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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

Text

Drink, No Drink

xuexiao - M for violence - 4.9k - AO3!

In which Xiao Xingchen drunkely flirts with an oblivious Xue Yang ____________________________

They come by once a month on average, sometimes twice. Once, about eleven months after Xue Yang came to Yi City, three come at once, but that's a group and Xue Yang, always fair, counts them as one.

Still three times the fun to kill, of course.

The men step into the Coffin House courtyard at noon, just ten minutes after Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing had left to buy groceries.

Xue Yang is busy dumping fresh dirt into a raised bed. He and Xiao Xingchen have built raised beds throughout the courtyard to plant vegetables in. Xiao Xingchen had wanted flowers, but Xue Yang had vetoed the idea, flowers being useless, and the daozhang isn’t one to argue.

He looks up as the men step into the courtyard. “Who are you?”

The leader of the group, a tall, brutish-looking man with a cauliflower ear and broken nose, seems almost angry at the question. “Where is he?”

Xue Yang dusts his hands off. And here he thought he’d be bored until the daozhang returned. “Who is this ‘he’?”

“The blind cultivator in white! Xiao Xingchen! We know he lives here!”

Xue Yang taps his chin. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

The musclebound man on the right steps forward, seconds away from grabbing Xue Yang by the collar and losing a hand. “We were told there’s a blind cultivator living here!”

“Ohhh, I thought you meant the other blind cultivator in white. I lose track. What do you want from him?”

“To take a strip out of his hide!”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you committed some crime once upon a time, and he got you in trouble for it, and now that he’s blind you want your revenge.”

“How did—”

“It’s all very original.” Xue Yang’s knife is in his hand. He tosses in the air, catching it deftly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The skinny little man on the left shrugs. “Not reall—”

He never finishes his sentence. A flash of silver blade, and Xue Yang’s knife is sprouting from his eye. Shrieking, he falls backwards into a vegetable bed, yanking the knife out of his face.

Xue Yang shakes his head. “Don’t you know not to pull a knife out of a wound? Trust me on that one, I should know. Look, now you’re bleeding all over the place.” He produces a second knife and turns to face the other two men, who stand gaping at him in slack-jawed shock. “How about you two? Up for some first aid practice?”

“You—you—”

“Got any weapons? Get them out. It’s more fun that way.”

Still looking confused, the leader draws his own knife out and stands there, blinking, while the other man drops to his knees beside his companion, who’s writhing in the dirt and shrieking like a wounded fox.

Xue Yang makes a face. “Can you shut him up? He’s going to give me a headache at this rate.”

“He—he—”

Xue Yang floats over and slices the man’s tongue out with a practiced twist of his blade, but the man continues to emit bone-chilling scream from deep inside his throat.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Another twist of the blade, and the man falls silent. Permanently. “You’d think he’d never been stabbed in the eyeball before.”

“You killed him—”

“Like you were going to do to the daozhang?” Xue Yang flies back over near the leader. “And for what, arresting you? You clearly escaped whatever the charges are. Grow up and let it go.”

The leader’s hand tightens on his knife. “The magistrate beat me so badly I couldn’t get honest work again as a porter—”

“Your back, your arms, your legs, what was the problem?”

“My left leg was broken so badly it—”

Xue Yang jams his heel into the man’s left kneecap, shattering it. Howling, the man collapses, knife falling from his spasming fingers. “Like I want your life’s story?” He hauls the man up by his collar and flies him over to one of the raised beds, dumping him in the dirt. Dislocates the man’s shoulder, just to be safe, and nicks the side of the man’s throat so that he bleed out into the soil.

Best kind of fertilizer, or so he’d been given to believe.

Then he turns to the third man, who’s cowering on his knees, forehead pressed to the dirt. “How about you? Going to put up more of a fight, I hope? I mean, what were you three arrested for, anyway? Couldn’t have been anything requiring actual fighting skills. Tax fraud?”

“Forgive me—forgive me—I won’t harm Xiao Xingchen! I swear I’ll leave here, I’ll never speak of this—”

“A bit late for that, I’d think.” Xue Yang tilts his head down at him. He likes seeing the man grovel. Kowtow, really. A trembling heap of peasant clothes and greasy hair, not half as good as if it had been the daozhang or one of the self-righteous cultivators who’d dogged him half his life, but it still fills him with heady tingling pleasure. “You should never have come here.”

“It wasn’t my idea—I swear it wasn’t!”

“Great, a spineless lackey. Even better. Now, the question is how to kill you.” He crouches before the man, patting his trembling cheek with his knife while he thinks. “I usually go for something more creative, but we need to wrap this up before the daozhang gets home, and more than two beds needs fertilizing, so here we go.”

The man makes a feeble effort to resist, taking an easily-dodged swing at Xue Yang's jaw. A flick of his hand, and Xue Yang’s knife is suddenly plunged deep into the man’s throat. Grabbing him by the hair, he hauls the man into the neighboring vegetable bed and gives the knife an experimental jiggle, then wiggles it a bit farther up his throat. A delicate balance, this—he needs the man alive to pump out as much blood as possible, but can't resist playing with him a bit. Of course Xue Yang could always rip out his intestines and bury them in the dirt, but that would be messy, and Xue Yang hasn't time to clean up.

A sigh, and the man bleeding out from his eye socket expires.

Xue Yang hesitates, then removes his outer robes and flies the man over the back wall of the courtyard, dumping him in the forest outside the city.

The second man has died by the time he returns. Xue Yang flies him out, then the third man when he too dies.

He stands beneath the trees, eying his handiwork.

Not a bad day’s work.

If only the daozhang knew that Xue Yang, his worst enemy, had been saving his life for the past eleven months. Knew how deeply indebted he is to the delinquent from Kuizhou.

But the daozhang can’t know.

Not just yet.

He’d probably make me stop, Xue Yang thinks, no matter what the personal risk. He’d insist on arresting all these opportunistic degenerates and bringing them to justice, as if such a thing exists.

The idiot. Xue Yang finds himself smiling at the thought. The sanctimonious idiot, blind in more ways than one. For all Xue Yang knows, he might even hear the men out—“Oh, your leg was broken? The scoundrels!” and embark on a journey to track down the magistrate who’d wronged the criminal degenerates—

A vulture approaches, drawn by the scent of blood, startling Xue Yang out of his thoughts.

“Wait your turn,” he tells the bird. “It’s first come, first serve around here.” Chuckles to himself—too bad the daozhang is completely unsuited for the day’s activities. He knows Xiao Xingchen would have appreciated the afternoon’s humor—maybe even relished the irony of watching Xue Yang, the man who was going to one day kill the daozhang, protect him—

Well, perhaps not that. But he could have gotten a few laughs, at least.

Xue Yang cuts a lock of hair from each of the men, just as he has for the last thirteen criminals who’d come after Xiao Xingchen, removes their tongues, and flies back over the wall.

He can take care of the bodies later, if the vultures don’t handle them for him.

He places the tongues in jars he sets inside a coffin painted with preservation sigils. Then, grabbing a rake, he begins mixing the blood-soaked earth, evenly dividing it among the dozen raised beds that take up half the courtyard and patting the soil down in preparation for tomorrow’s sowing. He’s just finishing up when Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing return.

The first thing out of the daozhang’s mouth is, “What’s that smell?”

“What smell?”

“Smells like blood,” says A-Qing, who can always be counted on to say the wrong thing.

Xue Yang fights the urge to tell the daozhang the truth, see the look on his face. “I got bored without you, and went for a walk in the woods, and found a fierce corpse.”

Xiao Xingchen’s face softens at the words without you. Xue Yang is still at a loss to explain how readily Xiao Xingchen displays his feelings. Surely letting another person know that you value their companionship is a dangerous show of weakness?

Xue Yang has learned to reveal nothing that can be used against him in the future.

What Chengmei says to the daozhang is different. His esteem for the blind white fool is all an act, and there is no way a lie might harm him.

“I have the beds all ready for planting,” he tells Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen moves towards him as A-Qing runs inside with the groceries. “Were you wounded?”

“By what, tripping and falling on the rake?”

“The blood smells fresh. Did the fierce corpse manage to hurt you? That’s unlike you, Chengmei.” He lays a hand on Xue Yang’s chest, eyebrows rising slightly at the feel of Xue Yang’s thin, silky inner robe beneath his hand instead of his textured outer robes. “I know you, Chengmei. You wouldn’t tell me you were hurt, even if you were.” Slowly, he runs his hands over Xue Yang’s chest, pats his arms, feels his waist.

Xue Yang swallows hard, freezing.

From the touching, he tells himself. Not from the display of concern. It’s hard not to tense up when touched, given how often past touch has been something bad.

Truly it means nothing, the daozhang’s concern. Xue Yang knows this. Has always known it.

What good is the compassion of a man who only cares because he doesn’t know the truth?

Xiao Xingchen rests his hand briefly on his hip, but seems unwilling to go any lower and check Xue Yang’s legs. “You’d tell me if you were hurt, right?”

Xue Yang’s heart is pounding. “….I wouldn’t lie to you…”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Seeming to realize how close they're standing, Xiao Xingchen moves away. “I’ll go help A-Qing make dinner. We'll keep the seeds from tonight’s vegetables, we can plant tomorrow…”

Xue Yang slips his outer robes back on but doesn’t head back into the house. He’s cursing himself for having lost his composure for even a second, especially in front of Xiao Xingchen, of all people.

It’s not like he noticed. You sounded normal, and he’s blind, for fuck’s sake.

The reddish gold sun has sunk beneath the courtyard walls when Xiao Xingchen comes out onto the porch. He looks blue in the twilight, slender and beautiful and somehow soft despite the boniness of his long slim body.

“Chengmei? Dinner’s ready.”

Hesitating, though he’s not sure why, Xue Yang heads inside. Xiao Xingchen hands out the bowls and chopsticks while A-Qing serves.

Xue Yang is silent during dinner, mechanically shoveling rice into his mouth.

Xiao Xingchen does most of the talking, as if sensing Xue Yang is in a strange mood. He talks about the past, places he’s seen, people he’s met. He’s a poor storyteller, with a laughable memory of details, but his tendency to ramble from one story to the next without finishing any of them is amusing in its own way, and A-Qing's interjections of her own more colorful experiences keep any heavy silence at bay.

After the meal, Xue Yang removes Xiao Xingchen’s horsetail whisk from where he keeps it on a shelf in the corner.

“Just combing it,” he says when A-Qing, who has even better hearing than the daozhang and an uncanny knack for getting in his way, asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. “It’s getting tangled.”

“Tangled. Right.”

Normally Xue Yang would bicker back, but he doesn’t have the energy tonight. He sits on the steps, the horsetail whisk in his lap, while A-Qing lies on a blanket, staring up at the dazzling carpet of stars as if she can see, and Xiao Xingchen polishes his sword beside him.

Xue Yang knots the locks of hair he’d taken from the three convicts into the flowing mane of the whisk, streaks of black staining the pure white.

A little ritual he’d developed after the first would-be murderer had come to Yi City. Watching the daozhang parade around with a murder trophy tucked under thin white arm was endlessly entertaining.

Now…

It’s still a good joke, Xue Yang tells himself. Still good fun to see the streaks of black against the white. But it’s become a symbol of something else, now, too.

Of what, Xue Yang isn’t entirely sure.

But of something.

The eggplant is starting to sprout when, five weeks later, another convict comes to the Coffin House searching for Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen is inside the house making dinner with A-Qing. Xue Yang had just stepped outside to fetch more water when he sees a shadow detach itself from behind a coffin and slither across the courtyard, a flash of silver in its hand.

Jiangzai is out before Xue Yang can even think.

Footsteps.

Xue Yang flies across the courtyard and grabs the shadow by the throat. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Xiao Xing—”

Xue Yang cuts his throat before the man can finish, flying him over the wall before so much as a drop of blood can splash onto the stones of the courtyard.

A shame to waste the fertilizer on the trees of the forest, but Xiao Xingchen is expecting him back any second now.

He’ll fetch the tongue later.

“Thank you, Chengmei,” Xiao Xingchen says when he returns, accepting the bucket of water. “Do you mind chopping the potatoes? The oil should be hot enough any minute now.”

“Fried potato? Not boiled? Do my ears deceive me?” His pulse is reverberating through his skull, so that’s very possible. The quickness of the kill had done nothing to diminish the euphoria that always accompanies it. If anything, it had heightened it, a half-hour’s torture compressed into an intense dose of power and pleasure and blood.

“I figured I would fry it, as a treat. It’s been a year since…well, it’s been a year since we all came to the Coffin House.” Xiao Xingchen turns to the stove, blushing slightly, as if almost ashamed to have kept track of the anniversary, as if he doesn’t think it's as important to Xue Yang as it is to him.

Xue Yang doesn’t speak. A-Qing is glancing at the floor, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

“I know it’s foolish—” Xiao Xingchen begins again, but Xue Yang shakes his head, forgetting for a moment that he can’t see him.

“It’s never foolish to fry potatoes,” he says emphatically. “That boiled stuff is for the dogs. Anything else?”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I bought nian gao at the market today.”

“Now you have my attention.” He slices the potatoes swiftly, hand shaking slightly. Lingering euphoria from his recent kill, most likely. “The sweet cake kind, right? Not that vegetable stuff.”

Xiao Xingchen affects chagrin. “Do you take me for an amateur?”

Xue Yang discovers that he’s grinning.

Still from the murder, no doubt. It’s been a while since he’d killed anything larger than the rats that sneak into the Coffin House.

It’s not that he needs to kill. Enjoys it, yes. Who wouldn’t enjoy holding complete and utter power over another human being? Being the most important thing in their world, if only for those final moments? The pleasant exercise of the fight, the witty banter, the desperation in the victim’s eyes as they bleed out?

But, if he’s being entirely honest, he hasn’t thought about it much these past few weeks.

A-Qing turns in early that night, having eaten too much fried food and nian gao, leaving Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang alone on the porch. Xue Yang plays with the dead man’s hair in the horsetail whisk while Xiao Xingchen sits beside him, just a little too close, knee almost touching his, having misjudged the distance. It’s odd, how the daozhang can spin through the forest to sever a fierce corpse’s throat without disturbing a single leaf or blade of grass, but he’s rather clumsy around Xue Yang, stumbling into him at times, brushing his hand with his while handing him something, mistakenly letting his shoulder touch his as he passes.

“I have a surprise,” says Xiao Xingchen.

“We’re getting a puppy.”

“We can, if you want."

“Just joking.” Briefly, Xue Yang wonders what a dog would make of the corpses popping up around the Coffin House.

Well, it would be one way to dispose of the bodies, and save on buying dog food.

He grins to himself at the idea. It's a real shame he can’t share some of his best thoughts with Xiao Xingchen.

Who’s tilting his head at him expectantly. “Chengmei?”

“You’re buying us a new house. A-Qing found a husband. We have an invitation to Jinlintai.”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I feel quite inadequate, now. I bought some of this.” He draws two wine jars from his sleeve. “Or rather, traded some protection talismans for it with the local weaver.”

“Is the daozhang a secret wino?” Xue Yang accepts the small white jar. He’s not one for drinking, but he can’t turn Xiao Xingchen down. “Is that what you’re really doing during your private meditation sessions?”

Instead of being offended, Xiao Xingchen smiles. “Given how many great poets were drunks—going by their poetry—I could do well to follow their example.

‘Life in the world is but a big dream;

I will not spoil it by any labor or care.

So saying, I was drunk all the day,

Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door—’ ”

“A tripping hazard for A-Qing.”

“ ‘When I awoke, I blinked at the garden-lawn;

A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers.

I asked myself,

Had the day been wet or fine? ’ ”

Xue Yang struggles to keep a straight face despite the fact that Xaio Xingcheng can’t see him. “Baoshan Sanren teaches cultivating by way of winemaking? No wonder she has to hide on her mountain. Every cultivator for miles around would be trying to sign on with her.”

Xiao Xingchen laughs. “Given how many classic poems are about drinking wine, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing existed...at least the poems in Shifu’s collection. She didn’t focus much on classical poetry.” He pulls the stopper from his jar, sniffing it. “So…I just…drink it? Is there some kind of…I don’t know…”

“A wine-drinking ritual? Like you walk in a circle three times, flapping your arms—”

“…do you think we can forgo it, just this once?”

Xue Yang is the one to laugh this time, though he’s not sure if Xiao Xingchen is joking. “You just drink, from what I’ve seen.”

“From what you’ve seen?”

“I don’t drink.” He instantly regrets his words at the look on Xiao Xingchen’s face. “I mean…”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to make—”

“I mean—” And suddenly he hears himself saying, “I could never afford to be…impaired in any way. For…my own safety, I mean. I was just never…look, it’s…” And then, just as suddenly, he’s uncorking his jar and taking a deep draft.

It burns unpleasantly in his throat, but it’s worth it for the smile on Xiao Xingchen’s face at the silent admission that he feels safe here.

That Chengemi does, at any rate.

“How does it taste?”

“Good, I think,”Xue Yang lies.

Xiao Xingchen sips delicately at his jar, then wrinkles his nose. “The poems made me think it would be a lot more like drinking moonbeams and lotus blossoms.”

“More poems about passing out on the lawn?” Xue Yang asks. Poetry is just as useless as he’s always imagined it to be, but it sounds nice coming from Xiao Xingchen. Melodic. Kind of like singing...

...Must be the wine, that idiotic thought.

" 'A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;

I drink alone, for no friend is near.

Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.’ ”

Xue Yang frowns slightly. “I’m sitting right here, daozhang.”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “So you are.”

Xue Yang shakes his momentary pique away. “Four men, then. Five, counting my shadow. You know, I don’t think those poets knew what the hell they were talking about, like with anything.”

“That’s not true…well, not entirely…there are some very pretty poems about nature…”

“How about a drinking game: I say something untrue, and if you correctly guess that it’s a lie, then I have to drink.”

“Alright.” By Xiao Xingchen’s amused smile, it’s clear he doesn’t think Xue Yang can successfully lie to him.

“I’m ugly. Hideous. Ladies pull their skirts away from me in the street and I frighten children and old people.”

Xiao Xingchen laughs, misjudging the distance between them again and touching his arm by mistake. “Not going by what I’ve heard.”

Smirking, Xue Yang takes a drink. “Your turn.”

“I…I have two heads.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “That the best you can do?”

“I’m not accustomed to falsehoods!”

The pretentious way he put that should have made Xue Yang roll his eyes again, but the strong wine has mellowed him. “Drink. I hate candy.”

“Drink!”

“See, it’s not fun if it’s something too obvious.”

“Fine. I want that puppy you mentioned.”

“…drink?”

Xiao Xingchen raises his jar. “No drink! I wouldn't mind a puppy."

“You seem more like a cat person.”

“I like all animals. Would you rather a cat? You seem like a cat person. Like…” Xiao Xingchen hesitates. “Takes a while to warm up, independent, but loyal once you know you can tru…” He trails off, as if sensing he’s gone too far.

Biting his lip, Xue Yang looks out over the beds of budding vegetables, silver in the starlight. He’s never imagined anyone examining him in any way other than to evaluate him as a threat. Certainly not to comment on any traits in a tone Xue Yang tells himself is definitely not one of fondness, no matter how much it sounds that way. “Well, I have always liked cats better.”

“My favorite food is congee.”

“No drink, for reasons I’ll never understand.”

“You can add anything to it, and you have a nice warm meal!”

Xue Yang shakes his head. “I killed a man today for trespassing.”

“Oh, that’s terrible, Chengmei! Drink….”

It’s late when Xiao Xingchen's wine jars are empty. He'd had another two tucked away in his long white sleeve, and grown melancholy as the night wore on.

“I did everything I could to ruin my friend’s life,” he says, raising the last of his wine to the moon.

Xue Yang glances at him sharply. He’s kept his head better than Xiao Xingchen, only pretending to drink most of the time. “You what?”

“Song Lan. Zichen. The destruction of his temple was all my fault…” Head drooping, he slides sideways, cheek resting on Xue Yang’s shoulder. “All my fault, his eyes, all me…”

Xue Yang sits very still. Xiao Xingchen is warm against him, his breath soft on his neck. Then, very delicately, he pries Xiao Xingchen’s fingers from the wine jar and sets it beside them on the step.

“That was not your fault,” he says, and feels a thrill at his own words, because of course it was Xiao Xingchen’s fault, it was all his fault, and one day Xue Yang will get to throw it all in his face—

But not tonight.

“You did more than most would,” he says instead. “You gave him your eyes.” And he took them, the fucker! he wants to add. You do-gooding moron, mutilating yourself in service of that plodding lump of self-righteousness—

“My fault, my fault…”

“For what, doing your duty?” Xue Yang’s throat is beginning to tighten. He’s not sure why Xiao Xingchen would be telling him something so personal. For all his friendly, open nature, Xiao Xingchen is guarded when it comes to anything too revealing, to the point that Xue Yang sometimes feels as if he only half knows him. “You’re not responsible for that madman’s actions.”

Xiao Xingchen moves slightly, eyelashes brushing Xue Yang’s throat. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” says Xue Yang, and then, mentally, Drink!

And suddenly Xiao Xingchen is all smiles again, straightening up. “You always know just what to say to cheer me up. You—you wouldn’t leave me like Zichen did, would you? Not even if…I…” He hiccups. “I’d…I’d miss you too much…”

“Drink,” Xue Yang says automatically.

“No drink.”

Xue Yang glances away. Xiao Xingchen chooses this moment to pitch forward, to be caught by Xue Yang moments before he sprawls forward onto the stairs.

“I might be a little tipsy,” he mumbles into the hollow of Xue Yang’s throat.

Xue Yang tightens his grip. It feels…it feels wrong to be holding a person that isn’t a corpse.

A warm, living person, who seems to want to be in his arms.

Not hate being there, at least.

Or so he thinks. Xue Yang has never embraced another person before and isn’t quite sure how people are supposed to behave. Surely Xiao Xingchen would have pushed him away if he found his touch detestable—?

“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you,” he says before he can think into it too much. Gently, he scoops up Xiao Xingchen and half-carries him into the house. He weighs almost nothing, and Xue Yang thinks, I should get him to eat more, then chases the ridiculous thought away and bleaches the spot it had rested.

Xiao Xingchen grips the front of his robe as Xue Yang lays him down on the Coffin House's single bed. “Stay with me. Talk to me.”

Xue Yang hesitates, glancing over at his coffin in the corner of the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Xiao Xingchen almost pouts. Drunk daozhang is a petulant daozhang, it seems. “Just for a little while.”

The feeling of wrongness increases as Xue Yang crawls into bed beside Xiao Xingchen, keeping on top of the covers.

It shouldn’t be like this.

It’s not as if he hasn’t pictured sharing a bed with the daozhang. Who wouldn’t, if they had only a claustrophobic coffin to sleep in? But he’s never imagined an inebriated Xiao Xingchen curling into him, picking up his good hand, playing with it. Tracing the scars, running his fingertip between his fingers, brushing the palm with his thumb.

Soft, harmless touch that makes Xue Yang freeze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to snatch up Jiangzai.

“You have nice hands,” says Xiao Xingchen, voice thick with alcohol, almost giddy, and Xue Yang, focusing on the familiar voice, feels himself relaxing.

He’s safe, here. Safe with the daozhang.

The daozhang would never hurt Chengmei. And Xue Yang is Chengmei, for now.

The daozhang cares about Chengmei.

And in turn—

And in turn, the daozhang belongs to him.

Xiao Xingchen, the man who despises Xue Yang more than anyone else, now owes him more than he can ever repay in a single lifetime. He has saved Xiao Xingchen’s life a dozen times over without him having so much as suspected his life was ever in danger.

True, Chengmei could have killed the unsuspecting daozhang hundreds of times over the past year.

But this is different somehow.

Better.

Xue Yang is the guardian of the man he hates most in this world. Has held his life in the palm of his hand and chosen not only to let him live, but to actively destroy his enemies.

A delicious perversion of what he knows will come on the day he tears off his mask and reveals everything to Xiao Xingchen.

Finally takes his life, after preserving it for so long.

Xiao Xingchen rolls over, soft black hair in Xue Yang’s face, still holding Xue Yang’s hand in his.

Xue Yang wonders what Xiao Xingchen will say in the morning. If he’ll be embarrassed or realize that this was all simply the wine. If Xue Yang should pretend to have been too drunk to remember, or if he should say something, maybe crawl under the covers tomorrow night before Xiao Xingchen gets into bed, see what happens…

The bed is far more comfortable than the coffin, after all.

Will be warmer in winter, too…

He winces at the thought. He should go back to his coffin, stop whatever this is.

"You don't really want me here," he says.

“Drink,” Xiao Xingchen mumbles, and drops off into slumber.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. He wants to free his hand but is afraid of waking the daozhang. As if sensing this even in sleep, Xiao Xingchen tightens his grip on his hand.

Xue Yang stares up at the ceiling, mind settling, the last of his tension fading.

He thinks he’ll go into town tomorrow and buy some flower seeds.

_______________________

thanks for reading! Spare a reblog? AO3

#mdzsnet #theuntameddaily #fytheuntamed #drink no drink #xuexiao #xue yang #xiao xingchen #a-qing #yi city #lotus writes #aside for the violence this is basically G rated

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king-maven-calore · 3 years

Note

prompt #25 “your hair is really soft” for marecal please 😙

I did this and "10 cal and mare please. idc who says it lol"👀 in a single drabble, I hope you guys don't mind. It's a modern AU I guess

Cal had been volunteering at the Scarlet Guard summer camp for two seasons now, this would be his third. The first time he’d been here as moral support for Ptolemus, who’d been sent here for his community service sentence. Ptolemus had signed up again for the following summers for Wren, a med student in charge of the infirmary, and Cal kept signing up because he found out he loved working with children.

He always had a great time helping the kids, training them in archery and other sports, patting their backs when they got homesick, leading them on walks through the woods belting out marching songs, sitting with them at lunch, and making good use of his excellent puns arsenal. The kids had a blast, and he did too.

In this part of the Greatwoods Region, he found paradise. His dad disapproved and Maven did not understand but was he too happy to mind.

It would have been a shame if he’d proven them right on his third year here when he almost died out of sheer stupidity. But could he be blamed? Could he be blamed when the five new counselors got down from one of the early buses and one of them looked like that?

Among the newbies, there was a petite girl with golden skin that seemed to sparkle under the early morning sun. She jumped down from the bus and a cloud of dirt exploded around her already dirty Vans, her toned legs were generously exposed under her jean shorts, and the lines of her abdomen peeking out from under the camp’s counselor reglementary red polo shirt as she stretched and arched her back to tie her dyed brown and purple hair in a bun, scowling at her surroundings with something akin to distrust. She was the loveliest girl he’d ever seen in such a violent way... was it really his fault he didn’t pay attention to the lightbulbs he’d been changing at the side of the dining hall, perched atop a rickety ladder 10 feet above the ground? It wasn’t. Electricity didn’t give a shit about whose fault was it though when he blindly stuck his hand in the exposed wires next to the light socket.

A white explosion, sparkles, and a sensation of being pulled away at 1000 miles per hour.

Next thing he knew, he was on his back and there was a warm mouth against his. Warm, soft, insistent— on breathing air into him. And good god, this person smelled like heaven; jasmine and rain. Much to his dismay, the scent and the mouth left him and his chest started getting crushed in rhythmic, urgent motions.

Cal gulped air and shot upright. He was surrounded by 20 consternated young faces and one barely inches away from his face. Beautiful, wide brown eyes, thick long eyelashes that brushed against high cheekbones when the girl who’d just saved his life blinked twice.

“Dude.” Kneeling next to him, the girl with the purple hair knitted her brow. “What the fuck?”

And Cal couldn’t help but smile at her. A reflex. She was even prettier up close.

“I think we should check for brain damage,” a blond with bottle green eyes muttered.

Oh, but his brain was fine. It was his heart he should get checked, for he’d just been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

And electricity, of course. The smell of burnt hair, clothes, and flesh reminded him.

The result of that encounter turned out to be quite positive. Yes, he got a second-degree burn on his right hand and a dislocated shoulder from the fall but he refused to be sent home, it had been worth it to get to meet Mare Barrow.

She was 18, from Albanus, only here for the money, best friends with the blondie jokester and— as he learned after a dubiously moral social media stalking session —single and interested in men.

The only thing he regretted from that “meet cute” was that he’d been mostly unconscious (technically dead) for 99% of the time her lips were on his.

He lived for the moments they crossed paths during their daily activities around the camp. His heart grew in size about five times when she teased him and lightly punched his stomach or ruffled his hair.

Ptolemus cocked a brow but kept his mouth thankfully shut when Cal decided to start sitting on the counselor’s table during dinner instead of with the kids, as he had grown accustomed to.

It was miserable and extraordinary how he even found the way she ate her food endearing. More often than not, miserable because he couldn’t A: get her to like him, for she was too laser-focused on doing her job efficiently and getting the hell out of the camp; B: touch her as casually as she did with him because his hand was bandaged, and C: relationships between counselors were strictly forbidden.

By the time his hand was healthy enough to be of any use, three weeks had passed and he was head over heels, neck-deep (to not use other body parts for reference), stupidly in love with the sarcastic girl who had put her own breath into his lungs, challenged him every time they got the chance and looked at him like she wanted to sink her hand into his ribcage to take a bite out of his heart. Needless to say, he wanted to touch her. Badly. Ok, maybe do a bit more than 'touch', but you get the idea.

His excuse was handed on a silver platter by one of his favorite campers, Luther Carver. The kid who was usually off-standish and grim— just misunderstood, in Cal’s opinion – had signed up for the braiding lessons that Mare was unhappily in charge of.

On his way back from the lake, his crew of kids trailing behind him, he passed along the group of girls and Luther taking their lesson, sitting in a circle on the grass between the pine trees. An idyllic image of children focused on their task, and Mare’s poorly concealed discomfort as she sat on a log bench and supervised the activities, biting the inside of her cheek, elbows on her knees. It should be illegal to be that beautiful without meaning to.

“Hi, Cal!” Luther chirped as a girl behind him stared with furious determination at her handiwork. “How does my hair look?”

Cal signaled for his group to keep walking back to the camp and approached the small clearing.

“It looks amazing, buddy!” Cal gave him a thumb up. To be honest, his braid of long black hair was slightly (very) crooked to the left, and Mare noticed. She hid her laugh behind cough and a fist. “It is very original.”

Luther beamed and turned slightly to wink in his fellow camper’s direction. The girl blushed and giggled and Cal wanted nothing more than to give them a bear hug and tell them how smart and kind they were. Kids were the best thing in this world. Especially when they said things like...

“Mare’s hair is still the same,” Luther sighed wearily. “Someone should do something about it.”

All the girls hummed and nodded in agreement and Mare closed her eyes and Cal could read her thoughts as she counted to ten.

“Fine, you guys win.” Ah, so her untouched hair had been a recurring topic. “Cal can braid my hair!” she said with fake excitement that went over the kids’ heads, thankfully. “If he knows how to, that is.” Her brown eyes locked with his in camaraderie, fully expecting him to turn down the task with some excuse to appease their audience.

“Ok,” he shrugged happily as he walked over to her and her smug face dissolved into a confused frown and the kids cheered.

He made a shooing motion with his hand and she moved to sit on the grass awkwardly while he took her place on the log bench, sitting with his feet placed on either side of her body.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered through gritted teeth so only he could hear her, craning her neck up to glare at him, when he started cracking his knuckles for dramatic effect.

Were this any other context, he would savor the warmth her body radiated to the inside of his legs. Not this context. Absolutely not.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he smirked down at her. “Now stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

With one last suspicious look, she heaved a breath and stared ahead as he tugged the scrunchie off her hair and let the brown and purple waves spill down her back.

Cal had no fucking clue how to do braid but how hard could it be? It was like a knot with hair. Right? He looked at what the girls sitting on the grass were doing. Ok, that seemed doable. He combed his long fingers through Mare’s hair to loosen any knots and... Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He successfully hid a shudder while Mare uninterestedly hugged her knees to her chest.

He was choking on his own breath. Her hair was so soft and the scent of it was so amazing it pierced his fingertips, reached his bloodstream, and shot to his head. Jasmine and rain like that first day. Cal stilled for a moment and blinked forcefully to regain some semblance of rational thought.

“What is it?” Mare muttered curtly. Was it his imagination or did it sound more like a gasp than scolding?

“Nothing,” he said and started imitating the nearest girl’s technique. No point in lying, he bent down to whisper in her ear. “Your hair is really soft.” It wasn’t meant to come out so raspy and needy, and still...

Mare turned to the side and they were face to face. She seemed offended, but not really, with a confused glare darkening her burning gaze, a lovely red tint spreading all over her cheeks and neck, slightly parted plush lips.

She looked on the verge of kissing him or punching him. Cal prayed and ached it was the former because she licked her lips, leaving a glossy sheen and he wanted nothing more than to...

“OHHH Mare and Cal sitting in a tree!” A girl squealed, pointing at them from across the clearing and suddenly 10 pairs of devilish eyes were on them and chanting. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

They jumped away from each other so fast one might think they had been electrocuted again as they rushed to explain that “No, they were NOT doing anything of the sort!”

#marecal #I had so much fun with this one #My fics #ask #anon #red queen #RQ fanfic #forgive the grammar #enjoy the vibes

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dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 3

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

“Mhmmmmm,” Mei's eyes sparkled as she munched on the moon cake on the outdoor patio. “This is the most amazing thing I have ever eaten, I don’t even think the chefs can top this.”

“I seriously have to ask your parents what they do one day,” Macaque said as he ruffled her hair and picked up the empty plates with his hands and used his tail to set down the plate of mooncakes right beside an assortment of origami made by both Macaque and the kids. They were in the shapes of people, a vulture, monkey, jellyfish, rabbit, lion, and other varieties of animals and objects. They had a little too much fun making them all. After he put the dishes in the soap-filled sink he took off his apron and sat down next to MK, who was stuffing his face, “cause there is no way they can have normal jobs to have a chef.”

“I think they dig stuff up,” Mei shrugged her shoulders.

“Archaeologist,” he mused as he snatched up a sugar ring from MK plate, receiving an outraged ‘Hey’ from MK, “Didn’t think they were the down and dirty people, though...” The first time he met them was when Mei wanted to go visit MK at their house for his tenth birthday. Nice people, a bit cutthroat and sharp tongue, but nice people, especially when it comes to the safety of their daughter. “I have been wrong before.”

“It’s nice to hear you admit that,” a deep voice chuckled as both the kids jumped up in fright at the unexpected voice.

“Yeah yeah yeah, can it kitty cat,” Mac grumbled as he took a bite of the sugar ring, then wrinkled his nose at the sweet taste. “Can’t afford Raki to hear that.”

A figure softly leaped down from out of nowhere and by the lanterns' soft glow, they saw that the figure was dressed in an extravagant red robe that had rings of gold displayed all across, but the kids were more focused on the figure being a giant lion demon than anything else.

“I brought Eight Treasure Rice Pudding,” he tempted him as he held up the dessert in one hand and a floating lantern in the other.

“Well then you're more than welcome to join,” the monkey jokes, “Happy New Year kitty.”

“Happy New Year,” he said as he put the tray down and gave a smile as he noticed that Macaque was not alone, “and a Happy New Year to the both of you as well, I’m Ahmed.”

“MK!” The boy greeted him as his eyes went from the figure to the pudding.

“Mei the name and let me say that the pudding smells really good,” she drooled a bit.

“Well I hope it is, here,” he cut a slice for the two of them and sat down on the other side of Mac once the two began to dig in.

“Delicious!” They both said in glee.

“Bottomless pit I swear,” the monkey demon muttered.

“Your food is just that delicious,” Ahmed teased and gave a small nudge to his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mac then took notice of his mane and gave a small eye twitch, “oi when’s the last time you took care of that mane of yours?”

The lion stiffens as he avoided eye contact, “oh not too long ago.”

“How long?”

“I don’t quite remember it could have been-,”

“How. Long.”

“....a few months ago.”

“I swear-what is with you guys and not taking care of your goddamn fur,” Mac grumbled as he forced the lion head to lay down on his lap as he began to fix his fur, “only can count on Bohai to take proper care.”

“But he doesn’t even have any fur,” the demon tried to refute, only to be met with a stink eye.

“And he can still take better care than the rest of you lot.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Mei pointed out the scene and MK nodded.

“Tons, usually it’s with Daiyu since she tends to get blood in her wings, the monkeys, or even me.” He can’t remember the first time he had his hair played with, but once it began it just never stopped. “He said that monkeys tend to the other fur when they care for the other.”

“Ohhh,” then Mei's eyes widened, and had to hold back a large smile as she realized that Macaque had been messing with her hair for the past month. He may be gruff, but he is just one big softy on the inside. Though she couldn’t help but take a longer look at the pair and noticed that the lion's eyes were closed in pure content...like a cat, she couldn’t hold back a giggle.

Ahmed's ears perked up and looked towards her, Mac's eyes didn’t even move from his grooming as he was used to both children's strange outburst, and he saw the young child just eerily smile at him. He decided that it would be better if he just ignored all of that.

Almost an hour later, Mei noticed that a soft glow of light was slowly flying above the forest. “Hey what’s that?”

They all looked in the direction of her pointed finger and it was MK who reacted first.

“Someone released their lantern! Can we do it now!” He eagerly said as he watched many more lights begin to emerge from the treetops.

Mac laughed as he pushed the purring cat off his lap, who didn’t take any offense as he stretched, and grabbed the lanterns, “yeah we can.”

“Yes!” He grabbed his lantern and waited by the edge of the patio with Mei.

“Don’t forget yours as well rocky,” he handed a lantern to the surprised Mei.

She blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden action, but smiled brightly, “thanks fluffy!”

“Not fluffy,�� he muttered as he slapped his tail at the back of the laughing lion's head. The two joined them with their lanterns and at once they all released it in the air as they all joined the small trove of floating lanterns in the air as the light almost illuminated the pink forest in its entirety.

They watched the scene until they could no longer see it anymore and when they thought it was all done they diverted their attention to the first crackle of fireworks and the kids cheered loudly as much more came.

“If I was a snake, where would I be?” MK hummed as he looked through the trees, hoping he didn't run into any creepy crawly spiders, as he tried to find his slithery friend.

The Qilin merely snorted as he laid down against the Yao grass, MK met him one day when he was visiting Whatever. He tried so many times to call him Shui Gui or Kappa, but the webbed spirit would just ignore him, and the horse-like creature trotted from across the lake and up to him, and after a moment of staring, just decided to take a nap next to him. Ever, MK managed to haggle that nickname out of him, once again busted out laughing and left a confused eleven year old.

“They have to be around here somewhere,” he grumbled as he searched further through the woods only to stumble upon an open clearing with an old house in the middle. “Huh, didn’t know anyone lived here.”

He walked closer to the home and he gave a cheerful yell “Hello! Anyone home?!”

No response.

“Doesn’t seem like they're here right now...let’s take a closer look,” he mischievously scurried over to the open window and peeked inside to see that it almost looked like he traveled back to the Tang Dynasty, see he has been paying attention to history, take that Dad.

“I wonder who could live here?” He pondered as he looked through the clean wooden and sun dried brick structure. “It actually looks clean, but everything is just so...well old?”

“What are you doing here kit?” He jumped up at the melodic voice.

“You scared me Ní!” He yelled at the Huli Jing, the brown nine-tailed fox.

“Well everyone needs a good scare every once in a while,” they said with a grin as they walked forward.

“Course I did,” he grumbled as he turned to face the shack, “so do you know whose house this is?”

Sadly, the fox smiled, “just one filled with fond memories kit, now come,” they nudged him away from the old home. “I heard that you were looking for our lost slithery friend of ours.”

“Yeah, they took my fidget spinner after learning that they could spin it on their tail,” he huffed as he once again.

“I presume you mean our Xian,” she hummed as they walked back to the trees.

“Who else?”

“Well there are our many reptilian friends amongst the trees, for all I know you could mean our biggest companion,” they teased.

MK looked at the fox as if they were crazy, “I don’t think that there even is a fidget spinner big enough for her.”

“You never know,” they swished their tails as they made it back to where the Qilin was and they took on a grin, “oh, it seems that we have found them.”

MK's eyes twitched as he saw that the snake was just chilling next to the horned horse beast as they played with the spinner, “Hey!”

All nine snakeheads lift at the voice and with a unison hiss, they promptly slither away with fidget spinner in hand, or rather tail in their case.

“Don’t you dare run! Get back here with that! I need it for class!”The boy yelled as he ran after the Xiangliu with much fervor.

“-but how?!” MK threw his hands in the air, “Monkey King has all these amazing powers, it doesn’t make sense that he can’t use them underwater.

“He is a stone monkey!” Mei pointed out to a section of the book as she leaned against MK’s bed, “stone sink, not float!”

“But he can still transform into all these different animals, can’t he just make himself a fish or something?”

“He is still stone!”

“But he can fly!”

“I don’t know magic,” she was half tempted to throw her book at her friend, she doesn’t have all the answers either.

“Then why can’t he use it underwater then?!” He was then hit by a thrown book as he fell off the bed, “you didn’t have to throw it at me.”

“Well maybe I did,” she crossed her arms and just laid down on top of him, “this is so confusing...maybe we can ask Mac, he knows a thing or two about magic.”

“He does,” the thirteen year old shot straight up, knocking Mei off, but then he slumped down when a thought occurred to him, “but he’s currently helping Ning right now.”

“Ning?” She asked as she sat back up.

“She’s a client,” he added.

“Oohh...I wonder what she’s in for?”

“When she sneezes or burps, she breathes fire,” MK easily answered. He already saw this happen when she first crawled in, she gave a wave to him, but quickly turned away when she sneezed. He is glad that the wood in the house has been enchanted to be fireproof, cause he doubted that there would have been a house standing after that fireball.

“She’s a dragon!” Mei got in his face, if there was one creature she loved it would hand down be the dragons.

“No, just a lizard demon.”

“Well technically dragons are reptiles,” she slumped down, her dreams of seeing the magnificent beast being thoroughly crushed. She then picked up the Journey to the West book and she gave an amused huff as she saw what page it landed on. “I still find it funny that your dad shares the same name as Monkey King rival.”

MK shared her grin, “it is pretty funny, like can you imagine him going toe to toe with the Monkey King.”

Mei’s grin widened, “the same monkey who let me put braids in his fur with ribbons!”

“The one who has a heart attack each time I get a bruise out in the forest,” he joined in.

“Who wears aprons when cooking food!”

“Let the baby monkey cling onto him!”

“He makes medicine for any demon or human that stops by!”

“He uses scented shampoo cause he likes the smell and it makes his fur soft,” the two couldn’t help but roll on the floor laughing.

“Do you want to hear something even more hilarious,” MK grinned.

“What?!” Mei asked after her laughter died down.

“There are some customers who even call him the Six-eared Macaque,” he snorted even louder.

Mei's face completely froze, “Huh?”

“Yeah,” he vigorously nodded, not taking any notice of his friend's change of mood, “I heard them call him with full respect and everything!”

“...what?”

“And what’s even better, he has six ears!”

“What?!” MK jumped up at Mei’s outburst.

“What was that for?!”

“You just told me that he has six ears?!” She began to shake him. “Do you not realize what you just implied?!”

“NoOoOo,” he shakily answered.

Mei then dropped him as she reached back towards the book and flipped through the pages until she found another, “oh my god, how could I have not realized it before!”

“What?” He asked as he managed to sit back up.

“Shadow manipulation, clones, stealthy,” she read out some of the powers, “they both share almost the same abilities! Hell, he even is a black-haired monkey!”

“Fur, but yeah and?” He still didn’t get what she was implying.

“And doesn’t he have super hearing?” She pressed further hoping that her dense friend would get it.

“Yes andddd?” He didn’t.

She pushed the book to his face, “Your Dad is the Six-Eared Macaque from the book!”

“What?! No he isn’t,” he snatched the book from her hands, “I mean it doesn’t make any sense, he may be grumpy, but he is not anything like the one from the story! He is downright mean and cruel!”

“Well, maybe he changed?!” She threw her hands in the air, “it won’t be that big of a stretch, I mean 500 years is a long time.”

“But I have never seen him fight before, not even when Daiyu would plead to him for a spar, he would just roll his eyes.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t fight when you're around,” she threw in her answer.

“But, but, but it just can’t,” MK threw the book away from him, “it just can’t.”

“MK,” Mei worriedly put a hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?”

“Yes-no-I don’t know,” he leaned on the ground with a groan. “He just can’t be the same one from the book okay.”

“Well, why not?”

“He can’t, he can’t because if he is then he has purposefully kept this a secret from me,” he whispered out.

“Then that’s more reason to ask him,” Mei insisted.

“No!” He shot up and grabbed her shoulders, “we can’t!”

“Well why not!”

“It might not even be him!”

“But what if it is?!” She countered back.

“But what if it's not,” he firmly stood his ground.

“And if it is?”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“MK, we have to ask him.”

“Ask me what?” They both scooted back in shock when the said monkey demon walked into the room. “I’m hoping by those reactions that you were just startled and not guilty of doing something you weren’t supposed to.” He decided to check out their yells after he had finished with his patient.

The two shot a look at one another.

“Right?”

“Yeah, nothing bad, nothing and at all,” MK nervously said as he scratched the back of his neck and avoided his golden eyes.

“You know that right there isn’t helping your case,” Mac deadpanned.

“It's just that we have a question,” Mei butted in as she grabbed the tossed book.

“Mei no,” MK tried to stop her, but she was determined to get her answers.

“Are you the same Six-Eared Macaque from the book?!” The pigtailed girl showed him the Journey to the West book up to him.

Macaque stilled at the question for a moment before easing down as he took a look at the book, “Huh, haven’t read this book in a while,” he said noncommittally.

“Well? Are you?!” Mei pushed him for the answer, she was not leaving until she got one.

Even MK was silently watching this whole interaction but didn’t move an inch, because deep down, even he wanted to know.

The monkey demon let out a sigh as he nodded, “yeah, I am.”

It was silent as the two kids took in that information.

MK's mind was racing, he didn’t know what to even think. The cruel demon in the story, the one who constantly attacked innocent people, killed so many, clashed fiercely against the Monkey King, is the same one who found him all those years ago and took care of him. It just doesn’t make any sense!

“Want to talk here or in the living room?” Macaque’s voice pierced through the silence.

It took a moment before MK finally responded, “living room.”

“Alright, I’ll go make some tea. This won’t be an easy talk,” he said as he began to reach out to ruffle his hair only to stop at his child's nervous stare. He puts his hands down and promptly walks out of the room and turns away to the kitchen, while he ignores the tight squeeze in his chest.

“So,” Mac sat down on the opposing chair from the couch that had the two kids on it as the pot of tea and a bowl of peeled mangos sat in the middle of the table, “where do you want me to start?”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” MK blurred out first as he clenched his fist. “Or was this gonna be kept in the dark.”

“When you turned 18, I was gonna sit down with you and talk about this,” he firmly told his son. “I had no intention in hiding this from you forever.”

MK didn’t reply as he lowered his head.

“The beginning is usually a good place,” Mei tried to joke, but only the demon gave a small smirk as MK stayed silent.

“That’s as good a place as any, well before that book ever took place, before even the thought of the Journey took place, me and Sun Wukong were friends.”

“You were friends?!” This time MK didn’t stay silent as both kids shouted.

“Surprising right,” he mirthlessly chuckled.

“It never said anything like that in the books!” Mei exclaimed as she held up her book.

“Well first that’s a kid-friendly book of the story,” he pointed out the childish cartoon design on the front cover. “Don’t think they want kids reading books about graphic violence, especially with the disembowelment and all types of gore,” he muttered the last part quietly to himself. “And second, not everything you read or hear is correct.”

“Huh?”

“History is told by the victors and survivors, not by those who lie dead,” he softly said.

“Oh,” Mei shuffled at the uncomfortable thought.

“So how did you two meet?” MK prompted.

“When we first met, he looted some food from a shrine and got caught like an idiot, which pissed off the mountain god.”

“He did?!”

“Yeah, this was way before he met Subodhi, the one who taught Wukong about how to take on immortality.” He reminisces back to the scene where he met his first friend.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Sun Wukong leaped from rock to rock as he tried to get as much distance as he could from him and the deity. He spotted a cluster of rocks that looked like it had some amount of cover as he leaped behind it and waited. “All I wanted was some damn food! How was I supposed to know that it was supposed to go to a God?! It makes no damn sense to just leave food lying out!” He whispered angrily.

“So you're the one who pissed him off,” Wukong managed to suppress a yelp as he noticed that he wasn’t alone in his hiding spot. It was a bit surprising to see that it was a Monkey demon like him, only with black fur and a red scarf hiding the bottom of his face. “One would think that you shouldn’t piss off a deity, but that is just my opinion,” he snarked.

“Well one shouldn’t leave food lying out like an idiot,” he shot back.

“So you decided to steal from a mountain God? Yeah, real smart,” Macaque drawled out. “Usually I steal from fields, but you took the idiot crown today.”

“How was I supposed to know that it was for someone!” He retorted.

“Just by looking at it dumbass, have you never seen a shrine before?”

“What’s a shrine?” He questioned.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he deadpanned. “How can you not know? Were you living under some kind of rock before?”

“No, I was born from one!” He cheekily grinned.

“...I don’t know if you're insane or if that’s just the weirdest thing I heard,” he then froze as he dragged Wukong closer to the rocks.

“Wha-,” he was about to break free but was hushed by his fellow hider.

“Shhh,” he silently pointed to the right of them and after a moment noticed that a shadow was getting larger. Wukong smartly decided, for the first time, to keep his mouth shut.

It was only after the shadow left did the two relax.

“So I guess we’re stuck here for awhile,” the brown-furred monkey sprawled against the rocks and made himself comfortable, “I’m Sun Wukong, but people call me the Monkey King.”

The other monkey let out a burst of laughter at his ridiculous name, “Ha! Yeah, no I’m not calling you that. I’m Liu Er Mihou.”

“Pfft, boring,” he grumbled back as he then got curious, “so why are you hiding behind this rock anyways? You certainly were here long before I was.”

“Well unlike you, I was taking a nice nap before this happened,” he smirked as he leaned back.

“Just napping you say,” his eyes happen to spot a bag filled with different goods and food.

“Well napping after I nicked off some things from the fields and market and unlike you, I didn’t get caught.”

“Would have been helpful, but-,” they were cut off when a huge explosion erupted from underneath them.

“You thought you could run from me you little ape!” The mountain God’s echoey voice boomed out. “I am one with all upon this mountain! Every pebble is my ears! Every rock is my voice! You can-,” he was cut off by a voice angrily yelling at him.

“I’m not an ape!” Wukong screeched as the two of them started to run.

“That’s what you're concerned about?!” Liu Er confusedly asked though it was laced with a twinge of amusement and fear.

“I have a tail!” He emphasized the tail carrying the bag of food. “Obviously not an ape!”

“You can’t run forever little ape,” the voice snarled out with every crushed rock booming behind them.

“You got one more time to call me an ape!” He yelled out as his eye twitched.

“And what are you gonna do about it little. Ape.” The voice mockingly said with a toothy grin.

“That’s it!” The angered monkey stopped in his tracks as he flung the bag over to Macaque, “hold this!” And with that, his eyes started to glow bright yellow as he flung himself at the God.

“What are you doi-,” he cut himself off as he noticed that the impulsive monkey that he was hiding with had suddenly begun to shoot lasers from his eyes. “Huh, maybe there was something about him being born from the stone that was true.”

“GHA stop that!” The Mountain God wheezed out as he was hit by another bludgeoning punch from the mortal monkey.

“Not so tough now are you!” He mocked as he sent a flying kick towards the immortal being, only for him to slink down into the mountain. “Oh now who's the coward! Come out and fight me!”

“This dumbass,” Macaque grumbled as he was half-tempted to just take the bag and run, but even he doubted that he would hold up against the enraged monkey like this. His ears twitched as he heard the lingering God about to move so he yelled to Sun, “you might want to duck, he’s about to strike from the left.”

Sun Wukong heard him and managed to leap high enough to avoid the Mountain God claws, “got you now fucker!” And with a couple of spins, he struck down upon the God and landed a killing blow upon his head. “That’s what you get.”

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Macaque said as he casually walked up next to him, tossed his stolen bag of food, and examined the dead God.

“Thanks!” He cheerfully reverted from his enraged form once he got his food and happily began to chew on an apple as he sat down against the fallen God. “So how did you know that the God was there?” He curiously asked as he took another bite.

Liu Er blinked at the odd scene and let loose a snort as he sat down a little ways away from him. “Well seeing that you managed to kill a God with your bare hands, mine is definitely not weirder than yours,” he said as he pulled down his scarf to reveal his two extra pairs of ears.

“Cool!” Wukong's eyes glisten as he immediately began to touch his ears.

Macaque only flinched for a moment at the unexpected touch, but became a little more at ease when he didn’t feel any sharp pulling or twisting the longer he touched them, but he batted his hand away, “Heard of personal space?”

It was after the two had eaten that Mac decided to speak again, “alright let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Wukong hesitantly asked.

“You are shit when it comes down to stealing,” he bluntly told him.

“Rude, fair, but rude.”

“But I can.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“How about we team up for a bit, with your strength and my stealth, I think the two of us make out with a lot more goods than this,” he tossed up their near empty bags.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. How do I know that you can actually steal,” Wukong pointed out, but the six eared monkey smirked.

“Well you haven’t noticed this,” he tossed up the half eaten apple in his other hand.

“Wha-,” his eyes widened as he now noticed that the apple in hand had disappeared in a poof of violet energy. “How did you do that?”

“Misdirection,” he tossed his apple back to him.

Wukong blinked as he caught the apple then a large grin took up his face as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “I think that this is the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“And the start of so many headaches,” Mac couldn’t help but grumble out.

“Well you can only blame yourself.”

“I already am.”

“So you two had stuck together from that moment,” MK said as he stayed in his seat with his knees covering his face.

“For all of nine years, until he left to learn under Subodhi, then I was free roaming once more. Though I did learn a few things from Wukong as it made my travels a bit easier,” Mac said as he took a sip from his lukewarm tea.

“And he probably learned a few things from you...like how to steal so many things from the celestial realm,” Mei's eyes widened as the realization hit her. “Now that’s how he managed to do that! You taught him how to steal!”

The simian paused as that hadn’t occurred to him in the slightest, “...to be fair I didn’t teach him shit, he simply watched what I was doing and used it in practice. All the havoc he managed to cause in the celestial realm and below was his reckless ideas, I had nothing to do with that...for the most part.”

“But the Monkey King is an immortal being,” MK interjected, “and you're not...unless.”

“Yeahhh, I’m immortal too,” he sipped his tea at their dumbfounded stares.

“How?!”

“Once again, blame Sun Wukong for that.”

“I’m sorry, run that by me again,” Mac let the book hang freely from his hands as he listened to Wukong.

“You're immortal! You can thank me with words of praise and/or delicious food,” he cheekily grinned at him as he hung upside down from the tree branch above.

The monkey demon had to blink for a moment and take a deep breath before closing his book and putting full attention to his friend, “I’m almost scared to ask how the fuck you managed to pull that off, but also dying to know.”

“Well,” the simian jumped down to the same branch as Macaque, “I was kidnapped by Yama lackeys, which was uncool you know, I earned my immortality fair and square,” he huffed out.

“You got kidnapped by the emissaries of the God of Death...okay that’s kinda funny,” he cracked a grin.

“Well it wasn’t for me,” he crossed his arms, “so I kicked all of their asses and spoke with some old folks, who call themselves the ten kings which is a stupid title itself, to get things straight you know and they tried to do? They tried to pull a fast one on me and say that they meant to take another Sun Wukong, which I call bullshit on. I mean who else is a stone monkey that’s name is Sun Wukong?”

“No one,” Mac snorted as his partner threw his hands in the air.

“Exactly! So they take me to the place where they keep track of the ones dying and we all look around to find where those names happen to be and lo and behold, I found my name and you want to know what I did?”

“You erased your name,” he was getting more and more amused by this, he can only imagine the chaos that must have happened due to Wukong antics.

“I erased my name! And I also decided that I wasn’t gonna be alone in this so I decided to erase some of the other monkeys back at Flower Fruit Mountain and I found your name and I erased that too,” he proudly grinned. “You can’t believe the sheer amount of panic that was on all of their faces when they realized what I did.”

“I really can’t,” he chuckled as he then scooted over and wrapped his arm around his neck in affection, “thanks for immortality I guess, never thought I would ever get anything close to that.”

“Well a little more praise than that would be nice,” he teased as he felt the back of his head get slapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry your royal highness, did that harm your oh so precious fur of yours?” Mac took on a haughty tone, “let me be the first to go to my knees and bow for your kind gesture that you have bestowed upon me.”

“Shut up,” Wukong snorted as he nudged his friend's shoulder.

“You asked for it,” the black furred monkey tone returned to normal as he grabbed his book and began to read it once more. Though he was interrupted by Sun sprawling over his lap all of a sudden, “can I help you?”

“Read to me!” He demanded.

“Don’t you get bored with stuff like this? Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t already left to cause some sort of chaos at this point Sunny?”

“Meh, don’t feel like moving now, so read to me!”

Mac knew that when he got like this there was little to change his mind, so with a mockingly reluctant sigh he said, “As his highness wishes,” and began to continue where he left off. It was during that, when Macaque was lost in the book and Wukong was lost in the soft words, did two tails slowly curl up and intertwine with one another.

“You know, it’s a bit surreal to hear that the Gods are real,” Mei hummed out. “I mean reading about it is one thing, but knowing someone who actually met with a God is another.”

“If you think that’s surreal then that’s nothing compared to actually meeting one,” Mac pointed to her.

“Trueeee.”

“So what happened next?” MK spoke up as he managed to get out of his curled up position halfway through the story and was instead leaning in close.

“Well you know what happens next, he gets a position in the heavens, his infamous havoc in heaven, left the heavens, fought some gods, got tricked by Buddha and he had the mountain pin him down for 500 years or so,” he casually said.

“Only you would manage to screw it up big time huh peaches,” Liu Er said as he jumped off the top of the mountain and back down next to his friend. “I mean, what were you thinking?”

“Heyyy mango,” Wukong nervously chuckled, “I might have pissed off all the gods in the heavens, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah I heard, but how did they do this,” he gestured to the entire mountain.

“Well, that was maybe...Buddha,” he softly said the last part, but Macaque didn’t have six ears for nothing.

“You managed to piss off Buddha themself,” he said incredulously. “How in the fuck?!”

“I didn’t piss him off!” He said in defense, “I just maybe lost a bet with him.”

“You lost a bet with Buddha.”

“Look, it's complicated!” He huffed as he tried to wiggle under the mountain, “look there’s a seal on the top of this mountain, if you can just rip it off I can easily-,”

“Already tried that,” he showed him his blackened fingers, “didn’t quite work for me.”

“Well shit there goes that idea,” he muttered as a horrible thought occurred to him, “Flower Fruit mountain! The tribe-you have to-,” he was cut off once again.

“Already have a few clones stationed there since you got that position in heaven dumbass,” he whacked his head, “you don’t have to worry about them, now let’s think of a way to free you.”

Wukong let out a breath of relief as he lay his head against the ground. “It ain’t gonna be easy you know.”

Macaque grinned cheekily at him as he sat down next to him and his dark purple daxiushan flared out underneath him, “who said it ever was,” he joked as he began to groom his friend's fur.

“Might have to go against the Gods,” he said as he relaxed to the grooming.

“You can’t have all the fun,” he retorted back.

The Monkey King merely hummed as the grooming went, they can discuss more later, but he sorely needed this.

“But you didn’t free him,” Mei quietly pointed out.

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head as his tail silently swooshed behind him.

“But you did something,” MK noticed that something was amiss by his relaxed position as he ate a peeled mango.

“Welll, let’s just say that there was a reason why Guanyin happened to find Wukong.”

“You tricked Guanyin,” Mei deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t say trick, more like a gust of wind in the right direction,” he knew that he teetered along the line when he subtly diverted the God's attention to his friend. He heard through some of his contacts that they were looking for immortals for the Journey, so he managed to arrange some coincidental happenings that maybe got the Goddess of mercy to float in Wukong’s direction.

“You tricked Guanyin,” Mei still bluntly told him.

“Anyways,” Macaque ignored Mei as he picked up his empty cup, “then you all know the rest, Wukong infamous Journey to the West and all that.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you went from friends to enemies in the book,” MK pressed and watched as his father's shoulder slightly slumped.

“I-,” he looked down to his empty cup and sighed, “I was an idiot, I-I thought he was being tortu-something cruel was being done to him. When Tripitaka used that sutra, I thought they had managed to enslave my friend and harm him,” he gripped his cup before setting it down, he refused to dive further in that memory. “Clearly I was wrong and you know how that went down.”

The two once again became silent as they took in the information.

“Okay, okay,” Mei nodded as she crossed her legs, “but here’s what’s confusing me. In the Journey to the West, it told you were ruthless, but I know that in some other books it is said that you are a minor deity of trickery and medicine and that you would help wandering travelers by giving them medicine and give them protection by tricking the bandits and Gods. So what is that about?”

“Okay that minor deity thing is just not true,” Mac pinched his nose, “I still don’t know who even put that down in the first place.”

“How did you change?” MK added as well.

“Well,” he let out a soft smile, “I met someone.”

“Ooooo,” the two couldn’t help themselves.

“No,” he firmly told them, “No. No-fuck no. Hell no. Hell to the no. By all the Gods-no just no,” he shuddered. “It’s not anything like that at all.”

“Who was it?” MK asked.

“It was a weird man named Ping who found me on the side of the road somehow and decided to just drag my body to his house,” he snorted at their confused faces. “Yeah, that was me when I first awoke.”

Macaque groggily came to as he heard the faint sound of clinking metals coming a little ways away from him, but as he got up a sharp pain emerged from his entire body as he fell back to the bed.

“Shit, what the hell knocked me ou-...oh,” his memories came back to him in a rush as he remembered just who exactly did this to him. “Fuck, but why? Why, why why!” He gripped his fur and then his right eye as he noticed that there was a distinct lack of sight from that one, “it doesn’t make sense! Why the fuck would he, just why?!”

“So you're finally awake,” he had to freeze as for the first time in a long while, he was snuck up on, “you were knocked out for quite some time.” The monkey turned to see a graying middle aged man wipe his hands on the cloth.

“Who are you,” he went on the immediate defense. He doesn’t sense any celestial or demonic aura coming from him, but he knows it better wary than dead.

“People call me Ping,” he gave a small bow to him, “it’s nice to see you awake.”

“...Are you blind by any chance,” Macaque couldn’t help but blurt out. “Cause there's no way in hell would someone be happy on seeing a demon alive unless they were a goddamn monk…” he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.

“Ohoho, believe me, I am no Monk,” the man chuckled as he began to pick up some materials from the side, “I have very little patience for just sitting around and meditating all day.”

“Can’t front ya there,” he grumbled as he tried to get back up only for him to wheeze in pain and cough viciously.

“Here, this will help your throat,” Ping handed him a steaming cup of tea that was next to a brown rabbit, which was a bit strange as he didn’t even notice it before.

The monkey hesitantly accepts it, he was unsure if the tea had poison in it, but decided that the human literally could have left him on the side of the road to die and spare him the troubles of killing him himself, so he took a sip of the tea and his nose scrunched up, “why is it sweet?”

“Not to your liking,” he chuckled as he sipped on his own cup.

“You know people-humans are usually terrified when encountering a demon,” he deadpanned as he realized that not only was he half clothed, but his six ears were out in the open. “Just saying.”

“And usually, most demons would have tried to take a bite out of me,” he retorted

“And that is usually enough to not even get close to one of us, let alone bring one to your home,” he emphasized.

“Well we're all a little bit crazy in this world,” Ping chortled as he ambled off to the other room. “You can leave when you want to!”

Macaque could only watch dumbfounded at what just took place as he loosely cradled the teacup in his hand. Though he could do without the rabbit gaze boring into him.

“So what happened next,” MK asked.

“I left,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“You just left?!” Mei shouted as she squished the fruit in her hand.

“Yep.”

“Why?!”

“I had no reason to stay with a man who just up and saved me for no reason, especially one who was so confident in his capabilities that I wasn’t going to attack him,” he pointed out.

“So where did you go?” MK asked next.

“A little bit of everywhere,” he lied a little, he may be spilling his secrets, but even he has a hard stop on some of his more personal ones. He was not about to tell them that he essentially stalked Wukong and his friends for a good portion of the Journey. “But, for some damn reason, I went back to Ping.”

“You went back?” Mei said as MK asked, “Why?”

“Curiosity? Boredom? I honestly still don’t know,” he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “But I just kept going back every few months and the strangest thing is, he would just give a slight wave and give me some tea. Each and every time, until eventually I stayed a bit longer.”

Macaque watched in interest as Ping began to crush some herbs together and mix them. He knows some of those plants and they tasted downright horrible. “What’s the point of making that? It doesn’t taste any good with food, old man.”

Ping simply chuckled as his rabbit laid silently to the side, “I'm not that old, unlike you. It helps with backaches, I know many of the elderly will need it in the coming winter, so it’s always good to prepare ahead.”

“Oohhh, that’s medicine,” Mac hummed. He hasn't seen much of it since he was able to heal fairly fast and also that usually medicine is one of the hardest items to steal due to it usually being hidden or secured.

“Would you like a closer look?” The graying man asked as he stepped a little to the side.

“Sure, why not,” he shrugged his shoulders as he watched with rapt attention to how the medicine was being made.

“He must have a lot of patience to be able to teach you,” Mei grinned.

The monkey huffed in amusement, “I honestly thought the same thing.”

“But how was he different?” MK hesitantly asked as all he heard was of Ping doing completely normal things. “How did he get you to...well change?”

“Does it matter that he was supposed to be some amazing being with special abilities,” he gave a small smirk.

“Well no,” he deflated a bit.

“Cause let me tell you that Ping was one of the farthest things to have anything godly about him. The only thing special about him was his strange ability to practically befriend anyone that passed him and that was it. He never went on any magical adventure, wasn’t appointed a great duty by a God, hell the man has never taken a single martial art or learned under any great sage before,” he couldn’t hold back laugh at their confused looks. “He never tried to force me to change into what he believed to be good.”

“Then why did you keep going back?” Mei jumped off the couch and leaned over the table. “If he didn’t have anything mystical about him, why did you keep going back?”

“Have you ever heard the age-old question on if you can teach a monster how to love?” He suddenly asks, throwing them all off guard.

“No?”

“Cause the answer is no, but rather you have to show them,” he smiled fondly.

“...what does that have to do with this?” MK whispered out.

“He may not have any special abilities, but there was something about him, something- I can’t say good because it’s not strictly subjective in that, but just something comforting about him. About the way he wouldn’t bat an eye at my appearance, the way he would simply give me a cup of tea, the way he would let me stay when I had my bad days, just the way he was just was comforting,” he breathed in as he unhooked his fingers that he unconsciously grabbed together. “He was just Ping and that was enough for a monster to change.”

“You're not-/Don’t believe-,” he cut off both kids.

“I know I did...horrible things in the past, things can’t be redeemable no matter how many times I may help those, I couldn’t forgive myself, but he showed me that I could.

“How?”

“I planted a seed.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, I was just as confused as you guys were too,” he smiled as he leaned back. “He straight up told me to plant a seed each time my anger or frustration overwhelmed me.” He threw his hands in the air, “I didn’t know what he meant, by the Gods know how many of those things I planted even long after he passed.”

“So he did pass away,” Mei said underneath her breath.

“Humans tend to do that, especially with one as old as him,” he said with a small smile.

“You still kept planting,” MK huddled together as he wrapped his arms around his knees.

“...Yeah,” he wrapped his tail around his waist in comfort, “I didn’t know what else to do and I know I raged and cried, but I couldn’t just go down to Yama and demand his soul back or up to the heavens and just steal a peach. Not even the drunk old man could change fate,” he whispered that last part quietly. “I’m not that strong, so I did the only thing I could and just planted the seeds and plant and plant until one day I was interrupted.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but did you happen to grow these yourself?” The woman asked as she carried her child upon her back.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t feel in the mood to even attempt to snark back against a human as he tended to some of the flowers.

“Well let me tell you that they're simply beautiful,” she smiled at him.

“Huh?” Mac froze at the sudden compliment.

“Yeah!” He looked down to see a young girl with a wide smile, “they are super pretty.”

“Very pretty,” another child shyly piped up as he peeled from behind his mother's skirt.

The monkey demon could faintly remember their goodbyes as they proceeded to walk away from him. “What beauty is there in a bunch of seeds?” He turned to look at his plants and for the first time, he realized that they haven’t been seeds in a very long time as they sprouted into a giant, pink, flourishing Plum Blossom trees-no not trees a blossoming forest.

“Oh.” He then decided to slowly walk through it all as he plunked a plum from one of the branches. “Damn, I must have been really out of it for so many years that I didn’t even realize that it...that it grew…during all these years it grew and grew into something beautiful.” He paused as he now realized what Ping was trying to show him for all these years, that even when he got angry and made so many mistakes, they can turn into something beautiful. He let out a full body laugh as he just screeched and screeched.

“Only you, you fucking coot! Only you would think of such a weird ass idea and actually be of help, I swear if you weren’t already dead I would be yelling at you for this!” He screeches as tears or amusement and anguish filled his eyes, “you made me plant a forest of mistakes and did a fuck you and made it something worthwhile, something beautiful!”

He eventually laid down with plum in hand, ears out as he listened to the chirps of the bird and rustles of the leaves and his heart didn’t feel as empty as before. “Couldn’t have told me straight out his thoughts,” he huffed with a watery smile as he took a bite out of the plum.

“You made this forest-the Plum Blossom forest?!” MK asks shockingly despite listening to the story.

“A good portion of it, yes, the rest done simply by Hòutû herself.”

“So what happened next?” Mei said as she kneeled and put her elbows on the table.

“Life happened and time slowly crawled forward and I slowly began to change and probably still will,” he shrugged his shoulders.

MK fidgeted in his seat before finally speaking up again, “so...what happens now.”

“That’s for you two to decide,” he stood up and stretched, “You're the only ones who can decide for yourself.” He picked up the empty plates and cup, “Take as much time as you need kiddos,” he began to walk away with a heavy heart.

He knew that he couldn’t force their minds into completely accepting him, but he prays, one of the very few times he does, that he didn’t fuck two of the few good things he had. He can accept that they may not forgive him, but he damn hopes that there is still a sliver of affection-he stiffen as he felt two pairs of arms hug tightly around his waist. “Wha-?”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily Goldilocks,” Mei smiled as she cuddled her face in his soft fur, “No amount of scares can force us away from you.”

“Mei-,”

“At first I was angry,” he heard his son's voice even when it was muffled against his fur. “You kept secrets and I didn’t like that, but you told me and I was so confused, still am, but you aren’t the same mean monkey in the past, I don’t think you would have saved me if you were the same as your past self and I am happy about that. I am happy that I know you now, because I may have not liked you and if I didn’t like you then I would have never stayed with you and I really don’t like that,” MK looked up at him with tears in his eyes as he hugged him tighter. “I really don't like the idea of never being here, being with you Dad, so thank you for being you, thank you and I love you so much.”

Liu Er barely had the forethought to place the dishes down before wrapping his arms around them both with a tight grip. “Well I guess you're stuck with me.”

“Like old gum stuck in your fur,” MK squeezed out through the fur.

“I swear you spend way too much time with Minsheng…love you too Starlight,” he huffed as he ruffled his child's hair.

“And besides,” Mei started, “you may be a grump but you're our grumpy monkey demon now. And if anyone tries to say otherwise then I would need to have a few words with them,” she ended with a wide creepy smile on her face as her eyes promised vengeance.

“I’ll direct them towards you little newt,” he chuckled as he also messed with her hair as well and gave them both a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Fuzz butt,” she shot back then got a gleam in her eyes, “a fuzz butt who can teach us how to fight.”

“No.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” she grinned, “sooo can we see what you really look like?” MK’s head shot up at that and shared the same gleam as well.

“Nosy, all of you,” he said as he gently pried them off of him, and in barely a flicker, he had transformed and he looked more...dangerous. His nails and teeth have become sharper, a few scars were more visible upon his hands and feet, the scar on his right eye was very prominent as it displayed a dull yellow pupil, even his ears seemed to add to his threatening appearance as the middle violet ear on the right was missing a portion of the upper cartilage.

“You look badass/So Cool!” Though he didn’t have to worry about scaring those two off as their eyes sparkled at his appearance and rushed to touch his fur as MK happily exclaimed as he put his face on his fluffy chest, “why does your fur feel even softer than before?!”

Macaque snorted loudly as he sat down on the floor and let them have a better reach, “shouldn’t even be surprised that was what you took away from this.”

“Seriously, now it looks like you actually know how to fight,” Mei ‘ooed’ as she felt some of his scars underneath his fur. “How’d this one happen,” she felt a faint scar right above the left shoulder.

“Well let me tell you that it all began by a river and I just found out that a certain monkey can’t fight underwater,” the two teenagers leaned in close as he began to tell the tale of the blood demon beast that rested underneath the river.

#monkie kid #mk #macaque #PlumTeaAU

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secretsniper2 · 3 years

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Part 1: Home Invasion

You always did enjoy driving around town, great way to clear your head, you went further than you normally would but that's ok, 20 minutes to get home from here and you are in no rush. Pulling into the driveway you unlock the door and head inside, locking the door behind you, its a modest house, 1 story with a basement used for laundry, 1 bedroom with a bathroom, a kitchen and main room with a nice TV handing on the wall and a computer in the corner, it isn't much but its all you need. Walking to the kitchen you open a pack of chips for a little snack, just as you go to have a chip a cloth rams over your open mouth. instinctively you scream out loudly as you drop the chips on the floor, legs kicking out as you try to run. An arm pinning you against the intruder the other holding the cloth to your face you feel weaker and weaker as you continue to struggle, eventually the whole world goes black.

You wake and blink your eyes but its still dark, night time already? no, you quickly learn your blindfolded, and worse still, your bound tightly to your bed. wrists and ankles tied to the 4 corners of your bed and if that wasn't bad enough, your completely naked. Your thrashing begins again as you pull at the restraints pinning you down, you try to call for help but doing so only brings your attention to a ballgag locked between your teeth, only managing a pathetic “MMPPHHH!” as your captor returns to the room, “looks like this house was a perfect job, plenty of nice things to make money from, but the best prize of all is you.” his deep voice running through your mind, what was this man planning to do to you?!

Feeling the man lay next to you he strokes your head firmly, “Don't worry about any friends or family coming to help you, i took the liberty of using your computer to tell everyone your going on a spontaneous trip and will be off the grid for a few days, how nice of me to at least let them know why you'll not be replying to them.” he said with a slight chuckle as he moves his hand down your body, cupping your firm breast with his hand as he passes it, stopping on your stomach he blows across your shoulder, you shiver uncontrollably as he does, raising his hand off your chest he replaces it on your knee, you focus on his touch as its the only thing you can do, your sense of touch already heightening at the absence of sight.

Slowly, cruelly the man moves his hand up your leg, across your inner thigh and lands at his mark, your legs strain hard again your bindings as you try desperately to close your legs and deny him entry, but its useless, his hand begins to rub at your lips through your panties, getting a slight moan confirms his intention, your getting aroused.. You hate it, you don't even know what this man looks like, and your bound to your bed as he has fun with you, the massage on your pussy sapping your strength he circles your clit and your head moves up as you arch your spine at his touch, “sensitive clit huh? you'll enjoy this then” he says in your ear, his deep voice reverberating in your head, “you'll enjoy this” echoing in your mind.

moving between your thighs he pulls your skirt up and over your hips, your cute blue panties exposed to this stranger, he continues to stroke your clit as your spine reacts and you scream out around your gag “AAAARRHHHHGGGHH!!” having your first unwanted forced orgasm, “ohhh very nice indeed, very sensitive clit then” he says as he pulls your panties aside exposing your glistening lips. Feeling something push against you you know exactly what it is, a hard cock pushes inside you and your rape begins in earnest! thrusting harshly inside your pussy you can only moan as his body slams against your sensitive clit while his shaft pushes deep inside you.

Clearly enjoying his time inside you he grips your breasts tight and braces himself on your body, pushing harder with each thrust, your tits getting sore within seconds of the punishing grip they are receiving, fingers flicking back and forth across your already abused and rapidly stiffening nipples your arousal only going up as his cock dives even deeper inside you, slamming into your womb with a big push, you've never experienced womb penetration before now, fucking with all his length she pulls out just to your entrance and thrusts right back into your womb, full thrusts continuing as your body shakes beneath him, you want to cum, you need it but this man doesn't know you can only cum from clit stimulation, you dread to think what hell do to you when he learns that secret!

“such a nice cunt you got here, so tight! you must enjoy being such a fucking tease!” he grunts in your face “FUUUHHH OOOUUUHH!!” is all you could manage as your arousal hits hew heights, your body burning as your pussy screams for more, you hate that your getting so aroused by being raped but you cant help it! He just keeps going! his hard cock easily tearing into your womb with each thrust sending wave after wave of pleasure to your brain! but its not enough! he's leaning back so your clit is no longer getting slammed by his body, he's avoiding it for some reason, if only you could see him you could understand what he's thinking!

continuing to thrust hard into your cunt the man grunts “what's the matter? don't you wanna cum slut?!” as he continues to pump your pussy like it belongs to him, “IIHH NEEE CLIIIIHHHHHH” you scream, throwing your secret out for him to know, “you need your clit huh? like this!” she yells as he pinches your little nub with his fingers and twists his fingers around the base! under the blindfold your eyes shoot open as your scream “AAAAAAAAAEEEEEEHHHHHOOOOO!! IIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHHHH CCCCCUUUUUUHHHHHHHHMMMMIIIIIIIHHHHH!!” as your pussy violently spasms around his throbbing cock, sucking him inside deeper!

feeling a blast of heat inside your pussy you know he came too, but still he fucks you, pumping more and more while his fingers massage your aching clit, your own cum coating his cock as he unloads another shot of cum inside you! removing his cock you can feel the mixture of cum start to flow out of your tight snatch as you groan and try to catch your breath. Hearing draws open he's clearly searching your room, you know hell open that draw eventually, and then you hear him “ohhhhh what's this? a few toys you like to use?” clearly holding your dildo in his hand, “buttplugs? and a vibrator? your a kinky cunt arnt you!”. Hearing him return to your bound body your pussy gets a dildo jammed right inside you, its 6 inches long and fills you nicely, but with the added cum your overstuffed now, feeling your asshole part to accept your plug you moan loudly, “and just so i know your enjoying yourself while i get something to eat!” he puts the vibe against your clit and turns it on, its usually enough to solo a orgasm but its not directly on your clit like normal, its sitting just above it now, enough to stimulate but not enough to cum.

After what seemed like hours you hear him return to the room, followed by a loud thud, clearly a bag full of your things, a crunch signals your food, being eaten buy him, he seems to be enjoying his view, watching you writhe on your bed, bound tight as your teetering on the edge of another huge orgasm, “you have a nice house here cunt, think ill stay a few days, then ill show you my place!” he says with a laugh. “His place?! i don't want to see his place!” you scream mentally. A hand landing at your neck you feel him grab your shirt and tear it open followed by your bra, exposing your base breasts to him, pale skin and cherry nipples gazing up you take a deep breath as he continues to tear your clothes off and within seconds your completely nude, adding to your shame and humiliation.

Feeling fingers grasp your nipples your treated to a sharp pain as he pinches them tightly, your face shoot up “OWWWWW!! OHHHH GGGGGGDDDD PPPPPPPPLLLSSSSSSSSS SSSSTTTTTTPPPP!!” you scream as your nipples almost burst! releasing your tits you fall back to the bed as your pussy sits still edging away behind him completely ignored. Pressing your breasts together he pushed his cock in-between then and thrusts into your modest cleavage, you can feel him as he pumps his cock up and down and your hair is grabbed, pulling your face into the line of fire your face is showered in his cum, it smells so bad but until he cleans it your stuck with the scent, its everywhere, your actually glad you couldn't see him there.

“So you can only cum from your little clit huh?” he asks and you slowly shake your head in response, feeling the vibrator removed for a moment he presses it hard against your clit and your no longer on the edge, you passed it in a heartbeat as you cum so hard your voice breaks for a moment! Maintaining the position your clit bounces around with the vibrations as you can feel another huge orgasm building quickly, feeling your dildo removed from your pussy your penetrated again by his cock, pumping more and more while your clit get tended to with the vibe, you shake your head in denial of your growing desperation as it buzzed longer and harder against your hypersensitive clit! “OWWW CCCCUUUUHHHMMMMMIIIINNNGGGG-!!!” you scream through your gag as your voice breaks again, your entire body thrashing desperately to end the stimulations your body gives out on you as you cum and you pass out.

Clearly leaving your clit to hum while your unconscious your world returns awash with a screaming sensation as your extremely sensitive clit continues to bounce as you instantly start thrashing as the sensations continue to rape you even though the man isn't! Returning to the room your captor swallows something, “god I'm thirsty!” you think in a haze as your throat is dry from all the screaming, you suddenly notice your mouth was open wider than earlier, a different gag perhaps? testing it with your tongue as best you can while your edged repeatedly, the mas straddles your check pushing the air right out of you, pulling something attached to your mouth, a plug is removed.. “OH GAWW-” is all you manage before a cock thrusts into your mouth, your tongue now wrapping around it unconsciously.

Fucking your mouth hard you gagging painfully as he cums in your mouth, his cock acting like a seal, keeping the load in, you can only swallow the first of likely many. Putting 2 more loads in your mouth he quickly withdraws and pushes the plug back in, locking your cum filled mouth closed, you either swallow it or savour the taste, resolving to swallow it all now you hear him walk out the door. You can hear the TV from here, its the news.. its already 7pm?! your clit pulses again dragging your attention to the orgasm now tearing your clit to pieces! your thrashing begins again as your left alone, with 2 full holes and a clit on fire.

Finally after watching the news and a small show after that at high volume, you hear the TV turn off and steps leading to your room, your glad your no longer alone as your pussy spasms painfully as you cum again, you lost count how many times you came today ages ago, seemingly a lifetime now. you have been kept in the dark since you were grabbed in your own home! but with what you heard on the TV its already late. A hand grasps your breast and caresses it gently, your rigid nipple flicking between his fingers as you moan, the loud buzz between your thighs keeping your mind and body busy.

Hearing him walk away you hear water splashing, the bastard is having a shower! “what about me?! you asshole!” you think angrily, your pussy is still full of his cum, as he walks back and unbinds you, your body still very weak, too weak to do anything but obey, he leads you to your bathroom, sits you down and unplugs your pussy, all the cum he pumped into you floods out, you feel better but he holds you firm as the detached showerhead pushes against your lips and fills your cunt with warm water. unplugging your ass he repeats the process and dries your body, your shakily walk back to the bed as he pushes you back down, and rebinds you to the bed. once again your pussy and ass are stuffed with toys, your clits vibe is instead inserted into your pussy, held in deep by the dildo buzzing away relentlessly and hopelessly out of reach, your going to reach the edge soon and without anything to stimulate your clit, you'll stay on the edge.

With the flick of a switch the lights are out, for him at least, your lights went out hours ago, the man climbs into your bed, pulling the blanket over you he lays next to your body, a hand on your pussy idly rubbing your clit, as you orgasm you hear a slight chuckle as he says “i think I'm going to keep you my dear..” and he goes to sleep, his hand still resting against your sore clit while your pussy hums away. you turn your head away from the man and drift to sleep, you know that tomorrow only promises more bondage, rape and pleasure, you know you should hate every second but some small part of you is craving tomorrows games. you hear your mind tell you how pleasurable its going to be, this man next to you made you cum more times in 1 day than you had in the past year! and tomorrow hell have you from dawn till dusk and not just half a day! you moan softly in your plugged mouth as you continue to drift to sleep. the game has only just begun…

#Stories #Custom

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #bachelor au #meet ugly

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seanfalco · 3 years

Text

Morning Affection | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’verse

an oc x oc collaboration between @seanfalco & @super-unpredictable98

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: Language, Smut (you know, the usual) a/n: Just an early morning shag session. You know how we do.

[ masterlist ]

——

It wasn’t long before Win had fallen asleep while listening to Hamilton, the alcohol and their extracurricular activities from earlier having completely wiped her out. Curled up on the bed, she sought the closest warm body as she slept to snuggle up to. Win’s Nathan, however, listened riveted as Lyddie softly sang along to the music and explained the plot to him, answering his questions as he played with her hair, twisting one of the long strands between his fingers.

"So a lot of people have theories about why Eliza gasps at the end..." Lydia started. "Some people think she's dying and seeing her husband, some people think she sees the audience and realizes his story has been told... sorry, I'm rambling again." Lydia noticed Nathan's slightly confused look and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"I like t'hear yeh talk about stuff you're interested in," he admitted, grinning softly at her.

"That's cute... but you must be getting tired, it's like four in the morning," she laughed, and looked over her shoulder. Win and the other Nathan were snuggled up. "Do you wanna..."

At her words a yawn cracked Nathan's jaw and he stifled it with his fist. "Yeah, c'mere," he said as he settled down in the bed, holding his arms open to her.

Lydia sighed as she found a comfortable position in his embrace. She was too exhilarated to fall asleep at first, but she felt great. "I love you," she whispered, somewhat hoping he wouldn't hear it.

For a moment Nathan froze. Had he heard her correctly? Swallowing, he tightened his arms around her, pressing his face into her hair.

“I... I love yeh too,” he murmured softly, finding that he meant it.

Lydia bit her lip not to make a sound, but her eyes filled with tears. Happy tears this time.

She was finally able to fall asleep.

It was early, by the weak sunlight that filtered through the blinds, and Win groaned as she stirred, her head suddenly throbbing painfully and she let out a choked sob, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.

"Good mornin', love," Lyddie's Nathan was up. "Oh, I have somethin' for ya, don't move." He kissed Win's forehead and left for the kitchen, coming back as quickly as he could with a glass of water and a couple of pills. "For your head."

"Oh, thank you," she murmured, gratefully taking the glass and popping the pills in her mouth before tipping them back. "Ohhh, I shouldn't have drank so much last night," she muttered, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. "I feel like such an idiot," she grumbled.

"You're not an idiot, you should've seen me in New York. One night I went into this Irish pub... Jesus," Nathan laughed. "Besides, it was pretty entertainin' when Lyddie was on stage and you asked her t'flash us..."

Win chuckled, though it only made her head hurt worse. "Oh yeah, she turned so red, it was adorable," Win murmured, leaning against Nathan as she glanced over at Lydia, sleeping soundly in her Nathan's arms, glad that they seemed to have mended the rift from last night.

"Are you hungry?" Nathan draped his arms around her. "I could make somethin' if y'want."

The thought of eating made Win's stomach turn, but she figured she should probably put something in there. It might help. "You're sweet," she murmured softly, pressing her face to his chest. "Maybe some toast or something?" she murmured.

"Sure, how'd y'know toast is my specialty?" Nathan joked, taking Win's hand as they both left the room.

Win giggled softly as she followed Nathan to the kitchen. "Oh really? Lucky me, then," she murmured, a warm feeling twisting in her heart.

"I thought you said toast was your specialty," she teased as the two slices popped up completely black and charred.

"Well, this is the toaster's fault! It wasn't me," Nathan pretended to be scandalized as he put two other slices of bread in. "I'm the best toast maker in Europe!"

"Uh huh, blame the toaster, so convenient," Win teased further, pushing herself up to sit on the counter as she watched Lyddie's Nathan toss the ruined slices into the bin.

"Are you sayin' that I'm a bad chef, missy?" Lyddie's Nathan leaned over the counter to stare Win in the eye. "Cause I don't think y'have much room t'talk here..."

Win gasped dramatically, fighting back a smile, which would completely ruin her fake indignation. "As if you've ever tried my food before!"

"I don't have to! Your Nathan and I have the same taste buds, I trust his judgment..." Lyddie's Nathan taunted. "Only Lydia can stomach your food."

Win scoffed, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest. "What, y'scared? Just because my Nathan says somethin' doesn't mean you hafta agree with him," she exclaimed, half playfully. "At least Lyddie loves me..." she grumbled.

"I'm just sayin' the taste can't be much better than the smell..." Lyddie's Nathan shrugged with a shit-eating grin. "I love you too, darlin', but I'm not lookin' t'get food poisoning," it wasn't until the words were out of his mouth that he noticed what he just said.

Win’s grin faltered. Had she heard that correctly? “Did you just...?” she whispered, feeling a shiver run through her.

"Yeah," Lyddie's Nathan took Win's hand, hoping he didn't sound stupid. "I love you."

Win’s eyes widened as looked up at the Nathan before her and she gave his hand a tentative squeeze. “I love you too,” she whispered, biting her lip to keep it from trembling softly.

"Thank God, that could've been awkward," Lyddie's Nathan found himself repeating the words he said the first time he confessed his love to someone. His fingers danced around Win's cheek as he kissed her gently.

Win reached for Lyddie’s Nathan’s shirt, pulling him closer, between her legs as she kissed him back just as gently, though with a fervor behind it, just barely restrained.

"Hmmm," Lyddie's Nathan turned off the toaster without breaking the kiss, while instinctively pulling Win closer with his hand on the small of her back.

“I think I’d rather have you than that toast,” Win murmured between kisses, her eyes flicking up to Lyddie’s Nathan’s before her lips trailed to his neck.

"Oh," Lyddie's Nathan shuddered under Win's touch, his cock responding immediately. "Yeah, I'm probably better at shaggin' than makin' toast."

Win laughed. “Is that so? Does that mean you’re the best lover in all of Europe too, then?” she teased, throwing his own words back at him as she palmed his erection through his underwear.

"No... that means I'm the best lover in all the universe," Lyddie's Nathan quickly shed his shirt with a soft moan as he felt Win's hand on him.

"Mmm, lucky me," Win purred, kissing down his chest, letting her teeth graze his skin as her mouth found his nipple, circling it slowly with her tongue as she massaged his clothed erection.

"Jesus..." Lyddie's Nathan gasped, that's a spot he has never been touched before, and he was confused by how much he liked it. "Oh, I wanna shag your brains out," he groaned.

Win's breath hitched at his words, arousal pooling between her thighs as she lifted her face to smirk up at him. "D'you like that, Natty?" she asked coyly, switching to his other side, giving him a light nip as he pulled her hips closer to the edge.

"Yeah!" Lyddie's Nathan moaned, by now he was rock hard. "Let's get you out o'this, shall we?" he pulled Win's shirt (his shirt?) over her head, exposing her bare chest.

"Oh!" Win gasped as the cold hair hit her bare skin. "I don't think you need these either," she mused, easing his underwear down as well, wetting her lips.

"No, we don't..." Lyddie's Nathan murmured, letting his underwear slide down his legs, leaning in to take Win's nipple between his lips and she moaned as she arched against Nathan's mouth, stroking his cock while her other hand buried in his curls.

"Oh, baby, so wet..." Lyddie's Nathan mumbled as his fingers explored between Win's legs. "Y'wanna shag on the couch or here?" he waggled his brows suggestively.

"I want you right here," Win gasped, "I want you t'fuck me right here Nathan. Oh, please take care of me," she whimpered as his fingers teased her.

"I love t'see you like this," Lyddie's Nathan kissed Win's neck hungrily, while thrusting slowly into her, savoring the moment. "Is this what you want?"

“Yes,” Win moaned, dropped her free hand to the counter behind her to stabilize herself as Lyddie’s Nathan filled her. “Yes, I want you so bad. Tell me how much you want me,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist.’

"I want you so much, baby, I want every last bit," Lyddie's Nathan moved vigorously, as his lips desperately searched for Win's, his hand idly kneading her breasts.

“Oh f-fuck, Nathan! You can have me. You can have all of it!” Win cried, desperately holding on as he fucked her harder, her hand slipping down to the back of his neck to pull him closer, their breaths mingling as she kissed him sloppily, her hips meeting each of his rough thrusts, pushing him deeper. “I’m close!” she murmured breathlessly between kisses, her eyes finding his, wanting to watch him as she came.

"Mine, you're mine, Winnie..." Lyddie's Nathan murmured in between kisses, his thrusts getting more erratic as he watched Win carefully, wanting to see her pleasure. "Come for me, baby, be a good girl."

"You should know, I'm never a good girl--" Win purred, gasping at a particularly hard thrust, her mouth falling open. "--but for you I-I will be," she cried, throwing her head back as she came, holding onto him desperately.

Win's words made Lyddie's Nathan smirk. "Yes you will, baby," he held tightly to her as re released, breathing heavily against her skin. "Jesus... You're so... amazing."

Win pulled Lyddie's Nathan to her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Oh, I love you," she panted. "I love you, Natty," she repeated, not wanting to pull away.

"I love you too, darlin' so much," Lyddie's Nathan nuzzled Win's hair, leaving kisses all over her neck and her shoulder. "D'you still want your toast? It's ready," he chuckled.

Win chuckled, reaching for the toast. "I definitely worked up an appetite.

——

Lydia heard voices coming from the other side of the room and her eyes fought to stay closed, until she finally managed to wake up, or almost. "Hey," she yawned shifting in Win's Nathan's arms, pressing her lips on his shoulder, his words from the night before still in her head.

"Hmm?" Win's Nathan hummed without opening his eyes, blindly pressing his lips to whatever skin he could find.

"Good morning, Nats," she purred running her fingers through his messy curls, watching the gentle movement of his chest. "How did you sleep?"

"Fantastic," he murmured, moaning softly as he stretched. "You?"

"Me too," Lydia smiled, the other side of the bed was empty. She wondered where the others were, but then she smelled burnt toast and huffed a laugh. "I was dreaming about you."

"Bout me?" Win's Nathan asked, his lips twitching into a grin as he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of Lydia in his arms. "What sort o' dreams?" he wondered, noticing as well that it was just the two of them. "Knowin' you they were probably pretty dirty, huh?" he teased.

"Nathan!" Lydia giggled, hiding her blushing face in the crook of his neck. "If you really wanna know, there were dirty parts, but also romantic parts," she sighed.

Win's Nathan's smiled against the top of Lyddie's head, stroking his fingers through her hair. "Oh, even better!" he exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm not so good at th'romance part, so I'm sure dream me was a lot better," he mused.

"That's not true, you just have your own way to be romantic and... I happen to like that way." Lydia murmured softly. "I have a thing for guys who are obnoxious, cocky, kinda gross sometimes... you're just my type."

Nathan huffed a laugh, a strong wave of fondness overtaking him at Lydia's words. "I guess I'm really lucky then to have found two girls that seem t'like that about me," he murmured, watching her face carefully.

Lydia nodded trailing kisses all over his neck. "You really are. And we were lucky to find the perfect twat that checks all of our boxes. My father would be so proud..." she mocked.

Nathan moaned softly as her lips brushed against his skin and he grimaced as he felt his cock twitch in his briefs. This is a sweet moment, y'twat, don't go and get horny now, he told himself, though it didn't really help any.

"Y-yeah, we're all lucky," he breathed, snorting softly. "I'm pretty sure no fathers would be proud t'have me for a son-in-law though. Win's made that clear enough." What are you doin' bringing that up for? Especially when you're gettin' turned on? Nathan thought with a grimace. Though maybe that'll help calm y'down...

"Mine would, he's a lot like you actually, he's so funny and..." Lydia stopped talking as she felt Nathan's bulge against her thigh. She looked up at him with a smirk. "Did I do something, Natty?"

Win’s Nathan cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just... y’know, mornin’ wood, that’s all. Plus... your lips felt—“ he cut off to clear his throat again when his cock twitched against her leg.

"You like my lips, huh..." Lydia whispered, kissing the tender spot where his neck connects with his jaw. Usually her partners are always the ones teasing her, it wasn't often she had the chance to tease someone.

“Yeah, they’re nice, v-very nice,” Win’s Nathan breathed, “if y’keep that up, I’m gunna have a full on boner, darlin’,” he pointed out, though his hand slid down her waist to her ass, pulling her closer to his hips.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Lydia's kisses moved to his chest while her hand snaked down his body, resting dangerously on his thigh. "Maybe I want you to."

“Ohhhh Lollipop, it would definitely not be a bad thing,” Win’s Nathan murmured, giving her bum a firm squeeze. “I just didn’t wanna ruin a perfectly romantic moment with my cock havin’ a mind of it’s own, but if that’s what y’want...” he trailed off grinding slightly against her thigh.

“What's more romantic than a morning shag?" Lydia chuckled softly, rolling on top of Win's Nathan and letting her hair brush lightly against his skin. "You didn't ruin anything, usually I'm the one horny at inappropriate times."

“Just one more thing t’love about yeh,” he mused, Nathan’s hands sliding under Lydia’s shirt, well... technically it was one of his... or his clone’s... he supposed it didn’t really matter much as they pretty much shared their wardrobes anymore. “D’you know how hot it is t’see you wearin’ our shirts?” he asked, pushing it up to bare her breasts.

"Is it? That's good to know... Cause I love to wear them," Lydia leaned in to capture Nathan's lips, while her hand palmed his clothed boner. "I wanna do with you what we were doing in my dream..."

“Ohhh,” Win’s Nathan shuddered at her touch, “and what pray tell, exactly were we doin’, hmm? I’m very interested,” he murmured, as he kissed her back eagerly.

"I was riding you," Lydia ran her hands over his arms, rolling her hips teasingly against his cock. "I haven't done that in so long... I miss it."

Nathan's eyes widened. "Please ride me, Lyddie baby, I wanna see those lovely tits of yours bouncing up and down as you bounce on my cock," he groaned, running his hands up her thighs.

Win's Nathan's excitement made Lydia even hotter, her own Nathan has been very scared to let her ride him ever since... The Incident. "Yeah? I bet you love the view, don't you, Natty?" Lydia slowly pulled his underwear down, leaning in to lick his tip.

"Ohhhhh, yeah baby, you have such lovely tits," Win's Nathan exclaimed, his words melting as he felt her tongue. "Jesus, your mouth--" he gasped, his head falling back against the pillow behind him.

Intoxicated by his praise, Lydia took his cock in her mouth with one fluid motion, humming as she moved her head up and down. "You like that, baby?"

"Holy-- yes!" he yelped, watching open mouthed as Lydia's head bobbed up and down, her tongue gliding over his throbbing cock.

Lydia let him slide out of her mouth slowly. "As much as I wanna taste you..." she got up to her knees, positioning herself on top of him. "I want you to fill me up."

"God, yes, I wanna feel how tight yeh are," Win's Nathan exclaimed, grabbing hold of her hips as he thrust up into her. "Ohhh, yeah, that's the ticket baby."

Lydia was a bit nervous, to say the least, as she took him in, but she was also enjoying it, picking up speed as her confidence grew. "Oh, Nats, that feels so good!"

Win's Nathan bit his lip as as he watched Lydia bounce on top of him, riding him with abandon and he couldn't help but buck up into her enthusiastically, watching her tits as they jiggled and bounced hypnotically. He always liked it best when Win would get on top, it only made sense that he'd like it just as much with his other girlfriend. Plus the fact that Lyddie didn't get to do it often only made him feel more special.

"Talk dirty to me, Nathan," Lydia begged, one hand on his shoulder and the other preventing her hair from falling on her face. She didn't even remember why she was so scared, only how much she missed it.

“Oh yes, you dirty little thing, fuck, y’feel so good on my cock, so tight and wet baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot, love,” be babbled, breathing heavily as he guided her hips. “Tell me how much y’like it. I wanna hear you moan, Lollipop!”

"I fucking love it!" Lydia moaned, hoping to not disturb the others outside, but unable to keep quiet as she felt her pleasure growing steady. "You feel so good inside me, Nathan, I need you so bad."

“That’s right baby, I want yeh t’be loud! You’re so sexy when you’re loud!” Win’s Nathan exclaimed, already close, holding back to make sure Lydia came first. He was a gentleman, after all.

"Fuck, Natty! You make me feel so good, are you close? I wanna come with you," Lydia cried pressing her forehead to his. "I want you to fill me up as I come for you."

"Yeah I'm close, been holding back for you baby," he exclaimed. "I'll paint your insides white Lollipop, I'll fill yeh up," he groaned, letting himself come as he pulled her down to his chest so he could kiss her.

Lydia came loudly, never taking her eyes from Win's Nathan. "Yes! Oh please, please..." she whimpered before collapsing on top of him. "Oh my God, I love you."

"I love yeh, too," Win's Nathan murmured in awe as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "How'd I get so fuckin' lucky?" he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"I'm the lucky one..." Lydia looked up to kiss Win's Nathan's cheek. "I lost a Nathan once, now I have two, and Win! Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure this is real."

"Yeah well, you deserve it, Lyddie," he sighed, completely content, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm starving," Lydia didn't wanna let go, but her stomach was rumbling angrily. "Come on, I'll make you something." She took Win's Nathan's hand on her way to the kitchen. "Hey, guys, how's it going?"

Win looked up as Lyddie and her Nathan entered the room and she couldn't help but smile, pressing her cheek to Lyddie's Nathan's shoulder. "It's going good," she murmured. "How about you two?"

"Yeah..." Lydia took a deep breath on her way to the fridge, looking back at Win's Nathan over her shoulder. "Everything's great."

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

Taglist: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @nightingale-rose @salvador-daley @forenschik @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #timeline anomaly’verse #collaboration #my writing #nathan young smut

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 3 years

Text

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Nine (finale!!)

Ao3, Masterpost, C.1 C.2 C.3 C.4 C.5 C.6 C.7 C.8

Relationships: queer-platonic intruality, background platonic dlampr

I did it!!! I fucking did it!!! It’s been done!!! The end!!

Warnings: cursing, food mention, (brief) alcohol mention, kissing, relationship negotiations, cuddling, So Much Sap.

Word count: 4,147

Everything in the Mindpalace was going well.

Patton repeated that sentence to himself like a mantra, a water-filled mason jar clutched between his hands as he leaned against the kitchen bar.

Everything in the Mindpalace was going well.

Months and months went by without anyone having any sort of falling out, aside from petty arguments and occasional disagreements. Patton was attending each meeting, Remus right beside him. Life went on without a hitch.

Patton tried not to give Remus all the credit for everything good that had been happening. Logan, he knew, was working very hard to better himself and be more open. Janus was acclimating to his new surroundings more every day, and tentatively building new relationships while fixing up the old ones. Roman had been trying so hard, okay, and everyone could see the ways he hesitated less and less each time he went to speak. That’s not to speak of Virgil, who’d managed to slot his past and his present together into one big future, and not without considerable effort.

Patton could laud them all for that, for the peace that fell over the Mindpalace, but…

Part of him knew he never would’ve noticed that peace if he was still locked in turmoil with himself. And all of him knew exactly who it was that pulled him out of that hole.

Which isn’t to say it wasn’t an equal thing. He learned that a while in, that he was picking up Remus’ slack as much as Remus was picking up his. They functioned together, complimentary.

Everything in the Mindpalace was going well. The aching etched across Patton’s skin had faded, the ice solidified over his skeleton had thawed, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

Everything in Patton’s Mindpalace was going well.

Morality grinned against the edge of his drink, fighting the urge to laugh. He wasn’t even drinking anything, and still there was this giddiness. But that was how he always got at parties, and why he preferred to not drink alcohol anyway- he didn’t need to get any more jelly-brained!

Even if ‘party’ was a generous word for the gathering: It was just a family meeting gone awry, to be honest. No one had been in a working mood, not even Logan, and it was late in the evening already and the food was already there and. Well. Things morphed from there.

Remus was almost entirely glued to Patton’s side, despite how obviously he buzzed with energy. The simple fact that there was music, and food, and everyone enjoying themselves seemed to turn him up to 100- or, 110, since he usually operated with a staggering amount of energy either way.

But it was nice, hearing him talk, watching him flicker around excitedly. Patton, as was the case more and more these days, could hardly keep his eyes off him.

It wasn’t exactly like that was a problem. He doubted that a single side wasn’t aware of how completely and utterly entangled the both of them were with each other by that point, even if some of them still found it strange. They were… surprisingly supportive, of whatever kind of relationship the two of them had formed.

Friends, Patton reminded himself sternly, what else would it be? Patton had never wanted to date anyone, after all, and this wasn’t exactly an exception. It was just…

Strange. It was strange, but so was Remus- and honestly, so was Patton- so maybe it made more sense that way.

But just the same, things were smooth, and for once Patton wasn’t feeling too neurotic about it. He was half-sitting on the bar comfortably, swinging his leg, not chatting too much out of calmness more than anything. Remus was cross-legged on the counter as well, pressed up against him, buzzing and fidgeting but otherwise relaxed. Virgil leaned against the bookshelf crosswise, talking quietly with Remus. He only looked a little overwhelmed, and that was really unavoidable in any situation (Patton knew that if things were actually too much for him, Logan would already be taking care of it- it was like he had a sixth sense for that sort of thing).

“-and anyway,” Virgil was saying, “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, but I’m not about to tell Roman that, because-”

“You have to see his reaction!” Remus interrupted, grinning mischievously.

“Right, duh- you can’t just, like, pass up an opportunity to show somebody that.”

“Misery loves company!”

“And that movie is miserable,” Virgil nodded to himself, and okay, Patton had no idea what they were talking about.

He smiled at them anyway, though, because it was probably something to do with horror. Remus and Virgil could talk about horror for hours; it was a wonder there was ever a time they didn’t get along, honestly.

But Patton knew that his brain was rolling around everywhere except for the present- and he always got all reminiscent and unfocused when he was this happy- so he shook himself, standing up.

“I’m gonna check the oven, the food’s probably done by now!” and then, just to Remus: “I’ll be just a second, Mess.”

Remus smiled at him, let him go, and barely took a breath before he was talking again. (“So what’d he think? Did he scream at the end? That ending, I mean…”)

Patton slipped into the kitchen- which was barely another room, considering that wide open wall- but it was just a little quieter and a lot more pizza-roll-smelling than the living room.

Which Patton did actually have to take out of the oven, but it just so happened that getting up and moving around also got his head out of the clouds. That, and the mindless actions of snack-prep let him tune in better to what was going on around him. (“That’s the thing, he went dead quiet as soon as the scene started. For a second I thought I broke him-” and then Remus was laughing, and Virgil was shushing him while also snickering.)

Patton slipped on an oven mitt, grabbed the tray, set it on top of the stove. More noise erupted behind him, (Logan and Roman arguing about something that obviously didn’t matter, getting about as heated as they usually did.) and he shook his head, pouring the snacks steadily into a dish. Patton then grabbed the bag and spread some uncooked rolls out on the now-unoccupied pan, and slipped it back into the oven for another batch. (Janus heckling the argument. Virgil joining in, needling them.)

Patton rolled his eyes fondly, going through the motions of getting some tea ready. Might as well try to calm the dizzy exuberance in his chest while he was up, if he could, and some nice chamomile wouldn’t hurt.

(Remus wasn’t audibly teasing his brother with his snark-fueled companions, which was unlike him; to just sit there quietly.)

Patton rifled through the cabinets. Every mug was cracked or chipped or held together with glue and hope, and they sure had plenty of mugs. They kept conjuring new ones, but Patton wondered if that was doing them any good: all the mugs ended up in disarray eventually, so it was easier to just deal with the fissures as long as the cup was still, you know, vaguely functional.

Patton grabbed his favorite- easily the most beaten and battered out of them all, with a thick line splitting up the little cat face painted into it, a large chip in one part of the rim that had been sculpted to look like a cat ear. Whatever he poured into it always tasted a little like the super-glue holding it together, but it was just too darn cute to get rid of!

Patton smiled to himself, and thankfully had set the fragile thing down before two lanky arms twined around his waist and scared him half to death.

“Remus!” It didn’t sound scolding at all; Patton was laughing too much.

Remus spun him around, looking immensely proud for startling him, and raised himself up to drape his arms over Patton’s shoulders.

“What’cha smiling about?” He asked, grinning wider than Patton was even capable of. Patton laughed again, softly this time, and leaned back against the countertop.

“Mmm, you first.”

“Okay,” Remus squirmed, like he’d been hoping someone would ask- which was silly, considering that he was always smiling ear-to-ear. “You.”

Patton rolled his eyes, “Nuh-uh, I already asked-”

“No, you,” Remus poked him in the ribs, “You’re why.”

“Oh,” Patton melted, just a little. “Ohhh,” he pulled Remus into a proper hug, burying his face in the side’s hair, and the giddy feeling he’d been stuck with certainly wasn’t going away any time soon after that, “Aww, Mess!”

“Jesus, you’re so mushy. That line wasn’t even any good,” Remus cackled, like he had any right to be aloof when he was coiled all around Patton like he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re the one who said it, you big sap!” Patton playfully argued.

“Yeah, and you never answered my question!”

Patton pulled back- although that stretched the term; he’d pushed himself up onto the counter, with Remus between his knees, essentially still touching.

“I’m just in a good mood, that’s all. It’s a good night!” And it was, but Patton had to admit- “Maybe it has something to do with you, also.”

Remus smirked at him, leaning forward and planting his hands on either side of Patton’s legs.

“It better. I’m a riot at parties!”

This is barely a party, Patton thought, you’re always a riot, but he didn’t say either thing. Just hummed, tapping his fingers on the laminate countertop, staring into the middle distance pleasantly.

The rest of the sides were sprawled around the couch in the living room- which was mostly visible from the kitchen- and their argument was swiftly getting louder. Not a single one of them wasn’t laughing as much as he was shouting, though, so Patton decided to let them be. They were caught up having fun, and so was he, to be honest.

Remus was watching the others, too, but only in glances. He tossed a look over his shoulder every now and then, eyes darting around the room wildly, which was almost normal for him. Except that he looked so focused about it, scanning over them and then back to Patton with purpose, almost like he was… waiting for something.

His claws were tapping on the counters, too, but it was a feverish beat. Patton covered Remus’ hand with his own, twining their fingers together and squeezing them comfortingly- and Remus’ eyes locked immediately back onto his.

“Hi,” Patton said.

“Hey,” Remus said, “I love you.”

Patton went still. He blinked rapidly, and took a minute to remember how to think. The admission couldn’t have been surprising, of course they loved each other, but- it felt like it was the first time it had been said. It also didn’t feel like that was possible, because after all their time together how could they have skipped saying it, it was so obvious? They were so close, so blunt, Patton was pretty sure neither of them knew the meaning of the word ‘unspoken’.

Oh, but either way, he should probably- “I love you, too!”

Yeah, weird or not that they hadn’t done this before, that part was still pretty important.

But Remus hardly reacted at all, just a twitch in the corner of his lips- maybe-almost a smile, hypothetically. If anything, he was jittering even worse than before the reciprocation; Patton took his other hand just so he’d stop trembling, like a paranoid chihuahua, clutching that one the same as the first.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Buddy?” Patton implored. Remus stared at him, through him, and his eyes were visibly sharpening like little red camera lenses.

“Patton, Patton, Patton,” a wild mantra, “I must have the restraint of a saint, waiting this long to- to, I mean- Can I-” he took a breath, a set in his jaw showing just how much effort it took to pull his thoughts together. “I wanna do something. With you.”

Patton paused, and thought very carefully about that statement and everything that it could mean. There were… many possibilities.

“Is it gonna hurt?” Was the question he eventually settled on, squeezing Remus’ hands.

“Uhh, Probably not? If it does, then I’m definitely doing it wrong.”

“Okay, well-” Patton took a breath, met his friend’s eyes, and how was that as enticing as it was troubling? “Why don’t you?”

“...Can I?”

Remus looked about ready to shake out of his skin, so if whatever it was made him calm down, then Patton didn’t have any objections. Plus, hey, he was dense, but he wasn’t that dense.

“Has that question ever stopped you before?”

Something steeled in Remus’ expression, and he grinned. Patton grinned back, and that was when he knew without a doubt what was about to happen.

Remus jolted forwards and kissed him, square on the lips.

It was over as soon as it started, with Remus wrenching backwards and looking even more wild-eyed, before Patton had the time to really process it. If it was even actually a nice kiss, for example, was something that he could not honestly answer- only that it had happened, and now, here they were. But gosh, had it happened…

Remus watched him closely, tensed up like a string. He looked unaccountably silly like that, or maybe it was just the giddiness, but Patton giggled either way, smiled, and ducked his head. He felt a flush in his face, and like his heart had filled up with something- warm and wild and not like anything he knew how to name.

And gradually, Remus relaxed from tension into confusion, a hesitant laugh escaping him. He tossed out a dozen sentence fragments, which Patton deciphered with ease.

“We’re-” aromantic, “We don’t-” do that, “I’ve never-” wanted to before.

“Doesn’t matter,” Patton said decisively, “I don’t care.”

Remus searched his expression for a moment, before breaking down into hazy laughter again. He looked gone.

“Fuck it- if you don’t care, I don’t care! Let’s- Let’s just-!”

His eyes were darting around again, looking back through the open wall- and the argument was still raging, no one was paying any attention to the kitchen. Patton pulled one of his hands out of Remus’ and did something very impulsive.

He grabbed Remus’ jaw, dragging the trait’s gaze back to him.

“Don’t look at them,” he said, “Look at me.”

If it weren’t for the hush in his voice, the gentle-saccharine softness of it, the unmistakable Patton-ness of it, it would’ve sounded downright narcissistic. He could feel bad about that later, though, because as it stood the words made Remus send him a lovely little look, which made it very hard to be sorry about anything.

“No complaints here,” Remus grabbed Patton’s wrist, making it very obvious that he wanted his hand to stay right where it was. “But that’s the only time you get to boss me around, so don’t get cozy telling me what to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus’ voice had been light, nothing like the way he used to talk about Patton’s bossiness. There was that obvious hint of sarcasm, like a little in-joke between them. Patton already knew what the punchline would be. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

Remus’ eyes glinted excitedly, “Doubt it!”

“Kiss me again.”

Patton got the sense Remus couldn’t have cared less about being wrong, with how fast he launched into it.

It took three tries to turn the doorknob, and again, not a single alcoholic beverage had been had by either of them that night. It was just that they refused to stop holding hands or cracking up laughing long enough to get the stupid thing open.

Patton shoved his way through first, kicking the door shut behind them and all but dragging Remus along. They were giggling senselessly, tripping all over each other and grinning at nothing and everything, before promptly collapsing onto the bed together.

That was the moment when Patton registered the room as Remus’, which only made him grin wider, because it was so alive in there. The shadows in the wallpaper all coalesced and reached out to Patton, and the floor purred under his feet, rippling like the skin of some giant animal. It was all so creepy the first few times he’d slept there, but now it was just adorable; every part of Remus, down to his room, was so ecstatic to have him there that it tried to pull him in and hold him.

But he couldn’t very well cuddle a wall, so Patton turned his attention back to the side himself, giggling and pleasantly delirious.

Remus was staring at him. Their hands were still clasped between them.

“Hey,” he started.

“Hiii,” Patton answered.

And then, in unison:

“What are we?” “C’mere and hold me.”

Patton blinked at him, and Remus laughed.

“Compromise: I hold you while you tell me what this-” he held up their hands, “-makes us.”

Yeah, that seemed fair.

Patton shuffled over, fitting his arms around Remus’ shoulders and weaving his fingers through the Duke’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Remus curled all around him in a way that had become perfectly familiar, resting his chin on Patton’s chest and staring up at him expectantly.

(and Patton answering questions in a way that made sense was unlikely in most situations, but with this one? Oh boy).

“So, um, I love you,” he settled on eventually, working out a particularly dense knot of hair with his fingers.

Remus snorted. “Yeah, you mentioned,” he tapped his claws against Patton’s sternum, seeming to turn things over in his head. “We’re friends?”

Patton thought about it. He frowned.

“We are, but… that doesn’t feel special enough. I wouldn’t-” he felt himself flush, “I know I’m touchy, but I wouldn’t do all this with just anybody. I wouldn’t do it with anybody but you.”

“Okay. Me neither. So, uh- boyfriendssss?”

They winced in unison, Remus dragging the word out in a hiss.

“No,” Patton said.

“Yeah, that ain’t the one.”

“I mean, we don’t, um-”

“We aren’t exactly gonna fuck, you mean.”

Patton squeaked, inadvertently tugging too hard on a knot of hair. “I- first of all, you can date without- that, but second of all- mhm, that’s a definite no.”

Remus scrunched up his nose, scratching where his scalp had been pulled.

“I know you can, but I meant, like…”

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut childishly. Patton patted him on the back sympathetically, equally as frustrated with Words and their lack of General Correctness at that moment as Remus clearly was.

“Why’s everything so fucking complicated?” The trait whined, “I mean, feelings are your job, you’re smart! What’s- what’s-” Remus sat up suddenly, straddling Patton’s legs, grabbing one of the side’s hands and pressing it against his chest. The fabric of his sash was rough against Patton’s fingers, and beneath that, an irregular pattern of heartbeats, and beneath that, there were… there were definitely some feelings. “What is that, Pat?” His voice dipped low, that strained whispery sound that Patton just loved. “It’s gotta be something.”

Patton tried to focus, however hard that proved, and reached down inside to find a name for the sensation. The sensation that matched his own so well, and that gave him an odd little feedback loop of emotion that made everything sort of dizzy- trying to figure out other people’s emotions through his side ability always made him dizzy, despite the fact that he was apparently very good at it.

“It sure is something,” Patton muttered, flushing brighter. It was so much, and if Patton was anybody else but himself, it would’ve been too much. But he wasn’t, and it wasn’t; he couldn’t get enough.

“I didn’t know you cared about this,” Patton let his hand fall, smiling bemusedly up at Remus, “A label, I mean. I always thought you’d be the one saying they were stupid. Not that there’s, you know, anything wrong with it either way.”

Remus rolled off of Patton, flopping down beside him again. He pressed up against Patton’s shoulder, chewing his lip in concentration.

“I care about stuff. Stuff like you, and this is about you, so. Don’t blame me for worrying about it now, you’re the one who infected me with feelings in the first place.”

“I don’t blame you,” Patton said, and he was absolutely grinning at that. Remus narrowed his eyes. Patton stifled a laugh.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s just- You sounded exactly like Virgil,” Patton giggled, shaking his head fondly, “‘Infected with feelings’, gosh, that’s so silly.”

Remus blinked at him, before his face split with a smile. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that one.”

Patton hummed. And then, he leaned over just enough to kiss Remus’ forehead, just because he could.

Remus caught him by the jaw and pulled him in for a proper kiss, which he happily reciprocated. That kicked off a nice five minute break from the conversation at hand, as Patton took the time to appreciate the feeling, noting the reverent gentleness that Remus always touched him with was just as present as ever- and yes, for the record, it wasn’t a great olfactory experience, but softness of him more than made up for it.

“So,” Patton started, once they’d finally parted. “I think I know what we can do.”

Remus stared at him, looking distinctly dazed. “What? Make out some more?”

Patton smacked him (lightly) on the arm, smiling despite himself.

“No- well, maybe- but I meant about us.”

“Right, right.”

Patton sat up straighter (haha), leaning back against the headboard and bringing Remus up with him. He tipped his head to one side in thought, then to the other (which was mirrored, adorably, by the Duke).

“We can make it simple if we just, y’know, cut out the middleman,” Patton took Remus’ hand again, tangling their fingers together. “So, I don’t have to be your friend, or your boyfriend… What if I’m just yours?”

Remus always had a very intense stare to him, but Patton had never felt quite as pinned to the spot by those laser-sharp reds than he did in that moment.

“Oh,” purred Remus, “Ooh, I like that.”

Patton smiled sheepishly at him, running his thumb along the Duke’s knuckles. “So- yes?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Remus leaned over him, fixing his free arm around Patton’s neck possessively. “You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. Sounds like a plan to me.”

Patton laughed, almost overfull with giddiness at just how eager Remus managed to sound about that. It- it felt good, to be something that someone got so excited over. To be wanted.

To want, too, wasn’t as foreign a concept to Patton. But he was wanting now, and it was worlds different than before. Because he was actually getting the source of that yearning, this time, and of course that only made the feelings stronger, and-

Thinking about it made him tired. Deliriously happy, of course, but absolutely exhausted. For once, he was almost completely devoid of the urge to psychoanalyze himself; he was happy, in love, and loved. Patton could count on one hand the number of times he’d had all three of those things in his life at once, and he didn’t want to waste this one.

He tugged Remus into his lap. Remus was incapable of sitting still at all, but he hardly minded. Remus squirmed around, drummed his fingers against Patton’s back, buried his face in Patton’s shoulder (and, completely shamelessly, smelled him). It was so him, to not be settled at all even in such a contented moment. Endearing in every way.

And he started chattering, at some point, because of course he did. At first he was talking about them, but that topic didn’t stick around for long before he was jumping around all over the place with his words.

Remus ranted for two reasons: one, he was frustrated, needy for attention. Two, he was too excited not to talk, and there was so much going on that he couldn’t shut up for a second to even breathe. Patton was intimately familiar with telling the difference between the two, and, sorting that occasion into the later category, he wrapped Remus up in his arms and waited patiently for the trait to tire himself out. He didn’t mind that either.

Eventually, though, Remus did.

Eventually, it wasn’t night so much as it was morning, and Patton was tired and warm and half-asleep already, and Remus was laying contentedly on his chest while the rambling steadily became faint mumbling.

Eventually, they were sleeping, just like any other night together.

And the last thing Patton had in mind, as he flitted in and out of awakeness, was the dim realization that he’d forgotten how it felt to be cold.

the end <3

Taglist: @donnieluvsthings @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @intruxiety @thefivecalls @gayformlessblob @did-he-just-hiss-at-me

#sanders sides #ts #intruality #fanfiction #fanfic #qpr intruality #patton sanders #remus sanders #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing

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