure why he expected otherwise. It would have been dumb of her to stay in one place for long.

"Looking for me?" a familiar voice spoke, and he looked up and saw Danielle Phantom appear in front of him.

"So you did stick around," Niel said.

Dani floated down, stopping before her feet touched the ground so that they were at eye level. "Well, duh. I came to Amity Park because I wanted to see you for myself, and one short conversation this morning wasn't enough for me." Her eyes drifted to the box in his hands, and they sparkled as she pointed and said, "Woah, is that a Nasty Burger?"

Niel handed the burger to her. "I thought travelling around the world homeless might have made you hungry."

"Niel, I know we only just met today, but I think you're starting to become my favorite brother." After accepting the box, she landed on the floor and transformed into human, then she took out the burger and scarfed it down.

Niel watched her with interest. Even though Vlad mentioned her often, he never kept any photo of her. All Niel knew was that she looked like Danny, but younger and female. He guessed that description was true, but it was a bit hard to notice her similarity to Danny from underneath the low wool cap and oversized hoodie she wore--not to mention her incredibly messy long hair.

Niel brought out a small yellow dandelion from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers. Dani paused eating to look at it.

"Didn't you say you were going to give those flowers to Sam?" she asked.

"I did," he replied. "I thought I might keep one to give to you, though, as a sort of welcome gift." He offered her the flower.

Dani eyed it. "I appreciate the gesture, but we're siblings."

"It's a friendship flower! Yellow flowers are for friendship, red flowers are for love."

"I don't know enough about flowers to refute that, so all right." She shrugged and accepted the flower, then after a moment's thought, placed it in her hair. "What do you think?"

"You would have looked cute, if you weren't otherwise so messy."

Dani rolled her eyes. "Pompous rich people," she grumbled, then bit into her burger again, not paying any attention to the grease that ran down her chin.

Niel wrinkled his nose. "Are you sure we're related?"

"Hey, man, ask Vlad."

Niel hesitated. He toyed with his wristwatch and asked, "Was he really that bad to you?"

Dani finished her meal and sucked her fingers. "I thought we established this earlier today. Vlad probably treats you well because you're perfect, but I wasn't so lucky. He just thinks of me as a failed experiment."

"He said your body was unstable, but you seem pretty stable to me."

She chuckled. "I'm not unstable all the time. Trust me, you won't see me looking as pretty as this when I'm emotional."

If her current appearance was pretty, Niel wasn't excited to know how she looked like unstable. Dani observed him for a moment, then said, "I have to say, you really are a nice clone."

"I thought you said I was pompous."

"You are. But you also brought me a burger and a flower instead of taking me to Vlad."

Niel's eyes widened. "Why would I do that?"

"To gain his respect?" She shrugged and said, "That's what I would have done, back when he cared for me. I was almost ready to kill Danny because he told me to. Maybe it's a good thing I turned out to be imperfect and had to leave."

Niel decided to ignore the fact that Dani would have murdered a person and instead said, "You mean you didn't realize it at first?"

"Oh, no. I was stable for like a week before Vlad noticed anything amiss." She saw Niel's troubled expression and quickly added, "It's okay, I'm sure youre safe. You've stayed stable for much longer than I did. You're not a failure."

"I hope not," Niel mumbled, not feeling completely reassured.

Dani gave him a friendly nudge. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. And if you're not, you could always join your super duper awesome sister Dani on her worldly expeditions."

Niel frowned. "By the way, why do you call yourself Danny? Don't you want to go by your own name?"

"Uh-uh," she wagged her finger and said, "I'm Dani, with an I. He's Danny with a Y."

"That has to get confusing sometimes."

"Oh, absolutely. But it's also really funny. Like how there're two Hawkeyes in Marvel comics."

"There's two Hawkeyes?"

Dani gasped dramatically, then placed a hand on his shoulder and said deeply, "Niel, I really need to get you into comics."

Niel slowly moved Dani's hand away. "Okay...but I still find it weird that you want to be called Dani. Why not Elle? or Ellie?"

Dani tapped her chin and said, "You could call me that, if you like. Ellie does sound pretty cute."

"Cool, then. Ellie it is."

Ellie didn't seem to mind his new nickname for her. She wiped her mouth with a sleeve and looked at Niel's watch. "I guess I better leave. If Vlad's treating you like he used to treat me, then you probably have to do some ghost training in a few."

Niel looked down at his wrist. Had time really passed that quickly? "Yeah, you're right. Um...I'd say say you later, but..."

Ellie shrugged. "Why not? No harm in sticking around in Amity Park for a while longer, right?" She jabbed a finger at Niel and added, "Just make sure Vlad doesn't try to capture me or anything. Also, feel free to buy me food whenever we meet."

"I'll keep that in mind," Niel promised.

Niel turned away and began walking home. He glanced over his shoulder to where Ellie had been, but she was gone, probably off to do...whatever it was she did on her own.

#Danny Phantom #dannymay #dannymay2020 #niel masters #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dani phantom #fic #fanfiction #writing #mine

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 39)

Country Pursuits

Reader’s art dealer job has some unfortunate (but is it really unfortunate..? You’ll see) results. Arthur starts making plans. The bank job is looming on the horizon, y’all... Enjoy!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

The men were out doing the art dealer job. My art dealer job. I felt full of nervous energy, sitting by the campfire with my sketchbook and pencil, tapping the end of it against the page as I looked around for something to draw that'd take my mind off of it.

The day had been pretty uneventful until then. Arthur and I had returned to camp with a pair of pronghorns for Pearson and the gang, so nobody commented on the fact that we'd spent the evening away from camp. I thought that was a nice trade. Food for their silence. Not even Dutch had anything to say, only stopping to tell Arthur that he had been thinking of how to deal with Bronte, and that he'd need to talk to him once he, John and Lenny returned from stealing those paintings.

That was so long ago, it felt like. The boys had only been gone a couple of hours and realistically it was going to take a few with how far they'd be travelling to Valentine, then Emerald Ranch provided everything went correctly (Hosea had spoken to a friend of his over there, Seamus, who'd be taking the art off our hands). Even so, I was restless the entire time.

I focused my attention on Javier's guitar where it was leaning up against a barrel, and started drawing it. I sketched it to fill up a page, giving it plenty of detail in a bid to stretch out the process, have it consume more time before the boys got back. I could only pray that the job went well, considering I'd brought it to them. If anything went wrong, I wouldn't be able to stomach it.

"You, uh, you ever drawn me in that book o' yours?" The log I was sitting on shifted unsteadily as someone dropped in beside me. Micah. I froze for a moment, eyes going wide with shock.

Micah hadn't been particularly friendly with me as of late, given our quarrels and the whole Arthur kicking his front teeth in thing. He either didn't speak to me at all or he barked some order at me, got me to do something for him. A lot of which, I simply didn't do. I wanted to be useful, not a damn servant.

"Why, you gonna demand that I do so if I say no?" I asked, not taking my eyes from the guitar, carrying on sketching. Micah chuckled, and my throat itched from cigarette smoke as he exhaled it, not bothering to direct it away from me.

"Well, would be nice if you did. Show a little friendliness, make out like you might just be able to stand me," it was all spoken in jest. I finally looked at him.

"I stood you for a long time, remember? More than that, thought you were a decent feller if you tried."

"Well, I told you you was wrong, that this is just who I am."

"Yeah and I never believed you. Though, that was 'bout the only thing that came out of your mouth that's true, so I should've."

"You saying I'm a liar, princess?" He questioned and my mood withered further, eyelids lowering in irritation.

"I ain't gonna waste my breath asking you again, Micah. You know I don't like you calling me that," I deadpanned, and I heard him exhale a drawn out breath. "And lying might not be the right word for it. Twisting things, though, that you do plenty of."

"Still think I was going 'round trying to convince people I'd fucked you? That's all rather conceited of you, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Not half as conceited as you thinking me showing you the barest of kindnesses means I must want you to kiss me," I quipped back, and there was a pause before he made an unconvincing chuckle.

"Whatever," he breathed, sucking on his cigarette hard enough to hollow his cheeks, the end glowing bright before ebbing again when he exhaled the smoke; once again in my direction. It made my eyes water.

"I don't wish to be unfriendly with you, Micah. I never was one for conflict."

"Then I guess you chose the wrong business, this ain't a life that comes free of conflict. That pretty gash in your neck's some pretty solid evidence of that," he muttered, gesturing to my throat.

Every time someone mentioned it, it burned.

"I can't argue with that. I guess I could be more clear; conflict with people that once upon a time I got along with, dare I say liked," I replied, snapping my sketchbook closed when I became too distracted to carry on.

"You liked me?" He smiled and spoke in a sickly tone that was completely condescending and not in the least bit pleasant or sincere. "First time I've ever been told that. Truly, I am touched."

"Maybe it'd happen more often if you didn't go 'round treating people like crap."

"I've never treated you like crap," he told me in all seriousness, brow forming a heavy line above his eyes. I cocked a brow at him and snorted.

"You ain't? How about dumping all your shit on me, telling me to wash this, fix that, I stood in horse shit, scrub my boots? And saying all those dirty things to Arthur right in front of me?" I provoked and he laughed, shaking his head. Anger fizzed up and over inside. "And telling me that all I'm worth is my unsullied body, and you only wanted to fuck me 'cause I'm a virgin?"

Micah's eyes snapped to me at that, and it was a fair bit of time before he responded.

"If I'd've buttered you up real good, would you have been up for it? If I whispered sweet nothings in your ear and called you beautiful and scattered rose petals on the bedroll? Would you have fucked me then?" He levelled his gaze to me, looking directly at me after flicking his spent cigarette away.

"No!"

"Then what's your problem? So what if that's all I wanted you for, if I weren't gonna get you anyway?"

"Well, I suppose you would look at it that way."

"What way do you look at it? Educate me."

"It just weren't nice having that spat at me like I was nothing, like I was completely useless to you since I weren't gonna give you what you wanted. Especially with how well we worked together, how we got along whenever you weren't in one of your moods."

"Well, I guess I figured I owed you the truth. Otherwise you'd be walking 'round thinking you'd hurt my feelings, feelin' guilty, and we can't have that," he shrugged and I rolled my eyes, looking away. "You got an attitude somewhere in you," he added at that. He was smirking.

I didn't respond, opening up my sketchbook again and flicking through it absentmindedly, opening it to a blank page.

"Well, you should know," he began, "I ain't got no hard feelings. It's pretty clear the ship has sailed, anyway."

"I'm sorry?" I questioned, looking at him.

"You think nobody notices when you walk in here with Morgan, acting like he ain't been pokin' you all night? The bags under your eyes are as tellin' as they are unflattering, my dear," his tone was low and dirty and I screwed my face up in distaste. "You ain't no virgin no more."

"Whatever," I hissed, though my face felt hot.

"Those marks on your neck, too, you didn't get those from that O'Driscoll's knife, did you, sugar plum? Likes doing that, does he? Marking what's his," he added, and I stared at him, mouth agape. He was unbearably audacious!

"I don't know. But he sure liked kicking your teeth in," I reminded him, narrowing my eyes. His lip curled up, revealing the gap in his teeth, and he wriggled his tongue between them crudely. I wrinkled my nose. "Just leave me alone," I eventually sighed.

His nasty little laugh petered off as he surprisingly did as he was told.

I must have dozed off at some point when I was supposed to be darning a pair of socks, leaned up against the large tree by the fire. I woke with a start when something tapped my arm; for a moment I was ready to receive a lecture from Miss Grimshaw for sleeping on the job, but instead a hand holding a bundle of cash was in front of my face. My eyes travelled up the arm it was attached to and settled on John.

"Here's your share, sleepy head. Get up before someone sees you, I know Hosea don't take kindly to people doing what you're doing," he advised me, and I took the cash from him, my brows raising.

"Wow, this is my cut? Just for setting it up? You must've got a lot."

"Yeah, we didn't do too badly at all," John nodded.

"Did it go okay?"

Amusement twisted his features.

"Yeah, went off without a hitch. We all rode off without having to fire a single bullet, no one was hurt on the job," he began, and I was about to voice my relief when he continued, "didn't stop Lenny from fucking his leg up somehow on the way back."

"What?" I balked, sitting up. John stepped aside and gestured to where Arthur was helping Lenny down off his horse. Well, dragging him off of it with control while Lenny clung to him, wincing at every jostle of his leg.

I bolted up and raced over there, John hot behind me.

"Lenny! What happened? Are you alright?" I asked uselessly holding my arms out towards him and Arthur in some vague attempt at offering to help. Arthur managed to get him on the ground, balancing on one foot.

"Sure," Lenny said, face frozen in a grimace, "don't worry, ain't nothing to worry about."

"The kid's horse threw him," Arthur informed me, mild amusement on his face too. Neither Arthur or John seemed too concerned, which brought me some relief.

I looked at the horse in question. Little, tiny Maggie.

"She threw you?" I murmured.

"She saw a snake and got spooked, that's all."

"Was pretty impressive, the way he landed on his feet," Arthur mused.

"Till he hit the floor, screaming bloody murder," John added and they both chuckled.

"Glad it's so amusing," Lenny sighed, looking nothing short of mortified.

"We just robbed a whole bunch of valuable artwork from a serious collector without a single problem, but you can't manage to ride home? Yeah, it's a little amusing. Don't worry, it don't look broken, you probably just sprained it," John said. Lenny shook his head, leaning heavily on both Arthur and John as they helped him towards the house. Arthur called Hosea over, who immediately joined us.

They set Lenny down on a chair inside, and Hosea kneeled down in front of him. He inspected the injured ankle, asking him about the pain; where it was, how bad it was, if he felt anything snap. Hosea seemed satisfied after some investigation that no bones were broken, but he needed to rest it. He sent me off to fetch some medical supplies, and when I returned he bandaged up the ankle firmly to support the joint, and Arthur gave Lenny some whiskey for the pain, patting him on the shoulder.

"Now, you just take it easy for a few days, keep your foot up. You keep moving around on it, you'll make it worse," Hosea explained, tying off the bandage before pushing up to his feet, leaning on Lenny's good knee for support as he did.

"What about the bank?" Lenny queried, and Hosea went quiet for a moment. Arthur and John looked to him for his response.

Bank?

"Well, I'm sure we can manage without you, son," Hosea started, and Lenny sighed and leaned his head back, face a picture of disappointment. "Hey, don't be like that. How irresponsible would it be of us to have you along on a bank job when you can barely walk?"

"I know," Lenny grumbled, "I just wanted to be along for that. Show you fellers I can do a good job."

"I trust you would. Don't worry, there'll be other opportunities, I'm sure."

"'cept Dutch keeps saying this'll be the last big score," John noted with a humourless chuckle. Hosea looked at him, unamused and with a certain look in his eye.

"Well, I ain't got much to say about that," Hosea replied, his tone abrupt. It was clear he believed as much as they did that their scores were numbered. "Anyway, you stay here, Lenny. Rest up. Can we bring you anything?"

"If I'm gonna be sat here on my ass for the foreseeable future, some books would be nice," Lenny snorted, slumping glumly in the chair as Hosea dragged over a crate and had him rest his foot on it.

"Books," Hosea repeated with a nod, "certainly."

With that, he headed off. John left too, with a parting sympathetic pat on Lenny's shoulder, leaving just the three of us behind. I immediately turned to Lenny, fiddling with my own fingers, chewing on my lip a moment before speaking. I felt Arthur's eyes on me the whole time.

"Lenny, I'm so sorry," I began, and Arthur laughed.

"I was waiting for that," Arthur said, and I frowned at him in confusion.

"Huh?" Lenny simply grunted, looking at me cluelessly.

"I'm sorry about your ankle, I was praying all day that none of you'd get hurt, but…"

Lenny looked at Arthur, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

"Is she for real?" Lenny shook his head and I flushed a little, feeling foolish. Was I missing something?

"Just tell her it's okay," Arthur put an arm around my waist and carefully began leading me away.

"You think this is your fault?" Lenny called to me, then laughed, "hey, don't worry about it. I forgive you for making Maggie throw me, I don't appreciate it, but at least you're sorry," he teased.

I stopped in my tracks and turned back to him, resisting Arthur's tugging.

"It was my job you got hurt on, that's what I meant. I mean, obviously, right?"

"Listen, somethin' I came to learn real quick. Shit happens. Sometimes it's somebody's fault, but most of the time? It's just shit," Lenny snickered, shaking his head and grinning at me.

"You're speaking to the lady who felt bad over killin' an O'Driscoll who was about to slit her throat, just let her say what she's gotta say," Arthur explained and I frowned deeper.

"Hey, don't tease me for having… morals and– and guilt. You were the one blaming yourself for that O'Driscoll ordeal just 'cause you didn't make me leave the gang, Arthur, so you're one to talk," I snapped.

"That was a whole different thing," Arthur frowned, going serious, "I still think about that, you know."

"Well, don't!"

"How long you two been married?" Lenny asked and we swivelled our heads to look at him, observing his mischievous grin. Hosea walked back in then, a bundle of books in his hands.

"Here you go, son. These were by your tent, but I can ask around, see if anyone can lend you something different?" He began, putting the books down next to his foot on the crate.

Arthur took the opportunity to lead me off again, with that marriage comment ringing in my ears I didn't try to resist. Oh, to be married to Arthur Morgan… I stopped myself before I got carried away.

He led me outside and we took a seat at the front of the house, on the edge of the fountain. He groaned as he sat down, sighing in exhaustion. He looked about as tired as I'd felt all day.

"You alright?" I asked. Arthur nodded, yawning. "Wow. I hope last night was worth it," I said light-heartedly, smirking.

"Oh, it definitely was. Much better than a restful night, princess," he chuckled. "That job went well, John give you your cut?"

I nodded. "It's a lot."

"Yeah, we did real well. I'll tell Dutch… I gotta speak to him at some point. Wants to talk about Angelo Bronte. Dutch is on about robbing a bank in town, so something's gotta be done about him; the man who seems to run the whole damn city."

"You're gonna rob a bank in the middle of the city?" I balked, eyes going wide and bile rising uneasily in my throat.

"Apparently. Hosea thinks we can do it, couple of the girls have been out scoping the place. Doesn't look too heavily guarded," he explained, though it didn't quell my fears at all.

"Yeah, but what about after? Fleeing through the city? It ain't like Valentine, where you run for thirty seconds and you're out on open plains," I exclaimed and Arthur shook his head, agreeing with me.

"It's a risk. I know. But Hosea says the place is full of cash and gold, so if we get away…" he trailed off, looked up towards the house. Hosea and Dutch were sitting up on the balcony above us, talking.

With a sigh, Arthur took my hand and led me away, over towards the edge of the water, out of earshot from any of the camp. I went along with him wearing a concerned frown. He turned to me, then, taking both of my hands and looking down at them.

"If we get away," he continued, not yet meeting my eye, "we should have a lot of money. Enough for the whole gang to get out."

I stared for a moment, wondering why he needed to tell me that in secret. "That's great, but–"

"Not only that, my cut… my cut would be big enough that – put together with what I have saved – you and I might just be able to– to– we could get away," he finally met my eyes at that. "You and me, princess. We could leave, we'd have enough to support ourselves. I could keep you safe."

My lips parted. I had to admit, that all sounded rather wonderful. A totally fresh start, far away from Dutch and the Pinkertons and the O'Driscolls… with Arthur. Just him and me. I must've started smiling a little because Arthur smiled too, pulled me into a hug.

"We could do it. We'd see that the others made it out alright; Charles, John, Mary-Beth, all those people you've grown close to. We'd have peace of mind and then we could leave, be done with all this getting shot at and knives held to our necks. Start leading a proper life," he whispered against the top of my head, swaying me from side to side in his arms.

"You gotta do the bank, first," I reminded him, "oh, please be careful, Arthur."

"I'm always as careful as I can be," he told me, then pulled back to look at me, "I want this. I'm so certain of that."

"Me too," I nodded, cupping his cheeks.

"All that's holding me back is not knowing what'll happen to these people. I want to make sure they're gonna be okay," he whispered and I nodded in understanding. "This bank could be it, princess."

"Arthur!" Dutch yelled across the camp. I looked over Arthur's shoulder to see him leaning over the edge of the balcony, waving him over. Arthur held a hand up in acknowledgement, then let out a soft breath.

"I'll see you later," he said, kissing my forehead and squeezing my hands. I watched him walk back to the house, a feeling in my stomach a bittersweet combination of hope and dread.

I awoke the next morning in my bedroll, laying on the floor of Arthur's room. I knew he'd be returning at some point in the night after heading out with Dutch, so I'd left his bed free. I had to smile to myself, then, when I felt his presence behind me, a hand softly resting on my hip.

The next thing I registered was the smell. Wet, stagnant, musky… unpleasant. I shifted, looking over my shoulder at Arthur to see him lying asleep in just his union suit. His clothes were in a pile nearby, and I realised they were the source of the smell; his jeans and shirt sodden with filthy water, his boots caked in mud. What on Earth had he been doing last night?

I laid back down, lacing my fingers with his on my hip, lifting his hand from me as I rolled to face him, replacing it on my other hip. Arthur woke up a moment later, either stirred by my movement or sensing my eyes on him. His eyes creased with a smile when he saw me, but before he could say anything, I couldn't help but ask;

"Have you been swimming around in the swamp?"

Arthur only paused for a moment before answering. "Yes."

I quirked a brow, utterly perplexed.

"Dutch had us helping out some feller with a boat, reckons he'll get us to Bronte's house so we won't have to go in through the city," he told me sleepily. He started to appear more alert until it all seemed to come back to him in a rush and his face shifted to urgency. "You should'a seen the goddamn alligator out there. Big as a damn bison, I swear."

I nodded in understanding. "Yeah, some big ones out there. You couldn't pay me to set foot in the water, and I grew up there, what on Earth were you doing out there?"

"It's a long story. Ended with me in the water saving some kid, almost had his leg torn off. This alligator… there's big, and then there's big,” he shook his head in disbelief.

I stared at him, a little bit horrified. "You were in the water with a bloodthirsty gator?"

"I still got all my fingers and toes, don't worry," he chuckled, but it quickly faded off, "this kid weren't so lucky. Well, everything's still attached, I just hope he don't get gangrene. Could be pretty bad…"

"Goodness. And where was Dutch during all of this? It was his thing, getting the boat, right?"

"He was in the boat, yelling, but otherwise being unhelpful," he said drily, moving to sit up with a groan. He stretched out his back and I watched the muscles work through the clingy material of his union suit, my head propped up with my arm. "Still, I reckon he was shittin' himself. Course he weren't getting in to help."

"Course," I tutted. "I'm so glad nothing happened to you. Gators, they can be real vicious."

"You're telling me," he snorted.

"When I was a kid, my closest neighbour's son met his end that way," I started, Arthur looking to me with widened eyes, "was out there fishing, waded in too deep and didn't see this big guy in the water."

"Shit…"

"Yeah… all I know is, his dad started firing his gun at the gator, but ended up aiming at his son just to– well, it was the kindest thing to do, apparently," I murmured solemnly.

"Jesus. This ain't filling me with confidence about getting back in that boat, heading out into the swamps again tonight," Arthur breathed, shaking his head.

"Just make sure everyone keeps their limbs inside the boat this time. You'll be fine," I offered him my most comforting smile.

"Noted. I don't particularly feel like watching someone get torn limb from limb by some dinosaur-looking bastard," he sighed. "Anyway, I best get dressed."

"Me too. And I'll wash those nasty clothes of yours. They stink," I laughed, sitting up and reaching for my suitcase, pulling it over to me and retrieving my corset.

"They do? I'm sorry. I can't smell it, must be used to it. Either that or I stink too," he snorted.

I leaned over and sniffed him, amusement worming its way onto my face. I held my thumb and index finger an inch or so apart and gave him a sheepish smirk. He dropped the clean shirt he was about to put on before nodding.

"I'll wash up first."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #atink #arthur morgan x female reader #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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gimmesumsuga · 6 years ago

Text

Sweeter than Sweet - Chapter 77

AO3 link

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Jimin x Yoongi, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader, Jin x reader.

Warnings: smutty smut smut. Dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), ice play, rough sex, implied dom/sub undertones,

Word count: 7k

Previous / Next

“Stand up, sweetheart. Come here.” Gently, Jin coaxes you onto your feet, steadying you with a strong hand on each hip and palms flat to bare skin.

Even having been so recently sated, his gaze has lost none of its lustful heat. You feel it scorching across your body as it roams, lingering on your flushed chest and pebbled nipples; growing ever hotter as his wandering touch exposes more midriff to his greedy eyes. You shiver - ticklish - as his fingertips brush across your ribs, and Jin smiles as he returns to that same spot and you shudder once again, endeared by your reaction. With his hands on your waist, he draws you closer so his face is level with your sternum; so close you can feel each exhaled breath as he leans in to lay kiss after kiss upon your stomach. Palms glide higher under your tank top, large enough to cradle each side of your rib-cage. His thumbs drag across your stiff nipples, and very slow circle that passes over them has your innards clenching with excitement - your lip bitten to withhold all the gasps that threaten to part them.

You watch, insides quivering, as Jin’s pillow soft lips pass over every inch of your stomach in a series of slow, lingering kisses. With his eyes closed he looks so serene; so handsome that it steals your breath away when he opens them and gazes up into yours.

In an almost trance-like state, you take off your top and let it fall carelessly to the floor so that Jin can take immediate advantage of your newly exposed skin. His kisses turn into wet flicks and licks of his tongue along your breastbone, all the way up till his face is nestled in your cleavage. He turns his head to the side to kiss the swell of your breast with a hum that sounds almost wistful; longing..

Threading your fingers gently through his hair, Jin is easily persuaded to turn his mouth’s attention towards your nipple. A soft sigh escapes as you as he encases it with his lips, teasing your areola with the tip of his tongue whilst his thumb works the other, your back arching to press your breasts further into his eager hands.

The pleasure may feel exquisite but it’s almost more than you can bear. Your body is more than ready and willing to receive him after having already brought Jin to a climax; each touch incensing you further, panting so hard that you're light-headed with desire.

“Jin,” you utter quietly, pushing his hair back to better see his face. His strong jaw moves with every motion of his tongue as he sucks and licks and laps at you, a light crease of concentration etched into his brow as he works. “Seokjin,” you say again when he doesn't respond, “Please.”

His eyes open as he lets your spit-slick nipple fall from his mouth, the corners of it cocked into a smirk.

“I'm trying to savour you, sweetheart,” he tells you, placing another soft kiss to the space just above your navel. “Patience.” Eyes closing once more, Jin's mouth begins to work lower as his hands do the same, skimming over your lower back and buttocks while his lips trace the waistband of your bottoms, infuriatingly slow.

You're about to start pleading again when Jin suddenly gropes your behind with both hands, squeezing. He pushes his face right between your legs and inhales, the sound of it nothing short of obscene.

“Jin!” you gasp as heat floods into your cheeks, scandalised by his unexpectedly brazen behaviour. Despite you pushing at his head and squeezing your thighs together to try to discourage him all this does is make Jin laugh and nuzzle further into you, and when he finally does withdraw it's not without knocking the tip of his nose right into your clit to weaken your knees, first.

He rests his cheek against your stomach and smiles sweetly up at you, watching the way you squirm from the confusing mixture of embarrassment and arousal that's coursing through you.

“You still don't get just how intoxicating your scent is, do you?” Jin asks, and despite the teasing glimmer in his eyes, his words sound sincere. “I've wanted to gorge myself between these thighs more times than I can count.” You gasp as Jin's hands slip further down from your buttocks to the backs of your thighs, his fingertips mere inches away from brushing your core.

Your cheeks redden further, knowing Jin must be able to feel how sopping wet you are through the barrier of your thin clothes.

“Especially when you're menstruating,” he continues, eyes closing as if experiencing some sort of tortured bliss at the mere thought of it. “God. You've no fucking clue.”

When you… w-when...

Your body that had been practically buzzing with excitement suddenly falls still, your stomach dropping unpleasantly.

You're not sure why it comes as such a shock, really, to have Jin mention it. When you'd first moved into the mansion Jimin had warned you that it would likely be best to avoid the other vampires within the house at certain points of your cycle and to begin with. you’d presumed this was purely for your safety - too much blood flowing freely was bound to be a temptation, after all. As time had gone on, though, and you’d experienced your first period in Jimin’s presence and witnessed just how insatiable he’d become - in more ways than one - you began to understand that it might’ve been for an entirely different purpose he'd advised you to hide away.

True, it’d taken you a while to get over your own squeamishness about that particular method of feeding. You couldn't think of much else more disgusting, quite frankly, but later on, after having seen how Yoongi was similarly enthusiastic about it, you'd been able to let go, happy that you were able to provide your lovers such nourishment.

You’d gotten the feeling the vampires had made an effort to avoid you during those times, too, but you'd always presumed it was Jimin who'd warned them away rather than them having a direct awareness of it. To find out that Jin has been able to smell it every single month is… a little mortifying to say the least.

“Y-you can…?” Jin's smile broadens, his palms rubbing soothingly down the backs of your legs and slipping beneath the hem of your bottoms on their way back up.

“I consider myself a bit of a connoisseur, sweetheart,” he teases, “There aren't walls thick enough that'd keep the scent of you away.” You bite your lip, legs quaking as his fingertips feather across the space where your thighs end and the curve of your buttocks begins. It's only when you neglect to say anything more that Jin seems to realise how awkward about it you feel. “Please, don't be embarrassed,” he encourages, pausing to place a gentle kiss to your abdomen. “Maybe Jungkook or some of the others might shy away from it, but the more mature of us - the more experienced - know better.”

“You've tried it, then?” To be honest, you'd always presumed that Jin's experience of real physical intimacy with women had come to an abrupt and complete end the very moment he’d been turned. Apparently, you’d thought wrong.

Jin huffs a wry laugh, his smile no longer quite meeting his eyes the way it had before.

“Namjoon and I shared many experiences just after we were first turned… and well, let's just say I’ve been one to turn down a free meal.” You feel your eyes widen almost comically at the mention of Namjoon's name, but thankfully Jin is too busy kissing your stomach to notice that his words have given you pause.

When he says ‘shared’, does that mean…? Before tonight you never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought that Jin and Namjoon would harbour similar sexual appetites. In your mind, the two of them couldn't be more like chalk and cheese, but it sounds as though the eldest vampire likes to be a little more savage between the sheets than you’d originally expected….

“Let's get a proper look at you, sweetheart,” you hear Jin mumble as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your bottoms, distracting you from your thoughts. He slowly inches them down, and you try not to blush once they pass over the thickest part of your thighs and then fall to the floor, taking a thick, glossy strand of your arousal with them.

He parts your labia with his thumbs and smiles at the sight of your engorged clit, his touch all too fleeting.

“Perfect,” he decides, and quicker than you can blink Jin suddenly stands and lifts you, gasping, off of your feet, placing you right back down on the cold surface of the dining table. Lying you down, he grins wolfishly at the way you shudder and takes a moment to stand at the edge of the table, unbuttoning his shirt as he surveys you laid out beneath him.

“Funny isn't it,” Jin begins once his shirt hangs open to expose the subtle musculature of his chest, “That you're the only meal this table will have ever seen.” You can't seem to muster a reply, too focused on remembering to breathe as Jin nonchalantly reaches into your glass tumbler and retrieves a remaining cube of ice. Grasped between his thumb and forefinger, he shows it to you before popping it into his mouth.

“W-what are you-?” you begin as he leans over you, your sentence cut short by the freezing cold kiss he presses between your cleavage and the strangled sound that bursts forth from your lungs. Jin’s hands are rested on each of your thighs as his mouth wanders, the ice held between his puckered lips to drag it directly across your skin as you try to keep your body from flinching underneath him, instinct causing you to try and wriggle away from the unfamiliar sensation.

“Shit!” The exclamation escapes you before you can hold it back as Jin diverts from the trail of icy water he’s smeared between your breasts and turns his attention to your nipples.. “Holy s-shit, that’s cold…” When his eyes open they’re full of devilish delight, watching the way your eyebrows furrow and you bite your lip as he slowly rubs the ice slowly back and forth over the painfully hardened peak.

Under his loving assault, your sensitive flesh flushes from pink to red - numb with cold and yet somehow tingling and throbbing all at once - and god, you love the way it feels. Your fingers flex, fingernails pressing into the surface of the table for purchase as Jin reaches for another piece of ice and begins to rub that one into your other nipple to make you gasp and bow all over again.

Slowly, each cube begins to melt, and your body shudders as tiny droplets of icy water dribble down the sides of your breasts. Jin swallows the remains of what's left in his mouth but his kiss remains just as cold even without the ice caught between his teeth, goosebumps rising along your skin as he abandons your breasts in favour of trailing his lips down your stomach.

“One more, I think.” Tipping your chin forward, you see Jin pluck another ice cube from his glass. He glances at you, smiling, as he pops it in his mouth and then leans over you and deposits it directly into the dip of your belly-button, chuckling when your whole body jolts underneath him. “You're so responsive, sweetheart,” he admires as you pant and shiver, willing the ice to melt as fast as possible as you stare down at it. With the way Jin has you burning up, surely it shouldn't take long? “I like it.”

His kiss travels lower as his hands caress your thighs, and you find yourself holding your breath in anticipation as Jin drops into a deep squat and pushes gently at your knees, spreading you open. You feel the softness of Jin’s mouth press kisses into the inside of your thighs, from one side to the other as they climb ever higher and higher, closer to your core.

“Keep it up, ok?” you hear him say, and you can feel each word right between your legs, close enough to feel his breath. “Let me know if I’m not meeting your expectations,” he adds. The smile you can hear in his voice helps to make you relax, unwinding the tightness in your shoulders as you smile up at the ceiling, biting your lip to withhold a giggle.

Trust him to try and make you laugh at a time like this.

Jin’s lips are so breathtakingly cold that the first touch them makes your whole body jump on contact, falling still only once he’s taken hold of your hips to hold you in place to better trace every inch of your anatomy with his tongue. You wish he'd done it sooner; by moving so sharply you'd managed to make the small amount of melted water in your navel spill over, and now you're driven to distraction by the feel of it dribbling slowly down your side, tickling as it goes.

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan as he steals your attention back with a firm swipe against your clitoris, top to bottom and then side to side, wriggling figures of eight into tight little nub as his head tilts from side to side, his nose pressed close to your pubic mound. With every flick the most gorgeous jolts of pleasure ascend your spine, fogging your brain till you’re completely lost to anything else than the sensations between your legs.

His hair is soft when you reach down and thread your fingers through it - the finest of silks - and when you gently tug on it in encouragement, willing him to delve deeper, Jin is quick to oblige. He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, briefly opening his eyes to look up into yours as his licks turn into open mouth kisses that descend until his pouted lips are pressed directly to your entrance.

Diligently, he begins to feast. Jin lets no drop of your arousal go to waste, adding to it with the saliva that he licks into your pussy, the tip of his tongue dipping inside you as his nose rubs against your clit.

“Seokjin.” He gives no sign that he’s heard your wanton moan save the tightening of his grip around your hips, far too absorbed in enjoying the task at hand to want to waste even a single second. “Jin,” you mewl, twisting in his hold as he returns to your clit and sucks it sharply between his lips. You’re too far gone to care about the water spilling from your navel every time you shift on the table’s surface, unconcerned with the fresh wave of goosebumps it summons across your skin. “Your fingers, p-please…”

You’ve done this enough times now to know that you struggle to find with clitoral stimulation alone; aching for that feeling of fullness inside. All you want is for him to slip the digits that are now sliding from your hip and down your thigh inside of you, and your hips flex up from the table as though chasing after them as he unhurriedly draws them upward again, tickling.

You’re about reaching the limits of this ‘patience’ that Jin mentioned…

“Please,” you beseech again, reaching out to take a hold of his wrist and drag his touch closer to where you so desperately need it only to have your hand slapped away, groaning in frustration when he removes himself from you. It’s his cocked eyebrow that you see first as he emerges from between your legs and stands to full height - his smirking mouth shortly after, slick with your essence.

He tuts loudly as he leans over you, one hand on the table and the other pinning your wrist by your side.

“Are you always this impatient?” he questions, cocking his head as he looks down at you. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, the rest of his hair slightly dishevelled from how often you’ve run your fingers through it. You bite your lip and glance away, cheeks red from his teasing chastisement. “Well?” he persists, squeezing at your wrist, “Are you?”

“M-maybe,” you admit, willfully understating the size of your sexual appetite. Ever since Jimin introduced to life’s more carnal delights you’ve hardly been able to get your fill; insatiable since the moment you met. Would you be like this with any other lover, you wonder, or is it his influence and the company you keep that made you this way?

“Clearly you’ve been spoiled.” Jin lets go of your wrist, his smile growing at the needful groan you release at the sliding of his palm along the inside of your thigh and your whine of discontent when he steals it away. “Where’s the fun in always getting what you want right away?” Again he brushes his fingertips against you; a brief passing of his index finger against your swollen clitoris. “I think you’ll find the rewards far more satisfying when you’ve really had to work for them, sweetheart.”

Desperately trying to ignore the fierce ache deep down within your abdomen, you sit up and lean back on your elbows, face flushed and bottom lip bitten as you ask,

“What do you want me to do?” Frankly, you’re willing to do anything if it means Jin will actually touch you rather than torment you with the slow circles he’s drawing in the wetness smeared across the tops of your thighs.

Jin smiles, pleased, and then leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Tell me exactly what you want... and just how much you want it,” he breathes into your ear, soft and seductive, “And maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“I… I want you,” you begin, stating the obvious as Jin begins to smatter your skin in lingering kisses, your cheeks blazing with heat underneath the press of his lips. “Want you to fuck me, so bad.” Another kiss to the slant of your jaw, your head tipping back.

Considering how imagining Jin in any kind of sexual context had made you blush so hotly, you can barely believe how carelessly you’ve begun to speak. With every centimetre his fingertips creep closer to your core the more shameless you become, barely even registering the garbled, filthy words that are falling from your mouth.

“Need your cock, Seokjin, please.” You make a grab for the front of his shirt where it remains hanging open, tugging on it for emphasis. “I’ll… I’ll do anything you want.”

“You said it was it my fingers you wanted a second ago. Which is it?” he presses in that same teasing tone as before, sliding them slowly from top to bottom of your labia and then back up again. “Make up your mind.”

“Anything!” you very nearly shout as he pinches at your clit, the sting of it so strong that it has you slumping from your elbows onto your back, skin slapping against the table. “Anything,” you repeat, softer, a lump forming in your throat as frustration threatens to overwhelm you completely - so tightly wound that your legs are beginning to tremble from wanting alone.

Closing your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself, you turn your head to the side to find Jin’s hand waiting for you there. He tenderly cradles your cheek in your palm as he kisses the other, the feel of his chest pressed to yours heavy and yet comforting in its coolness; a soothing balm against your fevered skin.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he praises, nuzzling you affectionately. “Wanna be nice and tight for me, is that it?”

Weakly, you nod, your breath hitching when you feel Jin reach between bodies and hear the rustling of fabric as he pushes his bottoms further down. Soon enough, his blunt girth is pressing between your legs, hot and impatient, and you let your legs flop open wider as he begins to tease the weeping head back and forth amongst your wetness, lubricating himself.

You know it’ll be a stretch without Jin having eased you open first - you’ve felt how thick he is first hand, after all - but by this point, you’re well past caring. You’ll happily accommodate anything he’s willing to give so long as it finally means you’ll be granted some relief.

“God, you’ve got such a sweet little cunt,” he grunts before seizing your mouth with his, releasing your face to grab at your hips and pull you right to the edge of the table so he can better angle himself to enter you.

“Seokjin, please,” you plead as he pushes barely an inch inside, waiting until the stretch has you tense and gasping before pulling back again You’re sure he’s tormenting himself just as much as he is you; you can feel how taut his shoulders are as you slip your hands inside his shirt to grab at them, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Jin silences you with kisses, consuming the moans you make as he shallowly dips the tip in and out of you again and again and again till it there’s no longer any pain. You’re so ready by the time he’s done that if he rocked his hips even just the slightest bit harder you know he’d slip straight inside and as he stills once more, so tantalisingly close, you’re praying he’ll do just that.

“Tell me you want me again,” Jin mumbles against your lips. You’re caught off guard by the hint of vulnerability that you detect, but given all he’s been through today it should really come as no surprise that he’s craving reassurance that he’s still needed - still loved even if it’s not quite in the same way.

You kiss him, sweetly, and lift your forehead to press it to his.

“I want you, Seokjin. I want this, want you.” You feel Jin nod and see the furrow in his brow right before he kisses you again, forcing your eyes closed. His hips tilt and your rise up to meet him, guiding him effortlessly into place, and with his lips moulded to yours, Jin starts to slowly push inside.

It’s such a snug fit that the feeling of his cock breaching you has the of you both panting for air before he’s even fully seated inside. Jin doesn’t hesitate or falter, though, not stopping until his pelvis is sat flush with yours and a simple squeeze of your inner muscles has him gasping and digging his fingertips into the flesh of your thigh, his eyes screwed shut tight.

“Shibal, I’d forgotten how good this feels,” Jin groans as he starts to move, smooth pushes and pulls that are neither too fast nor too slow. “So warm.” Jin cups your breast in his palm, kneading it firmly as he moves within you until a particular firm thrust has your whole body shifting, the table groaning beneath you with the force of it. Wetness squelches around his cock as he does it again, grinning as you gasp and grab at his shoulders. “So fucking wet.”

“Oh g-god, Jin,” you moan, clenching your thighs tighter around his waist, willing him not to stop. You’ve been waiting so long for this that you know it won’t take long for you to cum. You can feel it building even now; the subtle curve of Jin’s cock perfectly shaped to press against your g-spot with each and every thrust.

“You’re squeezing so tight, sweetheart.” Jin leans closer, closing the gap between your bodies so each rock of his hips has your breasts bouncing and his solid chest crashing into yours, His mouth is on your neck, his breaths short and shallow against your skin. “No wonder the others can’t get enough of you.”

You whine mindlessly, so deliciously close that your toes are already starting to curl.

“H-harder, please,” you pant breathlessly, digging your fingers into his hair and pushing him further into the crook of your neck. You feel the lightest graze of his fangs against your throat and your whole pelvis clenches in response, your body well trained to anticipate the euphoria that being fed upon brings. “Seokjin, I… God, I’m so close, please.”

“That’s right,” he smirks, lifting his head, “You like it a little rougher, don’t you?” With his next thrust, Jin’s hips come smacking savagely into yours, barely giving you any time to even catch your breath before he’s pulling back and then slamming in again, lifting his chest off of yours and grabbing hold of your hips, towering over you.

Try as he might, there’s something about the position you’re in that doesn’t allow Jin to take you as fast as he would like. Perhaps the table’s too low or it’s just not sturdy enough, but it feels like mere seconds before he’s groaning with frustration and pulling out of you. He grabs your hand, ignoring your questioning look.

“Stand up,” he demands, pulling you to your feet and clutching you to him, weakening your knees when he slips one hand between your legs and immediately slides two fingers inside. You can hear every curl of his fingers as every knuckle becomes coated with your wetness, and as he kisses the breath out of you it’s all you can do to clutch onto his shirt to stay upright.

“We should’ve done this sooner,” Jin tells you through gritted teeth, his free hand digging tightly into your waist, his cock weeping against your hip while you fall to pieces around his fingers. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of such a pretty cunt as yours.”

Almost as though he can sense how close you are to the precipice, Jin withdraws his digits from you and your eyes open, your whole body trembling with the injustice of it. You can barely keep yourself upright but Jin seems unconcerned, busy yanking off his shirt and tossing it to the ground to reveal his naked physique in all its glory.

“Bend over,” he instructs, dragging to towards the counter and then releasing your arm only to push at your back, forcing you to bend from the waist and lift your rear into the air, clutching the edge. “You wanted it harder, right, sweetheart?” He bends right over you, his sticky chest flush to your back. “Better hold on tight.”

He suddenly straightens, the sound of his deep inhale the only warning that you get before Jin impales you on the length of his cock. He drags you back by the hips as he thrusts forward just as hard, the bones of his pelvis slamming into the flesh of your buttocks. Relentless, Jin has you wailing as he takes you just as roughly as he promised, driving into you again and again. Each snap is so savage that you’re certain you’ll have bruises once he’s through but it’s not as though you care.

You’re finally getting what you wanted - about to cum so hard you’re not sure you’ll even be able to remember your name once he’s through.

“Such a good girl,” Jin praises, out of breath with exertion, “Made for taking our cocks, weren’t you? Such a good little plaything for her masters.”

“Yes, yes,” you sob in reply, your cheek pressed to the counter as Jin’s fingers find their way into your hair and he tugs at the roots, “God, yes!”

“Show me how hard you can cum, sweetheart.” He tightens his grip, pushing your cheek harder into the countertop, “Show me.” And you do - spectacularly.

The pleasure that rips through you is so intense that you have to press your face to the hard surface to muffle the cries that burst forth from your lungs, and your hands shake as you desperately cling to the counter because Jin doesn’t let up. All the while you keen and curse he continues to drive into you, fucking you through your orgasm and out to the other side.

“Jin, please,” you gasp, but now it’s mercy for which you beg. It’s too much when he reaches between your legs and starts to rub at your clit, so overwhelming that you’re having to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out. “I c-ca-can’t.”

At your protest Jin steps back, a growl rumbling from his chest as he grabs at your limbs from behind. Like a ragdoll he manhandles you, pulling you up straight and spinning you round to face him and then surging forward to slam his lips into yours. With his fingertips digging into your upper arms he walks you back until you hit something hard and cold; pleasant against your heated skin. It’s only when he’s picked you up and resumed such a vigorous pace that you hear the jars inside rattling with every thrust that you even realise it’s the refrigerator he’s fucking you against.

“Are you sure… you want me to stop?” Jin’s voice is wrecked from where he speaks down into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped as tightly around your waist as yours are around his hips, your buttocks in his palms. “Your cunt says otherwise.” He lifts his head and smashes his lips into yours, all teeth and tongues as his thrusts drive deep, biting out his words. “I can feel you squeezing around my cock again already.”

“F-fuck,” you choke into his kiss, your fingernails raking lines of red across into the shoulder blades to which you cling. You’re so drunk on oxytocin that you can barely string two words together - so high on lingering endorphins that your body feels as though it should sing - and you don’t ever want this feeling to stop.

“Been so good to me tonight,” he huffs, visibly beginning to tire from the ruthlessness of his efforts in spite of the supernatural stamina he’s blessed with. “Do you think you can cum with me, sweetheart? Show me -” Jin has to pause mid-sentence to catch his breath, his eyes pressing closed at the feel of your walls closing in around him, pushing towards his release. “ - show me how much you love my cock.”

“K-keep going and… and I will,” you promise, just as breathless.

Your hand are in Jin’s hair when he suddenly changes pace. His thrusts slow and each time he pulls back it’s barely even halfway, yet somehow it feels even better than before. Now, instead of filthy, frantic rutting, it’s a deep, dirty grind that has his pubic bone grinding against your clit like a pestle and mortar with every circle of his hips, the head of his cock brushing your sweetest spot over and over again.

“S-seokjin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you warn, digging your fingers into his scalp. He groans in acknowledgement, his breath heavy in your ear.

“Where… w-where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you answer without thought, your head falling back as the tide of pleasure begins to rise. “Cum inside me, Jin. Oh god, I wanna feel you cum!”

“Fuck!” Jin shouts, grabbing your ass so hard that it hurts.

It’s the slowest and deepest thrusts of all that finally push you both over the edge; each one dragged out as though he’s trying to savour this last few precious seconds before it ends. He’s surprisingly quiet as he cums considering how vocal he’s been so far but you can still feel how greatly he’s affected. His cock pulses and twitches long after he’s spilt every drop and it’s started to drip down the inside of your thighs - his whole body trembling and his breaths similarly shuddering.

“Jin.” You utter his name ever so softly after a minute or so has passed where neither of you has moved nor said a word. He has his forehead rested to yours, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks at the feel of you gently carding your fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”

Part of you is worried that now the heat of the moment has passed Jin’s mood might suddenly crash - that he might suddenly be overcome with guilt or regret everything that’s just happened. Thankfully, when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze his smile may be small and somewhat lopsided, but at least it looks genuine.

“I’m good.” He begins the somewhat messy task of separating the two of you, adding, “Promise,’ when he sees the way you’re searching his expression to see if anything looks amiss.

Jin’s nothing but attentive as he settles your feet back on the floor and waits until you’re steady before leaving your side to collect the clothes that are strewn about the place. He grins sheepishly as he comes back and sees you reaching for the roll of paper towels by the sink, thighs clenched together to avoid dripping onto the floor.

“Sorry,” he apologises as you wipe yourself clean with a grimace, wrinkling your nose at the scratchiness of the paper against your extra-sensitive parts. “Maybe we should’ve picked a more practical location.” Jin grins as you laugh, pulling on the clothes that he hands to you.

“I’m not sure there was enough forward planning involved for that….”

“Maybe you’re right,” he laughs along, pulling up his pants and then shrugging on his shirt. He doesn’t bother doing it up, though, just leaves it hanging open as he steps towards you with his hands outstretched. Cupping your cheeks, Jin dips his head to kiss you.

“Thank you.” His voice is tight with emotion as he says it, not yet pulling away. “I think I needed that.”

‘You’re welcome,” you answer easily, slipping your hands under his shirt to press your palms to the flat of his back, gently caressing. You’re relieved to feel how relaxed his muscles are beneath your hands - how slow and steady his breathing is.

“I wasn’t too rough?” You smile as Jin straightens up, his expression mildly embarrassed.

“Never too rough,” you assure him, your tone turning playful after as you add, “So… my ‘masters’, eh?” Jin laughs heartily, taking a step back and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“You caught that, huh?”

“Oh yes,” you giggle, leaning back against the edge of the counter and folding your arms. “Most definitely.” “It’s not like ‘daddy’ is much better, is it?” he teases, and as he finally starts to button up his shirt you snort out a laugh, smiling broadly. He has a point, you suppose.

Jin begins to clear up while you remain basking in the afterglow a little longer, propped up against the counter as you wait for some strength to return to your jellified legs. He hums as he collects all the bottles and glasses from the table and deposits them into the sink to wash another time, and you’re glad he seems as though he’s in a better mood now than the state in which you found him, even if it may only be temporary.

“I still think you should talk to Soo-Mi, you know,” you say after a little while, coming to stand at his side. Jin frowns at the remnants of the wine he’s pouring down the drain, and at the sight of his furrowed brow you place a soothing hand in the small of his back, kneading through his shirt. “Obviously it’s your call, but I think it’d be a shame to just let things go after all this time.”

“Maybe…” He shrugs non committedly, sighing as he places the bottle down on the side to dry. Turning around, he very gently passes his thumb across your cheek, smiling as you lean into it. “Come on,” he says, “We should get you to bed. I've kept you up long enough.”

“Are you coming with, then?” you chuckle when Jin offers you his hand, slipping your fingers between his without hesitation.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I could hardly call myself a gentleman if I didn’t at least walk you to your door, could I?” Well, you can hardly argue with that.

It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at Jimin’s door. Rather than let you go once you get there, however, Jin turns to you and takes your left hand as well, his expression earnest.

“Thank you again, for tonight,” he says, squeezing your hands good and tight. “I really enjoyed it and… I hope you did too.”

“Of course I did,” you smile, squeezing back. Could there really be any doubt?

“Of course you did,” he grins, his normal bravado swiftly re-emerging now he’s been suitably reassured. “Goodnight then, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight Jinnie.” You kiss him goodnight on your tiptoes and after one final squeeze of his hands, you disentangle your fingers from his and head into Jimin’s room, grinning at the kiss he blows your way just the door presses shut.

You’re almost pleased to find that Jimin and Yoongi aren’t home yet, your bed empty save where Nova is curled up in a ball on Yoongi’s pillow. It’s not that you’re not looking forward to seeing them, more that you know that if they were there waiting to beckon you under the duvet you wouldn’t have the willpower to resist joining them despite the shower you so desperately need.

You head to the bathroom without delay, stripping out of the clothes you've only just recently put back on along the way. The water’s blissfully warm and it feels amazing against the soreness Jin left behind. You're so absorbed enjoying the heat of it seeping into your limbs, in fact, that you don't even realise you're no longer alone in the bathroom until the cubicle door opens and you feel hands upon your hips - lips brushing the back of your neck.

“I thought you'd already be in bed.” The familiar sound of Yoongi’s low, gravelly voice relaxes you instantly and you lean back against his chest, releasing a contented hum when his lithe arms wrap around your waist. “Jimin shouldn't be long. He's just speaking to Hoseok.”

“Hmm, good,” you sigh, luxuriating in the slow, soothing kisses he's trailing along the length of your neck. “I missed you.”

“I know.” You smile at Yoongi's self-assuredness, placing your hands on top of his to stop them from drifting up to fondle your breasts as you know he'd been intending. Your nipples are still far too sensitive for that thanks to all Jin's pinching and tweaking. “I missed you too,” he admits with a chuckle when you nudge him in the ribs with your elbow. “So… why are you up so late?”

Suddenly you’re beset by a rush of nerves, mouth hanging open as you search for the courage it takes to reply. You know that you need to tell Jimin and Yoongi about what's just happened with Jin, and you know that you all agreed to be honest with one another and that permission was no longer required but… what if the reality of it turns out to be more than they're able to bear? What if Jimin changes his mind?

“Jin and Soo-Mi broke up,” you begin, fiddling with fingers nervously where they rest upon your stomach, “And he was… a little bit of a mess when I got home. Found him in the kitchen busy drinking his own body weight in booze.”

“Drowning his sorrows, hm? Always a good plan,” Yoongi muses dryly, and when you turn around in his arms, wet chest to wet chest, you see the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. “So, I'm guessing you helped him feel better, hm?” There’s something about the way one of Yoongi’s eyebrows rises and the slightly playful tone to his voice that has you blushing and glancing at your feet. Before you can say anything more or start to ramble your excuses, Yoongi graces you with a gentle kiss, soothing your anxieties. “I could smell him on your clothes, princess.”

“Ah.” You hesitate as the dark-haired vampire releases you and reaches for the shampoo, lathering up his hair. “You're not mad, are you?”

“Mad? No.” He prises one eye open to peek at you, foamy suds dripping down his forehead. “If it helped then I'm glad, as long as he treated you right. It's been a long time since hyung got laid...”

“He did,” you confirm, pressing your body to his to sneak back under the water regardless of the risk of getting wayward shampoo splashes in your eyes.

“Good,” Yoongi replies once all the remaining shampoo is gone and he's passed his hands over his face, wiping the water out of his eyes. Leaning past him, you take the shampoo for yourself, squirting a generous amount into your palm.

“Do you think…” You glance at Yoongi who's listening attentively, his gaze straying only momentarily when your arms extend above your head and your chest bounces with the motion. “Do you think Jimin will mind…?”

“He shouldn't,” Yoongi answers quickly, “And if he does then just leave him to me.”

You have to admit, it's more than a little reassuring to know that Yoongi's got your back should Jimin decide to become jealous despite everything you agreed. Although Jimin may take the lead in the bedroom, you know that he respects the elder vampire greatly as his hyung. Calm and collected, you've seen how Yoongi’s cool temper helps douse Jimin's natural fire, though in this case you really hope it won't be necessary.

“Here, let me,” Yoongi beckons, hands on your waist to turn you around so that your back is facing him and he's able to take over washing your hair, his long fingers like heaven as they massage at your scalp.

“Thank you,” you say softly, biting back a moan as he rubs firmly at your temples. You don't just mean for the head rub, and you hope Yoongi realises that.

“Anytime princess.” The two of you fall silent for a while after that, and as Yoongi replaces the shampoo in your hair with conditioner, combing it through, it takes every bit of willpower you possess not to fall asleep while you're leant against him.

“Son of a bitch!” he suddenly exclaims causing you to very nearly jump out of your skin, head swinging round to look over your shoulder with wide and startled eyes. “I bet that bastard drank all my Barolo, didn't he?!”

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winterune · 6 years ago

Text

A Monochrome World

A Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfiction

Word count: 2097

Summary: Natsume finds a newly-opened antique store on his way home from school. Inside, he finds room filled with framed monochrome pictures.

A/N: @natsumeweek 2019 Day 1. Prompt: Color/Monochrome. Not edited or beta’d. I’ll probably post an edited version on AO3 and FFN later. Thanks for reading^^ (edit: I named my OC Seiji because that was the first name that came to me and I've always liked that name, but I just remembered that Matoba's name is Seiji and I'm too lazy to change my OC's name ^^; I'm sorry for that)

Read on AO3.

***

On his way home from school, Natsume came across an antique store. An old looking store that looked as though it came right out of a book. He had never seen it before. Was it new? He remembered Sasada mentioning something like it a few days ago. She and Taki had immediately went to check it out later that day.

A middle-aged man was sweeping the pavement in front of him. He noticed Natsume then, and looked up, an affable smile on his face. “Would you like to take a look?” he asked. His hair was already graying and his eyes were warm. There was something in his features that seemed rather inviting so Natsume found himself unable to refuse.

The glass panes at the storefront showed all kinds of little ornaments, lamps, music boxes, and so on. From the outside, the store looked small. It seemed cluttered if you look at it through the glass panes, but when you entered, the room suddenly became spacious and Natsume had to wonder if it was a trick of the light.

He wasn’t the only one there. A woman was looking over set of teacups atop a wooden dresser. A couple students were standing near the back peering into what looked to be a little snow globe. Natsume walked through the aisles one by one and was fascinated by the things he found: small trinkets behind glass shelves, drawers and dressers that looked to be at least fifty years old, a couple old Japanese dolls and statues, and several globes nestled in the corner.

Suddenly, he came upon a room with a pretty chandelier hanging from the ceiling and framed pictures hung on the wall all around. Big ones, small ones. Some were propped on desks or end tables. These pictures were pretty old judging from their monochrome color. A photograph of a couple and their newborn child in front of a house. Another was of the town years ago, with people walking in the streets. A lone table sat at the center of the room with only a single old camera sitting on top of it.

Natsume picked up the camera. It looked really old and seemed fragile at the touch. The lens was a bit greasy and when he tried taking a photo, the shutter wouldn’t work.

Why would something broken like this be sold?

That’s when he noticed a slight movement in the corners of his eye. Natsume looked up, but there was no one else in the room. Weird, he thought. He was about to shift his gaze back on the camera when another movement caught his eye, and this time it came from in front of him. Nothing was there but a framed photo of what looked to be a bustling city street. He’d have ignored it if not for the people walking inside the photo.

Natsume’s jaw slackened and he almost lost his hold on the camera. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The people—they were really walking, and talking. The cars drove past the frame only to return from the other side a few moments later.

He glanced at the next photo: a family photo in a veranda of a traditional Japanese house. Except that after a while, the group broke apart. The children stood up and played around. The oldest went and disappeared inside the house. The mother called to her children before rushing inside, probably to prepare for the day. The father picked up a newspaper and sat on the veranda, smiling at his children before shifting his attention to the paper in his hands.

This was so weird. How could this happen? He looked down at the camera still in his hold. This fragile old thing?

The photo after that was of a waterfall in the forest. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that he could see the water falling down the cliff and the occasional sway of leaves. He waited a moment and a black bird took off into the sky from a nearby tree.

Without thinking, Natsume held out a hand toward the photo, wondering if he’d find a hidden world inside, only to feel glass meeting his touch. The cool sensation brought him back to his senses and he retracted his hand, just as a deep voice called out to him from the door.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The old man from the storefront stood on the doorway, his kind eyes boring into Natsume. Natsume hadn’t heard his approach. Granted, he had been too absorbed on the photographs to notice anything, but…something told him he shouldn’t take the old man lightly. His grip on the camera tightened and he took a step back, distancing himself—and the Book of Friends—from the man.

The store owner noticed it and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Then a wide smile graced his lips and he chuckled. “Please, do not be so alarmed. I mean you no harm,” he said. “My name is Seiji and I am the master of this abode.”

“Seiji-san?” Natsume repeated his name.

Seiji nodded. “Tell me, are you a relative of Reiko Natsume?”

Natsume blinked in surprise.

Seiji chuckled again. “No need to be surprised. The fact that you found this room by yourself is enough telltale of the power you possess. And the only human with such powers without any exorcist affiliation I know was Reiko.”

A youkai? was Natsume’s first thoughts, all the while wondering what this possible-youkai wanted from him—its name back, or the Book itself.

“And rest assured,” Seiji said as he entered the room and approached an end table, where a single framed photo stood. His eyes took on a faraway look as he gazed on the photograph there. “I am as much of a human as you.”

The words were already in his mouth but Natsume held them back, wondering how much he could trust this man. But Seiji knew Reiko and though his gut had told him to be wary, Natsume didn’t sense any malicious intent.

“You can see them?” he asked after a while.

Seiji looked up from the picture and met Natsume’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you an exorcist?”

“I am not. I am, let’s say, a collector. As you can see from my store, I deal with trinkets and ornaments, including magical ones.”

Natsume’s mouth was agape. “Are you telling me all those things you have there are youkai—”

“Heavens, no!” Seiji exclaimed. “They’re normal antiques. I store my other trinkets in another place such as this and only those with a certain level of spiritual power can see it. Such as yourself.” A smile, warm and kind.

From Seiji’s disposition, Natsume could tell the old man was sincere. If he’s not a youkai, there was a slim chance that he would know about the Book. What harm could telling him about Reiko do to Natsume?

“Reiko was my grandmother,” Natsume answered his previous question.

“Ah! So she made a family,” Seiji exclaimed in pure delight.

“But unfortunately, she has passed away.”

The light in Seiji’s eyes visibly dimmed, his shoulders sagging slightly, sorrow lining his features. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” his voice was a quiet murmur. He looked back at the picture on the table and picked it up, a wistful smile tugging on his lips. “I met her shortly in my youth and she left quite an impression on me. In fact,”—he looked up, a hand encompassing the entire room—“she was the one who came up with this idea.

“There was a youkai once who lived inside the camera. With every picture it took, it took away the people’s lives, trapping them inside the photographs it created. Not knowing about the youkai residing there, the camera became known to be cursed and that was when my father came upon it. He put it on sale in our store but no one wanted to buy it. A girl came by one day, and upon seeing the camera on sale, asked to have a look.

“I was in middle school back then and I wanted to get rid of the camera. To be honest, I was quite afraid of it. She came when I was minding the store by myself and I didn’t care to charge her when she asked for it. Curious, I followed her to a deserted place by the forest and I was surprised to see her tapping the thing and asking the youkai to come out. ‘I know you’re there,’ she’d said, as though coaxing a child to come out of hiding.

“She was carrying a baseball bat then, and if you think about, it was quite funny,” Seiji said, laughing under his breath. “Asking someone to come out with a baseball bat in hand, of course the youkai wouldn’t come out. So instead, she challenged it to a duel: that if it managed to capture her in its photograph in the next thirty seconds, it’d win, but if it failed, Reiko told it to write its name on a piece of paper and to leave the camera behind.

“I’d thought then how stupid the gamble was. Stupid…or brave. I thought of course the youkai would win and the girl would lose her life, especially when I saw how the camera started jumping and clicking by itself. But Reiko was fast and thirty seconds passed with the youkai not managing to capture Reiko in any of its shots.”

Seiji smiled at the framed picture in his hand. “Youkai are funny, aren’t they? For all their talk of immortality and power, they fell prey to the whims of a sixteen-year-old girl. And they are creatures of their words, so even despite any unfairness happening in a game, they would still abide by their promise. The youkai left after writing its name and Reiko picked up the camera.

“How mortified I was when she found out I had witnessed the whole thing. Reiko smiled at me when she gave me the camera back, and yet, I could not feel the energy she had had when she was challenging the youkai. She felt empty and resigned.

“She convinced me to take a picture of her. I was afraid, though I knew the youkai was gone. But there was nothing else we could experiment on, so I directed the camera at her and she smiled.

“When the picture came out and she didn’t disappear, I knew we had succeeded. But we noticed there was something different with it: Reiko in the picture was moving. She waved at us, walked around, jumped on a tree, danced. If we could hear anything happening in this monochrome world, I think we would have heard her laugh.”

Seiji finished his story and Natsume felt his throat closing up. The old man held out the frame in his hand and in it was that very same picture of Reiko, a girl his age whom he often saw whenever he returned a youkai’s name. Reiko was in her school uniform, a big silly grin plastered on her face, fingers held out to form a V sign. Then she laughed and she waved happily at them and twirled in her skirt before running around to jump on a tree and dangled off a branch.

Reiko looked happy.

“The youkai probably had resided in the camera for so long that some of its powers had been transferred to it,” Seiji went on. “So every time I take a picture of something, it’ll move. She told me I could make some business with it, but moving pictures are too much for normal people so instead I put it, and the pictures I’ve taken with it, on sale for the people who are in search for magical trinkets.

“Here,” Seiji handed the frame to Natsume. “For you. I wish I could have met her again.”

Natsume held the frame gently, his eyes refusing to leave Reiko’s smiling face. Seiji said Reiko’s gamble was stupid or brave, but it didn’t feel like that to him. Reiko gambled away her life, probably because she wanted to escape this world to live inside a virtual one. What would the world inside the photograph be like? Would everything be black and white? Would it be small and empty? Or would it be like a perfect copy of this world but you can go anywhere you please without anyone judging you?

“Thank you,” Natsume murmured quietly. Reiko was still smiling at him and Natsume found himself smiling back.

~ END ~

***

Thanks for reading! More of my Natsume Yuujinchou fic here.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsumeweek #natsume week #natsume fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my story #natsumeweek 2019

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eric-raleigh · 6 years ago

Text

Requested by @energiefeminine

I promise I’ll proof this later for errors, but it’s waaaaaaay past my bedtime. I wanted to get this done.

“What are you wearing right now?”

Eric felt his cheeks erupt into flames, and he knew he was blushing straight to his equally red hairline. “You did not just ask me what I’m wearing…”

Aaron huffed a laugh on the other end of the phone before continuing on in a smarmy tone. “I bet I can guess.”

“Oh? You think so?” Eric smirked, a playful challenge in his words.

“I do. I bet you’re in bed in those cute polar bear pj bottoms and one of my t-shirts. Sandy snuggled up next to you, the TV on mute.”

There was a hesitation on Eric’s end of the line before his eyes darted around the corners of the room. “What...did you install cameras in here or something?”

This time a full-bellied laugh erupted from Aaron, and Eric could hear the smug smirk on his partner’s face. “Nope, I just know you that well.” There was a small pause before Aaron spoke again, tender adoration in his voice. “What shirt are you wearing?”

“You seem to be omniscient all of a sudden,” Eric returned with feigned impudence. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’d rather take it off of you instead.”

Again, Aaron’s voice dipped into a sultry quality, and Eric blushed again. “Someone’s feeling feisty”

“I’ve been stuck with my parents for two weeks,” Aaron complained. “I miss you, and I’m lonely.”

He’d gone to help his mother out with cooking and taking care of the house after his father had fallen down a set of stairs and broken his leg. “I miss you too, babe.”

“Come on,” Aaron cajoled gently. “Tell me what you’d do with me if I was there.”

Eric sighed softly, but couldn’t help but smile, and unable to resist teasing, “You mean other than make you rub my feet?”

Aaron chuckled softly, but didn’t rise to the bait. Eric sank back against the pillow, nudging Aaron’s dog until the mutt got annoyed enough to jump off the bed and find a less irritating place to sleep. His fingertips rolled the drawstring of his pajama pants idly as he let his mind envision that Aaron was there.

“I’d curl up against you while we watch TV. Let my fingers drag up and down your forearm like you like. Then I’d start to nuzzle your neck, kiss along your jaw until you either kissed me back or I made you kiss me. I’d move into your lap, straddle you and pin your hands back against the headboard and attack that little spot behind your ear that drives you wild.”

Aaron exhaled a soft, sensual puff of air, and Eric could tell the man was imagining the scene...and probably touching himself. The thought was arousing and Eric slid his hand into the elastic waistband of his pj pants, skimming his abdomen before palming himself.

“I’d feel you getting hard...grind against you a little...Make you beg me to suck your cock.”

“Er…” Aaron breathed, lost in pleasure.

Eric’s lip corners turned up into a smirk and he held the phone with his shoulder as he pushed his bottoms down with is other hand. “You like that, baby? You like when I suck your cock?”

“God yes,” Eric could hear Aaron breathing heavily into the receiver. “Your mouth is always so warm...so wet. You take me so deep I feel like I’m gonna cum in the first five seconds. I even love when you accidentally scrape me with your teeth.”

A scoff forced its way out of Eric, and he rolled his eyes automatically. He hated his bottom teeth; the incisors had always been crooked, two of them slanting at a slight angle and crowding out the third so that it was pushed back out of alignment. These were the teeth that usually ended up scraping the underside of Aaron’s cock if he got a little too overzealous, and Eric was always mortified when it happened.

“I do,” Aaron asserted, knowing exactly what the scoff was about.

“You’re the only one who does…”

There was a stunted laugh on the other end of the line before Aaron quipped, “You have other boyfriends I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” Eric deadpanned. “They’re all over here right now. We were in the middle of a massive P&P party when you called.”

“Why am I never invited?”

Eric could hear the smile his lover was wearing in that moment, and smiled in return. “Blame your dad for breaking his leg, you could have been here with a mountain of cocaine and ecstasy and god knows what else.” Neither of them had ever done any hardcore drugs--a little experimenting with pot in college, but nothing illicit. The sheer idea of being involved in that scene was ludicrous in Eric’s mind.

Aaron was chuckling again, an easy, lighthearted rumble that pulled at Eric’s loins. He loved whenever they bantered like this. Sinking down against the pillow, Eric’s hand started to move on himself again.

“So what would you do while I’m sucking you off?”

There was a low, sultry hum as Aaron fell back into the mood. “Watch you take every inch of me, run my fingers through your hair...pull it a little bit. Let you bring me close to the edge, but stop you before I cum.”

Eric licked his lips unconsciously.

“Then I’d make you get on all fours,” Aaron was starting to pant slightly again. “Eat you until we didn’t even need lube--” That never came to fruition, they would always, always use lube no matter how slick either of them were, but it was a sexy thought nonetheless. “Tease you with just the tip before I slowly burying deep inside of you.”

“Yes…” Eric was the breathless one now, his hand stroking as he gobbled up the images being fed to him.

“I love being inside of you, love the way you feel on my cock,” Aaron confessed, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“I love you being inside of me. Love the way you grip my hip with one hand and my shoulder with the other.”

“Fuck...yes,” Aaron swore, puffing out several heavy breaths.

Eric stroked faster, trying to match Aaron’s pace despite the fact that he wasn’t sure how fast Aaron was working himself. However, he’d grown accustomed to the sounds the man made during sex and felt he had a pretty good idea.

“I love it when you pound into me, the sound of our bodies slapping together…”

“Yeah? You like it a little rough?”

Eric blushed softly, “I like it when you smack my ass.”

Aaron moaned in response, several more heavy breaths Eric’s only response.

“How close are you?”

“Very. You?”

Just the idea of Aaron getting off to this conversation ratcheted up Eric’s arousal level, pushing him closer to climax. He knew he’d peak as soon as he heard Aaron cum. “Almost there.”

“I wish you were here with me, riding my cock…”

The image of fucking in Aaron’s parents’ guest room was somewhat enticing. His parents still hadn’t completely accepted he was gay, insistent that this was a phase and he just needed to meet the right girl. It would feel almost like karma to bring Aaron to climax in that house. Some kind of justice or retribution for all the shit they had put Aaron through over the course of his life. Eric would make sure to be loud as hell just out of spite.

“I wish I could feel you cum inside of me.”

“God...fuck...yes, Er,” Aaron spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna cum…”

“Cum for me, Aaron.”

There was a muffled sob that sounded far away and the sound of rustling. Eric could imagine that Aaron had dropped the phone to bite into his hand in order to keep from crying out as he came, and the mental picture of his lover in the throes of an intense orgasm, sent him careening into his own release.

It took several moments after the last wave of his orgasm passed for Eric to slow his breathing back to a normal rate. His lips were dry from panting, and he licked them as he reached for a couple of tissues on the nightstand. “That was a first…”

“Yeah, but a good one,” Aaron still sounded breathless, but Eric could hear the lazy, sated smile painted on his lips.

“A very good one.”

“I love you so much.”

The words always managed to make Eric’s heart flip in his chest. He bit his lip as his face cracked with a wide, happy grin. “You know... I always had a hunch.”

Aaron laughed softly.

“I love you, too,” Eric followed up sincerely. “Come home soon. I miss you.”

“Soon as I can and not a minute later,” Aaron promised. “I’ll talk to you later, babe.”

“Goodnight, Aar.”

“Goodnight, Er.”

#inside the mind of a ginger #drabble #wagers on whether or not it gets flagged?#n. s. f. w.

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the-gamechangers · 6 years ago

Text

How To Train Your Teacup: 1

“C-c-come on, Tea, let’s visit the docks! Cala Maria’s been d-d-dying to meet you.” Grim exclaimed as they left the junkyard. “Th-th-the sea’s not very far.” Teacup accepted his hand and climbed up onto his back. “Then let’s go! I’m sure she’s lovely.” Grim nodded enthusiastically. “Cala’s pretty n-n-neat. Let’s go!” Teacup hung onto his ears, watching around for any troublemakers. Inkwell Isle Three was famous for the entrance to the mysterious Inkwell Hell- a place Grim had asked Teacup to refrain from exploring (‘No Grim,’ Teacup had chuckled, ‘I’m completely stupid.’ Grim was rather relieved to hear this despite the dripping sarcasm). Grim had proceeded to explain about the Devil’s Casino. From the way he spoke about it, he seemed to have had a bad experience there, but didn’t say what. Teacup was of the opinion that if he wanted to go into the details, he would. and so she didn’t ask. “Is that a pirate ship?” Teacup asked, looking ahead. There was an enormous ship mostly submerged just off of the bay. It looked like something huge had ripped it in half- much bigger than Grim or anything else. “Cala Maria lives there?” “She sure d-d-does, Tea! She’s a mermaid. So she has the b-b-best stories from all over the globe, from when others cross realms and visit!” Grim exclaimed. He landed on a dry piece of deck with an impressive THUMP. “Cala? Are you d-d-down there?” Teacup slid down his neck, squinting into the shadows under the water. “Hellooo?” The water bubbled up at that moment, and an iritated-looking purple octopus peered up at them. For a moment Teacup wondered if this was Cala Maria, but then a rather human-looking pair of eyes popped up as well. The octopus was apparently actually her hair. Cala grabbed onto the boards near Grim and hauled her torso out of the water, making Teacup realize just how small she was compared to both of them.

“Helloooo, you two!” Cala exclaimed as she brushed her octopus’s tentacles back out of her face. She locked eyes with Teacup, her face lighting up. “Oh, you must be Teacup! You’re so adorable!”

Teacup nodded. “Yep, that’s me! Uh, hang on, I’m gonna just climb up on Grim here so I don’t have to-“

Before she could finish that thought, Cala reached down, pinched the hood of her jacket between two fingers, and lifted her up to eye level with herself and Grim. “Of course! I don’t want my absolutely precious guest to lose her head trying to talk to me!” She then set Teacup on her own shoulder, which wasn’t quite what Teacup had in mind. Grim, at least, had the sense to be mortified. “Cala! You can’t j-j-just pick people up like that!” He exclaimed. Cala giggled. “Aw, relax Grim! Teacup knows I didn’t mean anything by it! Don’t you agree, Teacup?”

“Heh, yeah, guess so.” Teacup murmured. Despite the complete lack of physical boundaries, Cala did seem completely sincere and kind. “Grim was telling me on the way over that you know all the best stories?”

Cala giggled. “Of course I do! The sailors who come and go from here always have a tall tale to tell. My favorites are from the ones who came from beyond the sea- but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Tea?” She winked as if she expected Teacup to know what she was talking about.

Teacup blinked. “Huh?”

Grim wrung his paws nervously. “Wha-what are you t-t-talking about, Cala?”

“Don’t be silly, Tea! A few months ago I was up by the docks and I saw that glittering golden plane of yours fly over. Then next I hear my buddy Grim’s made friends with a golden mug who just moved here!”

A puff of smoke escaped Grim’s nose, forming into a question mark above his head. “Cala, are you saying Teacup is from somewhere beyond the sea?”

Cala nodded. “Yep! It only makes sense! Now Teacup, what’s it like where you’re from?”

Teacup chuckled nervously. “I’m- I have no memory of flying a plane to get here, I just kinda... Woke up. In my house. On Inkwell Isle One. Are you sure it was my plane that you saw?”

“Absolutely positive! No one else has moved in, and no one else matches the gold aesthetic you’ve got!” Cala exclaimed.

“I’m c-c-confused.” Grim said.

“Me too.” Teacup said. “But now that I think about it, it’s weird that you say that. Grim, do you remember what Ron said about the salvage?”

Grim nodded. “The s-s-s-serial number d-d-d-didn’t turn up with much.”

“4-5-4-6-B.” Teacup said. “Do you know what it means?”

Cala shrugged, jostling Teacup quite a bit. ”Sounds like a mystery, all right. 4546B… Nope, haven’t heard of it. Sounds like one of those planets that Hilda’s always going on about.”

“Hilda?” Teacup asked.

“Sh-she’s into astrology. And astronomy. And m-meteorology.” Grim clarified.

“If it has anything to do with the sky, Hilda Berg will know what and how and why!” Cala giggled. Then her expression turned sour. “Except that bird-brain Wally. No one knows what goes on in his head.”

Teacup groaned. “Agreed. He busted up my plane.”

Cala smirked. “So I heard. Even the cup brothers had trouble with that guy. But not as much trouble as they had with me!”

Teacup gasped. “You were a casino debtor?”

Grim coughed awkwardly. “How about we don’t talk about this?”

Teacup nodded. “Alright, Grim.” She took her spoon, holding it out for balance as she slid down Cala’s arm and went back to Grim. “That means new topic. What about fighting? I’m an absolutely terrible shot. And I can’t parry.”

Grim looked relieved, despite the fact that Teacup couldn’t see most of his face from the top of his head. “I c-can vouch for that. She tries to d-d-double wield shots. It works, kind of, b-b-b-but…”

Cala giggled. “I bet if you can’t get close to your opponent it won’t be very effective.”

Teacup nodded. “I figured out how to shoot Grim down just to make my way work. That counts for something.”

Grim nodded. “Shooting wings should be illegal.”

Cala looked impressed. “Huh, why didn’t I think of that?”

Teacup waved her spoon to catch their attention. Grim caught the sun flare off of it and tensed, doing his best not to try and grab at the dot on the planks. “So? Maybe you can help teach me?”

“Of course!” Cala exclaimed. She grabbed Teacup again, dragging her underwater. Teacup was suddenly very glad that she didn’t need oxygen. “Come on!”

#how to train your teacup #teacup #grim matchstick #cala maria #cuphead #cupsona #inkwell isle 3 #the gamechangers

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jflashandclash · 7 years ago

Text

Attrition of Peace

Twenty-Eight: Kalypso

I Do Target Practice with an Angry Eagle

Author’s note: Finally back on normal posting track. Thanks for reading guys! If you celebrate, I hope you’re ready for Halloween this year :D Now, stayed tuned to see the Heroes of Olympus face off against the Traitors of Olympus!

When the hail cleared, Kally peeked over her hiding spot by the trench and saw Pax needed help. Euna had immediately gone into battle, but now Kally had to make a decision: help Calex keep Merry from hyperventilating, or save Pax.

A giant eagle—that Kally could only assume was Frank or a close personal friend of Frank’s—snatched the Silver-Tongued Snake off the lawn, lifted him into the air, then dropped into a free fall with him. During this freefall, the eagle morphed into a black bear to bat the reptilian monster around. Right before they hit the ground, Frank morphed back into an eagle and snatched him back into the air.

Kally had a strange feeling Frank knew about the whole Pax-making-out-with-him-as-Hazel thing.[1]

She had to wonder how betrayed and violated Frank felt to have Pax pretend to be someone he liked to make out with him and steal something important.

Kally growled. Thinking about Nico Di Angelo and her Oath to the River Styx, she didn’t need to imagine it. For a split second, Kally sincerely considered letting Frank continue to pulverize him.

There must have been a demigod or godly help group for that right? I’m sorry, I turned into _____’s husband/wife again. I have gotta stop doing that. If not, she was going to make Pax start it.[2]

Despite her frustration, Kally rose to her feet. She fingered her Argonaut statue as she stepped closer. This would have to be a careful shot, considering she needed the discus to hit her target but not do permanent damage.

As she approached, she could see Pax’s desperation.

Initially, the eagle’s prey looked like a human and a drakon had a baby, and that serpentine baby was writhing and thrashing. The more Kally watched them soar higher, the more her friend came into focus. Kally could see Pax scramble to use his acrobatics—to kick Frank, or flip up to attack the talons digging into his pauldrons.

But nothing worked. Pax couldn’t get enough leverage to dislodge the Frank’s claws.

And they were dropping into another dive.

Kally had to time this perfectly.

When they were almost at the end of the descent, Pax doing what little he could to block the bear’s attacks, Kally took her steps to wind up. Like when fighting the Silver Festus, or Python, she let instinct take over. Energy pulsed through her body, following her twist and releasing through her finger tips.

Just as Frank shifted back into an eagle, latching his talons back into Pax’s shoulders and pumping his wings once to stop their descent, Kally’s discus nailed him.

Frank and Pax collapsed onto the grass with a thud. Fortunately, the drop shouldn’t have been too bad, since Kally timed it right when Frank started to ascend. That physics should work out, right? To not equal murdering the praetor and her friend?

The giant eagle flopped onto the Silver-Tongued Snake and morphed back into Frank.

Naked Frank.

Kally already felt bad knocking Camp Jupiter’s heroic bear out of the sky, considering he was normally more of a teddy bear and less a dangerous one. Now she was mortified. Through all the Mist and hail earlier, she had no idea the praetor would be naked or why he’d be naked.

Pax crawled out from under Frank. “Thanks, Kally!” he called, “That was super hot—er—the you-having-amazing-aim—not the Frank-falling-on-me-naked—”

“Shut up and go help your brother!” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Trying not to look at Pax—had he been taller?—or anything else on the battlefield, Kally turned back to Calex and Merry. Calex had one hand pressed between Merry’s collarbones, gently lifting and pressing while saying, “It’s okay. Breathe in. Breathe out,” rhythmically.

Tears streaked down Merry’s cheeks as she shook her head, gasping for air. In all the years Kally had known Merry, she’d never seen her like this. Even after fights with her father where, Kally now knew, Merry’s father had been beating her and her little brother, Merry could always put on a mask and make a joke.

Here, Merry was panicking. “N-no! These aren’t baddies… these are… our friends. Gotta… make ‘em… stop…” she rasped between gasps, “What if… someone else… dies?”

The “what if” was shockingly comforting. If this was Merry’s nightmare-prophecy, at least there wasn’t a definitive, additional death forecasted. Just a what if.

Kally felt like she was reaching a new low when “if someone dies” was a positive.

Kally clasped Merry’s arm, trying to ignore the shouts and yelps behind them. “Merry, I’m going to drag Frank and Jason out of the battlefield and heal them up as best I can. I’m going to try to get Vinyl Scratch over here, so you guys can make it back to camp to warn Chiron about Eris,” Kally’s voice broke, “I need you to be able to do that, Merry.”

Calex nodded when Kally faltered, his grey eyes ablaze. Kally could almost see the calculations happening in his head. In the past, Kally remembered Calex fearing he was a coward. He didn’t look like a coward now. He looked scared, but in control, calm, and aware of every consequence, like he’d been studying Axel. This was the boy who had protected his mother from drugged up ex-soldiers in Kakata before Thanatos broke his confidence.

“That’s the source of all of this rubbish. Merry, we can save a lot of campers from violence if we get to them before Eris. Are you ready to help us get this sorted?” he asked.

Merry trembled. She reached up, and took the hand Kally had on her arm and the one Calex had on her collarbone. The sight almost made Kally give a hysterical laugh, seeing how pale and small Merry’s hands looked in Calex’s and how tan and strong Merry’s fingers looked in Kally’s.

Merry’s breathing became more regular as she nodded her head. “You guys,” she managed.

After all this was over, Kally would need to remember to tease Merry about Calex the same way Merry always teased her about Pax. If Kally could ever work up the courage, considering Merry could tear apart anyone outside of physical battle and considering Merry would immediately do so after.

With that, Kally raced away from the trench into the yard. Fortunately, she didn’t need to dodge much other than charred tree roots and weird stones to get to Frank. She hoped Alabaster didn’t recast that hail spell while she was out here, since she wouldn’t know which way would be back to safety.

Kally tried to keep her focus on Frank for now, before she could let herself think about the others.

Regardless of her concentration, she felt her eyes wander. Watching Alabaster, Euna, and Hazel’s fight was difficult. Not because she liked all three of those people—though that didn’t help either—but Hazel and Alabaster seemed to keep disappearing. Hazel kept shifting in and out of shadows to dodge the vines twisting and snaking around her feet and her opponent’s attacks. Euna kept pivoting to follow Hazel’s movement. She’d extended Kronos’s xiphos into a full scythe again, something that made Kally shiver to see against a good person like Hazel.

Mist kept warping and changing Alabaster’s form. Green runes would glow on his black armor as he trailed Hazel. He and Euna clearly didn’t know how to function as a team yet, which was fortunate for the Roman. Their staff and scythe combo outdistanced Hazel’s spatha, but the Roman seemed to know this, driving in close when she could.

Maybe fifteen feet away from them, Percy was on his feet, facing off the Pax brothers. Well, sort of on his feet. Instead of balancing Percy’s weight on what must have been a torn ligament, Kally could make out a watery bubble encasing Percy’s injured limb; he’d made himself a liquid leg cast.

Practical. Will would applaud if…

Kally tried not to tear up. True, she’d only known her half-brother for a few months, but…

She skidded to a stop when she reached Frank. Somehow, she’d forgotten he was naked. Keeping her eyes above waist level—or at least trying—she fumbled to withdraw an ambrosia square from her messenger bag. When Kally knelt down and tilted his head back to give it to him, she could feel the knot forming on his skull.

He would have a nasty concussion.[3] There were cuts all over him from Pax’s daggers and bruises from the fall. He shivered in the cold.

Maybe she could sing while dragging Frank to the side of the house. She thought she’d seen Annabeth, Calypso, and Piper there. It would be safer than leaving him out here, within ten feet of the fight.

But, carrying the large Chinese Canadian—

Kally almost yelped when Calex appeared at her side. The son of Eros had taken the time to sling Merry across his back. Unlike his usual bridal sweep, he’d picked her up fireman style, with Merry’s stomach and face down across his shoulders, one of his arms laced through her legs and the other lacing through one arm. Much less graceful, but more mobile.

Although Kally couldn’t imagine how, he let go of Merry’s arm to lean down and take Frank’s just below the elbow. “You got the other arm, Kal?” he asked.

Kally nodded, grabbing Frank’s other arm at the same spot.

As smoothly as possible, they dragged Frank towards the side of the house. Kally breathed out the words to any song about sunshine she could think of, knowing she had to keep Frank from any more brain damage. Kally wished they had a towel or something they could wrap him in. When she glanced ahead—

Kally dropped Frank.

“Kallybae, I know Calex is a big teddybear but he can’t—”

She ignored Merry’s mumbles and sprinted ahead.

Where she could see her namesake smothering Annabeth with Percy’s hoodie.

No one but them would have been able to see her. Calypso, Annabeth, and Piper were further towards the front of the yard, where Calypso or someone must have dragged them away to keep them safe from Festus, Leo, and the weasels.

Instinct completely took over as Kally closed in.

Calypso teared up while shoving the material into the unconscious girl’s face. She didn’t hear Kally or notice her until Kally nailed her foot into Calypso’s chest, the same way she might kick a soccer ball for a final goal.

Calypso flopped backwards with a gasp of air. Kally could envision Pax shouting, “GOAL!” while running in circles, if he wasn’t off helping his brother.

Once done, Kally tore the hoodie from Annabeth’s face. She exhaled in relief to find the daughter of Athena still breathing without assistance. Annabeth’s face was just flushed.

Calypso gasped on the ground. Kally had to wonder if she’d broken a few of the girl’s ribs. She didn’t look mad, just startled. “I—I was supposed… supposed to be healing…” she gaped. “Thought about… being alone on the island…. Another hundred years… and…”

Calypso released another sob.

Kally couldn’t tell if this was an act or not. She didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Calex stepped up beside them. He’d set Merry down near Annabeth, so he could pick up Calypso.

She squirmed and struggled. “No!” she tried to shout, though she was still winded. “Put me down! Leo! Help!”

With a quiet rage, Calex carried her to the edge of the trench. One stretch of the ditch ended by the border of the property. He knelt down and said, softly, “If you ever try something like that again, or if Annabeth ever gets hurt, and I think it might have been your doing, so help me God, I’ll assure no one ever loves you again.”

Calypso stopped struggling. Her almond eyes went wide. The tangles of her cinnamon hair looked dramatic fluttering in the wind with Calex’s black scarf.

“Trust me. I’m a son of Eros. I can do that,” he stated.

Then Calex dropped her into the trench.

Calypso let out a breathy scream before a subtle thump hit somewhere ten feet down.

Calex rose, flipped his scarf back over one shoulder, adjusted his black-and-red Arsenal beanie, and walked back towards them.

Merry spoke for both of them when saying, “Boy, you can be a much scarier teddy when your fan crush is on the line.”

“That’s sorted,” he said as a we’re not talking about this response. “How about it, Captain? What’s next?”

Kally almost gawked to realize he was talking to her. Instead, she felt her mouth moving of her own accord, like he hadn’t just signed over their metaphorical sailing ship to get hit by a train by some slip of cruel and unlikely fate. “You and Merry should still take Vinyl—”

He put two fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

“—get to Camp Half-Blood—”

Galloping erupted from the other side of the house. A blast of sparks appeared beside her, and she was startled to see a black and crimson stallion huffing there with an unconscious weasel in its teeth.

She reached out and gently took the weasel from Vinyl, who huffed again, probably to say, Take it before I eat it for a midnight snack. The California Long-Tailed Weasel had a patch of black spots—Hunnie. She tried not to tear up at how singed the weasel was.

“—and still warn them. Chiron and Dionysus trust you. I’ll stay here and try to heal who I can. They—they don’t have a healer anymore—s-so…”

Kally had to stop or else she knew she’d cry. This situation had gotten so chaotic. She wanted to say she’d stop the fighting, but she didn’t know how to do that. And she wanted to say that she would heal everyone as best she could, but Will had been a far better and more experienced healer than she was, and he was dead.

As Calex picked up Merry to lift her onto Vinyl Scratch’s back, she gave Kally a warm grin. “You got this, Kallybae. Look at how much you can do when you’re not being a doormat.”

That sapped the tears right out of Kally. She scowled at Merry while Calex saddled up behind her. “Shut up and get back to camp,” Kally snapped, the words coming out as easy as if she were scolding Pax.

“Oh! Fiesty. The new Kallydear has no end to her sass,” Merry continued.

Kally could tell she was trying to cheer her up. It just hit her that Merry was probably as scared of leaving Kally as Kally was of staying. Merry should be okay with Calex and Vinyl though, right?

“Kal,” Calex said, putting a hand to Vinyl’s mane, “I trust Axel, and—Hades, I can’t believe I’m saying this about that dodgy perv—but I trust Pax enough not to be a complete idiot. I don’t trust that Alabaster bloke. I know you think he’s fit, but he’s wrong in the head. Broken and angry. Be careful around him.”

Kally felt like she should have been offended or confused by Calex’s assertion, but he was a son of Eros. And, she knew what he meant.

Merry managed to give her a brief thumbs up before they heard someone say, “Are you three trying to escape from Commander Toolbelt? Because I have some pretty strict orders from an unconscious eagle, and I’ve still got a bone to pick with you for the Leo and Calypso House Party Incident of October uh—whatever year this is!”

Kally turned to see Leo Valdez standing beside the house. His impish features were contorted into a scowl that seemed unfamiliar to his face. He scanned the area, like he was looking for their big red self-destruct buttons or whatever machinists did. Kally swallowed when she realized he was looking for Calypso and checking to assure they hadn’t killed anymore of his downed friends. A small makeshift cage containing a white weasel dangled from his belt and banged against his thigh.

“Where’s Calypso? And what did you—scratch that. I don’t want to know what’s going on with Frank’s clothing.”

Leo shoved a hand to the side.

Fire extended in a wall, meeting up with the end of Hazel’s trench. Either they needed to run through that or turn back towards the battle.

Calex huffed, raising his chin. “She’s gone mental, mate.” He turned back to Kally. “You still got this, Kal?”

Kally nodded her head, uncomfortable with how much confidence he had in her to “still have this.” Whatever that meant when facing someone that could make this yard look like the Fourth of July with the snap of his fingers.

“Go,” she said.

“Leo!” Calypso’s voice came from over the edge of the trench.

Leo flinched and searched for the source of her voice.

“Vinyl,” Calex called.

Instead of rushing towards the fire, or back towards the battle, the unicorn took off towards the trench in a rainbow blur. Although Kally couldn’t see well enough to tell, the blur didn’t seem to break stride while hopping over the gap.

Leo’s fire sizzled to smoke at their escape. “Hey! No rainbows or unicorns allowed!” he shouted.

Kally fumbled inside her messenger pack, shoving Hunnie inside for now. She should have picked up her discus when she was dragging Frank. There was an imperial gold knife in her bag, but she didn’t want to go flaming-sledgehammer to knife. Leo already had a slight one-up on her in being flame resistant and the whole human torch thing. And, for some weird reason, the knife kept pressing into the side of the bag, like it wanted to fly towards the battle. She should really keep that blade away from Hunnie.

Leo turned to face her dead on, a crazed smile coming to his face as he shifted his steam-punk goggles down over his eyes. She’d once heard Will describe him as a rogue Santa’s helper that was high on sugar. That summed it up.

This fight hadn’t even started and Kally knew who would win.

Then a gigantic snake rose from the grass beside her—or what Kally thought was a snake initially. Both Leo and she flinched before recognizing the serpentine helm of the Silver-Tongued Snake as the humanoid figure stood to its full height.

“This is Alabaster’s property, and, I assure you, he welcomes both unicorns and rainbows. You speciest and colorist,” the monster hissed.[4]

For an instant, Kally forgot it wasn’t a monster. The bronze scales of his breastplate seemed to blend in as skin in the Mist. A tail flickered in and out of her line of sight, twisting about the grass and shadows. This couldn’t have been Pax. This monster was… was…

“Dude, weren’t you like way shorter before?” Leo demanded. He’d taken a step back in alarm, mirroring Kally.

“Pax?” she squeaked to second Leo’s confusion.

Pax loomed several feet above both Kally and Leo.

A hissing laugh slithered from his helm. “Oh, I only grow more powerful and influential in the midst and heat of chaos and war. Ha—ha! Heat. It’s funny because Leo’s hands were on fire.”

“Over explaining it, hombre,” Leo said, “To think I thought you were fun at the party. Augh, two out of ten for a lazy joke, and that two is just out of pity.”

He fidgeted his fingers along the sledgehammer. His eyes flicked to the side of the house, where the others must have still been battling. Judging by the way the wind whipped a blast of salty rain into them, Kally had a feeling Percy hadn’t been taken out yet.

She frowned and shoved some of the golden hair out of her eyes. “Pax, Axel needs you to help fight Percy. You don’t need to—”

“That’s why I’m here. We’re losing but it’s not a party without Leo there. He’s our backup plan,” the way Pax said it disheartened Kally. He sounded tired and… sad.

“You and I are a lot alike,” Pax said to Leo. The words were more… personal and light-hearted than his prior comment. Pax stepped forward and angled his body to shut Kally out of the conversation, like he wanted Leo to forget she was there. Between his tone and body language, Kally felt like an intruder.

“I think the comparisons stop at the bat belt and hot accents,” Leo disagreed, fingering his tool belt with one hand. Absently, he’d withdrawn some wires and began to fiddle with them.

Pax shrugged, holding his hands up helplessly. No weapons drawn. “And an appreciation for beautiful women named Calypso. Both C and K respectively.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” Kally said, “but keep me out of it.” She suddenly hoped he’d go back to ignoring her. The way he was moving and talking, Kally wasn’t sure what Pax wanted her to do: if he had this fight and she could go back to get Frank, or was intentionally making a distraction so Kally could retrieve her discus for a double heroicide.

“And we also both want to switch out all the Diet Pepsi for Diet Coke in the camp and film Mr. D’s reaction to get the best soft drink trailer that Mount Olympus has ever seen,” Pax said.

“You know we’re fighting right? Not just listing off things that definitely are going to happen at camp in the near future?” Leo asked. The wires in Leo’s hand were suspiciously forming some kind of trap-like object. Kally wanted to warn Pax, but he seemed to know.

Kally took a step backwards. If nothing else, she’d need her discus, and maybe Calex and she had dropped Frank far enough away from the battle to heal him.

Pax laughed. The hysteria in his voice made her pause.

“A machinist and an information broker. When you and I are panicking during a fight, it means we haven’t done our jobs right at the beginning. We can’t heal people. We can’t make people do what we want with our voices. We can’t really seem to help without blowing something up… literally…” Pax gestured towards Leo. “Emotionally.” He gestured towards himself.

“Hades, your dragon is in pieces on the other side of this house, and my weasel is missing. Here we both are, scrambling to pick up the pieces, because we fucked up. You knew about the Leonis Caput, since he attacked you, but you were too worried about Calypso and Percy to take the proper anti-kitty precautions. I wanted a hug so bad that I wouldn’t go inside. We could have prevented this.”

The trap-mechanism looked complete in Leo’s hands, almost like a hybrid between a leg cage and a bear trap. But his fingers were slowing down as Leo’s expression soured.

“Um, are you surrendering or something? Because, while I applaud your creativity, a traditional white flag will do over this inspiring speech.”

Kally understood Leo’s hesitation. There was a desperation in Pax’s voice, like it was about to pinpoint the single incident in Leo’s life that—if he’d made a different choice—would have left the world perfect. She felt like she couldn’t move until the Silver-Tongued Snake finished talking.

“You see, we’re the people who… when those that we love start to die, can’t do anything but make jokes… fake a smile, and pretend to be okay. Because what better way to mourn someone than to force a smile?”

Leo’s lip twitched.

Kally felt sick to her stomach. She remembered Howe’s Cavern, when she thought Python was going to kill her and Will, and a rage inside her set off a weird sun blast. Pax triggered it. He had spoken like he knew what happened to her mother, like he’d peeled her fears from the corner edges of her brain and forced her to confront them.

As though reading her thoughts now, the serpentine monster hissed, “Kally, go heal Frank. I don’t want you to see me do this again.”

Footnotes!

[1] Mel’s beta notes: “And a whole list of other shit Pax has done to him personally!”

[2] But that means Pax would need to spend time around Zeus, and that has bad idea written ALL over it.

[3] If you’ve read my first two stories, you’ve probably heard me say this before, but I wince when head injuries are used as knock outs for shows, movies, and books. I had to rewrite this line three times because I kept writing “nauseous” instead of “massive” concussion. Stupid Freudian slips!

[4] A colorist is actually an artist who uses colors in a special way, like a hairdresser that works with dyes. I’m not sure Pax has ever seen a hairdresser, of—if he has—the hairdresser could live through the shock of dealing with his hair, so excuse his misuse of the word.

#The Attrition of Peace #Traitors of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #FIGHT!#Pretty much the full cast of my characters and PJO's characters that I'm too lazy to write out XD #Leo versus Pax!#As Mel pointed out #I knocked out another OP character... Axel's weasel

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nyxysabyss · 8 years ago

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Level Horizon; Year Three 9/9; Solicitude & Allayment

Chapter 26!

Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. ~Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

Kei Tsukishima is about ninety-eight percent certain that his personal space is about to be breached.

The soft pad of small footsteps behind him has him lifting the quill from the page in front of him with a jerk so he doesn’t leave another stray streak in the ledger like he had three days ago. He can almost count down the moment to impact as the little feet leave the ground and slender wings beat twice. He tenses slightly with a blank scowl the last instant before a small body launches itself across his shoulder, sticky little hands circling his neck. His eye twitches.

Two hours. Why did he even bother bathing?

The last ten days he and the owls and Yamaguchi have spent with Suga’s relatives in Sheru Bay have been nothing if not eventful. Actually, Kei didn’t hate working in the thrush family shop, could see himself getting comfortable there even. Suga’s aunt and uncle had been nothing but the epitome of hospitable and he and the others wanted for nothing.

The family patriarch had offered to let him do the shop books that first day they’d showed up, and Kei had easily stepped into the role every evening following. The rest of the responsibilities around the shop, such as manning the front— which Yamaguchi incidentally loved most, or stocking supplies had been menial chores that Kei couldn’t bring himself to legitimately care about… but crunching the numbers on that ledger every night after they closed for the evening…

It had been centuries since he’d last been through formal schooling, decades since he’d actually applied any of the knowledge, and years of craving pretty much any form of mental exercise. He’d gravitated toward the position with a mortifying amount of enthusiasm, the scratch of the quill against parchment sending little zips of adrenaline through his fingertips and the slightly musty scent that would hit him with the turn of each crisp page a dose of nostalgia.

It’s been centuries since he’s last been through formal schooling, and he’s had no academic challenge since. Picking up that quill and forcing his mind through the numbers and the process of balancing out that day’s transactions… Kei finds it ridiculously cheesy, but it had called to him. Running books for Suga’s relatives, his aunt and uncle spectacular, Kei could honestly see himself content here… if it weren’t for the resident minions.

“Tsukki!” The child squeals in his ear making him flinch, and in a moment, the kid is squirming up his back, a small foot finding a distinctly uncomfortable purchase on the junction where one of his wings meets his shoulder.

“Hello, Taji.” Kei says flatly.

The boy is aptly named; his wings are a lighter silver than Suga’s, but with bright golden eyes and an infinite pit of energy, Kei would almost have to say he’s more like Hinata— or perhaps Noya or Tanaka with how devious he can be. The boy leans forward over his shoulder.

“What’cha doin’?”

Kei stares straight ahead, resisting the urge to frown with sincere annoyance. He doesn’t dare drop the quill back to the page while he’s still afflicted with a diabolical little fledgling barnacle.

“Working.” He says bluntly.

“Can’t you do it later? I wanna play Volley!”

Of course you do.

A lead breath leaves Kei’s lungs and he slowly sets the quill down before turning to eye Taji.

“I’m sure Bokuto will play with you.” He says. The boy’s face slips into a pout.

“Boku and Kaashi aren’t home yet.” He says.

“What about Yamaguchi?” He hears a snort behind him and turns to find the freckled crow leaning in the doorway, grinning like an idiot.

“If I get the ball, will you play?” Taji asks, ignoring his question completely. Yamaguchi raises a brow at him, his eyes creasing as his smile nearly splits his face.

Glad you’re enjoying yourself.

“Half hour.” Kei caves and the kid whoops on his shoulders, nearly wrenching him off his stool.

Taji scrambles off of him, his little wings batting him in the back of the head in his flailing rush. He straightens back up as the kid disappears out the door to retrieve the ball and glares at the crow… who promptly bursts out laughing.

“Nice to know the backup is useless.” He mutters and the crow doubles over with a wheezing ‘Sorry, Tsukki’.

Kei gets to his feet, his knees and spine cracking as he stretches them out, his eyes ruefully sliding toward the ledger one more time. He’ll just have to finish after… probably still with a maniacal waif bouncing in his lap until he falls asleep there.

“He really is like a cat, you know?” Yamaguchi says, still chuckling. “He wants nothing to do with you until you ignore him.” Kei’s brow rises.

The sound of the ball bouncing down the hall curbs his retort, though, and he sets off to find the hurricane of disaster wrapped in a child’s form… but he’s not fast enough. There’s another bounce and then a shatter and Kei’s instantly in the next room, Yamaguchi right behind him. A glass bowl that held floating tealights lies in too many pieces to count beside the shelf it had sat on moments before.

“Taji, what did we say about playing in the house?” He asks, feeling a headache coming on. The boy looks at him apologetically before bending to clean up the mess and Kei once more reacts without thought, his hand snapping out to circle his tiny wrist.

“Ah, don’t touch it.” He says probably more sharply than he means as Yamaguchi bends beside him to start picking up the pieces.

“Go ahead, Tsukki, I got this.” He says with a light smile. The ibis glares at him momentarily before scooping up the ball and tugging Taji along behind him; the freckled crow is well aware he’d have preferred switching the two tasks.

As he leads the boy outside, Kei wonders which deity he’s managed to piss off that the universe has seen fit to fuck with him at this level. It’s always seemed to take great pleasure in ensuring his misery as far as that went, but he’s thoroughly convinced he unintentionally lit some small rodent aflame with an unattended campfire or perhaps accidentally deprived an orphanage of their weekly meal by taking down a deer or something. He’s pretty sure he’s had to have done something inherently depraved enough that the world has taken it upon itself to settle whatever personal vendetta it has with him in particular.

His brow quirks with annoyance. Perhaps the most logical answer is that he was born. It’s always been like this… he imagines it just seems like everything has condensed lately.

Kei isn’t someone who likes excessive human interaction. He doesn’t do physical contact and he doesn’t like kids. How in hell Kuroo had seen fit to place him in a home with children who didn’t know the first thing about boundaries so he could work in a shop that saw an excessive number of people beyond his daily mental limit is the riddle of the century.

They did need someone to manage connections between the groups, but Kuroo could have just as easily asked Ukai to do it as Kei and the others. The first raven had arrived three days after they’d split and two days after the first sentries had shown up. Kuroo had informed them that they had reached Ivoya and would likely split off into two groups shortly, so they were to expect another raven a couple days later.

Except the second raven never came.

Two days turned into four and then a week. Sentries— no more than a unit’s worth ever at a time— had congregated in Sheru Bay, but he and Yamaguchi had remained invisible to them. The two owls had taken some flack, but the crows had backed off when Ukai had casually stepped in and pulled them away in a show of solidarity. But there had been no raven. They’d surmised that Kuroo and the rest of his group must have run into some hassle, and the cat had opted to forgo one rather than put them all at risk in an attempt to get a message out.

It had set them all on edge just the same. Tadashi had paced around the shop, constantly tidying the place despite there being no need. Bokuto had even sulked long enough that Akaashi had offered to teach him some of the more difficult knots… and the streaked owl had actually sat through it. Even Kei’d caught himself stopping by the local aviary multiple times a day to see if anything had come. Yamaguchi had even tried Ukai’s to see if he’d received one directly but there’d been nothing.

And then, two days ago— five days since they were supposed to have received their second raven— there’d been something of a commotion as the sentry unit that had remained in Sheru Bay had condensed in the town square not far from the Sugawara’s shop front. They’d all gathered and taken off without so much as a backward glance or parting word— as if they were in a hurry. They hadn’t given any indication that they were preparing to depart and it had made Kei go cold.

The last forty-eight hours have been agonizing.

The universe is really taking a crack at him this time, because Kei doesn’t care about people. He widely considers roughly ninety-three percent of all individuals beneath his notice, so why Kuroo left him in charge of keeping communication lines open between the three groups, he can’t even scratch the surface of.

Kei doesn’t care about people. Not enough to have been the one making sure they all stayed connected. But the universe is laughing at him, because somehow, by some twisted fuckery, every one of the beach crew have somehow made it into that last seven percent of people he can’t pretend exist in an alternate dimension. Even Feathers, for fuck’s sake.

Kei doesn’t care about people… but he desperately wants them not to be the reason for the sentries’ hasty exit.

Kei doesn’t care about people… and like nothing he’s ever wanted before, Kei wants them all to come back home.

~ ~

Kei knows he’s been out here longer than a half hour— it’s probably much closer to two, actually. The sun is dropping over the trees to the west, but he’s still settled back on his knees, his legs folded and toes supporting and propping him forward just a bit as he tosses the ball to Taji. Yamaguchi had joined them after cleaning up the broken bowl, occasionally chasing a ball that comes off the boy’s arms so Kei doesn’t have to get up.

The kid has decent reflexes and hand-eye coordination, but his ball control is almost nonexistent… although it has gotten better the last week. For only being some five hundred years old, Kei imagines he’s not doing too badly. He bets Feathers would probably make some offhand remark like how he and the other Karasuno unit members were all perfect players and winning matches at that age or something, but the silver haired boy has enough determination that Kei’s pretty sure he could make real progress if he had someone to play with constantly.

“Can we do something else? I’m tired of passing.” Taji says as he bumps the ball back toward him a meter short and Kei catches it off a bounce.

“Passing is the most important part of a game. If your side can’t receive a ball, no one else gets to play.” Kei says with a frown.

Technically not entirely true, since he still played as a blocker regardless of passes… but the first touch on their side anytime a ball made it past him was always critical in determining if they could send it back.

“But it’s boring!” Taji says emphatically, yet brings his hands together just the same when Kei tosses it to him again. An eyebrow arches.

Fair enough.

He played front line pretty much exclusively because Noya always rotated in when he hit back row, and he was middle blocker, so he was virtually never expected to cover hits. He’d gravitated more to the front because of height, but it was also something of a power trip to be able to deny the other team the chance to even get the ball onto their side.

He knew Noya found a similar satisfaction in being able to receive every one of the opposing team’s serves or spikes, but it was probably a bit less malevolent. While Noya might be denying the other team the point, he was also initiating the next play for his own; Kei was barring access completely and shutting the other team down before the ball ever reached the libero. It had never been as reverberatingly gratifying to receive for Kei.

“Okay,” He says with a raised brow, “What kind of hit do you want to do?” Taji puffs up.

“I want to be a setter!” An image of Feathers flashes through his mind and he sours a little.

“Why?”

“Because I want to be just like Uncle Koushi!” Kei blinks at the silver headed boy.

He supposes he should have seen that coming… but his inner critic is kicking in and he has to crush the urge to be petty and correct the boy. Sugawara might have been significantly older than Taji and his little sister, but they were still cousins.

“You will have to talk to him when he gets back. I’m not a setter.” He says.

“Where is he?”

“He’s on a trip.” Yamaguchi says with a fragile smile and the boy looks at him fully.

“I heard Mom say that we don’t know what’s happened to them. Does that mean he’s dead?” Taji asks frankly, the gravity of the question completely lost to the child who likely has no real grasp of something as life-changing as death yet. He’s probably only concerned with whether he’ll have to find someone else to teach him to set.

But Kei sees Tadashi pale slightly, and he has the irrational urge to hurl the ball at Taji’s head for his naive insensitivity; he has to remind himself again that he is just a kid and probably has no idea how his words might affect those of them hanging onto a fractured hope at this point. But the freckled crow’s stricken expression is gone a moment later, even if the deep lines of exhaustion still carve into his face. Yamaguchi smiles mildly.

“I think there’s a chance they are still out there somewhere.” He says and not for the first time Kei is struck by the fond expression his face morphs into, even on the heels of the kid dragging his greatest fears into the open.

And with a measure of awed chagrin he is reminded of his most recent revelation regarding the freckled crow beside him.

Tadashi loves children.

The ibis has no idea how he’d missed it, and in truth, he feels really quite… awful about that. How often had he complained to Yamaguchi about a loud or obnoxious spawn monster? How many times had he drifted to the opposite end of a room from a kid in silent protest of its existence? Is there even a realistic figure for all the times Tadashi had just smiled with that quirky grin and a laugh?

He’s been Kei’s constant companion for centuries, and it is only in the last week where they’ve been in continuous contact with two very small and precocious avians that he’s realized it. And it’s made him feel a horrible gut-churning emotion he’s rarely been subject to in his life… like he’s been the most arrogant self-centered ass for belittling something the crow obviously holds in such high regard.

“Why did they leave?” Taji breaks his depreciating self-reflection and at the slight crease around Yamaguchi’s eyes, Kei is immediately answering for him.

“To escape you.” The boy looks at him and his eyes narrow.

“They did not.” He says.

“Did, too.” He rebuttals just as fast.

Was he really getting into a bickering match with a kid?

“Did not.” Taji says emphatically.

“They told me so.” He says flatly, minorly indulging his deviant impulse to needle the kid.

“Tsukki!” He glances at Yamaguchi with a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“What? It’s true.” He says and the freckled crow’s jaw drops, but Kei can see the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. A flimsy rebuke is coming, he knows, but Tadashi finds his banter entertaining all the same.

“It is not. Don’t listen to him, Taji.” He says turning back to the boy. “Tsukki’s just being obtuse.” Kei feels his jaw drop slightly.

Obtuse? Obtuse.

Well, then.

“Yamaguchi just says that because he wasn’t there.” He says matter of factly, and Taji finds the crow with a frown.

“Were you really not there?” He asks, a bit put out and Kei can’t quite keep the facade in place. He huffs in amusement.

“Nope he wasn’t. You’re pretty gullible, aren’t you?” He asks with a cheeky smirk. “Reminds me of someone else I know… let me think, who was it?” He says tilting his head, the image of Feathers’ leveler popping into his head.

Hinata was tougher to get going now than he had been when Kei had first met him, but he can still get the small spiker to believe some subtantially outlandish things on occasion. He’d even gotten him to ask Suga to pick up a ‘cow’ egg from the market next time the thrush went into Sheru Bay. The silver haired setter had stared at him blankly for several moments while Kei had nearly lost it.

“Hmm. I know. You’re just like—”

“Kuroo.” Yamaguchi says and Kei frowns slightly.

“Eh… not really who I had in mind, but—”

“No, Tsukki! It’s Kuroo!” He says sharply and Kei’s head jerks up at him.

The freckled crow stares beyond the boy, his dark hazel eyes fixed toward the tree line. Kei pushes to his feet, his gaze searching for the black cat, his chest tightening in anxious anticipation.

And there he is.

Half slouched shoulders carried in a sauntering gait, black ears, wild hair with its permanent bedhead effect, the heavy locks that drop across his blind eye, his other gold eye already finding them— it is Kuroo. The cat is alone, which he finds odd, but Yamaguchi is right.

“Tsukki,” he whispers, his voice half choked.

“It’s him, Tadashi.” He says quietly. Yamaguchi sucks in a gasp and turns to him, the exhaustion still etched into his face forgotten.

“They’re back, Tsukki! I have to tell Bokuto and Akaashi! I’m going to the docks!” He yelps, his wings already beating for takeoff.

“Yamaguchi, hold on—”

The freckled crow is nearly out of earshot by the time he gets a word out and Kei doubts he’d hear it even if he weren’t. The stress of the last ten days had been undermined by bone-deep relief; Tadashi was nearly in tears. Kei watches him for a few moments more before looking back at Kuroo who’s making steady progress toward him.

He steps up beside Taji who watches the approaching cat with large golden eyes. He startles slightly and looks up at him when Kei drops a hand on his head. He bends down.

“Hey. Can you take this and go find your mom and dad? Let them know they are back?” He says, handing the ball to the small boy. Taji looks like he wants to argue, but Kei silences him with a look and the young thrush takes the ball with a scowl. As he turns to go inside, the ibis looks up at the cat, the peculiar increase in his pulse making him frown.

“You’re very late.” He says with level boredom, but he’s sure there’s a catch that he didn’t intend that makes it much more severe.

Kuroo stops in front of him with a long look and Kei’s brow furrows as he takes in the black cat. His shoulders sag a bit more than usual, his eyes dull— even the clear one, his ears are flicked backward in a look of distress or discontent, and circles rim the undersides of his eyes. The cat doesn’t just look exhausted, he looks almost broken.

“Oi. I hope you’ve got a half decent reason.” He murmurs when Kuroo doesn’t answer, his heartbeat increasing yet again.

Anger, he realizes with surprise.

“Does being caught up with a snake nest count?” He asks flatly and Kei’s brows rise.

“You never sent another raven. Do you have any idea how worried everyone has been?” He snaps in a low voice, and Kei is instantly trying to reel his temper back in, because this — this scalding emotion burning through his veins— this is neither something he is experienced with nor prepared for.

People were beneath his notice as a general rule, they rarely ever even had the chance of making him this livid. But even as he tries to curb the impulse, he’s stepping forward, his hand closing on Kuroo’s shirt.

“Yamaguchi hasn’t slept in two nights. Bokuto has been massively depressed and it’s seriously terrifying that he’s surrounded by ropes and rigging every day. Akaashi has been sullen and frazzled just trying to cope with his bipolar leveler. Noya and the others have been asking about you when they send ravens, and we’ve had nothing to tell them.” He spits, and hates how it feels like he’s lost all control. The cat stares at him with an even, unblinking gaze.

“And you, blondy?” He asks, and Kei loses his hold on his temper like he hasn’t legitimately done in centuries.

“I’m fucking pissed.” He growls into the cat’s face.

No.

No, no, no. He really needs to get things back under control. He needs to slow his breathing and pulse, needs to release Kuroo’s shirt. He doesn’t get angry— just like he doesn’t care.

The cat watches him with a decidedly lacking expression, a brow creeping up his forehead.

“This I can see.” He murmurs and despite the cat’s overall lackluster demeanor, the response is so Kuroo that Kei loses all train of thought.

He does let go of Kuroo’s shirt. But that arm cocks back and flys forward to connect solidly with the black cat’s jaw amid a fuzzy white blanketing feeling in his mind. And before he can process it, words are falling from his mouth as Kuroo stumbles, sharp and accusing.

“Now you can feel it.”

He stares down the black cat as he straightens back up, the slightest huff of appreciative amusement whispering from his lungs. Kei expects to be defending himself from a retaliation; he did, after all, just punch Kuroo. But the cat just looks back at him with a bizarre apathy that is reminiscent of Kenma.

“Do you feel better?” He asks and Kei’s rationality slides a little more.

He just hit this damned furball; the cat should be far more upset. And Kei has the completely juvenile urge to bring that fury to the surface, do whatever he can to make the cat every bit as irate as he is himself. Kei is used to shutting people down with a handful of words, but this is the first time he’s spoken with the intention of getting a rise. Needs to get that reaction, because he’s honestly thrown off by the cat’s lack.

“I will fucking skin you, you bastard.” He sneers and the cat… nods?

“You’re within your rights to be upset. I know better than most anyone how stressful it is to care about someone enough that you fear you might lose them.” He says with a frown and Kei glares at him.

“Bull. If that were true, you wouldn’t have put everyone through that.” He says icily and the cat draws in a heavy breath and releases it in a sigh that leaves him entirely unsure, his anger losing steam.

“You’re right, Tsukki. I should have kept up, no matter the circumstance. I should have done things differently, should have made other choices. I failed and for that, I’m sorry.”

The use of Yamaguchi’s familiar for his name is distracting as hell, and the frank acknowledgement of his negligence leaves Kei feeling as if he’s had his feet cut out from under him. The cat nods once and moves to step around him, but the ibis is still struggling to rationalize his sudden compliance and his hand shoots out and grabs Kuroo’s shoulder.

“What the hell. You apologize and that’s supposed to be it?” He asks and the cat takes a gentle, but firm hold of his hand and removes it, another soft exhale leaving his lungs.

“Go home, Tsukki. The others should be getting there about now. I have to talk to Sugawara’s relatives a moment, but I’ll send the raven for Noya and the others, so go ahead.” He says, ignoring Kei’s question and he frowns darkly.

“I’m not finished, Cat.” He barks shrugging away his grasp on his arm.

“Well I am, Tsukki.” Kuroo says with a heavy cutting tone, turning a cold look on him.

Kei pulls up short, because while Kuroo can get brisk and even annoyed, he doesn’t issue unspoken and indirect orders like this… because that is what that was— an order to drop it. And he’s never had an expression so tortured and devoid of warmth.

“I’ve been through enough hell the past three days to last me a lifetime, and more than enough to ignite an eternal guilt in my soul anytime I remember it without you busting my balls even further. Go home, Tsukki.” He says flatly and turns away from him once more, just as Taji bursts back out the door.

Kei watches as Kuroo easily scoops him up without a word and meets the boy’s parents at the door with a nod. Kei knows the black cat is much more like him and not generally comfortable around kids, but he holds the boy with such careful fondness— as if he’s terrified the child might break, but unable to bear the thought— that it flips a switch in Kei’s head.

Something happened.

The others should be getting there about now. Kuroo hadn’t said who.

And in an instant, dread is curling in Kei’s gut. His limbs react on impulse despite how his mind feels like it just plunged five meters under water. He spins, his wings jerkily snapping him into the air, the feathers splayed wide with each stroke to gain as much traction against the air as possible in a bid to reach top speed in record time. He’s barely cleared the trees at the edge of town in his rush, his mind spinning.

Kei didn’t care about people. He didn’t. But…

I’ve been through enough hell the past three days to last me a lifetime.

As he drops across the sand that stretches out between himself and the home he hasn’t been to in ten days, his wings are starting to lose feeling from the way he strains them.

Kei didn’t care about people.

I know better than most anyone how stressful it is to care about someone enough that you fear you might lose them.

As the net and top of the house come into view, the ibis grits his teeth with a scoff.

Kei didn’t care about people… but hell if he wasn’t damn invested in everyone’s wellbeing.

As he drops on the sand outside, he’s met with an odd stillness and he pulls in a breath trying to stabilize his erratic pulse. There’s a wagon out front that he’s never seen before, but there’s no one around and no horses that are normally used to pull that type of cart. A mound of blankets sits in the box, dusty and disturbed, and his ears almost feel as if they are muting over before a soft sound from inside draws his attention. The front door opens and an orange head of hair he knows all too well steps through, his attention focused behind him.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just going to check on them.” He says quietly to someone behind him and a small breath escapes the ibis.

If Hinata was fine, so was Feathers. And ‘them’ implied the others were still here, right? The redhead lets the door close with care, the action far more subdued for someone like the small spiker who occasionally rivaled Noya and Tanaka on volume level. When he turns around, he freezes at the sight of Kei, and the blond is struck by the way he looks haggard just like Kuroo had. He stands at the top of the steps for several moments before pulling in a little breath and drawing himself up as if bracing for a coming impact. He steps off the porch, padding right up in front of the ibis. His nervousness is blatantly obvious and his silence is rapidly putting Kei back on edge.

“Hey, Tsukki.” He murmurs quietly and Kei blinks.

Really? The shrimp, too? Did he look like some pitifully miserable moron who needed to be coddled with some ridiculous pet name or something? What exactly was he doing wrong in projecting his dislike of that sobriquet?

Kei ignores the way it irks him coming from the redhead. Right now, the other boy’s subdued attitude is grating on his stability; what he really wants to know…

“What happened, Hinata.” He says, his voice keeping impressively level for how very off balance he feels after the barrage of emotions he’s gone through in the last fifteen minutes. The redhead’s almond eyes avert and he looks at the ground, his bottom lip catching in his teeth.

“Ano…” he says softly, “there’s something you should probably know.”

What? What should I know? Don’t just say something as useless as that, idiot.

The redhead reaches forward tentatively and catches his wrist, a completely baffling action. He tugs on it, beckoning him forward after him, but refusing to meet his gaze. The dread is back as he trails after the redhead, his gaze straying to the front door as Kageyama steps through it. The avian heir’s expression is devoid of pretty much all emotion, his eyes sunken with fatigue like Hinata’s, his complexion pale.

God dammit, what the hell happened?

“Eto… I know you won’t like it,” Hinata says softly, “I mean, I know you don’t like kids, but…” Kei’s brow furrows in complete bewilderment.

Eh…kids? What…

What did that have to do with the sun or tides or anything? And why is Kageyama watching him with such a tired expression? That damn crow had a permanent scowl affixed to his face and it’s fucking missing, and nothing makes any sense.

What is going on?

A shrill giggle echoes from around the house and he hears the gruff voice of Tanaka.

“Oi, don’t just jump like that! I’m not observant enough to notice all your obliviously suicidal ideas before you initiate them.” The bald crow grouses. Kei blinks and the redhead pauses and turns back to him with a determined look.

“I know you don’t like kids, but you can’t kill this one.” He says releasing him as Tanaka rounds the corner, trailed by a pair of sweaty horses from the reins in one hand, a bundle of squirming child under the other arm.

“Oh, Tsukishima. Good to see you, Blondy. Oi, Natsu. We have company.” He says with a nod in his direction and promptly sets the kid back on her feet.

The first thing Kei notices are her wings. They are in pitiful condition, the feathers having been hacked down to the embedded quills; she can probably fly as well as any of the cats… or Hinata or a bald winged Feathers. The next thing he notices is the orange hair, a direct match to the shrimp’s. The kid stares at him for several moments before she pads over cautiously to the small spiker, her brow furrowing just a bit.

“Kiyès sa?” She says and Kei’s head tilts in bafflement as Hinata turns to her with a frown.

“Eh… sorry, what?” He asks apologetically. The little girl points at him.

“Non?” She asks and Hinata’s face smooths out.

A foreign language?

“Oh! This is Tsukishima. He’s an ibis.” He says easily before turning toward him with an unnerving amount of excitement that makes him look quite demented with his pallid appearance. “Tsukishima, this is my sister, Natsu.” Kei frowns, barely able to believe what he’s hearing.

“Sister?” He echoes.

“Yep, we stumbled across her by pure chance.”

“What happened to her wings?” He asks, unable to stop himself and the kid frowns up at him.

“Pi bon pase ou genyen. Blan zèl pa bèl.” She mumbles.

“Natsu!” Hinata says with an embarrassed frown.

“What’d she say?” Kageyama asks, a small smile tugging on his mouth— and Kei turns to look at the redhead, because he’s curious, too.

“Eh— it’s probably not something I should repeat.” The bald crow smirks.

“That probably means it was something hilarious. Come on.” The redhead peeks up at him uncertainly.

“She um… I think she said she’d rather have her wings than yours.” Kei deadpans as Tanaka laughs.

Not killing this kid is already going to be a challenge, he can tell.

“Well as much fun as it might be to sit back and watch her make an ass out of you, we have to figure out what we are going to do with these guys.” The bald crow says around his mirth, a thumb jerking toward the horses that he’s just brought back from getting a drink at the stream.

“Any ideas, Hinata?” When the redhead bounces over to Tanaka, his little mimic following after him, Kei has to marvel at how easily the boy is distracted.

“What about Takeda’s place where we play in the winter…” He says easily and Kei glances over at Feathers, an eyebrow creeping up his forehead.

“So… Kuroo was unusually moody over having adopted some random kid? Because between you and me, Crow Prince, that’s a pretty weak argument.” There’s the slightest irritation in Kageyama’s glance, but the avian heir’s normal aggression is markedly absent.

“Natsu is Hinata’s sister. But she isn’t the reason Kuroo’s so cross. We um… we almost didn’t make it.” He says and Kei briefly wonders if he’s stepped into an alternate dimension, because Feathers talking to him in any kind of civil manner is unheard of.

The crow princeling nods at him and holds the door on the porch open in invitation. The personality swings of the black-haired crow and his leveler are unnerving and Kei immediately casts about for anything that might seem out of place as he warily starts for the porch. Kuroo was the one who stopped into town, so Kenma must also be fine, but… he hasn’t seen Sugawara and Sawamura.

“We got caught in a snake nest.” Feathers says quietly, breaking his thoughts. “It’s a miracle we’re alive. Still,” He murmurs, leading the way inside with a frown of torment, “We almost lost them.” He finishes with a nod.

And as Kei steps through the door, he’s met with a sight he isn’t prepared for. The golden cat is lightly draping a blanket across Suga and Daichi, both sleeping soundly… but the thrush is ghostly pale and his wings glow brightly.

Meaning he’s injured.

“It’s um, not just when wings are hurt that they light up. No matter where, if the injury is bad enough, they glow anyway. We… didn’t think Suga would make it.” Kageyama murmurs at his shoulder. “He’s still not ‘fine’ exactly, but Kuroo refused to let us stay in one place too long. The snakes are moving around right now— the nest we were in? Kuroo said it was toppled. I’m not positive how he did it, but I have a hunch. The sentries disappeared from the area didn’t they?”

Kei glances at him sharply before nodding once.

“Thought so. Kuroo took drastic risks to save our lives. And even then, we were pretty sure we were going to be bringing them home in shrouds. Daichi’s probably going to have wings like mine when he molts next fall.” He says, watching the sleeping level pair with a troubled gaze. That distress irritates Kei, even as his gaze slides to the avian prince’s white tipped feathers.

“I suppose I should be impressed you all came back then. Plus one even.” He drawls and cobalt eyes flash his way with a touch of annoyance, but there’s… amusement there, too.

“That is its own story.” He murmurs with a smirk before watching Kenma pull out more bedding. “Heh, we have a new level pair.” Kei jerks slightly.

“Level Pair? Tanaka and…?” Kageyama’s smirk widens just a bit.

“Yeah, took us off guard, too.”

“How did they figure this out?” The crow prince shrugs.

“I don’t think they realize it yet. They’re probably the only two that have slept since we left the nest. Tanaka caught a bolt in his wing and Natsu… well, she’s been pinioned, so they both glow.” Kei’s mouth drops, the revelation of the bald crow and the kid being levelers neatly pushed aside.

“Pinioned? What the fuck.” He mutters.

“She’s been a captive in the snake nest for centuries; Suga didn’t think she’s ever flown. She seems normal for the most part, but… she does things sometimes.” He says, his gaze dropping into a steep frown. “Like she literally clung to Tanaka for over a day after we got her out. Or you raise a hand to scratch your head or something and she’ll flinch. You won’t hear it so much around Shouyou or Tanaka, but if she says ‘regrèt’, it means ‘sorry’. It’s her automatic response if you’ve startled her or something.

“As far as we can tell, they never did anything more permanent other than the pinioning, but you don’t need to physically injure to cause pain. You asked about her wings. We were guessing that was how they would punish her when she did something ‘wrong’, because they weren’t like that even a week ago. That kid might, um— might have more baggage than any of the rest of us. I’ve never… been more grateful that Momma Yu brought Shouyou back to the rookery when she found him.” He says and Kei stares at him.

The door clacks open and Natsu bounces inside, quickly followed by her brother and her… leveler. The very idea strikes him as nothing but bizarre.

Why, yes, Kei, had in fact, wanted his world flipped upside down. This is going to take some getting used to.

“What about Noya? We could—”

“If you guys are going to be loud, go back outside. You will wake them.” Kenma cuts the redhead off with a flat look and he slaps his hand over his mouth with wide yes.

Kageyama drifts toward his leveler and Kei finds himself evaluating the interactions between the girl child and bald crow. They are uncannily familiar with each other to the point that Kei can almost see the comfort the other’s presence brings even if every touch or word is nothing but platonic.

He frowns slightly and slips back out the door, silence and solitude his only desire. Feeling rather wrung out, he leans against the railing, his gaze watching the red light from the setting sun break across the waves of the ocean.

The universe must really be laughing, he muses sardonically. It’s always been like this, though. Ever since he was little, it’s been fucking with him, but this… this somehow seems to take the cake.

Yamaguchi isn’t his leveler.

He’s found no one else on the planet he could ever tolerate like he did the freckled crow— no one else he wanted to. There is nobody whose company he prefers more, no one he’d sacrifice as much for. There’s no one he cares about as much as he does Yamaguchi… but they aren’t levelers.

He’s been with the crow for centuries and neither of them have ever glowed with their injuries. Yamaguchi had even sprained his wing literally days before meeting the cats and freak pair, so they’d had a perfect opportunity to test it out… but there had been nothing. No freaky glowing like Kageyama and Hinata. Tadashi had never said a word, but Kei was all but positive that knowledge had put him out for weeks.

“Hey.”

Kei blinks and looks down to find the golden cat just off his elbow with a luminous look full of study.

“Kenma.”

“It’s a lot, huh.” He says and Kei has the presence of mind to recognize that the socially stunted cat is attempting to start a conversation. Which means he has something to say. Kei isn’t sure he cares at the moment… but indulges the cat and offers a response all the same.

“We were all waiting wondering what happened to you guys.” Kenma looks blandly toward the waves.

“We were caught in the middle of a figurative typhoon. The last week has been pretty tough.” He murmurs and a spark of ire hits Kei’s gut again.

“You mean to say that at no point, you had even a couple moments to send a raven stating that you were at least still alive?” The cat looks back at him with a minimal frown.

“So much happened that things fell through the cracks. Tsukishima, can I ask you for something?” Kenma says, his head tilting and brows furrowing. The golden cat rarely speaks to him at all, and Kei watches him with wary curiosity despite the well-practiced look of disinterest on his face. The small feline seems to take it as an invitation.

“Go easy on your ribbing for a couple weeks… at least for Shouyou and Kuroo. The others will probably hold up fine, but those two are fragile at the moment.” Surprise flits through his expression for just an instant before a disparaging smirk tugs at his mouth.

“Fragile my pinfeathers.” He mutters but the cat shakes his head once.

“Shouyou is struggling to reconcile two very harsh realities that one hopes they never have to. Trading one life for another— especially when you consider them equally important or nearly so— is something that can destroy you. And when you take a life for the first time, even if you survive, there’s a part of you that still dies. Shouyou has yet to come to terms with things that happened at the nest, and nearly losing the thrush and crow— the leadership backbone of their former unit, has only exacerbated it. He’s nearly been through two breakdowns already… Shouyou is indeed fragile right now.” The cat says quietly and the ibis is quietly stunned for the— how many times has he been off balance today?

Hinata killed people? Kei frowns in consideration before his umber eyes slide back to the small cat’s intent golden orbs.

“And our rabid furball commander?” He drawls and Kenma looks away.

“You might want to watch your remarks for you own safety. It’s been years since he was last like this, but you’re just as likely to lose teeth as you are to see him falter under pressure if you harass him. Kuroo is the kind of person who, no matter the mistakes anyone else might have made, he will never blame anyone but himself for anything that goes wrong.”

“That’s a stupid mentality. You can’t keep idiots from being idiots.”

“But you can still protect them.” Kei’s frown deepens despite the cat’s amusing lack of contention on the ‘idiot’ point.

“Not always.”

“You’re more right than you will ever know, Tsukishima, no matter how Kuroo might try to prove you wrong.” He says, leaning onto the railing beside him.

“We used to have a large clan, Kuroo and I. Centuries ago, but there were almost twenty of us at one point. There’s only he and I left, so I’ll let you draw your conclusions. The last time I saw Kuroo like this, we’d just lost two people, a level pair, our last two besides ourselves. The time before that was when he lost that eye, but the injury was hardly the reason. I’d have been unreachable and untraceable once I’d been put on a boat bound for the continent; he’d have never seen me again.

“Kuroo doesn’t handle loss or even the threat of it. He spirals— and that makes him volatile. And he knows that. But no matter the mental risk, he always shoulders it because he can’t not care. I chose to be his leveler and grounding point— his one constant, because no matter how it hurts, he readily opens himself back up to that inevitable pain. And for that, I could never call him a coward. I love Kuroo because he can’t be anything but who he is and at his core, he cares about others ever before himself.

“But he’s like everyone else. He’s not invincible and he isn’t immune to despair. He must be approached with the same respect and regard as everyone else and I will safeguard his sanity to the very best of my ability. If you can’t curb your barbs at least for a short while, I will resort to other means to see you do for the sake of all involved.” The golden cat says with a small smile and nods toward the east.

Kei follows his gaze up the beach warily, Kenma’s threat ringing with disconcerting clarity in his head on the heels of a lecture that is more than Kei’s heard him speak in the last three years combined. And against the red sky, he catches sight of incoming shapes— three.

Yamaguchi and the owls.

Kenma turns to leave but pauses a moment.

“I hope you consider it at least. You would be afforded the same courtesy.” He murmurs, the smile still there, honest and benign.

The cat hadn’t meant to alarm him in any way; he’d merely intended to inform him. Which somehow makes his threat that much more unsettling. Kei watches the cat step back inside silently, his mind clicking through his words.

The ibis doesn’t go back inside the rest of the evening. Not to join Yamaguchi in reassuring himself that everyone really is all back and okay. Not when Bokuto and Akaashi freak the crap out of Natsu until Tanaka and Hinata calm her down. Not when their last six members finally show up as the sun is dropping behind the ocean horizon. Not when Asahi has to restrain Noya from irately picking a fight with Kuroo for having not been with the rest of the Karasuno group when they needed help, for letting Suga get so injured. Not when Hinata exuberantly tells his brother and anyone who will listen about how Sugawara let slip the real nature of his and Daichi’s relationship. Not to join the others in scoping out places to sleep around the injured thrush and his crow leveler as night begins falling in earnest.

When the freckled crow finds him still on the porch as night is dropping into deeper blackness, his face pulled into a tired but happy smile, Kei’s face set into an unreadable mask.

“If we don’t go get a place soon, we might be sleeping out here.” He says, the tension of the last ten days gone from his shoulders, mild content present in all of his features. The crow is truly happy here, surrounded by these people… and Kei can’t fault him for it.

“Yamaguchi.”

“What’s up, Tsukki?”

“What do you think about taking that trip to the mountains after the first frost?” He asks, his voice quiet. The crow’s hazel eyes leap to his face, surprise zipping through their shadows. Kei looks back at him, open and honest, waiting only for the freckled crow to give the word. A small smile settles across his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a bit.

“I’d like that.”

Honestly, he’d almost suggested it last fall, but Kuroo had mentioned the snakes moving around, and he’d discarded it for another time… but if he keeps putting it off, it will never come to pass. And it was something Yamaguchi had asked for, a soft smile on his face at the time not unlike the one he wears now. Except the one that stretches his mouth now is better… there is no wistful hope, just mild happiness accented with a slight darkening in his cheeks. Kei wishes he’d look like this more often.

I love Kuroo because he can’t be anything but who he is.

Kei doesn’t know what love is.

He’s felt nothing in his life that was so definitively profound that he could have termed it ‘love’. He’s had no groundbreaking moment of realization or a point where everything was somehow different. He is sure he was loved… his parents had told him often enough when he was very small, and his memories of them are colored with nothing but warmth and concern. He’s sure his brother probably loves him as well, although he hasn’t seen him in centuries so that may have changed. But Akiteru had also showered him with quiet affection, had radiated pride at being his brother, and had likewise sought to shelter him from the world. The big common takeaway that he gets from those relationships is, at its root, the desire to keep someone else safe.

But one can desire to protect something for ulterior reasons— even possessiveness for completely selfish motives could be skewed to fit that bill. He turns back toward the beach, his umber gaze seeking out Yamaguchi.

If there is one thing he’d want to protect, it would be the freckled crow.

He’s quiet and kind, brilliantly smart, loyal to a fault, and he adores kids. He likes the strangest foods— seriously, soggy potatoes, really? He enjoys sleeping in and he hates earthquakes as the tremor three days ago had reminded him so well; the crow had nearly had a panic attack.

Yamaguchi is shy, often hanging back as a wall flower, but Kei has seen a quiet strength within him, feels it slip to the surface on occasion. He’s frequently timid, but every blue moon or so, he will actually rise against Kei, himself.

It had even happened in the last year.

Kei had toyed briefly with the idea of seeing if a leveler bond could be completed between a cat and avian after learning of the thread between himself and Kuroo, if for no other reason than in the spirit of discovery. The cat was, at the very least tolerable, and Kei had imagined it might not be hell to be tied to him for the rest of his life, but when he’d idly voiced the thought to Yamaguchi, the crow had gone dead still before rising to his feet, his entire frame rigid. The freckled crow hadn’t been able to meet his gaze at first, but his voice had escaped in an icy candor.

“Why would you destroy two people like that?” He’d asked and it had definitely caught Kei off guard.

“It wasn’t a serious idea—”

“Then why even consider it? You have to be either stupid or blind to not see how much Kuroo and Kenma care about each other. They are all but levelers already, they live for each other. You would come between them on the whim of curiosity?”

The crow’s snapping eyes had jerked up to his with a fierce glare. Kei himself had been quietly stunned to see the meek crow standing over him, his wings agitated into a threatening display. His mind had told him to backtrack, because this was something the crow legitimately felt strongly about, but his mouth had already been running.

“Stupid, Yamaguchi? You’re completely overreacting; it’s not a big deal.” Kei had said dismissively. The crow’s face had smoothed into incredulity.

“Not a big deal.” He’d echoed in a dead voice and he’d looked away with a scoff and a pained grin that had left Kei’s chest feeling somehow tight, and he’d wanted to do something he’d never had the urge to before, and take the words back.

“That’s right,” Yamaguchi had continued, his hands fisting, “I forget, other people don’t matter to you, their lives are merely a passing notion. My mistake, I’ll remember next time.” He’d said stiffly and stalked off, leaving Kei absolutely steeped in suffocating emotions that had made him want to crawl into a hole somewhere and sleep for the next hundred years while that confrontation blew over.

Yamaguchi had been wrong.

While most people don’t matter to him— a number he is grudgingly being forced to admit isn’t quite as large as it was three years ago, there is one person who matters more than any other.

Kei doesn’t know what love is.

Because if love is the desire to protect something, then he doesn’t feel love. Wanting to keep Yamaguchi safe...that’s just a symptom— a side effect— of the underlying feeling at its center.

If Kei has his way, Yamaguchi will never again wear an expression like the one he’d put on his face that day. If Kei has his way, Yamaguchi will never again feel the emotions that generated it. Kei doesn’t just want to protect the crow, Kei would see him content.

And fate and leveler bonds can burn in hell. There is no one else he would want to face the future with.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 25; Chapter 27

A/N: Ahhh... year three arc concluded- and on a LONG chapter at that (almost 9000 words, goodbye 100k word milestone). I thought about splitting it, but eh, have a bit of emotionally invested Tsukki with your sigh of relief.

None of you would know this, but in every novel I haven't taken to a publisher (all of them, lol), one of my big pivotal characters always ends up biting it. I have a penchant for killing AT LEAST one high impact character and I SERIOUSLY almost killed those two... but that they are a significant part of the Karasuno team in the series, and it felt wrong to kill them off before they'd even graduated after winning nationals

Well, I am going to go for some ice cream after this one. Have a wonderful evening, guys!

#level pair #level horizon #haikyuu!!#kei tsukishima #tsukkiyama #kuroo tetsurou #kagehina #Daisuga #fanfiction #LONG POST #you can all sleep easy again for the night

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dudence-blog · 7 years ago

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Dear Dudence for 14 December 2017

It’s a week until Christmas and Hanukkah is in swing. Hopefully you’ve got your presents ordered, wrapped, or delivered. If you’re one of the lucky few who don’t need to write to an advice columnist to figure out who you should spend your holidays with I hope it’s a great time for you. I’ve got the gluehwein warming in the kitchen so on to the letters other people asked someone else!

My boyfriend and I have been together for two years, and he is loving, caring, and dedicated. He’s in the medical field and enjoys helping his patients. Most of the time, I can see myself marrying him and being happy, but some things he says politically make me nervous, and I’m worried that he’s too uncaring about other people’s situations. He doesn’t have a problem with Roy Moore being a senator because “he hasn’t been convicted.” He seems to judge sexual harassment victims for not coming forward earlier and doesn’t understand why some wouldn’t.

Dear Is He Insensitive, welcome to being in a relationship with someone who roots for another team than you do. Sometimes this difference is between Yankee and Red Sox fans, sometimes it’s between OU and UT. In this case it��s between D and R. Your boyfriend is making excuses for Roy Moore’s behavior in the same way that Mets fans were perfectly cromulent with Jose Reyes’ domestic abuse and Texans fans shake their heads about Brian Cushing’s PED use. Your boyfriend also has the perfectly human response to the victims of “This isn’t what I would do or what I would expect everyone I know to do if it happened to them.” It doesn’t make him right or them wrong, it’s just something people do. It doesn’t mean he is insensitive to the plight of such victims closer to him. He just chooses to spend his emotional attention on people who are not complete strangers thousands of miles away with whom he will never interact. I want you to go ahead and ignore Newdie’s advice on this one because, honestly, she is a child who thinks that history began on or about 21 January 2009. Roy Moore is an awful person; his political actions alone should have been disqualifying for the office of Senator, that he took an interest in young women which was awkward for the time, and downright creepy when viewed through today’s expectations (Unless you’re the President and First Lady of France). That he lost is, probably, for the benefit of the nation. But unless you live in Alabama your boyfriend’s view on Moore’s candidacy matters exactly as much to your relationship as to whether he was a Cubs fan who was suddenly less than willing to condemn Ardolis Chapman as an abuser. Also, let me go ahead and let you know that every single person who seeks that high of an elected office is, at some level, an awful person. You need to be to have the single-minded megalomania to decide you, and you alone, know what is best for several thousand to hundreds of millions of people, many of whom deeply and sincerely disagree with you. It’s just a matter of whether their awfulness has been brought to light, or if they’re a member of your team. You might be too young to remember, but 18 months ago Bill Clinton’s history of assault and harassment was just not that important, and almost 30 years ago no less a feminist than Gloria Steinem believed he was entitled to One Free Grope. Rand Paul is, apparently, an awful-enough neighbor to justify being assaulted. Bob Menendez and Alcee Hastings took bribes. There are, what, 4 Congressmembers who’ve been outed using taxpayer dollars to settle harassment claims? Only you can decide whether your politically disinterested boyfriend’s lazy defense of a bad candidate is worth you blowing up a relationship with someone who satisfies you in the many other dimensions of a relationship. I, personally, wouldn’t end a relationship I can see otherwise ending in wedding bells over a disagreement on the players on your political team.

Is it ever acceptable to make a request about your partner’s appearance? I would never comment on something like weight or unchangeable physical characteristics (nor would I want to—I think my wife is beautiful). But what about easily changeable things? My wife has recently stopped coloring her hair, so now she is all gray.

Dear Dye Job, of course it’s acceptable to make requests about your partner’s appearance. “Honey, I really like that red blouse you wore last week,” be polite, sensitive, and keep it positive. As for your specific request let’s talk. It was something she previously did, but she has stopped doing. Maybe she didn’t like the hassle, maybe she thought it wasn’t money well-spent, maybe she didn’t think you noticed it enough, maybe she is just deciding to give her hair a break for a bit. I’d suggest just asking her about it. Frame the question in a positive and supportive way; if she asks if you have a preference, be honest, but accept it might just not be something she wants to do. You’ll never know if you don’t ask.

I’m in my late-30s but for some reason am painfully embarrassed by my pre-teen/middle school years. I don’t want any throwback pics or “hey, remember how you used to...” discussion. It’s completely irrational. I was not tormented and had no particularly traumatic incidents. Just your garden-variety awkward. Anyway, I’ve never told anyone this because I realize it’s nuts. If things come up, I just laugh along and change the subject as swiftly as possible. But recently a family member has started posting clips from old family videos on Facebook. I am absolutely mortified at the thought of some of the videos that I know they have of me being made public.

Dear Adolescent Embarrassment, are you me? It might be small comfort but, honestly, as long as your recorded moments don’t feature you fiving a Nazi salute or shooting the neighbors pets no one fucking cares how embarrassing and awkward you were as a pre-teen because all of us were like that. The coolest, sexist, most confident person you know has a picture of video of them wearing awful clothes, a then-popular hairstyle, and their voice cracking in that awful way it does. Ask whoever has those videos to not upload ones of you, and if they do it anyway just ignore it.

I am 36 years old and have been in a relationship with a great guy for almost two years. He is 43. We are talking about marriage and possibly kids if that works out. I have zero issues with our relationship—it’s great. The only concern I have is that prior to dating me, my boyfriend only dated very attractive women under 26 years old. Some of them were even as young as 20 or 22, while he was in his mid-to-late 30s. I guess I am concerned that someday he will want to go back to that.

Dear Reading Too Much, in addition to believing that history began on or about 21 January 2009 NuPru also thinks that romantic partners are incapable of wanting anything different from what they have dated before. Yes, it is possible he might want to go back to dating college-age women, or the fact he’s dating you and you two are discussing a future together means he’s ready to move on from dating women in their early to mid 20s. Also, since you’re talking age-ranges here a 34 year old dating a 26 year old is not exactly Mrs. Robinson trying to seduce someone. Heck, it’s well within Half Your Age +7. NuPru is reading an exceptional amount of malice into very sparse information. If you haven’t talked with your boyfriend about your concern that you might be a bit too mature for his chickenhawkish ways may I suggest that you do so. However, when you do I suggest you throw out all the argle-bargle NuPru mentioned about “power imbalance”, “being fresh out of high school”, etc because the only way to make that conversation end more poorly would be to ask if he’s preparing to run for the Senate in 20 years. Don’t ask him why he wanted to date youngerer women, ask him what makes his relationship with you more special than the ones that came before.

I recently got out of a very long-term relationship. I hadn’t expected to enter the dating world so soon, but I met a guy while traveling for work and made an instant connection with him. I only travel to his area a few weeks a year, so I stayed in contact with him and we chat almost every day. Well, I’ve just recently met someone else more local (once again, it caught me by surprise). I know I’m not necessarily ready for a relationship with either, but I’m really starting to like both of them. I’ve always felt I could be polyamorous, as I feel that people have the capability to care for and love multiple people, but should I continue spending time with both of them?

Dear Poly Maybe?, you see that cart in front of you? You need to dismount your horse, unhitch it from the cart, move your horse in front of the cart, then rehitch it. You’re newly free from a long-term relationship and now you’ve found multiple people you want to bang. It is far, far, far more likely that something is going to come along to derail your relationship with either, or both, of them before you need to start explaining how you love them both equally and hope they’re okay with you being banged by the other.

My father has just collapsed from a cancer none of us knew he had. He is ailing, and my mother is absolutely freaking out. She has always had undiagnosed, untreated mental illnesses. Since his retirement, she has clung to my father. My sister is there trying to manage things while my father is in the hospital. If she leaves the room, my mother freaks out. Last night mom called me, hysterical, saying that she had been “abandoned” (my sister went to the gym). She wandered the neighborhood wailing and sobbing until a neighbor came out to talk to her. Sooner or later, someone may call the police. She has not been to a doctor since I was born (I’m in my 50s). She won’t listen to anyone and wouldn’t let a caseworker into the house to assess the situation. I am estranged from all of them but would like to get her some help.

Dear Mother off the Rails, provide your sister the elderly care information Newdie offered.

I recently asked out a man and he said yes (yay!). However, it turns out my roommate is also interested in him.

Dear Swiped a Crush, she who hesitates is lost. Give her the polite heads-up, be prepared for some drama, but go on with your plans. Real life is not an episode of Friends.

My daughter is 16 years old. Her mother and I have been divorced for most of my daughter’s life. For years, I have had to fight my ex’s attempt to keep my daughter from me and to keep joint, 50-50 custody. However, as a teen my daughter has been rebelling—stealing, failing school, et cetera. I’ve punished her by taking her phone away or not letting her go over to friend’s houses. Instead of backing me up, my ex sides with my daughter—without asking me why I punished her.

Dear Daughter Doesn’t Want, the good news is in a few years she’ll be dating Reading Too Much’s ex-boyfriend. Wait, that might not be good news. I would not sacrifice your time with your daughter so easily as Newdie is suggesting. I get the impression that your relationship with your daughter’s mother is not the most amicable, but if you haven’t had a serious parent-to-parent discussion with her lately over your daughter’s behavior, discipline for her self-destructive actions, and the expectation that you’ll both support one another you need to. I’d also suggest dealing with your lawyer about what your options actually are. Your daughter is old enough that her preferences should be given some serious weight, but she’s not so old or mature that she should just be allowed to go off the rails.

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