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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Stardew Impact [Stardew Valley+Genshin Impact x Reader]

Part 2/3 Zhongli, Xiao

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE ROUND TWO)

Genre: Fluff

Others

Diluc and Kaeya

Albedo and Childe

(A/n): This was meant to be part 3 but I couldn't wait to write xiao. Plus Ive been writing Albedo for almost the whole month already Word count_2.6k

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Xiao

• Thrown in an unfamiliar environment puts Xiao on high alert. Instincts kick in and his hand subconciously grabs for his spear. Nothing. Not even his vision activated. Xiao's gaze darts all over before landing on your figure. He sighs in relief, you're safe, that much he can decipher as of now.

• Stripped of his power, left with only claws and teeth (if must) to protect you from any dangers, he was ansty with every little thing.

• The villagers are so nice??? For what reason must they have to act so friendly to strangers (Xiao wonders). The Mayor even granted you two a vast farmland free of charge.

• Shortly he realized he no longer had his karmaic debt. Xiao wasn't sure how to live his life in this state. He dedicated his entire existence to years of slaughter and suffering that it became the only thing he knew. He won't admit it of course, he'll just throw in scoffs and remarks about how mundane activities are a waste of time when in reality, he just has no clue on how to handle them.

• Thats why the first day was difficult as you both try to figure out how to plant parnsips. Deciding it was better to go with an experiment, you split the share of seeds in half and used what basic knowledge you had on farming to finish the job. Xiao on the other hand tried copying what you did….though the outcome wasn't so desirable it was a mess. (His trained hands have taught him to be on the rough side).

• He doesn't bother socializing with the townspeople even though he has no karmaic debt to worry about. Xiao thinks you're more than enough anyways so what's the point?

• Robin is the only person who can tolerate him for obvious reasons (cough Sebastian cough) she knows exactly how to deal with his personality type. His glares don't faze her, she simply thinks its just a teenage phase of some sort.

• Eventually they become mutuals, Xiao thinks Robin is similar to Verr Goldet in a way. Since he's the one who does the heavy labour of chopping down trees and mining stones for building upgrades, he gets a chance to visit her house quite often. He comes back with lots of recipes too.

• You find out that his adepti blood never left him. Xiao doesn't need sleep so you better believe it when he tells you the next morning that he spent the whole night watering all 300 of your crops (watering is the only process he's good at for farming).

• Sometimes you catch him staring out of the window, wondering what he may be thinking. Life was so much more different, almost hard to recognize. Was this real? Is it okay for it to be real, just this once? Ever since he committed his duty to Morax, Xiao didn't dream of a time when everything would be peaceful. Yet here he is, no longer a weapon but on a journey to find out what it's like to live as a normal person.

• Spring: Every morning you find him kneeling behind the cabin with the pet cat (yes, cats seem to suit Xiao very much). He just stares at them, hesitant if he wanted to pet their fur or rub their chin. So he continues to glare intensely, scaring your cat away :(

• Whenever you wanted to attend any of the town's festivities, Xiao wouldn't even hide his distastefulness but goes with you regardless. Why do mortals consider hiding eggs and finding them a fun activity? And what kind of a name is Flower Dance? Can't they just call it a dance?

• Though…he does like the sight of you wearing a flower crown. Xiao likes putting stuff in your hair.

Since setting foot upon this new world, time seemed to have slowed down to the point that almost everything felt like an eternity. And you didn't mind, with him by your side, you wouldn't mind if it did last forever.

The lull of the grass was the only sound Xiao could hear as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your lap. You maneuvered across his scalp in small, subtle motions, surprised with how warm he felt against the heat your palm. He stirs a little and lets out a soft breath before turning his face to lay on the side.

You were slightly intrigued by the yaksha's new demeanor. From far away, Xiao was an intimidating man, even during the first time you laid eyes him, his presence felt similar to a knife pointing at anyone who dares to come too close. But now, the face that usually held his signature annoyance melted into something you never thought you'd see as the sun rays brushed against the surface of his fair skin. You observed the way his dark eyebrows stayed in a relaxed arch. The red crescents lining right above his beautiful long lashes and the sound of soft snores through parted lips. It was hard to believe that this man was the same person who claimed to have ended a thousand lives through thousands of years.

Did he fall asleep already?

Gently moving away the strands away from his cheekbone, hovered your gaze above him and whispered, "I thought adepti don't need rest."

"Hmph," Xiao responds, though there was no harshness in his tone, "Quit trying to be difficult, I didn't tell you to stop."

The smug grin on your face only widens. You lean downward and said to his ear, "And what's the magic word~?"

Xiao sighs at your antics. You were truly pushing your luck today and he simply didn't have the patience to entertain you. Without a warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down, foreheads pressing until you were but a breath away. The adepti conquers, he does not plead.

• Summer: As expected, your parnsnips weren't able to grow as much. Thus, this season was going to be the one to make up for the lost profit. Xiao is very good at hunting, perhaps the best in the entire town. Though the way he catches fish is rather peculiar, said by the folks. He prefers to carve a spear made of wood and repeatedly stabs the lake until results show. Xiao dislikes the old fashioned way, he says its unproductive and it unecissarily takes too much time.

• But as much as he scared the whole town, they were extremely grateful when he cleaned up the slime issues happening in the mines. You could say that he grew very popular since then and eventually mustered up the courage to greet him a hello whenever he passes by.

• You nudge him to reply back. Xiao usually shoots you a glare but slowly, he learns the courtesy of acknowledging someone's prescence.

• Fall: You woke up to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. Xiao just thought he would return the favour since you always worked so hard. (He was actually trying to figure out what a 'whisk' was. It was no wonder why there were eggshells in the dish!)

• You realized that Xiao was taking more initation compared to before. At night, when you thought the animals were actively jumping in the barns, the noise was actually from Xiao trying to adjust himself to the ways of tending the field. After learning what TV was, he would always switch to the channel "Livin off the land" to gain some insight. Truly, Xiao was greatful even though he knew he eventually had to return to his duties, he wanted to utilize the current days the best way he could. And what better way was it to just make you happy in return?

• Winter: This was the season to test the accumulation of Xiao's abilities: you caught a cold and he had to manage everything in his own. Xiao scolded you for not wearing enough and being too careless but at the same he considered that you must've been working too hard.

• Goes to Robin for help. She basically became his mom now. Prepares the food and leaves them in the fridge, she teaches Xiao how to use the phone in case he needed any help and also lets him know where all the essentials are.

• Xiao stayed by your side the whole time even though you told him you'd be fine. But he refuses, he may no longer be a gaurdian but he was your gaurdian. That role never changed.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• You wake up on a soft bed with Zhongli sitting at a chair nearby. He hands you a cup of brewed water but you're still blatlantly confused. Seems like everything was taken care of by Zhongli, it ends up with him explaining everything to you.

• The folks instantly assumes you both as a married couple. Who could blame them? He did carry your unconcious body all the way to town while asking for a local doctor. You can bet that the ladies wish they were you at that moment. Zhongli took care of everything, including with the contract with the new farm.

• It didn't take long for you both to adjust to the new lifestyle. Zhongli's accumulated knowledge was enough to last all four seasons. Days past by peacefully as you shared the tasks. He'd place down the stone paths towards the gate and you busied yourself with decorating the house. After that was done, Zhongli would rest upon the rocking chair outside your door (like the grandpa he is) and sometimes you'd join him in one reading session. His voice was soothing, you eventually dipped into a slumber as the evening grew colder. Just like always, your beloved brings his arm to encapsulate you from the wind, brushing his thumb against your skin subconciously while you snore softly into his shoulder.

• In a way, the townsfolk were right. You both do act like a married couple. It's basically domestic life with Zhongli in a nutshell.

• He gets connected with Gunther and lands a role in the Museum. Since he's there so often, Zhongli also manages to be acquainted with Elliot as well. Two men who have a common interest with books while speaking in poetic prose. Their conversation would last for hours to the point Gunther had to kick them out of the library!

• Veeeery good with the children, not in an entertaining way but its just the aura he reeks. Penny usually had trouble dealing with Vincent since he never seems to be able to focus but the minute Zhongli speaks, he's all ears. Not only that he was also very good with the elderly. He even recommended some herbs George could take to soothe his back issues.

• Problem is that he still forgets to bring his wallet and Childe isn't here to save him. So once you stepped foot into the Stardrop Saloon and Gus calls you over, he tells you about the cost he owed to his tab….

• But this tranquil life full of genuinity and deprived of sovereignty, he was overjoyed to be able to spend it with you. Because he knew you were unlike him, that all humans were born with an expiry date. He knew so well that after every new greeting, he would have to face the goodbyes over and over until the world eventually came to an end. He knew you were also going to be part of those many goodbyes while he would still be here.

• But as Zhongli walks amongst the fallen leaves, he remembered the beauty that carries within every new beginning. They brought him to you and he would never hesitate to trade his gnosis for it.

Spring: You shot up your bed when Zhongli blast the TV at full volume. He apologizes, saying that he was simply trying to change the channel. You figured it was best for him to go outside before he somehow glitches the screen until it couldn't repair itself (Robin charges for repairs).

• Every thursday you both go to Pierre's store to complete your grocery shopping. He offers to push the cart as you fill the basket with all the necessities (plus it saves you the trouble of having him tossing whatever he sees without looking at the price tag).

• Every afternoon you order a take out from the Saloon, sharing the meal while sitting at the fountain's edge near the community center. Every evening Zhongli would take you to explore the rest of the vast farmland, discovering places you weren't even aware of. It was no wonder why everyone thought you were a married couple.

• Summer: Since the cabin was too small for a bathroom, you guys would have to travel up the mountains in order to get to the Spa house (cue sweatiness x10).

• The concept of hotsprings was derived from Inazuma so it was no surprise that Liyue eventually took it after him. Zhongli had collected some incense from foraging items over the past few months, he knows whats up. But overall he gives the best bath sessions (hands down) and you were the one who insisted in joining him. He was a gentle and sweet lover, always putting your needs before his. Ancient artifacts and old history books have always been precious to him, he treated you no differently.

The heartbeat of the oceans continues to rock back and forth until they brush up on the sandy shore, washing away the two pairs of footprints left behind by a man and a woman.

Gold against gold, his amber eyes reflected against the scenery. Millions of lights flashed among the sea when the sun began to climb down from the sky, it's rays hugged across the valley like an ethereal glow bestowed by the heavens as summer's wind brought even more warmth than what he had currently felt. You trance ahead of with the same light shaping around your form.

"Oh hey there's another rainbow shell," you waved at him before running off, "I'll be back!"

How is it that you still continue to shine like gold in his memories?

Zhongli suddenly ponders at the chapters laying ahead of him. He spent so many years turning each page without ever reaching a conclusion, forever searching the fabled happy endings written in fairytale books, but he knew his immortality wouldn't grant him that wish.

Thus, the formal archon raised his pen and reweaves his own story. He envisions his future with you by his side, engraving every detail until it was immortalized in his memories.

Perhaps I shouldn't keep her waiting.

With a renewed resolve, Zhongli clutches the gemstone tightly in his palm, he seals the page with the final contract between your future and his.

• Fall: After getting your first house upgrade, it was time for the next event: the ceremony. Yes, Zhongli would only have a wedding if Liyue traditions were involved. Everyone was invited of course, they were quite intrigued with the flashy setup such as lanterns and fireworks (you were a little worried with where he got the budget for such items) and Zhongli even educated Gus about some recipes he can use for the Saloon.

• You found out that Zhongli was saving all his money for this day (it was no wonder that he couldn't pay for his tab!). Old habits die hard, it was a shame that he didn't have his powers to craft the right items, but at least he got to sea you in a traditional eastern dress (it's the part he was looming forward to the most).

• Fall is the best season. One you wouldn't forget.

• Winter: Ah he finally learns how to use technology after three seasons. He only knows two channels from the TV which was 'Livin off the Land' and the weather channel. Zhongli oftens talks to himself as he tries to figure out more mechanics, he seems to be extremely absorbed in the most basic things.

• The miner of the house. But instead of using them to upgrade tools and donating them to the museum, Zhongli likes to keep some of them for collection. You could say your house also had a little museum in the other room.

• Romcom movies and soap operas. You can't change my mind that this is what you both spend your time watching as the snowstorm rages outside.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact zhongli #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #nya-writes

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wastelandcth · 3 years

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Better Love - cth

part three: the longing

summary: Calum and Maeve get to know one another, in more ways than one.

author’s notes: I’m nervous about this one. Enjoy!

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of food, oh and smut.

masterlist || request || join my taglist!

part one || part two

I confessed the longing I was dreaming of Some better love, but there's no better love Beckons above me and there's no better love That ever has loved me, there's no better love

In her dreams, Maeve always saw a future that made her warm. She saw hills of green and trees that swayed with the wind. She'd always go there, sometimes it'd be a few weeks before she'd show back up in her dreamland, but it was always the same place, a house surrounded in green and blue. She'd felt someone's presence, never enough to see them or recognize who they were, but she knew she wasn't alone in her dreams. She felt safe there with the strange presence, felt the warmth of them and the love they had for her. When she was young, she had thought it was her parents, but as time went on and Maeve's dreams stayed the same, she knew it was someone she was yet to meet.

Even now, as she slept, she felt that same warmth enveloping her.

Maeve’s eyes snapped open as she heard a snore behind her. The light from outside had blinded her for a second and she’d let out a groan. Usually, in her dreams, the warmth would leave her as her brain woke her up and her eyes slowly opened. This time, however, the warmth was still there. She felt it in her stomach and all down her spine, the familiar presence of it making her think for a second she was still in her dreams and that she’d wake up any minute to feel it leave her. As the bedroom came into focus, the large window next to her letting in soft daylight, that warmth remained and it wasn’t until she felt an arm around her pulling her closer that she remembered the events of the night her trip changed forever.

“The bridge collapsed?” Calum asked confused and walked over to stand next to her, his bra ahh hitching as he looked out at the stone bridge, “Holy shit.”

“What’re we going to do?” Maeve asked shakily, her eyes staring out in awe, “That’s the only way back. W-we’re stranded here with no power and no way to contact anyone about what’s happened!”

“Maeve, deep breathes,” Calum said as he reached out and slowly placed his hands on the sides of her arms, “Hey, look at me, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

With a deep breath, Maeve relished in the warms of Calum’s touch, leaning into it as she tried to calm her racing mind. He was right, it would be okay, the power would eventually come on once the storm passed, and then they would be able to call someone for help. All they had to do was wait for the storm to pass and then they’d get help.

All Maeve had to do was survive a night with an incredibly handsome art history professor, a looming interview that could change her life, and a storm that seemed to have destruction on its mind. Calum's hands were still on her arms, squeezing them gently as he tried to ground her back into the moment at hand. If it had been any other situation, one in which Calum was more than a stranger and Maeve wasn't stuck in a cabin with him, she would have been flustered. But the view of the bridge outside of the window, looming in the distance as if mocking how her brain felt, kept her unannounced attraction towards the stranger attempting to calm her at bay.

“Okay, I…it’s going to be okay,” she breathed out after taking a couple more deep breathes, “I guess we just unofficially became roommates.”

The next two days had been spent in one another's company. Once the storm had settled and the drizzle had lulled the forest into a peaceful sleep, Calum and Maeve had spent most of the night huddled up in the living room, finding out more and more about one another. They talked about a lot that first night, both of them wanting to be absolutely positive that the other was not a serial killer with extreme patience. But there seemed to be something they were both hiding, a small snippet of the truth that both were too scared to share. It wasn't until the inevitable concept of having to sleep crept closer and closer that they both glanced back at the only bed around for miles.

"I'll take the couch," Calum nodded, "You were here first so it's only fair."

"But you'll be cold," Maeve mumbled, "The fireplace will only give you so much heat before it dies out in the middle of the night and you wake up frozen."

"Another good reason why you should take the bedroom then," Calum chuckled and shook his head, "I don't mind, really."

"We could just share." Maeve said, surprising herself with the forwardness of her voice, "Body heat and all, you know?"

"Are you sure?" Calum asked, his eyebrow raising as he watched the flush on Maeve's cheeks grow.

"Positive, now come on, I'm exhausted."

They'd each picked their side of the bed, opting to stay as far away from the middle of the mattress as they both could. The sound of a drizzle hitting the roof and windows around them made the quietness of the bedroom a little calmer, both of them too aware of the other in bed to really drift off. But eventually, the drizzle lulled them both, into a warm and quiet sleep. A sleep where Maeve felt the warmth from her dreams and Calum felt the ache of his hike.

The following morning, when both of them woke up in each other’s arms was…awkward to say the least. Calum had woken up first, his arm numb and his brain having trouble catching up to where he was and why he had another body on top of him. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the large window next to the bed, shining a soft light over the entire room. The morning air was still chilly, leaving an ache in Calum’s joints and instinctively making him pull Maeve closer to him. It wasn’t until he heard Maeve stir that he realized exactly what they’d done. As the storm passed, the rain leaving the ground soft and muddy, Maeve and Calum and drifted closer and closer. Acting as the full moon and ocean tide, they ended up in one another’s warmth, starring far apart and gravitating towards each other.

That morning, they’d both spent time apart, walking around the small property where the bridge had left them isolated from everyone else. Calum had spent most of that day outside, his journal tucked safely in the pocket of his rain jacket, walking through the woods and hoping that the next couple of days before their host, whatever her name was, could find a way for them to get back. The first few days were spent like that, both of them stealing glances at the other while trying to distract themselves from the view of the broken bridge, the view of their separation, and the fact that they were both stuck with one another. Mornings were usually spent in silence, both too afraid to move from one another’s arms, trying not to wake the other up. They were spent looking out the window, watching the trees sway and the colored leaves flicker off the branches and onto the river below. Maeve, who had become used to the warmth of Calum’s body next to hers every morning, had spent mornings pretending to be asleep in the hope that Calum wouldn’t pull away from her and leave her cold. Calum, who knew Maeve had woken up minutes before, spent his mornings hoping that she wouldn’t move out of his arms, his face finding comfort in the crook of her neck. Mornings were quiet and hesitant, soft touches that both of them thought about during the rest of the day, hoping to wake up in one another’s arms once again. The nights were a different story. As the sun lowered into the sky, leaving streaks of gold, pink, orange, and red; Calum and Maeve found themselves huddled together. Sometimes Maeve would read out loud, her book telling the history of the clans that used to call the Highlands their home, and sometimes Calum would put on one of the old records that had been left behind in the cabin. Those were Maeve’s favorite nights, Calum’s too, when the music echoed from the walls and the both of them laid under the shared fur blanket, watching the darkness of the sky from their favorite window. It was when the sun went down and the cold settled in that Maeve and Calum got to really know one another.

One night, when dinner had been quiet, both too lost in their own heads to really say much. Their conversation changed, from the usual small talk that had been shared during the day, to something more. The world was teasing them both, the candle-lit dinner they shared one of the first either of them had ever had a candle-lit dinner. Calum liked to think he was a romantic at heart, but he couldn't recall a time where he and his fiancé, well ex-fiancé, would've ever had a dinner like this. Maeve hadn't ever had a date with James like this, not that this was considered a date, but theirs had always ended up with cheap takeout and a studying session. This felt different, it felt calm and the quiet surrounding them never turned awkward or tense. It was comforting.

"So, what's your story?" Calum asked softly, "I mean, I know you said you have an interview with the university but...well, what're you running from?"

Maeve tensed at the question, her eyebrows furrowing as she studied the man in front of her and wondered if he truly could read her like that. Had she been that obvious about wanting to escape her crowded city life? Had everyone she'd encountered known she belonged in the countryside where she was born, never to be able to thrive in a bustling city? Or did Calum, who seemed very much like herself, run away to Scotland too.

"I...I guess I just needed to find myself and I thought that Scotland would be that place for me?" Maeve shrugged, her eyes looking down at the glass of whiskey in front of her, "My parents met in Edinburgh, they road tripped around the entire country together, and fell in love here."

She looked back up at Calum, who watched her intently, his eyes focused on her eyes, watching as Maeve tried to look everywhere but his. With a sigh, and another sip of the bitter whiskey that made her blood warm, Maeve continued on with the story. How her small town had been a bore to her but the second she had left she'd missed it like hell. That no matter how much fun she'd found in the big cities she'd traveled to, nothing made her feel like home. How this was supposed to be a way to get rid of the aching feeling in her chest and that maybe she would find something here in Scotland that the rest of the world hadn't shown her yet. She didn't miss the way Calum's shoulders tensed as she explained the situation with James and how she'd never truly felt love for him.

"And what about you? Why did the university professor run away?" Maeve asked quietly, her eyes finally meeting his across the table.

Maeve listened to Calum, listened as he spilled his heart out over a plate of potatoes and roasted veggies. She listened as his hands fidgeted with the loose string on his sweater and bit her lip as she realized just how alike they were. Soon enough, the rainstorm had slowed into a drizzle and the kitchen was cleaned up. It wasn't too long after that Maeve found herself plopping down on the couch next to Calum, pulling the warm fur blanket over both of their laps as the chill of the autumn night settled in around the house. The unwanted guest had forced both Maeve and Calum into warmer clothes, socks and hoodies peeking out over the edges of the blanket as they watched the flicker of the candlelight bounce on the walls.

"I tried, you know? To make myself love her and to make her love me," Calum sighed and shrugged as he took another sip of the whiskey, "I thought that if I proposed to her, our hearts would figure it out and everything would be fixed."

"And did it?" Maeve asked, her soft eyes finding him in the candlelight, "Did she fall in love with you?"

"Deep down, I knew it would never work." he sighed and frowned as he looked down at his fingers that had been playing with a loose thread on the blanket covering them both, "I'm surprised she hadn't left earlier."

"She's a fool," she mumbled, her knee nudging against Calum's causing both of them to lean into the warmth of it, "You're a great guy."

"You've only known me for three days, you can't possibly know that about me," Calum laughed and shook his head, his eyes gazing out the large window, watching the waves in the river splash against the bedrock.

"And from that, I already know that you're a great guy," she chuckled and shrugged, "You made me breakfast even after I made you get more wood late last night. Which by the way, is totally happening again."

"Yeah? You’re coming with me this time, okay?" Calum teased, knowing that there was no way she'd be stepping out after dark to walk to the shed where all the firewood had been stored.

"In your dreams, Hood."

That night, when the candles had been blown out and the fireplace in the bedroom crackled to keep them both warm, Calum had still been awake when Maeve had scooted back against him. Calum had been up for a while, his brain too awake to even think about sleeping, Maeve’s soft breaths keeping him grounded in the bed. He knew it was a mistake, to even consider that his heart raced a little faster when she was near him, but the past couple of days had taught him a lot. He’d never really believed in coincidences, but his mother had always told him that life had a funny way of showing him what he needed, even if it wasn’t what he’d expected. Maeve was like no one Calum had ever met before. She was so intelligent and well-spoken, she somehow always had something to say in response to Calum. She never seemed to get bored of all the reading or even of the random facts Calum would spew out whenever he remembered something. She was new and refreshing, like the air he’d breathe in every morning after he’d made it out of the cottage.

But Calum was being foolish again, he couldn’t feel anything for the stranger, that’s all she was really, a stranger who’d been booked in the same room as him and now he was stuck with her until someone noticed they’d missed their checkout date. He was stuck feeling his palms sweat whenever she talked with him in that soft voice, the one that gave him goosebumps he was thankful were hidden under his sweaters. He couldn’t have feelings for her because in a few days she’d be in Edinburgh having a life-changing interview and Calum would be on a flight back home, hoping that when his flight landed, he’d stopped regretting walking into the empty house he’d left weeks ago. He’d been so stuck in his brain, trying to stop his feelings for the stranger next to him, that he hadn’t noticed her breath hitting his neck. The soft snores leaving Maeve had made Calum’s thumb on her hip stop it’s up and down stroking, one he hadn’t even noticed he’d been doing, and made him look down at her.

In the darkness of the room, where the only source of light came from the embers of the fireplace gave him only so much to work with, Maeve looked ethereal. Calum’s chest stopped rising, his eyes wide as he watched the small twitches in her nose and eyes as Maeve dreamt. The curls she’d usually push away when she was asleep were falling down onto her eyes, Calum’s hand coming up to push them behind her ear. Maeve’s eyes fluttered open at the touch, leaving Calum frozen in place with his finger on the warmth of her cheek.

“Hey,” she whispered, her sleep-induced haze making her lean into the touch, “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Calum breathed out, his lungs finally receiving a new life as the oxygen once again rushed into them, “Go back to sleep, I’ve got you.”

Maeve, whose brain was slowly waking up, blushed at his words. Her eyes moved up to meet his in the darkness, the deep brown of his nearly replaced by his pupils which had dilated. In a moment of courage, where Maeve pushed away any of the warnings telling her to not move her head to the side, she cupped the hand that was on her cheek in hers and pressed a kiss onto the palm of it. Her eyes closed again as she felt the hitch in Calum’s breath, feeling him tense for just a second before he practically melted into her touch. They both laid there, staring at one another in the darkness they’d both used for lingering and greedy touches, their breathing matching as they leaned in closer and closer. The wind had picked up outside, whistling against the window panes, as if even nature outside knew the tension between the two bodies that were in the safety of the loneliness of the forest.

There was a beat of silence, a beat where Calum and Maeve took each other in one last time before their lips connected. In the dark, they found one another, pulling each other closer and closer until Calum could feel the soft noises leaving both him and Maeve against his chest. Her lips were soft, leaving Calum chasing after them for more after she pulled away to catch her breath. He hadn’t waited too long, the electric feeling of her against him back after less than a second. Outside, the window had continued to howl, the forest seemingly cheering for the two as the darkness outside shielded them from the world. The river still flowed beside the house, the water crashing against the large rocks like their lips had moments before. They moved in a flow, much like a river, clothes thrown off and kisses crashing onto unseen skin.

Calum’s hands were hesitant, almost as if he was afraid to touch Maeve, but the soft sigh that left her when his hand finally squeezed the thigh she’d rested over his hip was all he needed to keep going. His body pushed up against hers, his other arm coming up to push her down onto her back, the soft mattress pulling Maeve in like a hug. From where he was, kneeled at her side, Maeve’s breathless and flushed look made Calum want to wake up from such a cruel dream, his jaw going slack as Maeve’s knees dropped onto the bed and Calum slotted himself between her. Calum’s forehead rested against hers, their noses brushing up against one another in a silent plea for whatever it was they had started to be more, his breathing heavy as he felt her knees tighten around his waist and pull him closer. The friction between them had elicited soft groans from them, their lips once again finding each other in the dark as they found a rhythm, one so delicious Calum was sure he was seeing stars behind his closed eyelids.

“Please,” Maeve breathed out, her hands running up and down his chest until she grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it up his body, throwing it somewhere into the darkness, “Calum.”

Time slowed in those seconds where all they could focus on was the way their bodies moved together. Maeve was lost in Calum’s kisses, her hand sliding down between them and past the soft hair trailing down onto the boxers he’d been wearing. Calum’s mind was too far gone, his body tensing as he felt Maeve wrap her fingers around him, his hips jerking into the touch as his lips left a trail of kisses down her jaw and neck. Calum’s mind was running with all the things he would do to her, the fear of Maeve somehow knowing all that Calum was imagining overtaking his brain before he felt another wave of pleasure course through him as he felt the flick of Maeve’s wrist on him. Their bodies moved as one, moving through the darkness and racing for that crash that would leave them both seeing nothing but a blinding white behind their eyelids. That crash came eventually, their breathlessness hidden by the howling wind outside. Their bodies fell back onto the mattress as the stones from the very bridge that had forced them together had fallen days before. Through the pants and the mind-numbing pleasure, Maeve and Calum found their way back to one another, soft kisses shared in between whispers which wouldn’t have been distinguished between the sound of the rain falling outside. The droplets hitting the windows as Calum looked down at Maeve, who had been pressing soft kisses onto his chest, tracing over the ink splayed across it. She looked up at him, almost as if to ask what the ink said, the darkness hiding the design of it.

“In the morning,” Calum whispered, kissing her forehead as he felt the softness of her sink into his touch.

Both of them listened to the rain outside, wondering if the morning would bring more touches as the midnight had, or if they’d wake up in silence hoping that the other would speak up first. But Calum would explain the ink on his chest in the morning, would tell Maeve the story behind the words tattooed onto his body for the rest of his life. And Maeve would listen as she stroked the tan skin she’d run her fingernails down only hours before, leaving crescent shapes indented into his skin as a reminder that the pleasure and the ache in between her legs hadn’t been a dream. But that would come in the morning, for now, all they could do was doze off as the rain sang for them once more.

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lowkeyflop @matchacal @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @myloverboyash @2fangirl4u @multistann

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dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 18

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 18: Spiders, Demons, and People, Oh My!

“Just one more hour-”

“No, I’m putting my foot down you workaholic, you are shutting down and enjoying this festival with the rest of us,” Tang firmly said with arms crossed.

“But-”

“No.”

“It just-”

“Nope.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Love you too, but no.”

“Just give it up Pigsy, you know he’s not gonna budge,” Macaque called out as Wukong, in his human disguise snickered beside him.

“Shut it,” he barked back.

Tang decided to pull out the big guns as he clasped his hands together and said with wide eyes “If you don’t get your ass out of there and enjoy the festival, I will make sure you sleep on the couch for a week.”

“…fine!” He threw up his hands as everyone else cheered.

“Took you guys long enough,” Mei snorted.

“Just remember kids, threatening the couch is always a good way to get your partner in control,” the historian said with a wink.

“Don’t tell them that!” The pig demon shouted out.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have opened on a holiday!”

“I can’t help it!”

“I know you can’t sweetheart, but this is why I’m here to remind you,” he said as he gave a kiss to his partner when he closed down.

“Awww, aren’t you both sweet,” Wukong teased.

“Can it!” Pigsy embarrassedly yelled.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he grinned to Wukong. No one besides those that already met him, knew that the monkey in disguise was the Monkey King and not just some dude called Wukong. Cause if they did, then the whole world would have shortly known by Tang fanboy screeches.

“Now that Pigsy has finally given in,” MK grinned as he ducked a rolling pin to the head, “we can finally meet up with everyone else!” He cheered as his bright purple sash, which was tied securely around his bright red changshan pants, flew behind him as Mei, who wore something similar to MK, but with a green dragon art wrapped around her shirt, charged after him.

“Man they sure are excited,” Sandy chuckled as Tang and Pigsy also followed the two children.

“Is he always like that,” Wukong asked as both monkeys slowly trailed behind them, easily knowing where the group was at all times.

“In a nutshell, this isn’t even his first time trying to work on Lunar New Year,” the other simian commented.

“I can scarcely believe it,” he muttered under his breath, not that it stopped the black monkey from hearing, as he forced himself out of his memories. “Also, have I mentioned that I’m loving the hairdo.” He smirked as he grabbed one of the two long strands from the monkey twin buns he was sporting.

“Blame Emerald, she wanted the both of us to match for some reason,” he rolled his eyes as he adjusted his bright red qipao adorned with flowers.

“I certainly will,” he teased. He was in a changshan as well, but in bright yellow that had clouds littered all around the front and he too had a sash tied around his waist, but in red. “Thanks for letting me borrow your sash by the way.”

“You would think that in your multitudes of outfits, you would have a red sash somewhere tucked in there. It’s even your favorite color,” he fondly huffed.

“I’m just as surprised as you are, I could have sworn I had one,” he lied with a smile on his face. Of course, he has red sashes, that’s his signature look, but he’s not gonna say that he wanted a piece of his friend’s clothing outright.

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes. “Well, we better catch up to them before they blow up the fireworks again.”

“Fireworks? You mean the one used during the parade?”

“Nope, I mean the ones they accidentally cause sometimes when they’re bored together,” he deadpanned as Wukong started to burst out laughing. “Not funny dumbass, there’s a reason there are now fire extinguishers at every other street lamp this time around.” He began to pick up the pace as he jumped onto a rooftop.

“Now I really have to know the full story!” He quaffed as he followed right behind.

“Not from me you're not, I swear I still have myokymia every time I think about it.”

“Man, I had almost forgotten just how good food stalls are,” Wukong said with his face stuffed with buns.

“Rethinking the shut in life,” Mac joked as he bounced the youngest of Yanyu siblings, Yuzu, in his arms.

“Oh yeah,” he eagerly nodded.

“We’ll just sit here and stuff your face, I need to hand Yu Yu back to one of her siblings,” he said as he went over to the group.

And that is precisely what he did as he continued his eating as he gazed upon the crowd of people and demons all enjoying the festival. He could see children running all around as they waved their puppet zodiac animals in the air, some couples were holding close to each other as they ventured from stall to stall, he could even see some mother, father, or guardian holding their child on their shoulders to get a better look.

“I should have come out here sooner,” he mused as he fiddled with the skewer stick in his mouth. “Really is nice out.”

“It really is, especially when the fireworks start,” he stopped when Mei finally announced her presence and sat next to him. He knew she was there and watching him, but he decided it was best if she made the first move.

“Well, how do you do on this fine night, little Miss. Stalker,” though that doesn’t mean he won’t still tease the hell out of her. He may be wary of her, but she is still vastly a child compared to him.

“Could be better, but since you're here I’ll guess I’ll settle,” she shot back and sat next to him.

“Ha, I could almost laugh, moon cake?” He held out a tray filled with mooncakes to the girl, who nodded in thanks as she took one. “They’re not as good as Moonshine, but they are pretty good.”

“The only cooks that can ever rival Pops is the chef that cooked for me when I was young and Pigsy.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged as he finished off the tray. “So what brings you around here.”

“Other than the festival?”

“Oh, that was a given, I mean here, with me as of this moment in time. I thought you still didn’t like me.”

“Still don’t,” she automatically said, “buttttt not as much as before.”

This made Wukong pause in his snacking as he looked towards Mei, “Oh? What changed? Was it witnessing my badassery? Beholding my awesomeness in all its glory? Or was it-”

“None of the above,” she promptly stopped him before he could get any more cringier, “You make Pops happy.”

“Oh,” he has to say that he was both not surprised, but still taken aback by her comment. “That's it?”

“Well, and you have stuck by his side when that creepy ass fucker showed up, so bonus points for that.”

“You should have seen Dad's face when you went absolute ham on his ass,” MK interjected as he latched onto Mei's back. “When he wasn’t all disgusted with the creep from hell, he was grinning the entire time. Especially when you landed those blows on him.”

“He was,” he couldn't help but perk up.

“Ugh, you both have it so bad for each other,” Mei said as MK nodded.

“What?!” He nervously said as he shot a look towards Macaque, who was talking to both Sandy and Yanyu, “I don’t have a-”

“You always try to go near him and cuddle a lot of time, all the affectionate nicknames, the goo goo eyes, jealousy towards Shun and your quick deflection of any mention of Dad boyfriend, stealing Dad clothing even though you had some of your own, I can go all day,” MK smirked as he listed off all the obvious ways the Sage monkey had a crush on the Doctor monkey.

“Don’t lie to us, it's so obvious,” Mei shared the same look.

It looked for a second that Wukong was going to rebuttal, but he sighed in defeat. “Is it really that obvious?”

“To everyone but Dad,” he chuckled and patted the monkey on the back.

“Greeatttt,” he groaned and put his face in his hands. “That’s just peachy.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t get too much grief over it, well at least not from us. I don’t know about the rest,” she shrugged.

“Really?” He peeks through the cracks of his hands.

“The two of us have been keeping an eye on you,” she gestured to both her and MK.

“MK, you too,” the Monkey King held a mock wounded look.

“Sorry, but I have to look out for dear ol Dad,” he scratched the back of his neck. “And to be fair, a part of me really didn’t want him to date anyone anytime soon after Shun and I didn’t know how the both of you would be like after the whole fight and everything.”

“Oh,” was all he could utter.

“But I can say that I don’t think I have ever seen Dad so happy than when he’s around you.”

“Now that’s a lie,” Wukong interjected, “You should see the way he lights up when he’s with you guys, his tail always swishes behind him when you're with him.”

“Ladies ladies, we’re all pretty,” Mei butted in before the two boys could go on to fight over the stupidest thing. “But at the end of the day, you make Pops happy so maybe you're not so bad and I guess you wouldn't be so bad as a partner.”

“It would definitely be weird,” MK couldn’t stop the images from intruding in his head.

“Thanks,” he couldn’t stop himself fondly rolling his eyes, but he paused when the implications hit him, “Wait? Did I just get your approval to court Macaque?”

“Court, who even says court these days?” The dragon successor says to herself.

“Red,” said the monkey's successor, “But yeah, you did. Though when it does happen, I’ll just let future me worry about that.”

“Thanks for the boost of confidence and approval, but those aren’t really necessary, I doubt Mac sees me as nothing more than a friend,” he gave a sad smile.

Both teenagers exchanged a look at the sheer stupidity of the monkey before MK sighed and stepped forward. “Well, I never thought I would be ever giving love advice to the Legendary Monkey King when mine is none existent.”

“Your Portay clone on the other hand is a huge flirt,” Mei called out.

“I still don’t know how that works!” He yelled back, he still can’t believe that his own clone would flirt with both of his crushes when he doesn’t even have the guts to say anything. He turned his attention back to the Monkey, “But what I can say is that you should tell him that you love him before it’s too late.”

“Kid, thank you for trying to encourage me, but I’m not going to do it,” he ruffled his child’s hair, “I don’t want to ruin what we managed to scrounge back together.”

“Dude, Pops still consider you his friend even after your big ass fight that went down in history,” Wukong’s eyes slightly widen at Mei’s words.

“Wha-”

“So, if you think that telling him would lead him to ditch you when not even physically fighting would? Then there is something seriously wrong with your head,” she bluntly finished.

The disguised monkey stayed quiet for a few more moments before grabbing both of their heads this time and fiercely ruffling it.

“Hey!”

“Not again! I just did it!”

“I’ll think about it,” he smiled down at both of them then scoped them in his arms as he walked towards Macaque. “Hey Moonlight! I saw this shooting game a few stalls back, I bet I can beat your ass on it!”

“Try me,” he smirked as he waved bye to the group and eyed the two squirming kids in his arms. “We’re they acting up?”

“Nah, just decided they needed a better view.”

“Your ass is not a better view!” Mei yelled out.

“Being upside down technically counts as a worse view,” MK shouted as well.

“What are you talking about it’s an amazing view!” He teased.

“No, it’s not!”

The black furred simian let out a laugh, “Keep them like this, Gods know it would be easier to keep an eye on them from doing anything stupid.”

“Aye Aye captain!” He mocks saluted as he held them steady and began to walk towards the stand together.

“Put us down!”

“Stop this is really humiliating!”

“Do you hear anything?”

“Nope, just little kids complaining.”

“We’re not kids!”

Everyone cheered as the parade was starting and they all gathered around in hopes to get a better look at all the different floats, with an extra cheer for their own zodiac.

“They sure are excited about the floats,” Wukong chuckled as he watched his student, Mei, and a bunch of other children stand on Sandy’s shoulder to get a better view.

“You should have seen the other year, they almost got onto the float,” he smiled as the two of them sat on a rooftop a little ways away.

“I can believe it…thanks for dragging my ass out here,” he slightly nudged him. “I really have forgotten just how amazing the festival is and spending time with people can be on this day.”

“Anytime Peaches, and if you want you can join us next year, though it won’t be in the city, but rather in the forest. We’ll be just eating round the table and lighting up lanterns with the whole forest, unfortunately not as exciting as the festival here,” he said.

“I would be more than happy to join in,” he instantly said. “I haven’t lit up a lantern in years and besides, anything with you guys is nothing less than fun.”

“Well I’ll make sure to let comet know to bring your ass around then,” he smirked as he looked up in time to see the first firework go off. At moments like these, he’s glad to have durable headphones, it was pure torture back then with ears like his.

“Yeah!” The disguised Monkey King stood up and cheered before sitting back down. “Fireworks are awesome no matter when.”

“I give it a 6/10, now lanterns on the other hand,” he said as he leaned against his friend.

“Don’t disrespect my lights like that,” he lightly shoved him before wrapping an arm around him and putting his head on his as the two of them watched the lights explode.

Everything was truly beautiful at this moment in time.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last as the fireworks were cut short and before either one of them could comment on it, they heard screams and a voice that dominated.

“This is the Year of the Spiders!”

Neither monkey needed them to exchange looks before they both rushed to the scene and saw hundreds of robotic spiders spread all across, chasing and capturing people as they went.

“Shit Mind control!” Macaque cussed as he saw their eyes glow green when the spiders managed to snag someone.

“How in the fuck is the Spider Queen able to do that?!” Wukong muttered to himself as he already dropped his disguise and began to attack any spiders in his way.

“I don’t know, but I think something like that will have the answers,” he pointed to a large spider robot emerging from the ground. “At least Daiyu gonna have a real good time with this.”

“Damn, it’s like Bull King all over again.”

“I’m sorry what,” the black monkey blurted out. He heard the Bull became huge, but he thought it was an exaggeration, so he shook his head. “More on that later, I can already guess you're going to the spider robot of doom.”

“You know it,” he cracked his knuckles.

“You do that, I’ll try to find everyone else and destroy as many of these fuckers as I can,” he emphasized by breaking a few of the spiders on the humans and demons back. He summoned some clones and began to spread them out, “You better not get captured or mind controlled, I don’t feel like kicking your ass right now.”

“Trust me I won’t,” he cockily smirked as he summoned his cloud. “Be careful out there,” he yelled out as he flew off.

“I’m going to laugh in his face if he gets captured, now to find my kiddos and everyone else before I lose it” he muttered as his tail wrapped around the spider that tried to surprise attack him from behind and crushed it into pieces.

“Red!” Mei and MK rushed over to the fallen demon who had crashed land on their ship.

“That was a nasty fall you took there,” she continued as the both of them helped him up.

“What are you doing here?” MK asked once he was up.

“Escaping the Spider menace!” He hissed out to cover up the fact that his face was involuntarily heating up at his crushes arms holding him, “that Spider freak captured my father and she was going to do the same to me.”

“Shit she even captured the Bull King,” the Pig demon said.

“Yes, but luckily I know a way to cure the atrocious mind control that she had enslaved everyone in.”

“You do!” They all hopefully said.

“Yes, but I’ll need your help seeing that my own ride is currently,” he looked over towards the broken parts, “unavailable.”

“If it means saving them then count us in,” MK said determinately.

“But where are we going?” Sandy asked.

“The one place where we can only get the supplies,” he pointed upwards as everyone slowly realized what he meant.

“Space,” well almost everyone.

“No noodle brain! The Celestial Realm!” He loves him, but he can be a bit of an airhead at times.

“Fbiwbfowdjosbd The Celestial Realm! The home of heavenly deities and immortal beings!” Tang tried to go forward but was held back by his partner.

“Down Tang, down.”

“Yes,” he said unfazed, “so will you help me.”

They all exchanged looks with each other before MK stepped forward with a confident grin. “Guys, let’s help a demon steal from the Celestial Realm.”

“Macaque is so gonna laugh at me for this,” Wukong groaned as he tried to break free of the web. “So, so hard.”

“Seems there are things that even you can’t handle,” Spider Queen mocked as she stepped back into the room filled with tied up demons all being drained, some of them more tired than others.

“Can it little caterpillar!” Minsheng yelled out, they too were captured after they got surrounded. They're not as strong a fighter as everyone else, so it was needless to say they were hopelessly outgunned. “No one wants to hear you bitch! Seriously, I don’t know how Daiyu can even stand that voice!”

“You got that right!”

“I would rather die now than listen any longer!”

“Seriously just shut up!”

All the demons shouted out as they mouthed back to the Spider Queen.

“QUIET!” She yelled out in rage, “ Especially about that vulture. Lest you forget, you are all my prisoners now, you are nothing short of a battery for my darling. It’s best to remember that for the rest of your miserable lifespan.”

“I mean they're not wrong,” Wukong smirked, “You are getting really annoying.”

“I, unfortunately, can’t help but agree,” Bull King rolled his eyes at the supposed ‘Queen’ rage. “Your voice is grating enough that I wish to rip my horns from my head and seal them in my ears, but I know it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Why I outta-”

“And besides, you do know that this is not gonna work right?” Minsheng said.

“Now what are you blabbering on about now?” The spider demon was getting sick of this backtalk from these whelps.

“This plan, yeah it’s not gonna work.”

“Oh, now why is that? I suppose you mean of Monkey King protege and their needless efforts,” she smirked as she crawled up to him and leaned in close. “Well, I can assure you that those children are not prepared for my little spiders that are close behind ready to strike when they're down.” She backed up with that same malevolent smirk and was about to turn away when he spoke once more.

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about them.”

“What?” She turned back around, “Then who in the hell are you referring to?”

BOOOM! BOOOOM! BOOOOM!

A series of crashes and explosions all happened simultaneously from the outside as it only subsided for a mere moment before continuing once more.

BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOOOOOM!!

“What in the hell!” She cried out as she caught herself on the wall.

“That, that is who I am talking about,” the rabbit demon said as the spider raced towards the monitor. She pulls up the screen to see a sight that even frightens some of the captured demons. Because there on center screen was a tall malevolent violent monkey with eyes that glow bright purple as it took down some of the larger spiders that have sprouted out. But what they all noticed is that the titanic demon looked pissed as he screamed.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE MY KIDS!”

“What the sweet hell is that!?” She screeched out at the sight.

“Congratulations! You have completely pissed off one enraged papa!” Minsheng smiled at her horror. “Now he will happily introduce you to your execution if you don’t do as he says.”

“What?!”

“Hah, not even I would trifle so lightly when it comes to the Six Eared demon and his claims,” the Bull King laughed loudly at her foolish actions.

Some of the demons were even nodding in agreement.

“You're telling me.”

“Even we know not to fuck with him.”

“Oof, you're really gonna get it now,” Yin laughed.

“Better hope you have some blessing saved up somewhere in that shriveled up place you got a soul,” Jin snorted, “cause you're gonna need it!”

Wukong was staring at the monstrous form of his crush in all of his crush with a slight blush and said with a happy sigh, “Oh you’re so fucking screwed now.”

“That’s Macaque!?” She shrieked as she turned and couldn’t help but give a silent gulp as each and every demon looked at her, whether they were exhausted or not, with a malicious grin.

“You're done Spider Bitch,” Minsheng gleefully said.

She didn’t say anything else as she scurried out of there and went to look for the little girl.

“Bye Bye little spider,” they called out as the door closed behind them leaving them with only the sound of mechanical parts churning and the sizzling noise of their energies being drained remaining.

“Of course you would be infatuated with the Six Eared doctor,” Bull King couldn’t help but sigh, breaking the silence.

“Oh come on, even you!” Wukong shouted back, thus putting the room in a burst of laughter as the demons, whether civilians, criminals, or anywhere in between, began to gossip like middle aged wives at the market when they spotted an old friend.

“Oooo, is that so?”

“Of course you would go after doc, he is quite the catch.”

“Tell me everything!”

“Spill the tea!”

“Now that is something I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“If you have lived as long as I have, you would have long guessed that this was a long time coming.”

“I’m surprised that it wasn’t sooner.”

“Please someone just kill me,” he groaned as the chattering just continued. “Death would be kinder at this point.”

“Sorry, but fresh out of deaths today,” Sheng laughed.

“And didn’t you get yourself like four times immortal?” Yin asked.

“Five, remember the Yama book situation,” Jin said.

“Oh right, I keep forgetting.”

“I regret that so much,” he groaned even louder, it didn’t help that even the Bull King was laughing at his misery. “So, so much.”

Somewhere high in the sky

“What the hell is that!” Pigsy pointed out the giant transparent demon.

They all looked in shock as Tang said, “Please don’t tell me that the Spider Queen made an ally!” He groaned.

While the three adults began to panic at the new situation that popped up, three people, two humans, and one demon smiled widely.

“DAD/POPS/UNCLE!” MK, Mei, and Red all yelled out as they witnessed the scene.

“SAY WHAT!” The three other adults spun towards them in shock.

“Wait,” Sandy squinted his eyes, “Now I may be getting old, but is that giant demon Macaque?”

“What/Excuse me,” both Pig and historian deadpanned.

“ It is! And he’s kicking butt!” MK cheered as the titan stomped on a hoard of spiders.

“Kick that spider ass!” Mei yelled out with a savage grin as the monkey tail threw a giant spider down and obliterated it.

“Of course this would be nothing less than what he can do,” Red smirked at the chaos that was firmly putting the wretched spiders in place.

If anyone was paying close attention, they would have seen both titan and monkey ears twitch. They didn’t move from their position, but a sigh of relief did emerge.

“Found em,” Ahmed asked after he crushed a spider in his jaw.

“Yeah, I don’t know how the fuck they got out of my radius of hearing so quickly, but I found them,” Macaque, who was puppeting his larger version, smiled.

“That’s one worry crossed off.”

“You're telling me, now all we have left is to finish off this shit,” the monkey growled as the lion kept a close watch on his back. While it wasn’t difficult to control his larger version for a short time frame, it was difficult trying to maintain both forms and making sure that there would be no excessive collateral damage. He may be angry, but even he doesn’t want to hurt any innocent people, so it was shortly decided before he began his shadow puppet that the lion would keep guard while the rest helped everyone else. He can even hear Daiyu manically laughing off in the background where there’s the most spiders and can hear the slaughtering of mechanical parts.

Back on the ship, the others were slowly freaking out.

“I thought he was a doctor?!” Tang exclaimed as he watched the monkey decimate the eight legged cretins.

“I thought so too!” Pigsy was just as confused as his partner.

“Dad was a fighter long before he was a doctor, he just doesn’t do it as often anymore. I mean he used to have sparred with the monkey king a lot,” the teenage boy explained.

“You mean to tell me this is him going easy?” The pig demon could feel his eye twitch.

“Yup!”

“I hate to see him at his peak,” the historian muttered, then he paused, “wait, he knows the monkey king?!”

“Uhhhhhh.” MK just realized what he had admitted and slowly began to back away.

“Oooo, you fucked up now,” Mei chortled while sporting a large grin.

It took a minute for it to fully sink in, but once it did, boy did Tang straighten up with his eyes blown wide as if he had just been electrocuted. “No way! No way! Is he the fucking Six Eared Macaque from the Journey to the west?!”

“Say what?!” Pigsy exclaimed.

“Maybe?!”

“Is that a question or an answer!” Tang demanded as he stalked closer to him.

“Yes!” He was officially freaked out.

“Oh this is funny,” Red grinned.

“Right,” Mei happily agreed.

“Are you saying that he is the legendary deity that managed to help so many lives, but he is also the enemy of the great monkey king and I am just now learning that I’ve been hanging out with that same legend and dneirbowdubeodosbsudbksd!” The book loving man's mind has been blown as his words have long passed him.

“Great, you broke my partner.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Wait are you just now figuring that out,” Sandy blinked, “I thought it was obvious.”

“You knew!” Everyone on the ship snapped towards the giant in shock.

“Yes? It’s not like he was trying to hide it,” he pointed out.

“He really wasn’t,” the biker woman was on the floor dying of laughter at that.

“Hey look scary, creepy, too many legged spiders in need of decimating right ahead!” MK diverted the attention back to the city ahead. “Talk later!

“Oh ho ho, believe me, there will be many, many talks ahead,” Tang hissed and stomped his way to the front of the ship.

“Welp that’s going to be Dad's problem right there,” he said.

“Gonna pin the blame on dear old Pops,” Mei snorted.

“Yup! This is payback for the needless anxiety this caused me,” the monkey's successor eye twitch.

“HA!”

She may be outnumbered and her pawns may have been taken out, but she will not back down after all.

“All of you together can’t beat me! I am the Queen of Spiders!” Spider Queen declared in hysteria as she took a step forward towards the monkey brat.

“Oh yeah,” they all turned to see the Monkey King casually walking down the wall as he picked up the staff and with a spin he declared, “Well I’m the King,” and with that statement, he freed his student.

He bent down and helped pick him back up with a sheepish grin, “Well you already know I’m not too hot on some things, apparently spiders are one of them too.” Then they all stood tall against the Spider Queen as if daring her to try to make the next move.

“Well if I can’t have this world, then no one can!” She cried out as she slung herself up to the Spider mech. l and started it up once more as the ground began to violently shake. “I’ll level this whole city!”

Right when she did that though, both student and mentor jumped up in the air.

“It’s now or never!” Wukong cried out as MK grabbed hold of the staff.

“Right!” The two began to spin and spin and spin even faster until they were a golden pinwheel of light.

“Here comes Monkey Kid!” Right after that last work, Wukong flung MK forward as the student shouted out facing the enemy head on and the proud mentor whispered as he watched his kid take that final strike.

The machine broke as everything shut down at that moment in, but before MK could feel proud, he had noticed that he was currently free falling.

“Shit!” He yelled out and quickly looked around to find any sort of platform he could get a hold of.

“I got you!” He felt his collar then his body quickly stop free falling as quickly as Wukong in bird form was holding him up.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite fast enough to fly far away enough from the incoming explosion in his small form, but luckily there was another as he quickly grabbed the both of them in his hands and jumped far away enough. Just in time as everything explodes.

BOOOOOM!

The machine shattered in millions of parts that it was spread far and wide throughout the city, finally bringing the Spider Queen's short, but deadly, reign to an end.

“Whew, thanks-DAD!” MK exclaimed as he finally noticed that he was in the hands of his father's titan form.

“Great catch Moonbeam!” Wukong beamed up when he got out of bird form.

The Monkey titan didn’t say a word as examined their bruised, injured, and bartered form and with a worried purr, he gently stood up and began to walk back to the group with them still cradled in his hands.

“Anddd I don’t think he is letting us go any time soon,” the student said as he slumped down, only to wince at his bruises.

“Nope,” Monkey King replied as he tried to relax, but both the memories and the wounds made it very hard to do so, it also didn’t help that there was a familiar smell in the air.

Their form eventually made its way to the rest of the group as they all stared up at the lumbering giant that towered over them all.

“I feel like I should be more frightened,” Tang mused as he stared up at the ominous titan with a glowing eye staring back at them.

“I don’t blame you,” Pigsy huffed as he had to stop him from instinctively standing in front of the group, even though the giant monkey was an ally.

“Just be glad he’s on our side,” Sandy smiled up.

“You're telling me,” Red nodded as he rubbed his hands from stopping the explosion alongside his father.

Bull King said nothing as he stared up at the titan.

“Hey guys!” MK shouted as he waved at them.

“Liking the view from up there!” Mei shouted back.

“It’s pretty nice! I never knew laying down on a giant monkey’s hand would feel good until now!”

“Maybe I’ll give you a ride on my war form then,” Wukong joked as he climbed up and sat on the titan's shoulder.

“Wait what?” Though he wasn’t able to ask anymore as the violent hand slowly came down and in front of the group.

“A ride! Count me in!” The dragon girl hopped in first as Sandy followed close behind.

“This might as well happen,” the pig demon sighed as he supported his partner's weight on him and sat down next to the others. But that didn't stop Tang from going starry eyed over the Monkey King and Macaque titan form.

“I’m not going,” Bull King growled when the hand still stood in front of both him and his son.

Red promptly halted in his step when he said that and looked almost longingly to his friends as he put his foot down.

The Bull demon saw his heir's morose expression and only took a moment before he sighed, “You may go if you wish…son.”

The Bull prince's eyes sparkled at his words and he lit up with glee as he rushed over to the rest of the group, getting one arm hugs from both his friends. Yet, the hand still hasn’t ascended.

“Nice teeth,” Mei commented as the Prince settled down and she noticed her other friend teeth.

“Huh?” MK saw her wordlessly take out her phone and show him his new sharpen teeth, his eyes sparkled with glee. “This is so cool! Hey Red, we match!”

“Indeed we do,” he gave a slight grin, “but mine are much more deadlier.”

“Give me a couple days to get used to this and we can find out,” he grinned back.

Before Red could shoot back a growl was heard.

“I said, I’m not going,” he emphasized his words and glared at the giant.

Giant Macaque only raised his brow as he used his free hand to pluck the Bull King firmly, but gently held him as he continued his way.

“Unhand me you insufferable cretin!” He yelled out as he tried to break free, but with him still being wounded and drained of his energy, the struggle was barely even noticeable.

“And you say I’m headstrong,” Monkey King snorted at the demon struggles.

“Oh I am so keeping this,” Mei smirked as she took so many photos.

“Send me that,” Pigsy and MK said.

“Will do!”

They were only put down when they finally reached their destination, which was Pigsy Noodle shop, and standing in front of the doors was a lion supporting a tired looking monkey.

“Thank fuck you all are alright,” he sighed as he released the titan puppet when everyone was off and he should probably be glad that Ahmed was supporting his sorry ass as he would have fallen straight down from the abrupt disperse of energy.

“Are you okay,” Wukong worriedly asked as he noticed his moon tired form and how the lion was helping him.

“Will be, but for now everyone gets your sorry asses inside so I can patch you up,” he pointed to some of the clones inside already holding materials in hand.

“I’ll help-” MK began to say, only to be stopped by his stare “-after I heal up,” he quickly added.

“Nice save,” Mei whispered as both of them and Red went inside.

“You and I are gonna have a long talk Mr. Six Eared Macaque,” Tang almost growled.

“Wasn’t really trying to hide it,” he smirked as the historian raised both his hands in exasperation.

“And that’s what’s pissing me off, ‘it came along the way,’ you weren’t even trying,” he huffed as he marched inside, but not before giving a stink eye to the lion. “And I bet you knew as well.”

“Guilty as charged,” he had to hold back his laughter as his friend gave another strangled yell.

“You're gonna have one hell of a lecture from him,” Pigsy smirked as he nudged the monkey.

“I have already accepted my fate,” he shrugged.

“Good call, also don’t really care about your past and whatnot, you have already shown me that you're a pretty decent demon no matter what history may say.”

“Thanks,” he gave a small smile.

The pig demon patted his shoulder and went inside as well. Macaque looked towards the blue giant who just smiled.

“I already knew.”

“And this is what makes you the smart one,” he smirked as the therapist gave a hearty laugh.

“You need help,” Wukong cautiously asked once more as he stepped forward.

“I am not doing shit except letting my clones do the bandaging and healing, I need to sit my ass down,” he grumbled before giving a slight smile, “but thanks for worrying about me dumbass.”

“Always,” he smiled back.

“Now go sit your ass inside before I make you,” he deadpanned.

“I mean I don’t really need it, you know I heal pretty-”

“I can easily tell that both you and Bull along over there had your energy drained,” Monkey King paled.

“Ah…so you know.”

“Oh I know,” he tail swished angrily behind him, “and I also know just how fucking dangerous energy transfers are when they’re not done properly! And I already know that it wasn’t really Spider Queen's main concern now is it?”

“Ummm,” he nervously hummed.

“Now, get your ass in there or else,” his eyes flickered.

“Aye Aye!” He quickly walked in and escaped the eyes of doom.

“So it seems that there is more to the story,” Tang muttered as he watched the interactions as a salve got put on his leg. “It seems that the two immortal monkeys aren’t enemies.”

“Oh there is a lot more,” MK wished he could rub his forehead, but his hands were currently occupied by the clone wrapping his hand. “So much more.”

No one could say anything else before they heard the Demon Bull speak.

“I’m not going in,” Bull King huffed, “I’m not so fragile that I need to worry about such items.”

“You know what no,” Bull demon raised his eyebrow at the doctor's tone. “I’m not even gonna argue with you, your ass is going in there and you are going to sit down and you are going to get checked over.”

“You dare speak to me like that!”

“Frankly I don’t care!” He barked out as he broke free of Ahmed’s hold and marched up to the larger demon. “I have long since run out of fucks to give and I simply don’t fucking care! I am already spread thin with clones all around making medicine, helping out at the hospital, checking for survivors, and other shit! I was spread thin when I made my Puppet Titan to obliterate the fucking spiders. I am so spread thin that even my own self control is waning as we fucking speak that it’s taking all in me not to just make your stupid ass go unconscious, just so I won’t have to fucking hear you! So. Go. In. The. Noodles. Shop!”

“You don’t have the power to stop me,” he growled and took a step forward, not even acknowledging the lion demon piercing eyes nor the monkey Sage's own ominous stare.

“If you don’t get your ass inside I will call Queen Iron Fan and tell her about your stupidity about your health,” he bluntly stated.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he took a step back in fear.

“Try me bitch.”

“…fine,” he let out a final huff and lumbered inside.

Mei whistled as the clone was getting some derbies out of her back, “Dannnggg, just one word of the mother and he just comes.”

“Mother does worry about our safety when she’s gone,” Red nodded.

“For good reason.”

“Okay!” Macaque said loudly as he plopped himself right next to Wukong, “While you guys are getting bandaged, how about you all tell me what the hell happened both inside the ship and how the hell did you get that antidote because I know the smell of immortal peaches from a mile away and that antidote had that in spades.”

“So that’s why the whole city smells like that,” the brown furred monkey eyes widened, “I thought I was going crazy.

“What is the point in that?” Bull King questioningly asked.

“Well, I thought that it would be better if we all figured out how not only she managed to get her hands on mind control potion that potent, but how almost all the demons, including you two, one of the strongest ones in the world, got captured by the Spider Queen.” He emphasized, it literally makes no sense how she was able to do that. Sure she may be strong with access to her minions that do her dirty work at times, but she’s not that strong to manage to take down so many villains, and she doesn’t have the connections to find a potion of that kind of caliber.”

“That is a fair point,” the Bull demon reluctantly agreed.

“Great! Now talk.”

“She caught the staff?” MK blurted out as he popped up from Mei's shoulder.

“I know! Caught me by surprise too,” Wukong huffed at his student surprise.

“To be fair, Lady Iron Fan did the same with me, but she had some sort of metal glove.”

“But not with pure energy,” Red leaned back into Mei side, “it took me countless centuries to find all the supplies to make that glove and the Spider Queen only used her energy, something is not adding up.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she nodded as she subtly brought her two crushes, which she will happily keep to herself until both of them are comfortable, back to her. She could very much appreciate the fact that they both had very warm and comfortable bodies that she will happily take advantage of.

“So that’s where Minsheng was,” Ahmed hummed, “the others were worried about them.”

“He really did tell her off, but I saw him escape with the rest after they broke free,” the monkey explained.

“That’s one worry off then.”

“Son, how did you know the incantation and the symbol to enter the Celestial Realm?” Bull King asked when they got to the part where they were about to enter the realm.

“Umm well you see,” he nervously chuckled, “there are so many ways you can get inside the realm other than the main entrance and it’s not like it was hard to actually find another way once you know what the main one looks like. But don’t worry, I haven’t stepped foot inside the realm until today, so they shouldn’t know that it was me who entered!”

“To be honest I never knew that there were other ways you can get inside,” Wukong admitted, “Nice job.”

“Indeed, show me how exactly you managed this feat when we get home,” the giant Bull said. It is no easy task to accomplish something that no one else has done before, he didn’t acknowledge the pit of warm pride he felt.

“Yes father!” He excitedly said, not noticing that his two friends were eyeing the Bull King with disdain.

“Wait hold up, how the hell did you manage to sneak into the Celestial Realm almost undetected?” He questioned when his son finished telling them how they escaped the holy realm.

“Well there was like nobody there, the only real problem we encountered was the spiders, two lion statues that came to life, and perhaps my crippling anxiety,” he shrugged.

“Well get to that last bit later, but what do you mean no one?! You went to the Heavenly Orchard, Lao Tzu alchemy lab, the fucking Jade Emperor Throne Room! What the hell did you mean no one was there?!” His eyes twitch as he gets shrugs from almost everyone, he says almost as now Red son is realizing that what he said is true and is slightly paling at what that could mean. Even Wukong and Bull King are looking at the group in absolute confusion.

“That does raise a concerning question,” BK rumbled. “The Celestial Realm is never without the deities inside, especially the Jade Emperor himself. So if all the deities were gone on the same day then there must have been a deadly matter that needed to be taken care of…but everyone gone? That still makes no sense.”

“You're telling me, it wasn’t even that easy for me to cause havoc when I was up there. I had to disguise myself as so many people just to make it out to the courtyard,” Wukong nodded.

“It just doesn’t make sense on why-” he stopped himself as he looked towards the other monkey and then his son and a thought occurred. “No, that couldn’t be, hey flicker do they still have that Spirit detecting thing for when you enter the realm.”

“Indeed they still do,” he faces palmed as he completely had forgotten that they had been specially made after people, deities, and demons tried to break their way into the realm one too many times.

Macaque couldn’t stop his smile from growing as he finally realized what happened and he burst out into laughter. “No way! No fucking way! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Huh?” Everyone echoed as they watch the monkey burst out almost out of nowhere.

“Umm Dad?” He tried to call out, but he was too busy laughing.

“Pops? You good?” She tried, absolutely nothing in reply.

“Mango, moonlight, my other half,” Wukong grabbed him by the shoulder, which did make him pause, but still was sporting a wide grin. “What the hell did you figure out?”

“Srk, okay holy shit this is just way too funny,” he choked out and continued. “The reason why no one was there was because they sensed MK spirit energy and the staff, both of which had been imbued with your energy. I mean, I know that after sensing your energy was coiled around mine a few weeks ago, they did not want a second round with Wukong in any way shape, or form, especially his successor, so they just fucked off and left!”

Dead silence overtook the small restaurant as everyone's eyes slowly turned to the Monkey Sage, who was sporting both a cheeky and a sheepish grin.

“I feel like I should probably apologize to them one day.”

“The sad thing is that it sounds about right,” Red sighed. While he doesn't visit the celestial realm, he knows enough to know that many deities, including the Jade Emperor, would rather just up and leave than deal with Sun Wukong after what he last did no matter how many centuries may have passed. He does have to admit that out of everything he did, this may have been one of his biggest feats yet. “What is my life right now?”

“Let’s just continue,” Pigsy said as he was holding back his partner from asking so many questions.

“Evil laughter?”

“Shut up.”

“It was fun!”

“And highly entertaining.”

“Shut up!”

“And that’s all of it,” MK finished off.

“Crazy as usual, but that still doesn’t explain how she was able to do what she did,” he leaned back. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Wukong stiffen, but he kept that to himself. He will get it out of that monkey when they're alone.

“I heard the whispers again,” everyone's eyes whipped towards Bull King, but only Red son and Macaque knew what he was talking about.

“You mean the same ones that controlled you back then,” the doctor hissed out.

“Indeed.”

“You met Lady Bone Demon?!” Wukong blurted out but immediately regretted that as everyone's eyes were locked on him.

“You know that vile cretin!” Bull King growled.

“Wait Bone Demon! As in the same one you met in the Journey to the West! That one!” Tang wanted to lean forward, but both Pigsy and Sandy were holding him back.

Wukong said nothing as he gripped his fists under the table.

“Monkey King?” MK worriedly asked at the monkey's still expression.

“Sunbeam,” the monkey blinked at his friend's hand on his and looked up to see his concerned look, “what happened?”

“…okay,” he entwined his finger with his and looked at the group. “I met her on the ship.” He then began to explain his experience with the demon on the ship and the restaurant was silent as he talked.

“So,” Macaque broke the silence, “it seems that we were right on the idea that this was no ordinary spirit.”

“You’ve been investigating this?!” Wukong asked as everyone barring the Bull family and Ahmed looked in shock.

“Of course I have, Bull King got possessed and no one found that at all suspicious? I mean that’s why Queen Iron Fan is currently not even in the city right now, she is meeting some people over some enchanted artifacts and spells that will help. But now that we know who exactly we're dealing with, I think we can narrow that down by a lot. So, you’ll update her,” he said towards the Bull family.

“Already doing so,” Red’s son said as his eyes were glowing red.

“Good, now anything else you tell us?” He looked back to his dumbstruck friend.

“Just that I…encountered her a few times before and that there was a reason she was buried so deep underground,” he sighed as he rubbed his thumb on the black fur. “What she wants the most is to make herself known to the world and she wants to accomplish this by conquering the world, so she’ll be after me first and my powers.”

“And we will be ready,” MK determinedly said. “We know that she is alive and that she is probably planning something, but whatever it is, we'll be one step ahead of her.”

“You got that right, I mean who would ever expect this,” she gestured towards the room filled with people, demons, and immortals, “Wukong lives in isolation so in no way will he be interacting with mortals, supposed enemies with Pops and Bull family.”

“That part is still true,” Bull King grumbled.

“Mostly, but even then you can tolerate him and that is what she won’t be expecting!”

“But there still is the problem that we don’t know what she is planning after her plan failed,” Tang pointed out.

“Was it her plan at all?” They all turned to face Pigsy.

“What do you mean?” MK asked.

“Well, it just seems that with the whole spider theme going on, it was more of the Spider Queen plan and the Bone chick tagging along at the end, you know, like that one person in a group project. I always hated that guy, stupid Hans,” he growled.

“You…do make a point,” Red eyes flickered once he finished his talk. “And mother also said that she will be going to the highlands next after she’s finished dealing with the…unruly elves.”

“That’s one way to say it,” Bull King nodded.

“But since the plan with the Spider Queen failed, where would she go next?” Mei asked.

“We’ll hold on,” everyone looked to Sandy now as the giant looked at Wukong and Bull King, “You said that she was following the Spider Queen, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Indeed.”

“Well I may have only met the Spider Queen once, but it’s easily recognizable that she has a superiority complex that hinges more towards the self importance side, and judging by how you describe the Bone demon, she is very tactile and manipulative to use this to her advantage. So we already know it was Spider Queen's plan first, but it was the Bone demon who most likely approached her first as you said that the Queen was more hostile towards the other. But, even when the plan failed, I think that she will still stick with the Spider Queen as she is not only one of the strongest in the city, but maybe has the resources she needs at the moment,” he finished and took a sip of his tea.

“Holy shit,” Mei whispered out as MK nodded.

“Knew you were smart, but man you were hiding it in their big guy,” Pigsy smirked.

“Oh well just a guess based on what I know about their personality and actions,” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“A well educated one it is,” Bull King said, “What is your profession?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded.

“But for now, how about we hold this off until tomorrow,” Ahmed said as he looked at everyone’s bandaged bodies and drooping eyes, “I think we all deserve some shut eye.”

“But-”

“Their invasion just failed and they won’t be staring back up any time soon,” he cut MK off, “this can wait until tomorrow, where our minds would be fresher and perhaps our bodies a little lighter.”

“Agreed,” Macaque nodded.

“…okay,” MK gave in.

“Good, now everyone upstairs,” most of them began to trudge back up, the doctor eyed the Bull family, “I assume you have the teleportation spell?”

“Yep, prepped and ready,” Red confirmed.

“Then have a safe trip back,” and with final goodbyes, the Bull family left the restaurant, and with a flash, they were gone. Macaque watched them leave and promptly grabbed hold of the back of Wukong collar “And where do you think you're going?”

“Back to the mountain?” He questioned.

“No you're not, you're staying here.”

“Look Mac I really don’t feel like talking more about her,” he sighed once he knew everyone else was gone.

“And that is fine, but you are not leaving my sight anytime soon, now come on,” he pulled him up, “there is a hoard of blankets and pillows calling our names. So just relax, you are safe.”

It didn’t impact the monkey until he felt the warm coil of violet energy gently brush against his vigilant golden aura, did he finally settled down, and his nerves slowly relaxed and the next thing he knows is he is sitting on the rooftop surrounded by blankets and pillows and he is currently snuggled on Macaque shoulder as he hums softly and felt his soft hands groom his fur.

“Sleep Sunshine, we can deal with it all tomorrow,” he whispered and tucked him further underneath his chin.

He wished he could thank him for doing this, for watching over him during his blackout, for keeping him calm, but the words eluded him, and instead, he cuddled further into the hold. He stiffed when he heard soft footsteps approach, but relaxed at the familiar energy of both of his kids approaching him.

“Mind if we join,” MK asked as he took in the sight.

“Would you be up for that Sunspot?” Mac looked down.

Wukong didn’t say anything once more and just wordlessly nodded.

“Alright, you both can join, but right to bed.” He firmly told them both.

“Oh don’t worry, even my bones feel tired,” Mei said as she cuddled next to the black furred monkey and MK softly laid next to the brown furred simian.

Then there’s was silence once more as only the bustling from the streets could be heard as people reunited with each other once again, the whistle of winds, the steady breathing of the small group, and the soft humming of a six eared monkey lullabying them further and further into a deep sleep. And as Wukong listened, felt, and saw everything, only one thought was left as he closed his eyes for a long slumber.

He really loved his family.

As to why Mac didn’t get captured? Easy, he doesn’t have the same kind of cocky ego that both BK and Wukong shared. He actually likes to think before he acts.

Also, hey yeah remember how I said my longest chapter was like two chapters ago, welll I made a freakin new one and guess what? IT’S OVER 9000!! Like holy shit I need to sleep, but damn am I proud of how long I can make these XD

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #macaque #PlumTeaAU

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fantasy2739 · 4 years

Note

Could you write some father-son fluff of Merlin and Douxie post final-battle, after the arcane order is temporarily defeated and they've left with Nari? (As a followup to your previous MerlinLives!AU.)

Yes of course!! This is part 4 of my Merlin Lives AU and I think, for now, the last part. You never know.

I hope you all enjoy it!!

Merlin picked New York to hide in. The metropolis providing easy cover as they were lost in the masses. After hiding the ship, they located some clothes for Nari so she could hide before stumbling to a hotel. Hisirdoux had rested on the way over but he was still exhausted. They all were. They only had two double beds, one of which Hisirdoux promptly collapsed onto. Archie padded next to him, yawning as fell asleep. Nari curled up on the other, leaving Merlin with a choice of who to share with. Without much thought, he slumped next to Hisirdoux, wrapping his arms around the boy for fear he would somehow slip away.

Douxie woke up between the soft body of Archie and the sturdy but warm body of his mentor. Nari was a across the room, resembling a cat as she curled up under her duvet. Douxie still felt as stiff as a board when he tried to move. His jerky wiggling woke Merlin up. Merlin blinked at him sleepily.

“Go back to sleep Hisirdoux.” He mumbled. “We’re all tired. We need rest.” Douxie managed to roll over, planting himself firmly against Merlin’s chest. The metal armour was cooling to the pounding in his head. He relaxed as Merlin adjust his hold, tucking Douxie’s head under his chin. They fell asleep again.

Merlin, Nari and Archie all woke up at similar times. They decided it would be best to let Douxie rest. Archie stretched himself out before leaping from the bed. He watched as Merlin tugged the covers over Douxie before brushing a few strands of hair out of the boys face. Archie gave himself a light shake before tempting Nari into the bathroom. It was a little fun watching her fascination with the shower.

“It is warm.” She said, reaching her hands out. “Like summer rain.”

“We use it to clean ourselves.” Archie explained. Well, humans did. He most certainly did not, he had a perfectly good tongue.

“Dirt is bad?” Nari asked. “But it is good to have.”

“Maybe for you. But humans get all sorts of nasty illnesses if they don’t wash regularly.” Archie explained. Nari would not be taking showers then. No doubt she’d still smell like the forest even if she didn’t. Nari seemed to like the shower though, if the giggles were anything to go by. She’d stick her hand under the streams of water and watch as at dripped from her fingers.

“Humans are so clever.” Nari commented. Archie snorted, leaving her to it. He went back to the bedroom. Douxie was coming into awareness, blinking at them slowly. Merlin was sat next to him hold a cup. The old wizard pulled Douxie up to lean against his chest and tried to coax him into to drinking some water. Douxie managed a few sips before slumping tiredly against Merlin. Merlin managed to manoeuvre himself against the bed head, rubbing soothing circles into Douxie’s back. Archie jumped onto the bed and rubbing himself against Douxie. His friend smiled weakly at him, running a delicate hand through his fur before turning back into Merlin’s chest and dozing.

“What’s wrong with him?” Archie asked. “Shouldn’t he have recovered by now?” Merlin pondered the questions.

“I think using so much magic in such quick progression, along with dying, has set his body into recovery mode.” Merlin considered. “He’ll be fine after some rest and food.” And a lot of TLC Archie thought, noticing how gentle Merlin was being with Douxie. It was like he was made of glass and might shatter if Merlin held on too tightly.

A few days later and Douxie was up and about and quite cheery. Merlin had barely left his side the entire time. Douxie was beginning to think he was hovering. Still it was nice, given the several near death experiences of the past week. They were changing hotels again, trying to keep the Arcane Order off their trail. Archie has curled himself around Douxie’s neck, while Douxie had donned a baseball cap. Nari was hiding her antlers with a hat that made it look like they were accessories. Merlin had finally changed out of the ridiculous suit of armour he’d been wearing for the last millennia. Instead opting for a button down shirt and jacket with jeans.

“Hisirdoux how do people wear these things?” Merlin complained.

“Easily.” Douxie quipped. “You can’t keep looking like you’re from a ren fair?”

“I resent that remark. My armour far predates the renaissance.” Merlin said as he tried to walk comfortably. “These pants chafe.”

“They don’t.” Douxie said with an eye roll. “Hmm I need to get some savings.”

“We can just hoodwink the mortals into giving us rooms.” Merlin said. Douxie tried not to face palm. He turned and jabbed his fingers at Merlin.

“That’ll be the easiest way for the Arcane Order to find us. You’ve been out of it for the past 900 years. Things have changed.” He explained. Merlin grumbled but followed his lead. Douxie managed to find a cheap hotel that didn’t mind pets.

“How many nights?” The receptionist asked.

“Two.” Douxie said, not willing to risk more.

“Cash or card?” They asked.

“Cash.” Douxie said, offering the amount required. He’d only gotten the one room, but two beds again. They flopped onto the beds.

“If this is how we’re going to live we’re going to need money.” Archie said.

“Well Hisirdoux. You’re the expert.” Merlin said, turning to him with a fond expression.

“I could get a job as a waiter or something.” Douxie offered. “Nothing permanent.”

“I’m guessing street scams aren’t allowed anymore.” Merlin said, pondering.

“Oh I don’t know. If you can pull them off then maybe.” Douxie said with a wicked grin. He’d pulled more than a couple in his time.

“We’ll work it out later.” Merlin said. He rested a hand on Douxie’s shoulder. “You know I’m very proud of you.” Douxie flushed at the out of the blue compliment.

“Uhhhh.” He stuttered. “Thanks?” Merlin snickered a little.

“I never say it enough.” He said, smiling fondly. “And recent events remind me of how precious our time is.” A hand brushed his hair. “I’m so very proud of you.”

#fanfiction #submissions #asks #toa #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia wizards #merlin lives au #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa merlin #toa archie #nari #fluff #just happy #like we are reminded of past events #but only a lil

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malkumtend · 4 years

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7 Nights (and what comes after) - A Breezepelt fic.

The first night, Breezepelt knew he was asleep, so he passed her off as a dream. He knew he was asleep because he hadn’t remembered walking into the moors at night. Certainly not far enough that he was this close to the Thunderclan border. Not close enough that their stench made him retch.

Despite his perception that he was asleep, he still felt how cold the night was. Underneath a gleaming moon, there was no air rustling his fur, but deep in his bones, it was freezing. Freezing enough to sting.

He turned and found her on the border. Emerald eyes burning into him. She looked as young as the last time he’d seen her, but there was something about her, something pale and wispy, that made her appear like something out of an ancient legend. When moonlight struck her pelt, tiny spirals of light flickered from each strand of fur, sprinkling the air with a glittering obscurity.

She never spoke. She just stared. Patient. Daring.

But she was just a dream. So Breezepelt glared back and turned away. He wouldn’t be threatened by fantasy. He left her waiting, so far until she was just two green orbs winking in the ebony mist. He didn’t feel his pulse rising, and his face contorting into a scowl. He just left her.

She knew he would come back.

...

The second night, she was still there. Still not speaking, still just sat there. Her tail lay flat in the freezing grass, but Breezepelt could have sworn it was beckoning him to come closer.

Breezepelt growled, teeth chattering and breath steaming. His fur now felt like it was buried in ice. He still didn’t know how he’d got there; he could now remember falling asleep beside Heathertail and their daughters.

How many cats dreamt the same thing twice?

He felt an anger he’d promised himself to suppress burning in his jaws. He wanted to sprint over and swipe away the vision with his ever-digging claws. He glared still at the figure, baring his teeth in a warning snarl.

She didn’t move a whisker. Her stare was now regrettably unnerving.

It made Breezepelt’s head hurt and his throat go dry.

He growled again with audible fury before he left her again.

This time he ran.

...

When he saw her again the next night, Breezepelt knew these weren’t ordinary dreams.

He gave in, standing a tree-length away from the dark figure.

“What is this?” He demanded, sucking in air through his teeth. Even though his fur still laid unmoved, he could feel the wind striking his entire body.

The green-eyed molly cocked her head to the side. Unlike the last time he had seen her, there was no blood gushing from her throat. “From how you reacted before, I assumed you’d decided it was a dream.” Her voice was smooth, but still carried the cockiness he remembered from their apprentice days.

It still made his claws unsheathe.

“It is a dream!” Breezepelt hissed. “But why are they of you? Why would I ever dream of you? Are you the one causing this?!” He took a small step towards her, his yellow eyes blazing.

She shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not.” There was a remarkable lack of anything in her tone. It was like they were nothing but strangers. “Why do you think I’m here?”

The Windclan tom narrowed his eyes. “To terrorise me?”

“That’s pretty presumptuous.” She seemed to pierce through him and into him simultaneously. “Why would I do that? Do you deserve to be terrorised?”

The chill that raked across Breezpelt’s spine was not because of the wind.

Breezepelt flashed his fangs at her viciously. “Are you trying to make me mad? Just because you’re a dream, it doesn’t mean I won’t tear you apart!” He arched his shoulder up as he got into a threatening stance, his fur spiked with violent intent.

She blinked slowly at him. In the crisp rays of moonlight, Breezepelt could just about make out the placid line of her mouth. “If I’m a dream, it doesn’t matter what you do to me.” She mused in a thin voice, “So why don’t you come over here?”

Breezepelt stiffened as the coldness began to enclose around him. His fur quivered as he could sense the night’s darkness crawling across him like a pitch-black tongue. He wondered if she could sense why he didn’t want to approach her.

“E-Exactly! I don’t need to because you’re just a stupid dream! A whole bunch of nothing!” He spat at her, mustering a familiar hostility he had abandoned for moons. But now, it rested back on his shoulder like a snake bracing to strike.

It was something she had seen him wear like a second coat of fur.

Her stare responded, glaring mockingly at him. Fearlessly waiting.

The tom’s expression twisted, he suddenly felt like he was being choked. It awoke something. He needed to get away.

“I don’t have to waste my time with you!” Breezepelt snarled, turning on his haunches and raking the grass as he left her again. “Don’t come back here! If I see you again, I’ll make you pay!” He hoped he wouldn’t need to keep that promise.

He didn’t see it, but he felt it. The molly moved. Her tail curling, amused.

“It’s good to see you’re the same as always.”

There was no venom in the way she said that, but it still made Breezepelt start running again. Now carrying an expression of pure horror.

…

He stormed up to her on the fourth night. Now she was within a tail’s distance and Breezepelt could see her clearly. Her black fur still sparkled under the stars, augmenting her presence in the stormy night.

If it wasn’t for the moon, Breezepelt was sure that he wouldn’t be able to make out the moors anymore.

But the increasing darkness wasn’t what was on Breezepelt’s mind.

“I’m not like back then!” He declared. His heart pounded and there was a strange hissing sound in his ears. She smiled. It was a fake smile, but she smiled, dripping with scorn.

“Could have fooled me.” In the flickering green of her eyes and the dry aura of her voice, there was life. Life beating from a force made up of stars and hope that Breezepelt had once refused to believe in. Life that was beyond death.

“It was moons ago!” Breezepelt pressed, still clinging onto his nerves with an escalating irritation. “I’ve proved myself to my Clan since then! Your own brother has stuck up for me and told the clans he wants to forget what happened!”

She twisted her head in a movement that flowed with the rolling of her eyes. “Yes, and my other brother wanted to let you die until our father convinced him otherwise.”

Our. That made Breezepelt feel so much more sick than it should have.

He was sure she knew that.

Breezepelt cringed, the picture of Crowfeather begging for his life was so strange it could have been seen as unnatural. He also felt the sting of debt. It had been Jayfeather who had gifted Windclan the life saving medicine. It had been Jayfeather who had saved Breezepelt’s life.

It had been Jayfeather that Breezepelt had almost killed. Wanted to kill.

“Can you see it? What you did?”

Breezepelt thrust his head up, rapidly breathing as he saw an air of smugness surround the celestial cat. Her fur began to slither in the breeze, stoic to the chill, but vindicated by his own self-slaughtering thoughts.

A creeping horror embedded itself into Breezepelt’s spine. How could she tell what he was… No. Of course she knew his thoughts, she was part of them after all. A shade of his own making. The tom took a step forward to show he wasn’t going to cower.

“I made up for that long ago! I was young and I made some terrible mistakes, that doesn’t mean-”

She started to laugh.

Her eyes still joined with his, a grin snapped across her muzzle, before blooming open as she laughed straight at him.

He’d heard her laughter before, once, but never like this. Then it had been mischief and arrogance. Now it was crude and mocking.

It rattled along the air, falling on Breezepelt like icicles. He could have sworn the horrible sound echoed over the hills but never travelled too far away. Her laughter was a storm, and Breezepelt was the eye.

“A mistake?” She threw her head back, one emerald eye glinting like a dog’s tooth. Her laughter morphed into something crooked, like she was spitting out death berries. “Is that what you tell yourself?” She sneered; disgust ripe on her tongue.

Breezepelt glared at her.

“You always were terrible at lying.”

“My clan has forgiven me.” Breezepelt said slowly.

She whipped her head to the side. “Good for you. I suppose that means it never happened, right?”

“Lionblaze said that he-”

“Lionblaze would be dead if you’d had your way.” Now, the revulsion was stark and terrible on her face. Inside those burning green orbs, Breezepelt saw nothing but hatred.

It wasn’t something unfamiliar to him. It was something he thought he had escaped.

It still made his blood turn cold. Even if it was from her instead of his own clan.

But was that entirely fair. It was the same look he’d given her corpse.

“Oh, so you pick now of all times to think of that?” She scoffed. The starlight shimmering strands of her fur moved as if the stars were mocking him with the parody of disgusted laughter.

Breezepelt stiffened. “W-What do you want?” He descended his voice into a growl as his stammer overwhelmed him with a humiliated indignation.

“To see that look on your face.”

Breezepelt turned his face away and fled once more. He was still panting for breath and his chest still ached from exhaustion and fear when Heathertail nudged him awake.

…

“What do you want me to say?”

He kept the same distance as the previous night. Tonight, she was remarkably still. “Nothing that you want to hear.”

His tail lashed and his yellow glare burned. “Just tell me!” He shouted, groaning as the echo throbbed around the darkness of the moors. He hissed a breath that immediately fogged in the air, so thick it may have blocked her image for a moment.

“How about why?” She said disdainfully.

“Why?”

“Did I stutter?”

Breezepelt’s snarl churned from the smoking anger in his stomach. That was what she wanted? She already knew why? Every cat in the forest knew what he had done! He’d had moons of distrusting glares and cautious whispers from his own clanmates to be reminded every wretched day of the mistakes he’d made.

Was that her goal? To make him grovel. To make him squirm. She was mouse-brained if she thought he was still weak enough to do that. He’d had a lifetime of living out of his own shadow; what was a few minutes more?

“Fine! I messed up! Is that what you want to hear?” He shouted, taking a step closer to those unblinking, judging eyes. “I was young and I felt that no one around me, not even my own parents, believed in me. Can you blame me for being happy for once that a group of cats believed I was strong? That I meant something!”

She blinked, and Breezepelt continued before she could open her mouth again.

“I trained in the Dark Forest to become strong, and they told me that I was. Obviously I was wrong to join them in the Great Battle but I didn’t think I had a choice! You, your siblings, Thunderclan, Windclan, my own father! After all that had happened between us, why would I ever believe any of you when you said that I was fighting for the wrong side? The Dark Forest said they trusted me, and Crowfeather-” Breezepelt grunted, trying to keep his claws sheathed. “Crowfeather was on your side instead of mine. Like he always was.” He hid the softness that suddenly overtook him with a low growl afterwards.

He hated thinking of those times for many reasons. The rejection he saw in his father, the way that the forest had trusted a trio of half-clan cats over a cat like him who had pushed himself every day to be the Warrior they would respect, the way that he had lost everything in that battle and continued to suffer for it for moons.

But most of all, he hated remembering how it was all for nothing.

Inhaling deeply, he calmed his tone. “I was wrong, okay?” He looked up to her eyes, hoping his form radiated composure rather than submission. “I’ve admitted that. I’ve been forgiven for it. Those times were another moon, can’t I be allowed to move past them if they’re something I regret?” He asked her bitterly.

He didn’t know what he expected from her. If he was honest he hoped she would be satisfied enough with his answer to leave him alone. He was growing sick of the chill and the darkness and spending his nights thinking about a cat he didn’t care to remember.

Her head cocked, and she frowned. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Now, Breezepelt was furious. He’d told her about what he’d done, he’d been open with her, he’d admitted that it was wrong! “Then stop wasting my time and tell me what you want?” He screamed, the pounding in his head just made him angrier. He leapt forward until her emerald stare was glinting off his fangs. “Why what?”

Her tongue traced over her teeth and she took a dismissive moment to clean her paw. “Why should anyone forgive you?”

By Starclan, he hated that smug look in her eyes. He wet the inside of his drying mouth, it didn’t help much as the cold air somehow drained away any moistness, leaving him dry and bare. “I said I regretted what I did.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘so what’?” He demanded. “It’s not like I didn’t suffer to! I had to work for moons to regain my clan’s trust.”

“I wonder why.”

Breezepelt clenched his teeth. “No cat would even look at me! They wanted me dead!”

“I am dead.” She said bluntly.

“That’s not my fault!” Breezepelt yelled, his paw crashing down resentfully. She didn’t even blink. He also hated how much this cat looked like him. The same dark flat fur. The same strong legs. The same lean body. The same glare that could penetrate stone. They were a picture of the other and he hated that so much! He always had!

Temporarily, his neck fur trembled.

She felt it.

“Okay then.” She mused, her head turning to the side. “So, you regret it, right?”

“I just said that.”

Her gaze changed – darkened. “So that means you regret what happened to me?”

“What?!” Breezepelt drew back, actually offended. His paws felt heavier than normal. “I wasn’t the one who killed you! That was Hawkfrost!”

Her eyes closed and a low groan left her. A groan of utter disgust. “Still the same mouse-brain.” Scorn seemed to spark around her. “I’m not asking if you killed me or not, I’m aware of who it was, I’m asking if you regret that it happened.”

“But why should I regret something I didn’t do?” He had regrets. He regretted betraying his clan, he regretted disappointing his mother, he even regretted not listening to his mouse-brained father from time to time. But he wasn’t the one that opened her throat, he hadn’t stooped to that.

A momentarily wry look painted her features, one fang loomed judgingly over her lip. “Fine. I’ll spell it out for you then.” She groused, “Are you glad it happened?”

Breezepelt froze. A sudden pain came to his side.

A motionless moment passed. She spoke again.

“Or rather, are you still glad that it happened?”

Like a rapid blast of nightmares, the great battle carved its way back into his mind. Breezepelt’s blood chilled as her words cleared like the sun over the river. He was there again. Soaked in blood, but grinning. His claws buried into Lionblaze’s chest, one paw raised to land the killing blow he had dreamt about for so long.

Then, with an unrelenting clarity, he saw the horror twist on his half-brother’s face. Puzzled, he turned his head swiftly.

And there she was again. Underneath the glistening paws of Tigerstar’s son. Limp, lifeless. The crimson seeping from her throat to cover the dark grass.

Breezepelt felt it all again.

The shock electrifying his muscles.

The satisfaction and relief flowing through his blood.

He was back in his dream once more. And there she was. Life and mystery and knowledge tracing around her like an ever-expanding celestial orbit.

She was patiently waiting for his answer.

“Of course I’m not.” Why did he sound so quiet?

She hummed, knowing the truth. “What about Jayfeather?”

The blind cat, scratched, beaten, bloody. Under his mercy.

“Yes.” That was true. He did! “I regret it!”

“Poppyfrost?”

The pregnant cat whimpering and shivering by the moonpool, fearing for her life and the lives inside her as she watched a Warrior tear apart a medicine cat.

“I already said it!” He yowled at her, the anger was growing high and distorted. Turning into something else that made the Windclan tom convulse and tremble. “I regret it all!” How many times did he have to say it until it was true?

She looked up, examining the dark sky as if she could see a plethora of stars.

“I suppose that’s what you’re sticking too.” She sighed, her mind already made up. “But honestly, what does it matter?”

Breezepelt lunged forward, his nose was now a stroke from hers. He couldn’t stand this anymore! It wasn’t fair! He’d fought for his clan, day in and day out, to escape the kind of looks that she was torturing him with! “Why can’t you just get over it? I’m not the only cat that’s made some stupid choices in my life!” His mind sparked, “What about your ‘mother’? What about your real mother? They both made choices that ruined you as well as me! Why should they be forgiven over me? They did terrible things as well! Are they deserving of your ‘forgiveness’,” He spat the last word in a mocking imitation of her voice, “Over me? They paid for what they did as well as me! Why should I continue to suffer when cats like them are treated like they’re heroes now?”

He finished, fury, justification and pleasure leaking out of his breath. She was the guilty one, not him. She’d been the one to reveal their little secret after all. That was a funny way of showing how much she ‘forgave’ them. She had no cause to treat him like some kind of rogue!

He sneered, eagerly anticipating whatever retort she had planned.

She looked at him as if he were pathetic. “Because the mistakes they made, they did for the right reasons.”

Breezepelt’s sneer dropped. He became vaguely aware of the scent of carrion, faintly tainting the surrounding dark.

She shrugged; a small hint of her own regret twinkled in the emerald space of her eyes. “I didn’t see it myself for a long time, but it doesn’t change that it’s true.” She met his eyes again, undeterred and strong. “They did everything out of love and care, and maybe it wasn’t always right, but they never wanted to hurt anyone.”

With a translucent energy, she began to move. One foot forward. Breezepelt stepped back. “You on the other paw.” Her eyes dulled and now anger was beginning to flare.

Breezepelt was suddenly aware of his own fear.

“Everything you did, was to hurt, to cause pain, to ruin everyone you blamed and hated.” She left the Thunderclan border, entering Winclan territory. Breezepelt wasn’t about to bring this up. The more he backed away, the more she came forth.

“You made your choices because the only thing you ever cared about was yourself. And innocent cats, cats who you had never even met but were still more than you could ever be, were hurt because of it.”

She stopped. The deathly scent was growing in the air. Breezepelt’s entire body was stiff with terror he didn’t know he could bare. But for a split second, her look was almost pitying.

“And maybe I understand you. Because I blamed other cats for my problems for a long time as well.” She said softly, “I did some terrible things to, things I didn’t think I could make up for.” She let this linger for a long moment, long enough that Breezepelt had the nerve to relax.

She stripped that away with another piercing, star filled stare. “But I paid for it. Because I was wrong, and I fought to make up for it. Because my loyalty to my clan never left me.” Her head arched back, narrowing her stare at him. “Can you say the same?”

Breezepelt was silent. Not because he wanted to be, but because he had to be.

She dipped her gaze, hissing with enmity. “Well, maybe you can.” She looked up again, hard. Staring right at…

No.

She was staring at something behind him.

Breezepelt’s pupils shrank, and the scent of death and rot grabbed his senses with a pulsing familiarity. His stomach turned cold and dark as he remembered it. Absolute, petrifying panic tore into him like the sting of claws and talons.

As he turned, her voice, calm and casual, yet somehow condoling, rose up and disappeared.

“If your loyalty still lies with them.”

Breezepelt turned.

The moors of Windclan, of home, were not there.

A thick entangled mess of wood and shadows ripped up until they were severing the stars. A red mist dawned everywhere he looked, only penetrated by the army of dead trees and white, cold eyes that winked with dark invitation. The whispery voices lulled over him, begging or demanding him to come home.

The tom turned to run, but the border, she, was gone. He was in the middle of the red mist, the dead, forgotten earth sinking around him. The eyes closed in and the voices descended on him like falcons.

Breezepelt was still screaming when he woke up.

…

“I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am! I swear!”

“You’re scared, that’s all.”

“Of course, I’m scared! You can’t tell me that I belong there! I’ve done everything I can, I’ve never betrayed Windclan again! You have to believe me! I know what I did was terrible, but I promise you that I’m sorry for what I did!”

“They all say the same thing when they see that.”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Whenever a cat like you learns that’s what’s on its way. They always start mewling about how sorry they are. But Starclan have a way of knowing if it’s the truth or not.”

“It is the truth! I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to!”

“You mouse-brain. It doesn’t matter what you say! You can say anything, but it’s what you do that’s going to matter!”

“What else can I do?! I’ll live by Windclan until the day I die, I’ll regret what I did every day, I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to the cats I hurt! I’ll do anything to prove it to you!”

“It’s not me you need to prove it to.”

“To prove it to Starclan then! I’m sorry! I swear on my life, I am so so sorry for what I did and I know that it doesn’t change anything about who I hurt or what I tried to do! But please! I’ll do anything you say I need to, just tell me what I need to do!"

“…”

“…please…”

“I think what you did was evil.”

“…”

“You regret it?”

“I do!”

“Then make up for it for the rest of your life.”

She turned away from him and disappeared back into the clouds of stars and light.

…

On the seventh night she was not there.

Breezepelt called, screamed, begged for Hollyleaf to return. He did it until he was awake again, his tears still wet on his fur.

He never dreamt of the border again. He was left on his own choices.

#breezepelt #crowfeather #hollyleaf #Warriors #Warrior Cats #Thunderclan #WindClan #fanfiction #warriors fic

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amberskywrites · 4 years

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Desperate for Cuddles

This was pretty frickin fun to write- Anywho! Enjoy the fluff!!

Masterpost

Pairing: Zuko x Sokka, Suki x Sokka, Suki & Zuko

Fandom / Genre: Avatar the Last Airbender / Fluff

Summary: Sokka's letters to Zuko and Suki reveal a dire need for cuddles, and who are they to deny their boyfriend such a simple request? Besides, they'd sail an entire ocean if it meant making Sokka happy.

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

Suki bites her nail as they sail closer and closer to the south pole, and she glances at the Firelord leaning against the ship's handrail.

"You think this is really a good idea?" Zuko looks away from the horizon and towards the warrior, tilting his head in confusion. "Visiting Sokka without warning," Suki clarifies.

Zuko shrugs, turning away again. "Doubtful, you've read some of his letters, right? The man is practically oozing desperation for cuddles."

Suki laughs gently at that, settling against the rail herself. They're making good time and should get to the south pole before sundown. "You're right. I hope we don't interrupt any meetings, though."

Zuko silently acknowledged Suki's concern, but he doubted Sokka would mind if they interrupted one meeting… Sokka liked them a lot more than he did when they were all still teens, but Zuko does recall getting a letter or two with some complaints about how boring some of it could be.

The two friends eventually head inside the ship when it starts getting a bit colder, the sun sinking closer and closer towards the horizon. They play a game of paisho to pass the time, and after Suki tells Zuko about Kyoshi Island- a place Zuko has been dying to visit again for a vacation.

A guard steps into the room with a single knock on the door, catching their attention as he clears his throat. "We'll be docking soon, the captain claimed you would want to know."

Zuko nods at the guard. "Thank you," he says, watching as the guard leaves. He grins at Suki and reaches for their coats, tossing hers over. "C'mon, with our luck he will be in a meeting, which means he won't see the ship, and we can actually surprise him."

"No scaring him though, we don't need to give him a heart attack before telling him we just wanted to cuddle." Zuko rolls his eyes, huffing softly as he fastens the coat around himself.

"Fine, next time then, I still need to get him back for making me think he had been eaten by the unagi."

Suki hums as she follows Zuko up some stairs and onto the deck. "Fair." She had been terrified then, too. Neither of them had known Aang was there to save Sokka at the last minute, and they had both been left quite terrified at the time.

There were a few warriors from the water tribe at the bottom of the ramp, and they greeted Zuko and Suki with smiles. Hakoda stepped forward with open arms, embracing both of his son's partners.

"Sokka's just about to finish up with a meeting, assuming that's why you're both here unannounced," he says stepping back and glancing between the two, a hand on each of their shoulders still. Suki laughs and Zuko rubs the back of his neck, grinning slightly. "Come, I'll show you where and you can wait outside."

"Thank you, sir," Zuko says and Hakoda nods briefly, escorting Suki and Zuko towards one of the ice buildings. The south pole has definitely improved since their last visit. And also lacking a certain flying bison, avatar, and master waterbender.

"Aang and Katara on another adventure?" Suki asks as they walk, stuffing her gloved hands into her pockets.

"Visiting Toph in the Earth Kingdom," Hakoda corrects. "Aang wished to know a bit more metal bending and Katara wanted to try and visit your uncle." He nods to Zuko, who smiles a bit more and warmth erupts in his chest. He knew Iroh enjoyed visits from Zuko and his friends from time to time.

Hakoda stopped in front of a rather impressive building, nodding inside. "Should be done very soon, if either of you need anything just call. I'll be sure someone helps your guards feel welcome, Zuko."

With that, Hakoda leaves the pair, and Zuko and Suki settle on the icy wall. They debate what the meeting could've been about as they watch the sunset, light dancing across the snow and the calm waves. Just as the sun finally dips out of view and people start lighting lamps does the meeting seem to end and the doors open.

Zuko recognizes a northern water tribe ambassador, as well as a few Ba Sing Se representatives. They don't appear entirely dead inside at the moment, so Zuko assumes the meeting was a success.

And finally, the last meeting attendant steps out, stretching and yawning. Suki grins as she jumps to her feet, and she grabs Zuko to pull him up with her. "Sokka!"

Suki's voice snaps the exhaustion right out of Sokka, the ambassador staring at them for a moment before he registers who is standing just a little ways away and he laughs lightly, running into their open, awaiting arms.

Zuko's warm, pressing his face into Sokka's neck as Sokka melts against the pleasant heat, and Suki peppers kisses to Sokka's face, enjoying the way Sokka's cheeks dust crimson.

"What're you two doing here?" He asks, one arm wrapped around Suki's waist and the other Zuko's shoulders.

"Wanna spend some time with you," Zuko brushes some of the strands of Sokka's hair that escaped his ponytail back before his fingers trail down to cup Sokka's jaw. His thumb gently grazes just under Sokka's eyes. "You haven't been sleeping, have you?"

Sokka smiles sheepishly, and Suki huffs, grabbing one of Sokka's hands and she begins guiding him to where she knows Sokka lives. Zuko takes Sokka's other hand and follows Suki's lead, and Sokka lets them take him where they want.

Once they're inside and huddled in a bunch of blankets and furs, Suki and Zuko rid themselves of their coats so they could cuddle Sokka better.

Sokka rests against Suki's side and sighs as her fingers start brushing through his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp in a soothing way. Meanwhile, Zuko rests his head on Sokka's shoulder, rubbing smooth circles into Sokka's stomach, raising his own body heat just enough to keep the three of them warm.

Sokka hums as Suki presses a kiss to the top of his head, and he glances at Zuko, who ends up pressing a light kiss to Sokka's collarbone. "How long do you guys intend to stay?" He finds himself asking already. Sokka just wants to know in advance, and he hopes they're staying a while.

"A few weeks, " Zuko answers, and he shifts so Sokka is instead leaning against him, an arm looping around Sokka's waist and spreading warmth throughout him. Suki, satisfied with getting the knots out of Sokka's hair, settles herself against Sokka's chest, wrapping her arm around him as well. She nuzzles his neck lightly.

"Right now you should sleep, though. And tomorrow we can have those sea prunes." Suki stops herself from laughing at the mildly disgusted face Zuko makes, and Sokka rolls his eyes but Zuko holds him closer, burying his face in the back of Sokka's neck.

"She's right, besides, I guess I could stomach one helping." Sokka looks over his shoulder to see Zuko's gentle smile, and he leans into him more, pressing a soft kiss to Zuko's incredibly warm lips.

The kiss doesn't last long, and right after Sokka tilts Suki's head up to kiss her as well, hearing the satisfied hum in the back of her throat.

"Love you both," Sokka mumbles when they pull away. Zuko and Suki echo the sentiment, and Sokka closes his eyes. He falls into a deep sleep rather quickly, much to their amusement.

It wasn't until Suki could hear his heart fall into a steady, slow rhythm does she speak up, voice no louder than a whisper.

"You think tomorrow, he'll like what we got him?" She bites her lip gently as she glances towards the firebender.

She feels one of Zuko's hands find hers, and she sighs softly at the warmth that floods her body at the touch. He rubs small circles into the back of her hand. "Wasn't he the one that brought up the betrothal necklaces?"

"Yeah… but that was mostly about him proposing. Do you think he'll like that we're doing it?"

Zuko shrugs ever so slightly. "Only one way to find out, really."

Suki's quiet for a moment. "I guess you're right."

Zuko presses a kiss to the back of his friend's hand, grinning at her and she returns the smile, a bit smaller though. "Let's both get some rest too," he says, and Suki nods, settling back against Sokka's chest.

"Night, Zuko."

"G'night."

They both fall asleep, and none of them wake up until the following afternoon, cuddled close under a mountain of furs.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #zukka #sukka #sokka/zuko #sokka/suki #zuko #sokka #suki #atla zuko #atla sokka #atla suki #fluff #post canon #amberskywrites #ambersky #fanfic

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kentuckywrites · 3 years

Text

Imperium 2: Chapter 4

Audi stella. (Listen to the star.)

“...weird trees under rocks? Hm, new creatures? Never seen these before…”

Elma groaned, her eyes fluttering as she came back to consciousness. Her head hurt, her body ached - wait, the stalactites. She shot up suddenly, ignoring how her mim protested against such exertion, and she searched around wildly for her companions.

However, to her surprise, something was carefully moving the rubble off of her body. That must’ve been how she was able to sit up, she realized before looking further into the cavern. Lin was awake, shaking her head and checking herself over for any wounds. There was no sign of Nessa or Tatsu, but there was another creature a few feet away from Elma, throwing a stray rock to the side as he dug at the pile holding her legs in place. It didn’t seem to notice that Elma was awake, not at first, but when it finally looked up at her it froze. Elma recognized the little creature immediately: a Nopon. He didn’t look like any Nopon Elma had ever encountered, however. White fur, a thick winter coat covering most of its body, a long and prominent tuft of fur atop his head that faded into a bright pink. His wings were speckled with the same pink, though there were also hints of cerulean and lavender flecks amongst the white. And, perhaps most surprising of all, there was a rather large broadsword strapped to the Nopon’s back, a weapon far larger than any Nopon should’ve been able to carry, and easily larger than any Nopon she’d encountered before.

“Meh! One flesh tree awake and alive!” The Nopon commented with a smirk, “Have good nap, flesh tree?”

“Um…”

“Don’t answer. Froyoyo knows flesh tree was knocked out by silly cavern termites. Those are reason for stalactites falling down! Very unfortunate.”

“Cavern termites?” Elma asked, watching as Lin finally spotted the Nopon. Her eyes went wide, and then her expression quickly turned to that of confusion.

“Flesh tree not heard of cavern termites?” The Nopon - Froyoyo? - raised an eyebrow before a spark of realization hit his dark eyes. “Of course, Froyoyo understand now! Flesh trees not from here, surely!”

“You’re right,” Elma told him, “We’re from...well, we live in Primordia, in the city New Los Angeles. But we also aren’t from Mira. We’re from a planet called Earth, and we’re called humans.”

“Well, Humans, wonderful to meet you!” Froyoyo offered one of his little hands to shake, “Froyoyo is Froyoyo, legendary Heropon of Cocytios and leader of Desserta Caravan!”

A muffled voice came from underneath the rubble before Elma could correct Froyoyo on her proper name - and the fact that, technically, she wasn’t even a human. “MEH?! FROYOYO, HEROPON OF COCYTIOS?! TATSU KNEW YOU WERE REAL!!”

Froyoyo quickly hopped over to where Tatsu had called out, using his wings and arms to dig beneath the rubble. He pulled Tatsu out, who was dazed and disoriented, but still harboring a huge childish smile. He adjusted his glasses quickly before continuing to speak to Froyoyo, “It is!! Tatsu is Tatsu, and Tatsu is your biggest fan!! Tatsu’s mamapon read Tatsu Tale of Two Gods every night as a littlepon, and Tatsu could recite story word for word! Froyoyo is such a legendary Heropon -”

“Time for enjoying Froyoyo’s coolness comes later, littlepon,” Froyoyo interrupted, “Froyoyo appreciates it, but first, Froyoyo must ask: are there other flesh trees underneath rubble?”

“Yes! Nessa’s still down there!” Lin confirmed, a slight panic overtaking her confusion.

“Then littlepon, help Froyoyo rescue friend!”

Froyoyo quickly made his way closer to Lin, navigating the rubble with a certain air of grace. Strange, yet another thing Elma had put past the Nopon. Froyoyo was definitely an odd one, that much was certain, but his oddities were welcome. After all, he was talking to a mimeosome, a secret xenoform, one of the avatars of the sentient planet, and their adopted Nopon child.

Speaking of whom, Elma was also surprised that Tatsu followed Froyoyo quickly, though he wasn’t quite as careful and tripped over a stray rock on his way to help. Elma took the time to push the rest of her body out of the rubble, positioning herself on top and deciding to try and stand up. It was a process, especially considering how unstable this new flooring was, but by the time she’d gotten her balance, Froyoyo and Tatsu were both pulling Nessa out into fresh air. Her eyes were open and she was breathing, thank the gods, but when she surfaced she coughed, holding her stomach and regaining her senses as she lay on the rocks.

“Is flesh tree okay?” Froyoyo asked.

Nessa’s face scrunched up at that. “Uh, sure, flesh tree is fine. Who are you?”

“Froyoyo’s name is Froyoyo!” The Nopon introduced himself once again, and Nessa’s eyes sparkled with familiarity.

“Oh! You’re that Heropon Tatsu was going on about. Thanks for the rescue, sir.”

“Froyoyo need not be called ‘sir’,” Froyoyo huffed, “Only thanks Froyoyo needs is seeing you safe. Now, what are flesh trees doing in Cocytios, if not from here?”

“We’re here because my brother’s in danger, and we think he’s somewhere in Cocytios,” Nessa explained, “We were going to investigate a Ganglion fortress for any signs of -”

“Ganglion? What are Ganglion?”

Elma tensed at that. Bad sign, very bad sign.

Nessa seemed to feel it too, and her words became slower, more cautious. “They’re like...us flesh trees, but blue and purple and really ugly.”

“Flesh trees are referring to the Blue Bastards?”

Lin stifled a laugh, but it didn’t deter Froyoyo from continuing, “Blue Bastards have fortress south of here! Froyoyo would be happy to take flesh trees there, but not right now. Now, flesh trees should accompany Froyoyo back to Desserta Caravan and have wifeypon look over for wounds.”

“Desserta Caravan!!” Tatsu cheered, “Yes!! Friends, let’s go to Desserta Caravan! Tatsu want to meet Vanala and Froyoyo’s littlepon!! Entire chapter of Tale of Two Gods was dedicated to Sprinkle Sprinkle; Tatsu has to know what happened in adventure up Treachery Mountain -”

“Hang on there, tater tot,” Lin quickly objected, turning her focus to Nessa and Elma, “We should decide that as a team. If this is time sensitive, then...is it the best idea to take a detour?”

Elma thought about it for a moment before reaching a decision: “I think of it less as a detour and more of a potential recovery spot. Froyoyo’s extending his hospitality to us, and if what he’s offering is true, then I see no reason to refuse.”

“Froyoyo is right here, you know,” Froyoyo shook his head, “Flesh trees don’t need to accept offer of friendship. But Froyoyo hates seeing flesh trees looking so defenseless and stupid! Froyoyo knows family and caravan would be willing to help, just like they did with Sollypon!”

“Sollypon?” Nessa frowned, “Who’s that?”

“Sollypon is a not-quite flesh tree!” Froyoyo chirped, “Magical, has weird horns and long ears. Much taller than flesh trees, too!...wait, flesh tree with weird eyes, is Sollypon brother you mentioned?”

“Based on that description, no.”

“Is brother one of the Blue Bastards?”

“Absolutely no.”

“Is brother the weird furry dragon that has been attacking caravan?”

“I’m afraid to ask. No, he’s not. He looks exactly like me, but a little taller, has a weird heart shaped strand of hair atop his head, and he doesn’t have fat tits like I do.”

It became Elma’s turn to stifle an embarrassed snort, mostly because Nessa was so...nonchalant about that last part. Froyoyo eyed her weirdly before shrugging with his wings. “Then Froyoyo has not seen brother! But Froyoyo promises to help find brother if flesh trees come back to caravan and take care of themselves. And maybe help with weird furry dragon if it comes back.”

“I believe that’s...an eye for an eye, right?” Nessa brought up the saying, and immediately Elma wanted to congratulate her on not butchering it like Pongo would’ve. Even after spending so much time around humans, he always managed to mess those up.

“Incorrect use of the saying, but close enough,” She told her, “And in any case, I’d at least like to get out of this cavern, lest we get surprised by more…”

“Cavern termites!” Froyoyo exclaimed, “Like to build tunnels in caves, especially in stalactites. Caused lots of trouble for caravan when we settled down and made homes!” He didn’t elaborate, and instead offered out a stubby little hand to Nessa and Lin. “Now come! Froyoyo will show you to caravan, it’s not far at all. But we must hurry, since Cocytios gets very dark very quickly!”

Without putting up any resistance, Elma and her team soon made their way out of the cavern, following Froyoyo back into the cold expanse of Cocytios. Thankfully, the weather treated them kindly. No snow, but a threatening wind still kept Elma on her toes. Froyoyo walked with a confidence that only came with time and experience. Tatsu stuck to him like glue, and the two Nopon became engrossed in conversation fairly quickly. Elma’s attention, however, remained on Lin and Nessa. Neither seemed terribly hurt by the stalactites, but given how Nessa had already taken a fair amount of damage prior to meeting them, Elma wanted to make sure she was okay. If she was hurt at all, Nessa did a great job at hiding it, and she kept up the pace without struggle.

Oddly enough, after half an hour of walking, Lin entered into a sneezing fit. She could hardly talk, and once she started up, Froyoyo stopped to look at her. To Elma’s surprise, the hardened Nopon started to laugh, a loud and boisterous rumble.

“Friend must have inhaled a Sneezy Peezy!” He said.

Tatsu was the first to ask, “Meh meh? What is a Sneezy Peezy?”

“Sneezy Peezy is a snowflake that makes many creatures enter bouts of sneezing! Desserts Caravan sometimes catches Sneezy Peezies to melt, since melted Sneezy Peezies help cure colds!”

“Fascinating,” Elma commented shortly after Lin was able to regain her composure, “Are you alright, Lin?”

“I’m okay,” Lin caught her breath as Nessa put a careful hand on her shoulder, “Just wasn’t expecting that!”

“Cocytios is full of little surprises,” Nessa winked, “Just wait until we find a Tundrabbit!”

They continued on without further incident, and soon, atop an incline, Elma could spot the silhouettes of little huts. They reminded her of the other Nopon caravans scattered throughout the continents, but even from a distance, she could tell they were sturdier, more accustomed to the climate. And there were fewer of them, and no Potamuses lingering around with baggage. She supposed that was logical, considering the biological nature of the Potamuses, though she wondered if the Nopon used anything in its stead.

Once they approached the caravan, Elma watched as several little Nopon saw Froyoyo and stopped what they were doing to run over to him. They were all small, far smaller than Tatsu, and came in an assortment of colors. When one called out “Dadapon”, she realized that they must be Froyoyo’s kids. And there were far more than she was expecting - nine in total came to greet him, and one ignored him completely in favor of walking up to Elma, Lin and Nessa. It was a little pink Nopon, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Dadapon, who are flesh tree friends?” The little Nopon asked, “Are friends from other continents? Ooh, do friends have stories for Sprinkle Sprinkle? Sprinkle Sprinkle desperately wants to know what happens outside of Cocytios -”

“Sprinkle Sprinkle!!”

And then, another larger Nopon approached, a similar shade of pink and flaunting a large tuft of curled hair. It almost formed a heart shape with how structured it was. “Do not haggle strangers for stories until they’ve settled down!!” She looked to Elma, the tallest of the three humanoids, and cleared her throat. “Vanala is Vanala! Welcome to Desserta Caravan! Vanala hopes hubbypon has treated you well on journey to caravan!”

“Of course, wifeypon! Froyoyo saved new friends from cavern termite cave-in!” Froyoyo claimed, trying his best to calm his excited kids down. Some even pounced on Tatsu, who handled them with expertise. Elma recalled how he was an older sibling in his own family, so it made sense how he knew the tricks to calming down the littlepon.

“Meh meh! Vanala sorry to hear,” Froyoyo’s wife said solemnly, “Very rude of cavern termites to do that! Are friends hurt at all? Vanala can heal with ether if need be!”

Lin shook her head. “I’m okay, but thank you! Though, you can heal with ether?”

“Of course! Ether is plentiful in Cocytios, so Vanala harnessed water ether to heal. Took long time to master, but very useful for when littlepon get careless in their roughhousing and when hubbypon bites off more than he can chew.”

“I thought all of the healing Arts used ether,” Nessa frowned, “Is something different about a Nopon knowing how to use it?”

“Well, none of the Nopon in the city - or any of the ones we’ve met across Mira - have ever been able to use ether before,” Lin explained, “We only have a handful of Nopon that are actually registered with BLADE, and they mostly stay inside the city. Heck, the fact that Froyoyo is carrying a weapon is really weird!!”

“Meh meh? Are friends saying that Nopon outside Cocytios are softies?!” Froyoyo scoffed, making his way over to them and letting Tatsu handle the littlepon for the time being, “So sad! Nopon must know how to defend themselves! If they don’t, what’s stopping them from being devoured by giant angry beastie?”

“Dadapon never taught Tatsu how to fight before he left for Heropon duties,” Tatsu said sadly, “But Tatsu would love to learn! Tatsu wants to become as strong as legendary Heropon Froyoyo!”

“Where was this enthusiasm to fight during all our other battles…” Lin muttered under her breath, echoing a thought Elma had but wouldn’t voice.

“Time for talking comes later!” Vanala announced with a bounce, “Friends follow Vanala into medicine tent!”

Lin stuttered for a moment, but at Elma’s nod, she shadowed Vanala. Nessa hung behind with Elma, taking their time in following, but never straying too far behind that they’d lose the little Nopon.

“The Nopon here certainly seem different compared to the ones we’ve interacted with previously,” Elma observed, placing a thoughtful hand on her hip. She didn’t say this with disdain or contempt, but rather, a budding curiosity complete with a touch of wonder. Which had come first: the soft, avaricious Nopon that NLA was familiar with, or the hardened, experienced Nopon of Cocytios? Perhaps the environment each grew up in influenced their development, but then, why weren’t the Nopon inhabiting Cauldros as tough? Surely Cauldros presented no mercy to them, surely Cauldros did everything in its power to tell the Nopon that they couldn’t exist on its land without suffering great discomfort at best and great loss at worst. Perhaps it spoke to the Nopon, and perhaps it spoke to how brutal Cocytios truly was.

“Don’t see much of a difference,” Nessa shrugged, “They all look like huggable egg-shaped friends to me.”

“Ah, I meant more in terms of personality and -”

“If friend dares to hug Froyoyo, friend will not be friend anymore,” Froyoyo suddenly called out, having returned to the littlepon and Tatsu. His face poked out above his wings, an adorable image shattered by how serious he looked. To think, a Nopon was capable of appearing as anything but cute…

“See? I like him,” Nessa giggled, unfazed by his threat, “Though I doubt my brother would’ve felt the same.”

“He was always one for hugs,” Elma replied, “Now let’s meet with Vanala and get looked over. We want to be in the best shape for the journey ahead.”

Nessa and Elma, shoulder to shoulder, made their way over to one of the tents. Elma had seen Lin disappear behind the curtain flaps mere moments before, and even if she hadn’t, she could harbor a guess as to which tent belonged to Vanala’s. It was the same color as her hair, embroidered with little white snowflakes, and a similar tuft of fur protruding from its roof. From a distance, it didn’t look nearly big enough to house three entire humanoids. So when Elma made it to the entrance first, she pulled back the flaps, beckoning for Nessa to enter ahead of her. She would need the most attention, most likely, and even if she didn’t need much, knowing that she was being taken care of would put Elma’s mind at ease.

“After you,” Elma offered.

Nessa smiled knowingly, almost teasingly. “Oh, you’re too kind!”

So Nessa ducked underneath, remaining bent down as she entered. Elma kept the flap open and peered in, watching as Nessa took a tentative seat next to Lin. Together, sitting down on a soft fur rug, there was much more room to breathe. Little lanterns hung from the ceiling, flickering with what Elma would’ve harbored were fireflies, had they been on Earth. Vanala had a little dresser she was attending to in the middle of the tent, rummaging around in a drawer for something specific. However, Elma’s attention was immediately piqued by something outside of the tent, something that cast a shadow over her. She’d heard the snow crunching underneath someone’s weight, footsteps approaching and growing louder, louder, the closer they got. Elma turned around, still keeping a hand on the tent’s flap.

“You must be humans.”

Elma wasn’t sure why she was surprised upon seeing a humanoid behind her. The shadow had been cast over her, implying height, which many Nopon most certainly didn’t have. But still, her eyes widened upon taking in the new figure’s form. Not a human, not by any stretch of the imagination. Light yellow skin, pointed horns atop the head, pointed ears. An outfit that swirled with blues and greens and browns and the slightest hints of magenta, and eyes that were sharp, their colors transitioning from the sky to the land. There were little ridges that followed their cheekbones, and that was the clue Elma needed to be able to speak.

“And you appear to be a Miran native.”

The Miran native smiled warmly and nodded once, only once. “I am a F’lenla A’slegn. Judging by your educated guess, you have encountered one of my kind before.”

“Elma? Who’s outside with you?” Nessa tried desperately to look past Elma, maneuvering every which way to get a better view.

Vanala perked up at the new addition, and a flash of recognition shot across her eyes, quick and easily mistaken for a trick of the light. “That is friend Sollypon! Sollypon has been with Desserta Caravan for a few days. They’ve been helpful with littlepon!”

The Miran native chuckled softly at that. “Your littlepon are rambunctious, I do admit, but they are quite a joy. You should be proud of them.” Turning back to Elma, they performed a small bow. “I am called Solstice. If you would be so kind, you may refer to me with neutral pronouns, as well as feminine.”

“Of course,” Elma understood, “My name is Elma. Behind me are -”

“I’m Lin!” Lin called out, unable to see the newcomer as Vanala was inspecting her for wounds, “It’s nice to meet you Solstice!!” “And I’m Nessa,” Nessa winked once more, finally able to get a better view, “The pleasure’s all mine!”

Solstice’s head tilted, a small gesture that Elma couldn’t quite decipher. “Would you be willing to share? Because it’s quite an honor to finally meet a human - three, no less. I believed in my travels I wouldn’t be able to interact with any.”

“Why’s that?” Nessa asked, “I mean, humans are everywhere at this point, especially if you’re with BLADE. Primordia’s the hot spot for them since that’s where their city is.”

“Primordia?” They frowned, “I haven’t had reason to visit that continent in quite some time. Though, humans live there, you say? Perhaps once I have completed my duties here, I will visit for a while. And what is this BLADE you speak of? Does that put limitations on how often humans travel?”

“BLADE’s an organization! It’s like...kinda like a government, but not really?” Lin struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation, “BLADE headed the exploration of Mira when we all crash landed here. There’s divisions that have different duties, and depending on what division you pick, you get assigned to do different things! And that’s not really all too strict, because anyone can take any missions they want regardless what the mission’s about -”

“Oh jeez, my brother totally rubbed off on you,” Nessa snickered, “Enough about that, though, what are your duties on Cocytios?”

“I’m here in search of Starr,” Solstice said simply, prompting Elma, Lin and Nessa to make confused expressions. Elma opened her mouth to ask for more details, but Lin’s gasp was like a lightning bolt, and Elma quickly spun around to make sure she was okay. Vanala was standing at her knees, wings hovering over a nasty scrape, and orbs of blue energy floated around and about. Many seemed magnetized to Lin’s wound, while others enjoyed their taste of freedom and continued to surround Vanala.

Nessa and Elma looked on, amazed for a moment, before Vanala announced loudly, “Friend must stay still for a while for ether to work! Would Sollypon and Elma like to come in?”

Elma and Solstice shook their heads. Elma told her, “I’ll be alright, but thank you for the offer. Nessa and Lin have the more urgent need, and I wouldn’t want to crowd your tent.”

“Then close tent flap! Don’t want cold air getting inside and giving friends bitefrost!”

Elma did as Vanala requested, trying to ignore the disappointed sigh that Nessa made. Solstice took a step back, hands carefully placed in front of them and folded with a polite aura. Elma didn’t want to stray far, and her unanswered questions were getting the best of her.

“Starr? Who is that?”

“Starr, the Undying.” Solstice explained, “It’s a beast that has recently been targeting the caravan. I am here to speak to it.”

“Froyoyo did mention a strange furry dragon attacking the caravan,” Elma thought out loud, “Do we know why the caravan is its primary target? Do the Nopon have something it wants?”

“It’s unclear,” They responded, “The obvious answer would be that Starr would like to claim this part of Cocytios as its territory. There are abundant resources and a large, natural cavern here, as well as an enjoyable hot spring to the east. It’s also sheltered, compared to most of the continent, but…”

“But it’s a predator, I assume. There must be better places for Starr to form a home. If it can fly, perhaps one of the mountains?”

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that question. Starr is...I have reason to believe it may be behaving erratically. It’s why I’m here. To talk to it, to understand what is plaguing its mind, and possibly help to restore it.”

“I see.” Elma glanced around, spotting Froyoyo, Tatsu and the swarm of littlepon not too far off. “Froyoyo asked if we would be willing to help deal with Starr, should it return while we were recuperating.”

“Froyoyo is a Nopon bent on dispelling Starr through physical means,” Solstice shook her head sadly, “But I cannot blame him. Starr is putting his family and caravan in danger, and my attempts at extending friendship have resulted in repeated failure. I don’t wish to give up hope and -”

“FROYOYO!! DRAGON IS RETURNING!!”

An unseen Nopon called out to Froyoyo, and Elma spun around to look at the sky. Sure enough, a winged figure was approaching, descending, a storm in its own right. Over the panicked noises of Nopon running back and forth, a roar like thunder erupted from its maw. Elma flinched, gritting her teeth. Her guns were out in the next second, pushing past Solstice even as they tried to reach for them, to call out that the answer was not in fighting. Elma didn’t have the time to explain that the guns were a precaution.

Lin and Nessa emerged from the tent moments later, both with their own weapons drawn. Lin’s gatling gun was out, and Nessa was poised with her dual swords. They quickly flanked Elma, peering up at the dragon - at Starr. Vanala did not reappear, but Froyoyo peered up from behind an adjacent tent, broadsword drawn and at the ready.

“Damn furry dragon,” Froyoyo growled, “Has not had enough of Froyoyo’s blade!! Has not tasted enough defeat yet!! Froyoyo about to show it true might of Legendary Heropon!!”

“Wait, please -” Solstice pleaded, but those two words fell on deaf ears. For Elma, it wasn’t a matter of not hearing, but rather, a matter of seeing. Because as the dragon approached, as it grew closer and closer to the caravan...she saw its wings. She saw its tail.

Glowing purple fragments, defying all known laws of gravity, acting as feathers on a fluffy white wing. Stardust trailed behind it, like a Skell leaving behind its trail in flight, like a comet leaving behind its aurora for the night sky. Had it been higher, had it been dark, Elma would’ve made a wish.

But now, all she did was wish she wasn’t right. And Lin echoed her thoughts in a hushed whisper, haunted by a very real possibility, a very real fear.

“Is that...a Telethia?”

#xenoblade x #Imperium 2: Chapter 4 #FINALLY ITS FROYOYO TIME #AND SOLSTICE #y'all have no idea how excited I was to introduce them #I also have an entire collectopedia in the works for Cocytios #hence all the collectible stuff popping up #anyways yep Cocytios has a Telethia :)

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ssa-lesbian · 4 years

Text

don’t you know you have my eyes

word count: 4.1k words

Rosalyn always made time for her little sister.

-> read on AO3

(Contains graphic descriptions of suicide, descriptions of self-harm, reference to CSA/pedophilia. Spoiler warning for Criminal Minds, S14E5, The Tall Man.)

—

Rosalyn finds her underneath the back porch.

“JJ? It’s Roz.”

She doesn’t answer, just digs her fingers into the moist dirt and tries not to sniffle too loudly. Rosalyn waits only a few seconds before crawling under, just barely squeezing under the wooden planks and settling in an awkward crouch next to her sister.

“Hey,” she says.

JJ sniffs in response. Already there’s another tear slipping down her cheek, and she bites her lip to try and stop the sob that’s threatening to escape. Rosalyn lifts her hand to brush away her tear, but JJ flinches in response.

“I’m sorry about your butterfly,” Rosalyn says, and the dam breaks.

“It’s not fair,” JJ cries, hands digging into the dirt. “I thought she wanted— I thought— I thought she was my friend.”

“Oh, Jayj,” Rosalyn murmurs, and she pulls her sister into her embrace.

She melts into it, the sturdy feeling of her big sister, and she buries her face in her shoulder, sobbing.

JJ doesn’t have many friends at school. She is quiet, awkward, timid, a little clumsy, and everyone thinks it’s a little weird she goes by JJ instead of Jenny or Jen, but Mary Ann has many friends, and she said she wanted to see the butterfly JJ presented at show-and-tell, and JJ thought that meant she thought she was cool and maybe they could be friends.

Except Mary Ann ripped the butterfly out of her hands and called her “stupid,” “ugly,” “lame,” and when JJ tried to grab her back, her wings were torn. She was an eastern tiger swallowtail, with pretty black striping and a splash of sky blue, and JJ had spent so long looking for her. And Mary Ann and her friends had laughed at her while she cried, trying to pick up the pieces of her butterfly.

“I hate her,” JJ says, and immediately she feels bad, because “hate” is a strong word and her mommy always said she shouldn’t ever say that, but right now, she thinks she hates Mary Ann.

“I hate her too,” Rosalyn says, and JJ startles, but her hands keep stroking through her tangled blonde locks. “I hate that she made you cry and she hurt your butterfly. I think she’s a meanie-poo.”

And despite her sobbing, JJ giggles. “Meanie-poo?”

“Yeah, I think she’s a meanie-poo,” Rosalyn repeats. “I think she’s a stinky, rotten, meanie-poo.”

“Meanie-poo,” JJ giggles, and her sister smiles, brushing away the leftover tears and the wet strands of hair sticking to her face. Then her face falls.

“Is Mommy mad at me?” she asks quietly.

There’s a pause before Rosalyn responds, and it’s with something in her eyes that six-year-old JJ cannot quite understand.

“Mommy’s not mad at you,” she says.

“But she yelled at me.”

“Mommy’s been really stressed lately,” she says, and when she sees JJ’s face scrunch up in confusion, she hurries to clarify. “She’s really tired ‘cause of all her work, and when she saw you crying, she got scared.”

“Oh,” JJ says, because if she had to pick a word to describe her screaming mother, it would not have been “scared.” Then more guilt, because it is her fault that Mommy was scared.

“It’s not your fault, Jayj,” Rosalyn says. “It’s that stupid meanie-poo’s.”

And JJ laughs because Roz said the “s word” and that’s a bad word, but it dies down when Rosalyn says, “We should go tell her mom.”

“No,” JJ says immediately. “No, I don’t want to—”

“But someone has to know,” Rosalyn says. “Her mom should know that she’s a stinky meanie-poo—”

“I don’t want to!” JJ shouts, and immediately Rosalyn quiets, just holding JJ by the shoulders and looking at her, and JJ tries to not let the tears fall again.

“I don’t want to,” she repeats, and Rosalyn nods.

“I know,” she says. “But you have to stand up for yourself.”

“I don’t want to,” JJ says.

“Okay. Do you want to go and find another tiger swallowtail?”

“It’s an eastern tiger swallowtail,” JJ corrects, but she crawls out from under the porch with her sister, and they spend the rest of the afternoon searching the fields. And for a while, it feels like JJ didn’t lose anything at all.

They spend Friday evenings with their grandparents. Nana and Haydyn welcome the two with a glazed apple pie, and listening to Roz tell them about her singing performance at the school talent show and JJ’s new butterflies, this old, creaking farmhouse feels more like home than the cold house back in town full of shouting and scowling. Haydn takes them to feed their goat and two cows, and even though Roz complains of the stink, when Bella the goat bleats in protest, they all laugh.

Dinner is chicken pot pie and green beans, and the big sheepdog, Shelly, sits beneath the dining table, and JJ is small enough that her feet barely graze his thick fur, and she laughs and giggles and she doesn’t notice that Rosalyn is watching her the entire time. They play poker in the evenings, gambling off small chips that JJ slips Shelly when she thinks no one is watching, and at night, Nana and Haydyn have a room prepared just for the two sisters.

Just when JJ is about to doze off, it’s Rosalyn’s voice that brings her back.

“JJ! JJ, it’s snowing!”

And even though it’s way past their bedtime and she knows she’s supposed to be quiet, a squeal escapes from JJ as she bounds to the window, pressing her face up against the glass and watching the little flakes float down, illuminated by the moonlight. There’s footsteps behind her, and she whirls around to grab her sister’s hands.

“It’s snowing Roz, it’s snowing!” she shouts, and even though Rosalyn shushes her, JJ knows she’s just as excited from the way they almost dance on the cold wooden floor.

“It’s so magical, Roz, it’s like we’re in—”

“A winter wonderland,” her sister finishes for her, and JJ shouts in agreement.

“We’re the snow princesses,” she says. “This is our castle.”

“Shelly is our magic dog,” Rosalyn suggests. “He’s our guard dog ‘cause he’s so big.”

“Bella is magic too!” JJ protests. “She makes it snow.”

“Bella is magic too,” her sister laughs. “What about Mabel and Moxie?”

The cows. JJ is still thinking when Rosalyn gasps.

“What?”

“The moon,” Rosalyn says in a hushed voice, and nine-year-old JJ is a little small for her size, just a little under four feet, and so her big sister hoists her up underneath her arms, and JJ gasps at the moon.

“It’s so pretty!” she says. “It’s a full moon, Roz.”

“It is,” Rosalyn agrees. “Do you know what a full moon is?”

“Um,” JJ says thoughtfully. “It’s a circle?”

And Rosalyn laughs and runs her hand through JJ’s hair, and she giggles.

“A full moon is when the Earth is right in the middle of the sun and the moon,” Rosalyn explains, shifting her weight so that JJ is seated on her hip. “And because the moon is facing the sun, this one big side of the moon is completely lit up.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” JJ says. “How come the Earth doesn’t block the sunlight?”

“I don’t know,” Rosalyn answers, and JJ giggles. “That’s what Miss Jordan said in science class.”

“Okay Roz,” JJ says, and she hums before speaking again.

“JJ , I need to tell you something.”

Her voice is more hushed and solemn, and JJ twists around in her grip to look at her.

Rosalyn might have JJ’s hair, just like their mother’s, but her eyes are a pale brown color, almost hazel, just like their parents’. JJ is the only one with blue eyes, and everywhere she goes, she’s told how beautiful, how striking, how vivid they are, and though she doesn’t tell anyone this, she doesn’t like her eyes much. She likes how warm Rosalyn’s eyes are, how they seem to be filled with so many colors at once, but JJ thinks her own eyes are too bright, too cold.

“I love you,” Rosalyn says, and JJ blinks.

“I know,” she says. “I love you too.”

And Rosalyn laughs, but there’s some sort of sadness as she lets JJ down to the ground, and she gets on her knees so she’s at eye-level, and JJ blinks again because her sister is never this quiet and still. Even when their parents are yelling and they’re huddled in Rosalyn’s closet under a blanket, hands still combing through JJ’s hair, she notices how Rosalyn is shaking, mouth set in a hard line and a look of something dark on her face that makes JJ scared to look at.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks, and she doesn’t miss the flicker in her sister’s eyes right before she smiles.

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you. You know how I’ll be going to college in a few years?”

JJ flinches at the “c” word.

“I don’t want you to go,” she says, and Rosalyn gives her another sad smile.

“I know,” she says quietly. “But I have to.”

“No you don’t,” JJ protests, but she’s old enough to know that East Allegheny is no place to stay in, surrounded by people who have known you since the day you were born and by parents who are so caught up in their own bitterness they can’t look out for their two kids.

And Rosalyn doesn’t say anything but points out the window. “You see the moon?”

From this angle, JJ can’t see anything, but she remembers the pale, glowing orb in the sky and nods.

“Promise me,” Rosalyn says, “that if you ever miss me, you’re going to look at the full moon. Because I’ll be looking at the moon too. And even though I won’t be with you, we’ll be looking at the same moon. And that’s how I’ll know that you’ll always be there with me.”

“The same moon,” JJ echoes.

Rosalyn squeezes her hands and nods.

“The same moon,” she says. “I’ll always love you. Promise me you’ll know that.”

“I promise,” JJ says. And then, “I’ll always love you too.”

Saturday afternoon comes too quickly, and it doesn’t escape from JJ her mother’s narrowed eyes and the sourness coming off of her father. She grips Rosalyn’s hand more tightly, and Rosalyn squeezes back in response, meeting her mother’s glare with a fierce stare of her own. They give Shelly one last pet before stepping off the porch, but when they make their way to the old van, the door is locked. And they’ve started arguing.

“Dan, you have to stop,” is Haydyn’s gruff voice, and responding is their father, but his voice is so slurred JJ can’t make out any words. “Think of the girls.”

“He doesn’t care,” comes their mother’s bitter snap. “He just drinks whatever he wants, whenever he wants, he won’t listen to that damn shrink—”

“Roz,” JJ says loudly. “Roz, can you tell me about the Mayflower?”

And Rosalyn tells her the stories of the first European pilgrims, and JJ tries to listen because no seven-year-old wants to hear her parents fighting and she just wants to hide with Bella the goat and pet Shelly the sheepdog and listen to Roz forever and ever, and she doesn’t really notice how Roz’s eyes darken and how her jaw tightens when their father says something and their mother slaps him.

—

JJ is quiet in school, never raising her hand and speaking in a voice so soft all the teachers have to ask her to speak up, but she’s a bright kid, they say, knows everything even though her parents are going through it. Because East Allegheny is a small town, and everyone knows that Dan Jareau has a drinking problem and has been sleeping with the high school science teacher for a while now, and all the kids whisper about her whore father when they think JJ isn’t listening, picking flowers in the recess field while everyone else plays kickball.

JJ asks Rosalyn what a whore is that night. Rosalyn doesn’t answer and asks JJ if she wanted to go out and catch more butterflies. She says yes.

JJ is not a stupid girl.

She teaches Rosalyn how to weave flower crowns from the wildflowers and tall grass in the fields behind their house, and when JJ goes to delicately set one on Rosalyn’s head, there’s a golden flash that catches her eye.

“What’s that?” she asks.

Rosalyn startles before her hand flies up to her collarbone, and she smiles.

“This?”

When JJ nods, Rosalyn glances around comically before putting a finger to her mouth with a hush, and her little sister giggles.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone,” she says.

JJ’s eyes widen, but she promises with her eyes and zips her mouth shut.

“My boyfriend gave it to me,” Rosalyn says. “He said it’s to show how much he loved me.”

And JJ groans because, ugh, boys, but she still can’t help asking, “Can I see it?”

Rosalyn hesitates only a little bit before unclasping it and passing it over, and JJ makes it a point to hold it delicately in her hands, watching the chains pool in her tiny palms, and she studies the tiny gold heart.

“It’s so pretty,” she says, and Rosalyn agrees.

She gives it back reluctantly. JJ wonders if there will be someone who loved her enough to give her a necklace like that.

—

It’s when Rosalyn is doing her eyeliner that JJ notices the marks on her arm.

“Are you okay?”

Rosalyn puts down her arm, and her brows furrow.

“Of course I am,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Your arm,” JJ says, and immediately Rosalyn flinches, her right hand flying up to her left wrist, but it’s too late; JJ has already seen the cuts on her wrist from where her jacket rolled up.

“What happened?” JJ asks, and she reaches out to try and see for herself, but Rosalyn smacks her hand.

“Hey!” she cries out, and Rosalyn scowls.

“I’m fine,” she says. “Tina got a new cat, and it doesn’t like me.”

“You haven’t been eating either,” JJ points out. “Are you allergic to it?”

And Rosalyn looks at her with something so tender and soft that JJ wants to hug her, and she smiles that same sad smile.

“Probably,” she says. “I’ll be fine, I just won’t go over to her house again.”

“Do you need medicine? We could ask Mom—”

“No,” Rosalyn says sharply, and JJ freezes at the harshness. “You can’t tell Mom or Dad, okay?”

When she doesn’t answer, Rosalyn prods her with the eyeliner pen. “Promise me. You can’t tell them.”

“I won’t,” JJ says, but her lip is trembling because Rosalyn only sounds this angry when she’s yelling with Mom and Dad, and Rosalyn sighs.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you.”

“It’s okay,” JJ says.

Her sister smiles. “Look at your eyeliner. You’re so pretty.”

—

Rosalyn cuts her hair off and dyes it brown. When she gets back from school, JJ is hiding around the corner when their father goes to confront her.

“What the hell did you do?” he shouts.

He’s been drinking, JJ knows. She came home earlier to find him staggering around the living room, bottles and bottles of beer littering the floor, and she took refuge in her room, locking her door and praying for anyone, literally anyone, to come and save her.

“I dyed my hair,” comes Rosalyn’s cold voice.

“Jesus Christ. Is it that boy? Tom?”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m your father, you will not—”

“You’re barely around!” Rosalyn shouts, and JJ flinches behind the corner as she hears disorganized footsteps pounding on the stairs. “You’re off sleeping with Miss Jordan, she has to teach me and look at me and know she’s banging my dad—”

“Do not disrespect me, you have no idea—”

“I’m not some stupid teenager, I know what love is, unlike you—”

“You’re 17, you don’t—”

“You don’t understand that we’re in love— he loves me.”

“Rosalyn, you don’t even know what love is—”

“You don’t get it.”

And the door slams so loudly it rattles the walls, and her dad’s roar of anger sends JJ scurrying into the pantry, closing the door behind her and hoping someone would come save her and her sister. Her mother comes home later, and still in the dark pantry, she listens to their screaming. Glass breaks right before the front door slams, and JJ hears her mother sob. She slips out easily and tries not to look at her mother’s shaking figure at the dining table, and she steps delicately around the shattered glass bottles on the ground.

Her mother sends JJ to get her sister for dinner. But it’s hopeless. Rosalyn hasn’t eaten in days, there’s no point.

But she still knocks on her door and opens it because JJ loves her sister.

“It’s dinnertime, mom says.”

Her voice is tiny in Rosalyn’s dark room, and she can only vaguely make out her figure hunched over on her bed.

“JJ, not now,” is her reply, and Rosalyn is looking at her with something so dull and lifeless and it’s nothing like her sister.

JJ takes in a deep breath and pulls together the meanest bones in her body, and she forces out, “You have to come eat because you haven’t eaten in three days.”

And Rosalyn snaps, lips curling back in a snarl as she shouts, “Get out!” and hurls something at JJ.

She flinches back behind the door just so it misses her, bouncing off the door and crumpling to the ground. The heart necklace.

“Why are you like this?” she whispers, because she is eleven years old and she knows her sister is suffering and that cat scratches don’t look like the marks on Rosalyn’s wrist and JJ just wants her to be happy again.

A thought crosses her mind. “Is it Tom?”

And Rosalyn stills. Tilts her head back and sighs before looking at JJ, something unreadable in her eyes.

“No,” she says. “I broke up with Tom months ago. Will you just go away please?”

JJ leaves.

—

The first time, Rosalyn was only a little upset when she found JJ wearing her necklace. And when she told her that Mary Ann and her friends all had necklaces and she didn’t, Rosalyn told her she’d find a necklace just for JJ.

The second time, Rosalyn had failed an English test. Yelled at JJ, blamed her for being the reason why she failed. And JJ cried as she gave the necklace back.

The third time, Rosalyn catches her in the act.

“What are you doing?”

JJ slams the jewelry box shut and spins around. “Nothing,” she says, but she withers under Rosalyn’s cold stare.

“Don’t say nothing, my necklace is missing,” she says, and JJ flinches as she barrels on. “You stole it again, didn’t you?”

Rosalyn holds out her hand expectantly, and JJ looks away.

“How many times do I have to say— stay out of my room?”

JJ gives her the necklace. She doesn’t miss the way Rosalyn’s hand hovers above it before taking it, and she holds it at length, playing with it with both her hands. Rosalyn studies JJ, eyes softening.

“Why do you even like this so much?” she asks, and there’s a rawness that makes JJ want to tell the truth.

“Because it’s yours,” she says, and she waits for Rosalyn to yell again, to snap, to do anything.

But Rosalyn only sighs, still fixated on the necklace, and—

“Then I want you to have it.”

JJ startles.

“Really?”

Rosalyn is already crouching down, clasping the necklace around her neck, her, “Yeah,” only a little broken.

“But you love this necklace. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Rosalyn murmurs, voice thick and so full of love that JJ can only stand still and accept it, and when Rosalyn leans back, looking at her handiwork, JJ feels beautiful and yet guilty.

“Because no matter what happens, I’ll always love you, JJ,” Rosalyn whispers, and JJ wants to say I know, we promised, we were snow princesses and we looked at the full moon and we promised.

But Rosalyn smirks a little, and she adds, “Besides, this necklace will ward off the tall man.”

And JJ rolls her eyes and tells her, “That’s a stupid, made-up story.”

“The story’s made-up, but some monsters are real,” Rosalyn corrects swiftly, and after a short pause, “and if a monster ever sees you wearing this, he’ll know not—” she pokes her in the stomach and JJ giggles “—to mess with Jennifer Jareau.”

And JJ is still a little unsure about the necklace, hand flying up to touch the cold surface, and Rosalyn winks at her. “Cause she’s a total badass.”

“You think I’m a badass?”

“I think you’re the baddest of asses,” Rosalyn confirms before frowning, brows furrowing. “That came out wrong.”

And JJ giggles before Rosalyn tickles her, and they’re laughing and it’s like the old Roz is back, and it’s just enough that JJ doesn’t see the sadness in her eyes.

—

JJ wakes up early the next morning to make breakfast. It doesn’t make sense that Rosalyn would just give her her favorite necklace, but she likes it too much to consider otherwise. This breakfast is for Rosalyn, a thank-you. JJ knows she’s been busy from school and hasn’t been eating breakfast, but JJ knows how to make her favorite pancakes and how to fry her eggs just right so the yolk’s a little runny, just how she likes it.

Rosalyn isn’t in her bedroom when JJ goes to check on her, and stuttering a little, she frowns before noticing the closed bathroom. She goes to knock.

“Roz?”

No answer. She tries the knob, and it’s an old house, the locks never worked, and she opens the door and Rosalyn is in the bathtub, facing away from the door. Her position looks almost comfortable, like she’s just soaking, but her arms are splayed out and the water is red.

“Roz?” JJ tries again, but her voice is so very, very small in this cold bathroom.

There are so many more marks on her arms than JJ realized, smaller white ones running up and down the length of both her arms, and then larger, dark red cuts that are still oozing red, dripping onto the tile floor, a little puddle next to the tub. Something glints in the maroon: their dad’s old razor.

And JJ waits. Waits for her to get up, because Rosalyn must’ve just fallen asleep last night while taking a bath, and any moment now she’ll wake up and laugh, tell JJ sorry, I’m really tired, and then tell her her necklace looks wonderful, and JJ will smile and show her the breakfast she’s made just for her big sister because she loves her, and they’ll laugh and eat breakfast together and they’ll go to their grandparents’ farm and pet Shelly, who’s a little slow because he’s so old and feed Bella and the cows, and everything will be okay.

“Roz, wake up,” she tries to say, but her throat is dry and she can’t make any noise.

But Rosalyn does not get up. She stays in the tub, unmoving, the water still and a murky maroon, and the only thing JJ can hear is her heart pounding.

“I love you.”

Rosalyn does not say it back.

Footsteps behind her. “Jennifer, what are you doing?”

Her mother stops behind her. “Rosalyn?”

Then the screaming starts.

—

The funeral passes by quickly. JJ only blinks and nods, the necklace burning into her skin as she stares straight ahead. Rosalyn Jareau looks peaceful in the casket, eyes fluttered closed and wearing her nice Sunday dress, the sleeves pushed down to their full length so as to hide the plethora of scars and cuts, the only visible sign of Rosalyn’s pain.

JJ wonders if heaven has the same moon as the one here on Earth.

Her father doesn’t come back, and at the memorial service, her mother locks herself in her room. People drift by, saying things that float out JJ’s ears, and she only nods blankly. When everyone leaves, the house is too quiet, and for one horrible moment, JJ smells that horrible metallic scent, the same as the one in the bathroom.

She still fits under the back porch, curling up underneath the wooden planks and digging her fingers into the moist dirt.

No one comes for her.

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loveafterthefact · 4 years

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 45: Like Gravity

I'm drawn to you.

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Lance starts at the hiss of the pod, snatches up the thick blanket a servant delivered, runs over just in time to catch Keith as he falls out of it. His fur is distractingly soft, silken, with the exception of coarser hair running in a dorsal line along his spine. He wraps his cold, naked spouse in the blanket, careful to cover him so he’s more comfortable.

“Hey, beloved. You’re alright. You’re all fixed up.”

“Lance?” Violet eyes flutter open, slanted pupils dilating in the dim light. Keith is shivering, though from fear of the pod or just the cold Lance isn’t sure. They sit like that for a minute, Keith curling into the warmth of Lance’s body, Lance running his hands over his form to warm him up.

“Thought you guys might leave me in there,” he mumbles. “Thanks for… not doing that. And staying.”

Lance brushes a thumb over Keith’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold… Do you have some clothes I could wear?”

“Yes, here.” Lance hands over a set of nightclothes. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Keith pulls the shirt over his head. Lance pulls his hair out from under it, braiding the tangled mess to contain it just a bit. “I can- Actually, can you help me stand?”

“Sure.” Hoisting Keith to his feet, Lance helps his spouse keep steady while he pulls on his underclothes and nightpants. “Thanks. For letting me help.”

“Yeah, well… I’m not exactly good at asking for it.” Keith wraps the blanket back around his shoulders.

“And I smother you a little, don’t I?” Lance chuckles when Keith dodges his gaze. “Let’s just try to do a little bit better from now on, shall we?”

“Okay.” Keith’s hands are still trembling, as is the rest of him. “Can we go back to our room?”

“Will you feel safe there?”

“I spent eleven years in the same den I lived in when Alteans found and murdered my father.”

“...Our room it is.” Lance slings Keith’s arm over his shoulder, slips his own around Keith’s waist. On their way out of the room, he leans over to one of the guards. “Have someone send some Galran cuisine to our room, please.”

The guard nods, and the princes proceed to their room in silence. Lance lets Keith have his silence, unsure how he feels about the events of tonight. It’s not until they’re back in their room, now smelling of cleaning solution, that Keith speaks.

“I’m glad you’re alright. When that assassin was leaning over you, I was… I was angry. They were going to take you from me, and I was angry.”

Lance stares at the kit, bites his lip. “Come here for a minute. We have to wait for your food anyway.”

“I’m really not hungry…”

“I know, but trust me, you want to eat something after being in the pod. You’ll recover much more quickly.”

Lance sits them both down on the sofa. Keith nibbles lightly at his lip, glaring at their hands, settled together, loosely joined where their legs touch. After a moment, the Galra scoffs, giving up. “I wish I were still drunk. Stupid pod.”

All Lance can do is laugh at how wonderfully his spouse broke that tension, how he chose to break it on a smile instead of a sigh. “I don’t. Not even a little.”

“Really? I assumed I’m more fun when I’m drunk.”

“You’re certainly more… sociable, but I dunno.” Lance smiles, trails knuckles down Keith’s cheek. “Perhaps I’m biased, but I think you’re wonderful no matter what.”

Gulping, Keith searches for his courage, finds it gone. He can’t. He can’t make himself any more vulnerable than he already has. So he leans away, surrenders to keeping what they already have a while longer.

Lance, however, watches those walls creep back up with more than mild dissatisfaction. He’s spent phoebs building this relationship with Keith. He’s not about to let fear get in the way of that. Still, Lance will make sure that progress is made willingly.

“Did you change your mind about your bet with Shiro? It’s alright if you did.” he watches Keith’s face, those wilted ears, that limp tail. At his question, delicate, purple fingers find the tangled end of that long braid.

“I… No. I haven’t.”

“Good. Because I made you a promise some hours ago and I intend-”

The door opens, and Adam slips in, all but stumbling under the weight of exhaustion. He’s carrying a plate of food for Keith. Lance raises an eyebrow in question, and Adam explains. “Never send a guard to do my job, your Majesty.”

“Fuck off with the ‘your Majesty’, Adam.” Lance sighs. “Honestly, it’s such nonsense.”

“‘Kay!” the Altean chirps, never too tired to be a smartass.

“You’re taking the rest of today off. And tomorrow. If anyone catches you working, they will take your datapad. Understood?”

Adam glares, but eventually nods. “The interrogations were fruitless, by the way. As we knew they would be. All I got for my trouble was being electrocuted by Pidge when I woke them up and again when they realized what I was looking for.”

“Thank you, Adam. Enjoy your rest, my friend. You sorely need it.”

After Adam retreats, Keith’s still sitting frozen, back rigid as a board even as his body visibly trembles from the effort. The healing pod seems to have left him more drained than it would an Altean. Lance decides to give him a reprieve.

“Hey.” Keith jumps when he speaks, winces like he’s sore. Lance squeezes his hand. “Try to eat at least a little. It’ll help, I promise.”

“Okay.” Keith stares at the plate of food. It’s mostly meat, with some beans, a bit of fruit, and two portions of bread. He nibbles the end of one of the pieces of bread, setting the other aside for Lance. To his surprise, the moment the bread hits his slightly queasy stomach, he’s ravenous and wolfing down the rest of his food. Next to him, Lance nibbles his bread.

"I'm never gonna get over how delicious this stuff is. It's so much better than Altean bread."

“You’ll love Daibazaal,” Keith whispers. You’ll love the rain.

“I know.” Lance grins around the crust of his bread. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“Me neither,” Keith whispers, smile more than a little sad. "Daibazaal is my home."

“Hey.” Finishing his snack, Lance helps his tired spouse to his feet, pulls him into an embrace. It’s a real one, genuine, with a tangible purpose. It’s private, not a display, but a moment of vulnerability. “I’m gonna take you home. You can drag me all over the planet and show me all of your favorite things and your mother can terrorize me the entire time, okay?”

Keith laughs into his shoulder, though Lance distinctly hears a sniffle. He doesn’t mention it. “She hates you.”

“Yeah, that’s partially Lanval’s fault. But I won’t take it personally. I stole you away from her. She’s allowed to be angry.”

Lance gently coaxes Keith to step back, guides him over to their bed, remade in their absence. “There are guards outside the walls, by the way. And tomorrow, Pidge will work on heightening our security tech.”

“Sounds good.”

Keith sits on the bed, rubs at his sleepy eyes. When he drags them open, peering up at Lance, The Altean is gazing at him, blue eyes glittering softly as he dims the lights. Reaching out, Keith cautiously lifts one of Lance’s hands to his cheek, holding it there, feeling that familiar brush of Lance’s thumb.

Keith tilts his head back, closes his eyes just in time for the brush of Lance’s lips. It's the briefest of things, more a flutter of contact than anything else, and after everything he’s endured getting to this point, it’s not enough for Keith.

“That,” he whispers, reaching up with tired limbs to cradle Lance’s face in his hands. “Was extremely inadequate.”

It’s all they need.

Lance surges forward, looming over Keith as their lips press together again. This time it’s firm, assured, no fear or worry. No stress. No looming deadlines. No nosy courtiers. No pushy fathers...

It's just them, and the warmth between them. Keith opens his mouth, Lance’s smooth tongue slipping over his raspy one. He can feel Lance's smile against his lips, under his fingers where they brush against the Altean's cheeks. His finger slide up into Lance's feather-light hair, silken soft, so soft he can barely feel it. Just as pampered as Keith had imagined, but far, far kinder. Far more devoted. Just... better.

As Lance presses closer, tension works its way under his skin, instincts forever wary no matter how safe he knows he is. Lance pulls back immediately, their noses still touching, their breaths shared between them. Keith's never been so close, but now, he can see the finer details of Lance's eyes, the way the blues and pinks blend together like shards of a morning sky, like opals. He could stare at them forever and still find some new fragment to admire.

“Lance?”

“Hm?”

“Will you-” Keith gulps, tugs on strands of starlight hair. “Will you… stay close? Tonight?”

“Scooch over,” Lance whispers, slipping into the bed beside him.

To Lance’s surprise, Keith rolls over, snuggles right up against him, tucks his head beneath his chin. At first, everything is fine, Lance enjoying Keith’s warmth, the physical contact that he’s missed the past few phoebs. There's sweetness in how Keith returns his embrace, gentle hands, warmth at ever point of contact. But after a dobosh, Keith’s breath begins to hitch, coming rapid, fingers curling into Lance’s nightshirt.

“Are you alright, beloved?”

“I- I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I- Since anybody- It’s distressing, going from not having anybody to having someone again.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No! No, I-” Those fingers tighten, and Keith’s tail curls over Lance’s waist.

“Okay.” Lance rubs warm circles into Keith’s back. “It’s okay, beloved. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Please stay.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. We should have done this sooner.”

“I didn’t want it. You were a stranger. And… I wasn’t ready to ask.”

“Fair enough.” Lance rubs the base of his ear, kisses the thin cartilage. "But you don't have to sleep alone, okay? I've missed having somebody too, so it's good for both of us."

"Yeah... Lance?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad I have you."

"I'm glad I have you, too." By the time Keith’s settled and fallen asleep, softly purring, the sky above them is a paling shade of amethyst. Lance can’t help but think it’s the exact shade of Keith's eyes. “Sleep well, beloved.”

He nuzzles into Keith’s hair, breathing in the slightly soured scent, hardly caring. It's the first genuinely deep sleep he's seen from Keith, and at this point, he’s just grateful they're both still here.

They're both still here, drawn together by gravity.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Winter Wonderland

Flip Zimmerman x Reader ; 2k

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland

Flip’s got butterflies in his stomach, as he fixes his hair for the fourth time in front of the mirror. It’s the first night of Hanukkah, and your parents are out of town, leaving you all alone for the holiday. Being your newly agreed upon boyfriend, Flip can’t have you all by yourself, not when he’s finally gotten permission to hug and kiss and hold you. He plans on hugging and kissing and holding you for eight nights straight, if he can get away with it.

But he’s nervous, it’s the first holiday the two of you will spend together as boyfriend and girlfriend. He grins in the mirror just thinking about it, about the way those words sound in his head. He feels a little too old to be somebody’s boyfriend, but he’s yours.

And so, he’s fixing his hair, and grinning like a lunatic, and he’s two steps to grabbing the keys on his dad’s Oldsmobile, when his mother appears in the hallway, seemingly out of thin air.

“Chamudi, where are you going?” She asks, a bemused smile on her round face.

“I’m going to go pick up (Y/N).” Flip replies.

“So early! But dinner isn’t for another few hours.” His mother raises a brow, and Flip blushes.

He had asked his mother if you could spend the holiday with him, and she was, of course, ecstatic. But he wanted some time alone with you before subjecting you to the havoc that was his family. It was a selfish desire, to keep you all to himself, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it, you were everything he’s ever wanted.

“I know Ma.” He ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck, afraid she’s going to make him help with dinner, cutting his hand on the potato-grater instead.

But he’s wrong, and she just clasps her hands together and Flip can already see the happy wobble in her chin when she realizes that the look on his face is love.

“Philly!” She starts, rushes over to him and pulls him down by his ears, presses a big kiss to his cheek.

“Ma, please.” Flip is blushing proper now, and he’s worried his face will still be red when he shows up at your door, so he lets out a nervous chuckle or two and his mom gets the hint.

“Okay okay, go along.” She puts her hands up in surrender and just gives him a look of pure joy when she says, “Oh Philip I’m just so happy to see you so happy.”

“We’ll be back in time for dinner.” Flip says instead, bashful that it’s so obvious how much he cares about you.

Gone away is the bluebird

Here to stay is a new bird

He sings a love song as we go along

Walking in a winter wonderland

When he shows up at your doorstep, he runs his hand through his hair again. He rings the doorbell and squares his shoulders, wanting to look nice and, well, he didn’t know. He wanted to look nice for you. You were so beautiful, all the time – and his jaw drops when he sees you in your holiday outfit.

You’ve got on all white, a sweater-dress that’s hidden by a white fur coat, a matching fur hat keeping your head warm. He can’t stop blinking, stunned by the way your blush creeps up into your smile, as you look at him looking at you.

“Chag sameach. You look really pretty.” He blurts out, and then immediately kicking himself, not wanting to insinuate anything, so he tries to backtrack, trips all over his own tongue, “Not that you don’t always look pretty! But – well – you look – ”

You cut him off by rising up onto your tippy-toes, shutting him up with a kiss that has the tips of his ears burning. He’s got this tight feeling in his chest, this loud thumping in his ear, every single time you kiss him. Every time, it’s like the first time – that disastrous date where he burned all the food and pretended that Chinese takeout was his own cooking. Every time, he’s on cloud nine, and all the tension drops from his shoulders as he pulls you into his arms fully, kisses you properly, right there on the front step.

“Thanks Flip.” You say softly, eyes fond and sparkling with mirth when you pull away and ask, “What are we doing today?”

Flip hadn’t told you, he had wanted to keep the whole thing a surprise, and now that the time has come, he’s terrified you’re going to think it’s a stupid idea, that you’re going to give him one of your signature really, Phil? looks, and this whole thing will be a bust.

“I thought that before the candles and dinner, you and me could take a walk.” He says, offering you his arm, escorting you to the Oldsmobile that he kept running so the seats would be nice and warm for you.

You laugh brightly, but not at him, and that makes Flip feel a whole lot better about the date.

“A walk? Flip it’s freezing out.” You hold out a gloved hand and let a flurry of snow fall onto your palm, holding it up to him as evidence.

“Yeah but I figure, you stick real close to me, and then you won’t get cold.” He says, all nonchalantly, and you laugh again, huddling closer to his side for the warmth he’s promised.

“Oh is that so?” You ask playfully as he opens the car door for you like the gentleman his mother raised him to be.

And when you’re sitting safely inside, he closes the door, walks around to the driver’s side, and kisses you once more, lips tingling and plush and he nods, “Yeah it is.”

In the meadow, we can build a snowman

Then pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say, "Are you married?" We'll say, "No man"

But you can do the job when you're in town

The drive to the park is short and filled with laughter. You talked about everything that had happened to you since you saw him last, and he listened intently, chiming in with related stories of his own past few days.

The park itself was kind of crowded, all sorts of families out and about, enjoying the winter snow. It really wasn’t so cold outside, and there wasn’t any wind, so the sound of children’s laughter rang through the place, as the kids who were lucky enough to have their school canceled were playing in the field.

You and Flip didn’t play, not today anyway. Instead you were walking arm in arm, your head resting on his shoulder. He couldn’t get those damn butterflies to quit, especially not when you pressed your whole body right up against his side, when the two of you walked in time, slowly meandering down the paths that had been cleared.

Every now and again, Flip would steal a kiss. He’d press one to your temple where he could reach, and you’d hum happily, a little laugh that couldn’t be anything other than love, plain and simple. He wanted to tell you, wanted to shout it out right then and there, that he loved you.

But he was afraid, didn’t want to go too fast, didn’t want to scare you, make you uncomfortable. So instead he stole those small kisses, little reminders of his affection, his adoration that he felt towards you.

You passed kids making snowmen, snow angels, winning and losing in snowball fights. You watched kids with sleds, both homemade and fancy department store bought ones, sliding down hills and rolling into big piles. People ice-skated on the frozen pond, lovers hand in hand or arm in arm, spinning and grinning like the two of you were.

He’d have to take you ice skating one day, he decides.

He’d have to learn how to, first, he reasons.

“You know what I was just thinking about?” You ask softly, face turning towards his like all the flowers that bloom in spring, how they turn towards the sun.

“Hm?” He smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, lets his heart thump wildly when he sees you wearing the small diamond earrings he bought you for your birthday.

You sigh dreamily, looking out at the kids playing and laughing.

“One day, we’re going to have a big house of our own, and we’ll be inviting your family over for dinner that I’ll cook.” You say, and Flip swears he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Don’t you mean that we’ll cook?” He tries to pass it off with humor, but you just give him your signature, really Phil? look then.

“No.” You say, before the two of you burst out into laughter, the prospect of him cooking entirely too funny to be taken serious, and you both know it.

“Yeah that’s fair.” He concedes, before the laughter dies down to chuckles, before he licks his lips nervously and asks, “You want a big house?”

“Yes, a big house, for all the kids.” You reply like it’s not some grand declaration, and all of Flip’s worries about moving too quickly immediately get thrown out the window.

“Okay.” He nods, grinning, because really he’s so overwhelmed with joy that he doesn’t know if he could say anything else without tripping over his tongue again and making himself look like a fool in love, even though he was, he really was.

“You’ll have to marry me, you know.” You grin right back at him, and he can see relief in your eyes too, which is something that catches him off-guard.

He realizes in that moment, that it never occurred to him, that you would be afraid of rejection. He never would have guessed that you had doubts about him, about how stupidly, madly, deeply he loved you. To see you so pleased, so happy, that he would want to spend the rest of his life with you fills him with a bittersweet pride; you both could have had this a year ago, if only he had been brave enough to ask.

“Can’t I take you to dinner first?” Flip asks this now instead, because a year is a year, and it’s nothing compared to the rest of the time he’ll get to spend with you.

“I suppose so.” You tease, bumping your hip against his as he bumps yours right back, making the two of you laugh and laugh because how could life get any better, when you were with your best friend?

Later on, we'll conspire

As we dream by the fire

To face unafraid, the plans that we've made

Walking in a winter wonderland

When the sun begins to set, Flip steers you both in the direction of a beautiful lights display the park had set up. Jimmy had told him about it the day prior, and he knew it was the perfect way to end the date before going home and having dinner with his family, and beginning the celebration of the festival of lights.

He turns to ask you what you think about it, about the day, about everything, when he sees you subtly trying to wipe away tears with the back of your gloved hand, and his heart thuds wild wild wild again in his chest.

“Was this a good idea?” He whispers, feeling like he’s completely ruined it, like he’s ruined everything, but then you’re laughing, and you’re smiling up at him, and he realizes your tears aren’t from him screwing up.

“Yeah, it really was.” You nod, pulling him down and kissing him deep.

It’s not until later – years later, when the two of you are married and you do have a great big house that he built and fixed himself, when the two of you do invite his family over for a Hanukkah dinner that you cooked yourself, when you are expecting the first of many baby Zimmermans to be running around in the snow – does he realize those tears were the realization that that date was the first time that things felt more real than they ever had, the first time you knew the two of you were soulmates.

But in the moment, he’s just happy to see you smiling, happy to see you look up in wonder at the lights that flash, even if they don’t flash in colors for the holiday you celebrate.

And while the kids play and the ice skaters skate and the lights twinkle, the gentle music of Bing Crosby croons from speakers around the park, a warm fuzzy crackling that has you humming along.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening In the lane, snow is glistening A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight Walking in a winter wonderland

Walking in a winter wonderland Walking in a winter wonderland…

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

Tagging some Flip lovin’ friends! <3 @dreamboatdriver @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @solotriplets @fullofbees @spinebarrel @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @ladygrey03 @venusianmaiden marvelous-blog-221 @edwardseyelashes @softcrybabykid @tinyplanet-explorers @magikevalynn @scheherazades-horcrux @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo

#reader insert #flip zimmerman x reader #flip x reader #my writing #12DoO #12 days of oneshots #hanukkah fic

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moonlightwinterdxxix · 4 years

Note

Awkward brotherly babysitting or pet sitting with Ichimatsu and Choromatsu for the Bits of my Brothers? (And can I say that I'm LOVING your works so far??? The Ventriloquist Vengeance is a story I never knew I needed ajsdlkasf)

Ahhh! Thank so much for the kind words! It means so much to me and I’m glad you’re enjoying it!

This is honestly the first time I’m writing a request, and I hope you like what I’ve managed to make. So without further ado, Nenchuu up the bat!! 💚💜☺️😒

~~~

When Choromatsu lifted the dirty diaper off his face, his eyes went wide. Any horror he would’ve felt beforehand was now a tidal wave of utmost defeat, and he wanted to collapse and freak out and tear each and every strand of hair off his head. But he held back from the sensation, and gulped instead, tossing the diaper to the ground.

The kitten tilted its head at him.

This was a sign, and a bad one. One worse than Osomatsu humiliating him in front of Nyaa-chan, one worse than being identified fapping when he was certain he was alone, one worse than dyeing his hair brown and having everyone see him. No, it was worse than all of that—so much worse. And if anything was worse than that, it was being dead and in heaven, but being discovered having man-woman privacy with one of the guardian angels. Lucifer wasn’t going to be alone there in hell anymore.

No. This dilemma of Choromatsu Matsuno wasn’t that he had a baby’s diaper that spoke and stunk of turd on his face—it was that there was a kitten in front of him. And where cats were involved, so was Ichimatsu.

Putting one-plus-one together, that meant Ichimatsu was home.

And the reason that Choromatsu even had a baby with him was because he was as sure as hell that he was spending his day at home, on his own.

And as if heaven already hated him and his luck couldn’t get any worse, the baby started crying.

Loudly, like a marching band that had been constructed out of chaos. It flailed its small arms so energetically that Jyushimatsu was given competition. It’s wails were higher than Choromatsu’s voice went when he was at an idol concert. The baby cried like its little life depended on it, but as Choromatsu stood there dumbfounded, he couldn’t blame it. He wanted to wail if it meant his life would be saved too.

Choromatsu flinched so hard that every hair in his body stood. He quickly scrambled towards the baby on the couch and cradled it in his arms, trying to calm it down as best as he could before the devil incarnate himself arrived in the room. But with how fruitless his efforts were, and how much louder the baby was becoming, he was only going to be met with failure. He wanted to accompany the baby in its crying, but knowing that it was Ichimatsu that was going to discover the unfortunate corner he had dragged himself towards, he fought for composure.

He continued to sway the baby with a little lullaby that was off-key. It made the baby cry even more.

Then came Ichimatsu’s footsteps. Choromatsu waited for the comment that would run him to the ground, but it never came. A minute or so passed, but it never came. So in his own curiosity and dread, he urged himself to spin his head to the direction of the door, meeting his eyes with Ichimatsu’s.

Ichimatsu merely regarded him with blank eyes, but his lips told a different emotion. And upon meeting CHoromatsu’s gaze, he quickly turned his heels to go.

Oh no, he didn’t.

“Oi! Ichimatsu!” Choromatsu yelled, and cared less if that worsened the baby’s status. To his relief though, Ichimatsu stopped from what might’ve been his beginning trek to the opposite side of their house. “You think you’re getting off free there? Get back here and take the kitten back outside! It’ll disturb the peace of our home.” Oh, as if the baby wasn’t. It was a completely stupid thing to say, especially from someone like him. It was humiliating in a lot of senses, but he had no other option but to accept it.

Dang, Choromatsu just found himself more and more pathetic as the day dragged on.

Ichimatsu’s face reverted to its normal, lackadaisical state. “Are you really the person who has the authority to say that?” he curtly asked.

Cheeks burning, Choromatsu growled, accepting Ichimatsu’s dominance in the situation. “Fine. Do I owe you an explanation if it means you wouldn’t tell the others?”

The baby was still crying. Ichimatsu eyed in silently and nonchalantly before re-entering the room, grabbing the kitten by its black-and-white belly and bringing it to his lap as he sat on the far, opposite side of the sofa. He began to rub his little pet behind its ears, but he was once more focused on Choromatsu in a sense that made Choromatsu curse himself, yet again.

“Go,” Ichimatsu said.

Such bluntness, and it made Choromatsu sick. Of all brothers to be stuck with, it just had to be Ichimatsu. Ichimatsu, who had proved himself as both the darkest man alive and above all, the most awkward companion Choromatsu could ask for. What kind of boundaries would they find themselves sharing this time, huh? What would the record be of how long their silence between conversation would be this time, huh? How long until the rest of the others came home, huh?

Well, he supposed having one was better than five. So for the time being, maybe Ichimatsu wouldn’t be so bad after all. He was quiet, reserved, and he reflected the awkwardness of Choromatsu at a level that was bearable. Plus, he wouldn’t tell the others about this...Would he?

Ichimatsu’s face gave no promises, but no denial either.

Perhaps this was one of those moments when Choromatsu needed to trust his gut.

As a way to begin the explanation, Choromatsu sighed. “Nyaa-chan. I was watching television, and she mentioned in an interview that she liked it when guys were nice to babies. I dunno if it was her speaking or for the sake of her image, but I believed her either way. At first I didn’t care about it, but then I heard crying outside our house. And surprise-surprise, there was a baby on the road, without parents, without anyone or anything. So thinking it was by a miracle of fate that it was from some game-show of some sort where they’re testing the reflexes of the people, I took it in. I didn’t think you’d come home so soon, so I thought I would be spared at least five ‘you’re pathetic’ teases from any of you.”

Ichimatsu snorted without smiling. “You’re pathetic.”

Yes, there it was. It was oddly satisfying as it was painful. “Thank you.” He collapsed at the opposite side of the couch from Ichimatsu, still trying to rock the baby in his arms, and still finding success far, far away from his reach. He tried to rub his index finger in a circle against its stomach, yet nothing changed, as he expected. He sighed. “Ichimatsu, can you do me a favor and get some milk?”

“Hm? For the baby or for the cat?”

“For the baby, of course!” Choromatsu snapped. “Cod, it’s common sense, Darkmatsu!”

“Ah, but this cat is also a baby,” Ichimatsu stated, moving from the ears to the underside of the kitten’s chin. The kitten leaned in to the touch, emitting a small purr that slightly decreased the anxiety in Choromatsu’s heart. Slightly. “The little one would like some milk too, since it's to make his little bones stronger,” Ichimatsu continued, solace evident in him as he petted the small creature. “They say cats have nine lives, but they might as well have one when they’re still this tiny. The world can swallow them whole.”

Letting the words sink in, Choromatsu glanced down at the cat. When he wasn’t seeing it with an image of horror that represented Ichimatsu’s presence, it really was a cute, precious thing that was fragile when set next to the cruelty of the universe. It’s eyes were a wonderful shade of green, and its body was decorated with patches of black that somehow managed to still look clean. But what Choromatsu liked about it most was the heart-shaped piece of black by its neck, so close to where its heart was, beating underneath its pillowy fur.

Translation into reality. Choromatsu was almost touched. Almost.

“Fine, here’s a deal,” Choromatsu stated, extending a fist to the direction of his brother—it wasn’t easy with the squirming mini-human still on his thighs. “Rock-paper-scissors to determine who’s getting the milk.”

“Eh? That childish game?” Ichimatsu huffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s a very idiot eldest-type suggestion, Chorofappyski.”

“It’s fair play,” Choromatsu argued, more from defensiveness than the truth in his phrase. “Just one go.”

Ichimatsu let the cat curl in his lap for a second, then rubbed its furry back so gently that it reminded Choromatsu that Ichimatsu had the ability at all to be gentle. As Ichimatsu brushed it a bit more, his cheeks rosed a little, barely there, but Choromatsu’s eyes were clear enough to notice it. It faded quickly after as Ichimatsu said, “Whatever. One go.”

Ichimatsu extended his own fist, and waved it twice before ending it with two fingers forming scissors.

Choromatsu’s hand was flat as paper.

Ichimatsu leaned back. “Get the milk.”

“Ugh, stupid luck.” Choromatsu lifted himself off the couch, laying the baby on his previous place. His heart nearly skyrocketed when the baby turned and nearly fell off the edge, but it was swift to redeem itself when it rolled over towards the backrest of the sofa. It was as if the weight of the entire world was lifted from his shoulders—his relief.

He tried not to discern the hint of a snicker at Ichimatsu’s side as he stormed out of the shared bedroom and entered the rest of their house, snagging the milk from the fridge with aggression that peaked to a million. Darn their position in the caste system, turning what could’ve been a normal man like him into a NEET...!

When he returned to the room just as grumpy and his attention on the milk, he was saying, “Hey, Ichimatsu, do you know if Mom and Dad have any spare baby bottles from when we were kids left somewhere?” He stopped at the doorway, the carton of milk stilling as he did. “Now, that’s a sight.”

Ichimatsu remained bland, but it was obvious by his lowered brows that his situation was getting to him. “Which one? The fact that the room is an absolute mess, or that your stupid baby is trying to chew off my ear?”

Actually, Choromatsu was distracted by the room, because it was his first time registering what he and his horrible babysitting has done to it. The diapers from earlier were lying discarded on the floor, the stink of it green as it smoked in an unnatural, visible hue. There were mats laid where Choromatsu had tried to change its diapers on the floor, but with no such luck when the naked toddler had stubbornly shoved him away. And everywhere else was tissues. Tissues for its baby-boy bottom, tissues for its tears, tissues for the pee stain that still coated the side of their bookshelf. It was a miracle none of the books were damaged.

Now sending his attention to Ichimatsu, Choromatsu casually said, “I think it likes you.”

“Get it off me,” Ichimatsu ordered lowly, one of his hands already looping around the baby’s naked half. His kitten sat next to him, watching the situation with innocent, naive curiosity. “I don’t want to be touching this thing if it means the cat will run away from me,” Ichimatsu added.

Choromatsu shook his head, pointing. “No, I think that’s better. It’s no longer crying.”

Now the first sign of irritation made itself present in his little brother’s face, and the instinct to kill could be easily traced on him. “Do you want me to kill you first before this baby, Chorofappyski?” he threatened. And with that specific tone of his, they were a word away from the revelation if Ichimatsu was going to carry out his promise or not.

For the sake of his safety, Choromatsu quickly trudged towards his brother, tossing the carton to the floor, and wrapped his hands around the baby’s waist, muttering at it to stop as it continued to clomp its toothless mouth around Ichimatsu’s slobbered ear. It wasn’t too difficult to extract it, but once Ichimatsu was back to his usual, careless self, the baby had reverted back into sobbing that made fatigue sprout in Choromatsu’s form. He slumped down beside Ichimatsu, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back.

But, well, he had to do something else now. He had to feed the baby with this darn milk, if that was going to work, and hopefully, it did. Options were limited at these dark times. That’s why Choromatsu stood—

—but so did Ichimatsu.

“Huh?” they spoke in unison.

Ignoring his brother, Choromatsu took a step closer to the milk on the ground, careful with the baby he had in his arms. He reached out—

—at the same time Ichimatsu did.

Choromatsu retreated—

—and Ichimatsu did too.

They were matching symmetrically, from the motions of their bodies to the youth they had in their arms.

Oh no, here we go again, Choromatsu thought in terror, and by the way Ichimatsu’s features were crumpled, he was thinking the same thing. Neither uttered a whisper as they lingered on their spots, both anticipating movement that they were completely aware was going to be mirrored by the clone in front of them. Choromatsu cringed at the same time Ichimatsu did.

It was just like before. Cod, it was just like before. The awkwardness, the tension, the horror. The only difference was that they had a baby and a kitten to witness their anathema.

“A-Ah, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu stuttered, the smile plastered all fake and fearful, “would you like to prepare the milk for us? You could if you want—I won’t stop you.”

“No-no-no, I-I’d give the job to you if you wanted,” Ichimatsu answered, the wince in his emotions exposed in his grin. “But it’s fine. If you want me to do it, I won’t mind.”

“No, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll do it.”

It was silence. Silence, and so, so, so much awkwardness.

Cod, it really was going to be like last time. They needed an ice-breaker, now, may it be the arrival of another one of their brothers, or anything that could put an end in the painful awkwardness of their upcoming situation—

The baby vomited.

“Gah!” Choromatsu yelped, staggering backwards and raising the baby away from his body as it continued to release its bile, brown murk that landed as goops on both their floor and Choromatsu’s socks. Choromatsu extended it further, clearing it from killing him more, but not enough for Choromatsu to be safe from the scent of acid that lifted to his nostrils. He turned as green as his track jacket, wanting to puke himself at the horrible-as-crap permutations of food that made up the baby’s bile.

“Hang on!” Ichimatsu called out, running off towards where Choromatsu didn’t bother guessing. He continued to stand there with his arms stretched, one of his sleeves coated in a gross shade matching the current color of the floor. The baby kept going, and Choromatsu wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not to let it keep going, or if it was a better idea to give it water or its milk to get it to stop.

This. This is why he didn’t care a dang about babies.

“Oh, Cod, that smells so horrible!” Choromatsu gritted out, proceeding to yell, “Ichimatsu! Get some tissues and water or something! Forget about the milk for a bit and help me out here!”

“I got it!” Ichimatsu yelled back, returning a moment later with a bottle of water as he ran towards Choromatsu and the wheezing child. Ichimatsu put a hand underneath the child’s chin, tapping the cleanest spot there with a finger, saying, “Oi, kid! Open your mouth and gargle this dang water, huh?!” His tapping went harder, and the baby found itself irritated by Ichimatsu’s ruthlessness when it began making sounds that symbolized the start of another set of waterworks.

“You idiot!” Choromatsu screamed, yanking the baby away from Ichimatsu. “That’s not how you do it!”

“Are you doing any better?!” he retorted, waving the bottle as its insides smacked against the walls of its container. “You’re covered in its puke! Let me do my thing so that I can help get that abomination of a child away from a fappy loser like you!” He made a grab, but Choromatsu used one of his legs to kick him back. This just made Ichimatsu try to jerk and jostle, shaking the three of them in a hazardous earthquake.

“Are you trying to kill it?!” Choromatsu demanded.

“Not necessarily!” Ichimatsu replied, struggling against Choromatsu’s efforts to keep him off the little boy. He didn’t seem to give any care if he was getting too close to the vomit on Choromatsu’s sleeve. “But admit it! You’d rather have it dead than slobber on you the way it did! Cod, it was biting my ear!”

“Yeah, I would! But that isn’t what we need right now!” Choromatsu scoffed, still using his body as a shield, but not having its effectivity determine positivity for the child as it began whining once again. “Ichimatsu, cut it out! You’re making it worse!”

“So stop being stubborn! Give me the brat!” Ichimatsu yelled, slowing down far from a choice for him.

“No! Are you stupid?!”

“Not as stupid as you!”

“You’re so annoying!”

“You are too! So give me the whiny thing!”

Fed up and unable to take any more of the nonsense, Choromatsu nudged Ichimatsu with all the strength he could muster.

Ichimatsu reeled back, but a high-pitched screech interrupted their banter, and Ichimatsu was spun around so fast that Choromatsu had to remind himself that they were face-to-face just a millisecond ago.

In front of him, Ichimatsu’s anger diminished as a candle would on a windy day. Instead, he was suddenly sympathetic and entirely apologetic, a rare emotion that was emitted from the fourth-born Matsuno son on days that were as abnormally-normal such as this one. “Oh crap, I stepped on its tail!” Ichimatsu cried, kneeling down towards the small kitten so tiny and defenseless on the floor. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—!” But he didn’t get to finish as the kitten hissed at him and scrambled towards their open door.

When Ichimatsu faced Choromatsu again, he was absolutely fuming. “That was all your fault, Choromatsu!”

“Because you kept trying to throttle me and the baby!” Choromatsu snapped, and a second later he realized his mistake too late.

Flames danced in Ichimatsu’s gaze, and without another word he had his fingers spread out like claws, and he was pouncing onto Choromatsu with the feral battle roar of a lion. Choromatsu barely had time to breathe another breath before he was tackled to the floor, nearly dropping the baby and wailing out as punches made imprints on his face and body, Ichimatsu’s screaming a blur of words with the agony that blossomed in his skull.

The shock came first before the retaliation, and Choromatsu went just as mad as he stretched out his arms and grabbed Ichimatsu by his neckline and smacked him off. Both were yelling, and soon both boys were engulfed in a battle cloud as they threw punches and kicks against one another, neither of their sentences registering to the other over their own chaos. Bruises marked their skin, saliva spat out, and bodies were doubling over from the unexpected-expected mercilessness of his brother.

This though was so much better than being stuck in awkwardness, Choromatsu decided, and was so much better than having to care for some stupid, left-on-the-street toddler. The kitten though was far from Choromatsu’s priorities. And with that mindset still stable in his conscience, he and Ichimatsu resumed their brotherly battle of the middle sons.

“Uwa!” the baby suddenly exclaimed, and startled, Choromatsu and Ichimatsu froze as they turned towards it. Choromatsu’s knee was an atom away from Ichimatsu’s gut, and Ichimatsu’s grip was white-knuckle tight in Choromatsu’s hair. Their irritation morphed into confusion when the baby pointed towards its filthy mouth indicatively. Choromatsu, for dealing constantly with Todomatsu’s babyish behavior in high school, was familiar with that gesture—it was hungry.

Choromatsu was first to return to his senses as he finished off his kick on Ichimatsu before heading towards the baby, scooping it from the floor and stretching it out in front of him again. It still drooled colored spit. “Ugh, you little...” He groaned, tucking the baby to his shoulder and coming towards the couch, stopping by the fallen bottle of milk before settling down. He spared no heed towards his brother as he popped the bottle open, too tired to bother searching for a real baby bottle with the way things were going down for him.

Ichimatsu just stood there, arms crossed.

“What?” It was more of a statement than it was a question. “Follow your cat. I’ll handle myself here.”

Ichimatsu made a sound between his teeth. “Are you that stupid? It’s freaking pissed at me.”

“Then redeem yourself with this baby,” Choromatsu said, using the back of his sleeve to rub the mouth of the small boy. He continued to try aligning the mouth of the bottle to the baby’s, relieved flooding him when he matched his target. The throat of the baby bobbed as it swallowed down the milk, shutting its wet eyes and relaxing its tense body. There was no use for Ichimatsu in this situation anymore.

“Or not, since I’m doing well. Acting as your true niisan really does to the job sometimes.” He stopped, letting the baby gulp some more, before letting the baby suck again. The milk was draining fast. “Ichimatsu, you’re just standing there. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Well sorry if I’m doing that. You’re making me uncomfortable as well,” Ichimatsu snapped, tone clipped.

“Why? Because I pushed you enough to scare your cat away?”

And that was when he made his second mistake, but unlike earlier, this time he felt bad about it. He watched as Ichimatsu’s nose wrinkled in misery, and he was stomping out of the room before Choromatsu could even apologize. The door slid shut with a mighty clang, and Choromatsu felt the baby flinch in his arms as the last of the milk flicked into nothingness. The baby burped, slumping against Choromatsu’s chest, and shutting its eyes, it yawned.

About a second later it was sleeping, and the sky outside had tinted from blue to gray.

Choromatsu found himself slipping in and out of consciousness as the first drops of a downpour started to approach their hometown. The downpour turned into a pattering that struck against their rooftop, and soon it resorted into a steady rhythm of drumming, the light outside of their window contradicting the time of two-thirty in the afternoon. The cool air that managed to enter the room intertwined itself with Choromatsu’s system, tickling him and allowing drowsiness to climb up him.

He might’ve said that he had successfully fallen asleep when thunder shook him into cautiousness, alerting both himself and the baby that had its scream reverting into wailing. Choromatsu whined and let his back collide against the backrest of the sofa. Was this small creature that hydrated to be able to cry all day? Apparently so, and Choromatsu was too tired to deal with it. But he supposed he had to, since he had given the responsibility to himself.

He prepared to stand—

“Stop. Stay there,” Ichimatsu suddenly ordered, tone low and devoid of all the rage it had carried a few minutes ago. Ichimatsu knelt down on the floor with his brown eyes on the floor, a small redness seeping into his cheeks as he pressed something against the baby’s side. “Here. Take this. Maybe the baby will stop if it hugs this.”

It was a stuffed cat. Specifically, it was a stuffed cat that he had owned for only a few months when Jyushimatsu had won it at the latest spring fair. It was a black cat from a movie Choromatsu had forgotten about over how occupied he was with his latest novel series, but he remembered how often Ichimatsu would hide the toy when any of their brothers was around.

Now it was sitting right in front of him, pressed against the sides of both the baby’s body and Ichimatsu’s palm. Ichimatsu was expectantly silent.

“Ah, thank you, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu said, taking the plush and inserting it between the nimble fingers of the baby. “Here, hug this. It’ll make you feel so much better.”

Understanding him or not, the baby wrapped itself around the plush, resting its chin on the toy’s neck and finding itself comfortable there. It nestled itself once more against Choromatsu’s chest, gaining its lost slumber as it breathed lightly. Its body rose and fell so steadily in its own harmony, creating dissonance with the pelting of the rain.

“That was nice of you, Ichimatsu,” Choromatsu said quietly as Ichimatsu set himself next to him. “How did you know it would help?”

“I didn’t,” Ichimatsu bluntly stated, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. “It was a hunch. Normally a lot of people feel better when they have someo—I mean, something to hug.” Ichimatsu’s face went redder.

“I suppose that’s true,” Choromatsu mused, pretending he didn’t see it. “But that was a nice sacrifice from you, Ichimatsu. I know you really like that cat, but to give it to the baby after it had finished puking and downing milk...” He shuddered, imagining his reaction if one of his personal stuff got into a similar position.

Ichimatsu smirked. “It’s no big deal. I’ll have Shittymatsu wash it when he gets home, or you so the secret stays about our inconvenience.”

Choromatsu scoffed playfully. “I would, but I don’t think so. I’m not touching baby drool.”

“It’s all over your sleeves.”

“Good point.”

They let the rain and the baby’s light snoring be their sound for a while.

“We should get that child to the police station when the rain lightens up,” Ichimatsu said, putting an end to the voiceless session. “Get it to its parents, if it has any. Eh, the police would do it, as long as it isn’t Officer Yatsugashira anymore.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I agree with you. And before the rest of our brothers get home.” Choromatsu went rigid, his guilt coming back as he said, “Ichimatsu, I’m sorry about what I said earlier, and for pushing you so hard. It was my fault you stepped on the cat. It should’ve been mad at me instead of you.” He let his shame overpower him as he waited for Ichimatsu to answer, to break the chain that had buckled itself in Choromatsu’s stomach.

“I’m sorry too,” Ichimatsu finally said, honesty in his voice. “I was being insensitive about the kid earlier. I suppose that having an ill feeling in his stomach isn’t his fault for vomiting. You were right. I should’ve held back on him.”

Choromatsu smiled at him with his angular smile. “I guess we both get into our own kind of trouble when we’re home alone, aren’t we?”

Ichimatsu dipped his chin with a matching smile of agreement. “Mhm.”

The sky continued to rumble, to weep uncontrollably. To close it out, Choromatsu said, “Did you find your cat after you went out? Is it still mad at you?” He sounded melancholic to his own ears.

“Yup. At the toilet. Managed to get in and shut the door on its own, magnificently. It didn’t let me get close to it at all, so I left it there.” He said it with a bluntness that made his mood indecipherable. Choromatsu deciphered it enough.

“We should get it out of there when we can, and take it back out before Mom or Dad gets back. Do you think it’s as lost as this baby is? Do you think it has a family waiting for it?”

Ichimatsu’s eyes went downcast. “It has to. I wouldn’t want to imagine something like it to be orphaned. But I won’t be surprised. Most of the cats I find in the alleyway are loners anyway, no matter how old. Animal parents just tend to be more neglectful of their offspring than human parents are. Well, some human parents.”

“Yeah. That’s too bad.”

Choromatsu suddenly understood then why babies were so important. Babies signified the creation of a new life, a new mind, a new purposeful thing to enter the world. Some lived to find galaxies in their eyes, to have papers with their names, to have friends and families that made more life that served as hope for thousands of upcoming generations in their cyclical world entitled as life. They grew to become scientists, seeing reality’s codes through intelligence. They grew to become writers, penning lessons that built up the human being into an impenetrable force. They grew to learn love and to give love, when romance, family, and friendship is introduced when they are feeling alone.

Babies became part of the future, and built it.

But not all babies lived long enough to be that. Some parents refused the responsibility of having a child, and killed them off mercilessly with the power of abortion. Some babies entered the world lifeless, miscarriage being the curse that invited them into the breathing world that way they were. Others were unfortunate enough to be caught in nature’s mishaps, fires, storms, and many more calamities taking away their lives before they could be lived. And because of that, there were so many chances of the world’s redemption that bit the dust, letting it flow in its brutal pace.

That’s what made babies special, and why their lives were important. As much as a human he was, so were they, and they held the probabilities to do the impossibilities many people in the present might not be able to accomplish.

And the baby in his arms was part of that crowd.

“Choromatsu-niisan,” Ichimatsu said, bringing him out of his reverie as he got up, “the rain’s lightening up. We should get going before the idiot eldest returns announcing his next Pachinko loss.”

“Right. We should.”

Choromatsu carefully lifted himself from the sofa, careful not to stir the baby from its sleep before accompanying Ichimatsu outside the bedroom. They took a turn towards the bathroom, Ichimatsu flicking the lights on, and Choromatsu saw the cat. It really was a delicate thing, so tiny against the corner of the room. It’s shadow on the wall alone made it look like a monster was looking after it, ready to bite with a single movement. It made Choromatsu’s heart hurt.

“Hey,” Ichimatsu cooed kindly, approaching the kitten with so much compassion that it was barely the Ichimatsu he knew anymore. “We’re going to take you home, okay? We’re going to take you back to your family. Won’t that be great?” Ichimatsu’s hurt from the kitten’s rejection was audible, and Ichimatsu’s forgiveness didn’t do the trick to calm Choromatsu’s shame.

The kitten lifted its vibrant gaze towards them, pulling back.

“Oh Cod...” Ichimatsu whimpered helplessly.

Choromatsu bowed solemnly.

“Uwa?” The baby, awake, shimmied in Choromatsu’s arms. It shook until Choromatsu had to bring it down to the floor, where it crawled towards the direction of the kitten after leaving Ichimatsu’s doll on the ground. Neither Choromatsu nor Ichimatsu made a move to stop it when the baby started petting the kitten’s back with the same kindness and love that Ichimatsu gave it. It was a touching sight as the kitten leaned into the baby’s hands, purring and meowing in a splinter of a pitch.

It was a cute sight that brought the two speechless for a while. Speechless because it was heartwarming, it was adorable, it was unexpected, and it was innocent. The baby laughed as the kitten purred.

“I don’t know what to say,” Choromatsu said, awed. “Only that today I have seen too many things I never thought I would see.”

“Mhm,” Ichimatsu hummed, voicing his agreement.

“Should we wait a little before going, let them play with each other for a little longer?”

Ichimatsu’s answer to that came in variations, and he was stuck without a proper answer. “Won’t we be awkward together?” he asked instead.

Choromatsu smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly in a solid reply. And Ichimatsu grinned at him in return, placing his own hand on Choromatsu’s back.

Maybe spending the day with each other wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

#osomatsu-san #choromatsu matsuno #bits of my brothers #choromatsu #ichimatsu #nenchuu #fan-fic #osomatsu san #anonymous #fanfic #ichimatsu matsuno #i accidentally tagged jyushi instead of ichi and realized it so late IM SORRY

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edelwoodsouls · 4 years

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all roads lead - ch. 3

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 3,357 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 2, 4, 5,

Chapter 3: FATHER

Stiles stares up at the house.

He knew the address was familiar, felt his feet leading him unthinking, a familiar route from one house to the other. Lingering muscle memory of another life.

Yet he still finds himself rooted to the spot just before the garden gate, unable to move forward, as if the wooden barrier were made of mountain ash.

"Just walk up the path," Malia says, hovering impatiently by his shoulder, but she doesn't push him.

Stiles was ten when he left Beacon Hills - ran away, from everything he had ever known, unable to face a new reality filled with pitying looks from strangers, whiskey-stinking nights, empty spaces where his mother should be. He never really stopped running, afraid that doing so would allow him to remember how much he'd thrown away.

Things like this house. A boy with a crooked jaw and wheezing lungs, the brightest smile in the entire world.

Scott McCall. The name lodges something in his throat, more than being back in this town, more than the idea of seeing his dad again. Scott had been the one truly good thing in his life.

It's been seven years, he thinks fiercely. Get a grip. Things change. People change.

His father lives in the McCall house.

And the McCall house smells of werewolves.

He notices the scent the moment he finally pushes into the garden. Wet fur and pine needles, earth, something like freshly cut wood; the clear scent of another wolf nearby.

No- another alpha.

The something lodged in his throat expands, becomes a tightness in his chest. The sun is too hot, his skin itches- he wishes he could tear out of it, flee to the woods, lose himself in the animal heart clawing at the cage of his ribs. But his body refuses to do so much as breathe, and his head spins-

A sharp pain cuts through the overload, crystalises the world in a sudden burst of clarity. He gasps, air flooding back into his chest.

Malia waits a few moments before removing her claws from his arm. "You with me?" she asks, her voice soft. She saves these moments of gentleness just for him, just for his worst moments, when her instincts yearn for an enemy to fight for him, yet find only his own mind at fault.

"I'm with you," he assures her, the words a familiar refrain between them. He's not going anywhere, he needs to tell her, not leaving her, not dying, not wandering away with his thoughts, never to resurface.

He's not not-himself. Again.

He squeezes her hand. "You smell it too?"

"Werewolf," she nods. "A pack. At least five."

Stiles blinks. In all the panic of smelling anything supernatural, he never bothered to discern the overwhelming overlap of scents. Malia's nose has always been far better than his, but after a few moments the weave of pack begins to separate into individuals.

"So much for no supernatural," he mutters as he picks out two, three, four, five different werewolf scents lingering around the house. There's other scents too, some human, some not quite, but the nuances are smothered by age and unfamiliarity.

There's only one person in the house right now. He wasn't a werewolf the last time he saw his father, and yet Stiles knows him instantly. Gunmetal and printer ink, so familiar he has to blink away the sudden sting in his eyes. Because it's not just familiar, its a reminder of those seven long years that form a chasm between this man and his son. The stink of whiskey is almost a memory, and a light floral scent clings to him like perfume.

Someone else's perfume.

His feet carry him up the path, Malia trailing, on edge, behind him. He feels the past trying to settle over him like a veil, begging to be let in. The air is heavy against his skin, his body that is alien to this space where his mind calls to it like home. That strange paradox itches against his soul, held at bay only by the rhythm of Malia's heart behind him.

"Hide your scent," he whispers to her. As he knocks sharply on the door he does exactly that, wraps his wolf carefully beneath a veneer of humanity. It's always been a useful skill, allowing himself to appear weaker, less of a threat in the eyes of other creatures, but now the trickery comes especially easy to him. His thoughts flash to a fox disguised as a wolf disguised as a human, layers of deceit folded so effortlessly into each other they blurred the truth.

If you drop me I'll crack, but if you smile I'll smile back. What am I?

He barely notices the absence of his own scent - has barely gotten used to its new smell, laced with power and all-but absent of darkness - but the loss of Malia's from the air around him sends such a wave of sickness through him, like missing a stair in the dark. He reaches out blindly for her hand to assure himself she's still there, still warm, still real.

And so they wait, listening to his father winding slowly through the house, inevitably towards the door.

Nerves begin to climb Stiles' throat, reaching up to choke him on his own panic. The dull ache that lives ever-present in his bones begins to thrum in time with his racing heart. What if his father hates him? What if he slams the door in his face? Yes, Stiles never returned because he believed his father was dead, but he still left in the first place. What if his father shouts for him to leave, after all these years, he doesn't need a runaway son, a werewolf, a murderer, just go-

The door swings open, stealing the rest of Stiles' breath.

John Stilinski has aged far more than the seven years Stiles has been gone. His hair is thin, stranded with grey. His face is creased deeply with lines that aren't from smiling.

And yet, though it appears to be his day off, his clothes are nice, and clean. He holds himself with a deserved height and authority that had been long forgotten in those dark days before Stiles ran away. There's a brightness, a lightness to his eyes. Happiness.

That Stiles is about to tear to pieces.

"Can I help you?" his father asks. There's a frown forming between his eyes, a tug at his lips that implies an underlying unease, trying to place a familiar face into a jigsaw that won't quite fit. All of a sudden, Stiles desperately wishes he could be anywhere but here.

He swallows. "Hi, dad."

John's face crumples, predictably. He stumbles, body betraying him in shock. "Stiles?" The word escapes him like a gasp, an arrow loosed directly into his heart. Stiles feels it as if the wound were his own.

"Yeah, dad." He waves a small gesture, almost bashfully, wishing he had any better words. "It's me."

"Stiles," his dad repeats. He stares at his son - hasn't even registered Malia. And then, abruptly, he turns and walks back into the house.

Stiles blinks at the suddenly empty corridor, unsure. What is he supposed to do here? Why can't there be a manual, a step-by-step guide on how to reintroduce yourself to the parent you thought was dead, who likely believed the same of you?

"I think we should follow him," Malia whispers a little too loudly in his ear. "I mean, he left the door open. That's gotta be a good sign, right? It's, like, a really deep metaphor in one of those boring books Peter liked. The open door." She wiggles her fingers in front of his face to emphasise the phrase.

Stiles almost snorts at that. But she's right. She has to be right.

He steps into the house, wrinkling his nose as he's assaulted by the smells of other. His wolf rises despertely inside him, warning him about trespass, about the violence between packs, held in line by the thin veneer of civility and rules. Stiles is the invader here, the instigator - stepping into this house could be considered a declaration of war. He's been witness to a fair few bloody fights in his time - Peter had a very special talent for pissing other people off - and it's not something he's keen to repeat without him. Especially not with Malia at risk.

Five on two. The former him, the beta, would've laughed at those odds. Before the snap and fizzle of half his bonds. Before he knew what it was to have blood on his own hands.

He struggles to smother his wolf back beneath the surface. Those other wolves need never know he was here- so long as he smells human, it won't even matter.

And, surely, doesn't his father's presence negate those rules? Stiles clings to this loophole like a lifeline, drawing him through the dark halls of the house, to the man hiding in the kitchen.

John Stilinski is making coffee. The movements are robotic as he rummages through the cupboards, organises three cups on the counter. Three, Stiles notes- far more observant, or maybe just more compartmentalised, than he gave his father credit for.

"I need caffeine," John says, without looking towards them. "Before I go through anything new, I need this."

Stiles nods wordlessly. Anything new? A thousand questions bubble through his mind, beginning with werewolves? and ending in what?

The three of them stand uneasily in the kitchen as the water boils, unsure of whether to move, to sit, to talk. So they simply stand. At some point Malia frees her hand from Stiles' and begins wandering around the kitchen, exploring the new space, the new scents, with all the lack of subtlety he loves about her.

The timer dings, cutting through the silence like a shot. Stiles flinches, as does Malia.

His father watches the two of them with a detatched, analytical curiosity that Stiles knows he inherited from him. He's not used to being on the receiving end, being watched, being perceived so acutely, it feels like a knife under his skin.

The silence remains in place until John begins making up the coffee, and Stiles blurts out, "Malia doesn't like sugar."

With that, the spell shatters. John slumps into a chair at the dining table, all pretense of distracting his hands and mind vanished in an instant. He rubs his large hands over his face; Stiles is drawn to a thick gold band on his left. A wedding ring.

But not the one Stiles' mother gave him.

Stiles suspected as much, and still he's surprised by the knife to his heart. Seven years is a long time by any count of the clock.

He's alive, he tells himself. He's alive, and that's far more than Stiles ever expected.

John sighs and finally parts his fingers to look at him. "Are you really my son?"

Stiles thinks up a hundred ways to answer this. Who else would I be? No, I'm his twin. No, I'm his ghost. Instead, he nods.

"How?" Now the damn has broken, words pour forth. "Why? What happened? Where have you been? I thought..."

I thought you were dead.

"It's..." Stiles grasps for the words. "It's a long story, dad. But I thought you were dead, too. I would've tried to come back sooner if I'd known you were alive."

Is that the truth? Stiles honestly doesn't know.

"Stiles." Malia's voice demands his immediate attention. She's standing across the kitchen next to the noticeboard, pulling aside a few postcards and bill notices to reveal a piece of yellowed paper beneath.

A piece of paper pinned exactly where Stiles had pinned it seven years ago, written in his own childish handwriting. A chasm opens up beneath his heart.

"You said you wouldn't be gone long," John whispers, as transfixed as everyone else by the paper. "A few hours. And I-" his voice breaks, "I didn't even notice it for three days. I was too..." Too drunk. The words hang in the air, unspoken, because if they were then something - probably his father - would break from the impact.

"I didn't mean to be gone long," Stiles finds himself half-laughing. "A few hours. A normal day. But."

But.

He remembers the day he met Peter Hale like it's seared into his eyelids. The sun beat down as he climbed through overgrown trees in the Beacon Hills Preserve. He had been coming this way for months now. At first there had been no real goal except away, and that was enough. He had longed to travel further, to run as far as possible and never return, hike all the way to the East coast if he could manage it.

Instead, he had found the burnt-out shell of a huge house deep in the preserve. Blackened wooden structure, creaking in the breeze, still smelling of charcoal and ash and an awful acrid smell he would one day learn to be cooked flesh.

Five months since the Hale fire. Eleven since the death of Claudia Stilinski.

Even as a child, morbid curiosity had consumed him relentlessly. Hours spent exploring these ruins had revealed a treasure trove of what the young Stiles had called evidence, clues to the origin of the fire, or the identities of the people who had once occupied the home. A blackened cutlery set buried in the remains of what was probably a table. A teddy bear burnt half to cinders, holding its shape only until Stiles reached to touch it, and it blew to ash on the wind.

He'd cried and run away as fast as his short legs could carry him, that time.

This house of fire and ghosts had been his safe haven from the dark hollow of home - emptier and scarier for the fact that it still had two living residents haunting its halls. At least the Hale house reflected its occupants.

No childhood home should be so unwelcome.

That day, when his life had blown to the wind just like the ashes of the house he found sanctuary in, had started like any other. He'd left the house that afternoon with his usual, unnoticed routine. A torch with extra batteries, a water bottle, a pack of nuts for if he lost track of time and got hungry. A note for his father, scrawled as a hasty afterthought - pointless thus far, but it would be just like his father to emerge from his haze long enough to call a search and rescue, to find Stiles in the woods, to ground him once and for all inside the house. Imprisoned with no escape at all.

His visits had been kept to the ground floor of the house until then - his parents had instilled enough common sense in him to not risk the rotting stairs giving way beneath his feet.

But the basement, with its chiselled stone steps, was an entirely different question. Fear of the dark had kept him out this long, but curiosity of the unknown would always win out.

Even with all his preparation, descending the stairs in the Hale house felt like descending into hell. His torch guttered every few steps, despite a change of batteries, and as the shadows swallowed him he found himself wishing his father was there - not the father he had now, so much fuel in his system a stray cinder would set him ablaze. But the father who cried when they watched movies. Who made him hot cocoa on nights when the house felt too hollow with just the two of them. Whose smile was like sunshine filtering through clouds, who made the world a little bit warmer. The father who had thrown himself between every punch and barb his mother had thrown at her son in those last, awful days.

He knocked the torch against his head as if to clear them both. The light steadied. His thoughts grounded to here, now, and he descended into the dark.

The walls of the basement - a huge, round room, supported by columns at regular intervals - were made of rough stone, construction so old Stiles could barely fathom. His torch beam washed over scars in the stone, deep, repetitive gouges like claw marks. They layered the walls like paint.

Somewhere at the end of the room, pale daylight fell through a grate near the ceiling, washing the space in something other. This felt like somewhere ghosts lived and died. Where the walls between worlds were less than paper thin. He shivered, but not from the cold - this room was an oven, the memory of flames trapped between the bricks. He could smell the aftermath of smoke, see the char coating the bricks in places where the fire had burned brightest. He even thought he could hear the crackle and snap of wood and oxygen ablaze.

His heart dropped like a stone. He could hear something. At the other end of the room, a low rumble, like an earthquake cracking upwards through the floor, or a huge animal breathing. The crackle of dead leaves disintegrating beneath a shifting form.

Breath escaped Stiles, vanished like so much smoke. He gasped - a choked, aborted sound - and stumbled back towards the stairs. An animal that big should not exist, certainly not here, in California, in Beacon Hills, in this house which had become his haven. How long had it lurked beneath the dying floorboards? Had it listened to his movements, waiting for him to come to it, knowing somehow that a meal would walk to it with open arms if it just waited?

The next moments are little more than a blur. He remembers, in flashes. The sudden stillness of an animal waking, listening, waiting. Tripping, falling onto the stairs, his knees and palms scraping against stone in his desperation to get away. The face of death looming over him, a creature of towering shadow and fur practically falling over itself in its desperation to get him. Yellow claws, yellow teeth, sharp as razors.

Then fire - he was alight, ablaze, burning right along with the rest of the house, except it wasn't his flesh but his veins, fizzing with energy and adrenaline.

He was a phoenix, though he hadn't known it then, crumbling to ash only to emerge newly gold.

He hadn't known that crazed, ravenous creature in the basement to be Peter Hale then, hadn't connected him to the handsome stranger who'd happened upon him hours later in a crumpled heap of blood and dying leaves. And by the time he'd realised they were the same person, years later, he had already forgiven his alpha for any past crimes committed in the haze of fire-sparked insanity.

He had never told Peter he knew. He was willing to let the weight sit on his shoulders, allow Peter's to remain free of any more, for fear this would be the blow that crushed him to the ground. That was his job as beta, as family, as pack.

He's more than a little willing to let his father wallow in his mistakes, though. What does he owe this man sitting before him? Everything, a small voice tells him, the child of sunshine smiles and hot cocoa. Nothing, another voice argues, all jaded smiles and sharp edges. Stiles is neither of those voices, not anymore. Not entirely.

I have three heads. Cut off one, I become stronger. Cut off two, I become ten. What am I?

"I'm here now, dad," he finds himself saying. "I'm alive. You're alive." There's something aching in his chest, something he's been repressing beneath layers of time and pain, and now it threatens to consume him.

Strong arms wrap around him, and he is eight years old again. His father smells of ink and metal and flowers. The world feels small, feels safe, for just an instant.

"Stiles, Stiles," John murmurs into his hair like a prayer, as if it will keep Stiles here, keep him real, keep him alive.

Stiles cries, a dam he's kept below water finally crumbling; it doesn't feel half as awful as he'd feared.

#fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #malia tate #sheriff stilinski #own work #morgan writes

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tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

All is fair in Love & War - 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Everything. We’re talking violence and killing (though not detailed), angsting, illness, fluffing, scheming, master/pet, citrus fruits (one sided...but detailed), probably a lot more. But hey! No swearing! A/N: This is a semi-AU in the sense that it is in a sort of medieval/fairy-tale setting, but Loki and MCU’s version of Nordic mythology still applies. I’ve taken the liberty of tagging people who’ve reposted, but if you do want a tag pls let me know.

5. Limits

You hear the shouting but cannot be bothered to look around for what is happening. Only when the noises turn to screams do you attempt to sit up although each movement makes your head pound and spin. It takes a few tries and by then it is quieting down again but you still struggle to open your eyes that have begun crusting together, dry like your mouth and throat from too long without anything to drink. Squinting through the haze, you can see someone slumped on the floor in the hallway. Is the place under attack? Slurred thoughts dance in and out of your mind, constantly eluding focus although a part of you attempts a certain optimism in the midst of your weakened condition. Perhaps the Midgardian forces have been able to finally move past Loki’s defenses? Someone will find you, bring you home? They can’t. The rejection surprises you, although not as much as your own silent laughter, and you collapse back into the bed just as someone enters the room.

The voice is familiar. Strangely comforting. Gentle hands examine you and lift you into the arms of the person. Black hair. Soft words are cooed as encouragement to cooperate, but they are not needed as you neither can nor want to resist as a glass is pushed to your lips and the cool content dribbles in. Greedily you suck at the rim, slurping the liquid into you as if your life depends on it…which it does. That is why you whine as your caretaker stops administering the drink.

“Mmm-mo…” Despite your efforts, your voice falters.

The man, because it is a man, has understood you anyways. “I know, but we must take care, pet. It seems you have gone too long without wet or dry and we do not whish for you to get worse.” He returns you to the warm embrace of the furs, allowing you to drift in and out of sleep.

Each time you wake he is there. Tending the fire, proffering sweetened water and later broth for you to drink…or simply sitting by the bedside watching over you. As your health returns, so too does the knowledge of what has happened and who is playing nurse. It should make you wary. Instead it comforts you. Soon, you can sit up in bed unaided and eat solid meals which Loki himself brings you, and you actively strife to regain you strength through exercise in the brief moments the captor and guardian leaves the chamber.

It is after one of these intervals, where Loki has been gone for a while, that you decide to find out what happened. He has brought paper and thin, bark-wrapped sticks of charcoal for you to practice your writing while he himself sits nose deep in a book. Crooked letters and raw sketches of people only you remember litters the page before you…however, one is a figure slumped against the wall.

“Lo-your highness?” No fault in staying on his good side. He hums in a manner you interpret as a go-ahead. “When you came back…what was happening? Was the keep under attack?”

Green eyes bore into you as if to discern what you know, but eventually his face transforms into an emotionless mask. “It was not,” he offers coldly, “however I expect any servant of mine to follow my commands. Failure to do so has consequences.”

“But the screaming, sire?” The small hairs on your arms and neck are standing to attention.

The smirk is dark. Gruesome. “Consequences.” Closing the book, he puts it down and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. “Understand this, my pet, although my servants do not understand much of what I do or why, they have been warned never to disobey me or mistreat anything belonging to me.” A cold hand pushes a strand of escaped hair away for your face. “Those at fault have been punished to set an example for the rest to understand that I, their new master, will tolerate nothing less than pure loyalty.”

As frightening as the words are, coming from a monster with the powers of a god, it is something else that catches your attention. “New master?”

The chuckle is surprisingly warm. “Yes. Do you recall we spoke of the Aesir-Jötun War?” You nod. “After the death of Laufey, someone else was sent to rule Jotunheim under the watchful eye of Odin. To ease the transition, a descendant of Laufey, but one who had lived his entire life in Asgard, was chosen. In blood from Jotunheim. In allegiance…to Asgard.”

The schemes of royalty and their rich allies had never been something you spent much time considering. Things were as the were and you could do nothing to influence the events either way. Still, listening to Loki, you can see the strategical value in the choice. You can also see that his whish to be called king is not as far from the truth as you had hoped because the king of Asgard would undoubtedly back up the claim.

“That’s where you went while you were gone…back to Asgard…”

Reaching over, Loki takes the writing tools from you and puts them aside on the dresser before returning to his spot. He sits in silence. Perhaps he’s contemplating what to say? You can feel his gaze burning on any part of you that is visible from the furs as if he is evaluating your condition, assessing the effect of the treatment he is subjecting you to – successfully. Though still emaciated, there is a healthy glow to your skin and your body is beginning to seem a bit fuller. Not much, but enough to help you stay warm, stay awake. He has taken better care of you than you would have expected when he first caught you.

When Loki finally speaks, it is with a severity that startles you. “[Y/N], what are your thoughts on the war between our nations?” His hand is resting on the fur where your knee is hidden beneath.

It is strange to hear your name on his lips, but that (as well as other of the names he calls you) is becoming endearing. “I…” You pause, because frankly you do not know what to think anymore. “It seems that I don’t know all there’s to know…” An image of a commander sleeping in a tent stirs in your memories. “That we, us common soldiers, haven’t been told the…the entire truth.”

Instead of pulling away when he reaches for your hand, you allow him to run his thumb over the knuckles while he talks about the journey that he has been on to visit outposts and fortify the defenses at the front, to meet with allies and spies to attain information crucial to the campaign. According to the god, things are going well, and the Midgardian armies have been forced to retreat in many areas with a minimum of losses on both sides. Perhaps he’s lying, you think, but a part of you objects at that notion. From the little you have seen just of Jotunheim, the hosts at Utgard alone would make short work of the scattered companies trying to cross the border.

You fall asleep to his soothing voice, drifting into a dreamless slumber peacefully.

… LOKI’s POV …

[Y/N]’s breathing has slowed to a steady rhythm long ago, but he still finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her thin hand. I should not be this soft. And yet, how can he not want to care for this fragile, little creature that she is?

The moment he decided to spare her life, to turn her against her own king and utilize her, he also knew that he would have to treat her much kinder than it would be appropriate in the eyes of his own people. Violence and mistreatment would not be the way to get her to do his bidding. The fierce stubbornness should be guided, not be broken…it is too endearing anyways. And that there is the problem. Somewhere, during her time as his captive, he had begun to see her as more than just a tool and a body he normally would ravish, take repeatedly until he would grow bored and then throw away. The day he returned and saw what his servants had done, he had feared for the Midgardian’s life and it had sent him into a fit of rage. A desperate panic had fueled the violence as he sought out every single one of the people responsible for [Y/N]’s care. And after he was done with them and had tended to the woman’s immediate needs, he had scoured the palace for any who had known of the disobedience. He saw to it personally that they were tied up in the courtyard and then he flogged them. The message could not be clearer: do not betray your king’s trust.

A sigh escapes the sleeping woman, bringing him back to the present. Turning in her sleep, she holds on to his hand and a tiny smile graces her full lips for the first time. She may be a mortal, but the power she is beginning to hold over Loki is unsettling and he knows he will have to do something about it.

… READER’s POV …

Day by day you grow stronger and take to pacing the room and seeking any other sort of exercise possible within the chamber. Naturally, it cannot stay hidden from Loki for long, but he seems pleased with your initiative rather then scolding you for pushing yourself and he even walks beside you the length of the corridor and back several times to study your prowess. Dark patches stain the floor as though pools of dark liquid have seeped into the wood, and you try not to think of what it must be from although you know beyond a doubt. Frighteningly, your captor seems not to be the slightest bothered by it. His eyes are fixed on your form sweating under the sudden change in activity, and when your legs threaten to give out under you, he is there to hold you in an almost tender embrace.

“Well done, my pet,” he beams at you with sparkling eyes, “I believe you deserve a reward.”

Without further ado, he lifts you in his arms as though you weigh no more than a kitten and carries you all the way to the bathing hall where he perches you in one of the chairs before calling for water.

Since you were left to die in your room, this is the first time you see anyone else besides Loki and you cannot help to feel a certain apprehension as the servants begin to hurry to and from with buckets of steaming water, but none of them dare glance as you as long as their master is present.

The door closes behind the last one, leaving you alone and safe with the god. I shouldn’t feel safe. Yet, you do…until he stoops by you to remove your shawl. Clinging to it, you are painfully aware how little strength you have left to oppose him, but rather than enforce his will with violence he kneels to meet your frightened gaze.

“I understand, little one, but you have nothing to fear.” Slowly, he reaches to cup you cheek in his cold palm so gently that you find yourself leaning into his touch. “Allow me to help you.”

This time you do not object when he begins to undress you, carefully avoiding touching your bare skin until you sit before him completely naked, arms pressed against your chest to shield your self from his eyes as much as the prickling air. With a quick movement he lifts you like a child once more, holding you so close against his chest that his heartbeat is strong through the silk of his blouse in the few seconds it takes to carry you to the large tub.

A sigh escapes you as the warm water engulfs you, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. For a moment that is your entire world: the scalding cocoon of liquid and Loki’s hand still supporting your back. You can hear him rummage with the bottles of scented oils and soon the aromas of pine needles and lavender fills the air around you, luring you to relax and lean back with closed eyes. A part of you prompts you to cover yourself while the god washes your face and hair before moving along the shoulders to each arm with lazy circles of a sponge.

“Move forward so I can scrub your back.”

Silently, you obey, gripping the rims of the tub for support as you press against your thighs to rest the chin on the knobbly knees. There’s soft splashing of water and you feel the waves kiss your face, still it is not before you feel two strong limbs slither past you on either side in the tub that you realize that Loki is sitting behind you, his legs barely grazing you skin. A hot fear rolls over you, stealing your breath in the process. Flashes of memories present themselves in quick succession: the tight grip on a throat, wandering fingers across breasts, and the hard erection pressed against comparatively small body. But it is the sponge that touches upon your back, stroking in lazy circles to allow the oils and herbs in the water to affect the tense muscles.

At some point, he hands you the sponge, prompting you to clean the last areas. Happy to be allowed to see to cleaning your private parts, you do as you are told, deciding in turn not to object as cool hands massage your shoulders. Somehow, as your own hands move downwards, you find yourself leaning into Loki’s embrace, smothering a moan of appreciation at the sensation of his chest against your bare back. Reaching between the folds at your core, you cannot be bothered to be surprised at the slickness there that not even the water can completely rinse away. I shouldn’t want this…but it is needless to chastise yourself for the smoldering need and growing trust that has arisen between you and the god.

Strong hands move to your hips, pulling you flush against him with no effort to even attempt hiding the stiff cock that presses into your lower back, coaxing a tiny gasp from you. Cradling your head, he lowers it to his shoulder, granting a view of your body disappearing into the milky waters.

“Let me –” a soft kiss on your jaw punctuates the sentence – “make you –“ this time the kiss lands below your ear – “feel –“ on your shoulder – “good.” The last kiss is on your neck, making you sigh in delight.

Loki is surprisingly gentle as he explores your curves. The big hands that have grabbed with near untamed strength on other occasions are now stroking and massaging every inch of skin, often favouring your breasts and the tender nipples that happily perk in response to his ministrations. The first soft moan escapes you when cool finger dance on a hidden path from hip to apex of your thighs. A shudder of anticipation and apprehension runs through you as Loki strokes along the folds while nudging your legs apart with the other hand before it returns to cup your breast.

The god is skilled with his hands. Playing you like an instrument, he soon has you creating the most sinful sounds and arching under his touch as waves of delight rolls through you each time he strokes, circles or adds pressure all the right places. More often than not, he slips a couple of the long fingers inside your burning core to find new ways of calling forth waves of growing sensitivity. Your own hands can find no rest until you bury your fingers in the black tresses to pull yourself closer to him and you feel a growl reverberate in his chest, feel his cock twitch against your back. Whatever the simple action has released in Loki, you feel the shift in his body and in the way he holds you tighter while kissing and nibbling at your neck before finding your lips.

That’s how you topple over the precipice. Lips locked in a first kiss, his arm possessively holding you to his chest, and his finger playing with every nerve of your core. You ride out the orgasm on his hand. Each guttural moan swallowed greedily by the god.

…

What have I done?

Somehow, you had managed to fall asleep after Loki had carried you back to your room, but you woke up before sunrise and found yourself unable to chase away the many self-reprimanding thoughts that woke with you.

Pulling the shawl closer around the shoulders, you dig the last embers free from under the ashes and add kindling with practiced hands. Soon, the flames are dancing eating happily off the firewood, casting long shadows that leap and dance with each flicker. I shouldn’t have let him.

Dressing yourself is bothersome due to the silly ribbons and impractically flowy sleeves (even though you’ve carefully chosen a dress with as little embellishment as possible. If this is the fashion of noble women, then you are more than happy to remain a plain girl from the country side. In the little village by the quarry, there is no room for these delicate fabrics and frilly laces. I should never have left – look at me now!

Then you make the bed and sit to practice the writing, carefully tracing each letter to spell out your name, Midgard, the capital Sjöblik, and Jotunheim (although you are fairly certain you must have gotten that one wrong: J-O-O-T-U-N-H-A-Y-M). Running out of names, you start scribbling your thoughts onto the paper, allowing your memories of home to guide you until you grow frustrated with your own lack of speed. Words are slow and clumsy, you feel, and the charcoal begins a different dance across the page to depict the jagged mountains so high that the snow never leaves the pinnacles. The darkness of the forest skirting the slopes rubs onto your fingers, finds the fine lines of your hands to nestle in before becoming smudges on anything you touch. Filthy.

The part of you that is an obedient Midgardian who has been raised to serve her king unquestionably feels a suffocating guilt that makes the bile turn in your stomach. As long as you remember, everything in your life has been a question of what the king needs to secure the country. Your father worked for many years in the quarry together with your two older brothers until the captain came to the village and drafted them to the war. But the king needed his taxes regardless, so your mother took over her husbands work while you kept tending to the livestock (both your own and the rest of the villagers’).

It wasn’t enough.

Next year when the tax collectors came, they took the old cow, the handful of sheep and all but one scrawny chicken. Unless you could get to town regularly to buy food, then you would have to hunt or fish. But hunting was forbidden, and even if you had had the money the town was too far away. So you went to the quarry with your mother one morning, and while the workers went to their daily task, you sought ought the foreman hoping to be accepted as a day labourer. That’s when it happened. The rumble of falling stones overpowered every other sound, the earth shook, and you knew. You just…knew. You did not need to run to the site of the collapse for any other reason that find the one or two survivors. Without warning you were alone.

That’s why you had left to join the king’s army. Maybe, you had thought, you would be lucky to find your father or brothers or at least get news of them. Were they even alive? As it turned out, the probably weren’t because the battalions they had been in had been unsuccessful in their raids of what had been called the reclamation of Midgardian territory in the north.

Now you know better.

Well, if I can trust what Loki says.

If only you could find out more. Words spoken many months ago come back on dark wings. What once sounded like a threat from the god is now becoming a promise, a viable option to consider: become a tool, a spy to gain access where Loki or other of his allies cannot to learn what the Midgardian king and his supporters are plotting. Find the truth.

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grotesquegabby · 5 years

Text

Like A Phoenix

@post-itpenny

For the Mafia au

Billy’s cashing in on his favor of Maggie for a friend~

To say Maggie was frustrated she lost would be an understatement. She was beyond pissed and not looking forward to her ‘dabut’ as Billy had called it. She recalled what he said the day they did their wager.

~~~~~~

“Now here is the address and time you should be there. Tell them William sent you.” Maggie took the slip of paper irritably and glared at it, “What happens after that? This isn’t a trap is it” She accused.

Billy rolled his eyes, “For fucks sake birdie, no. I’m cashing in my favor for an old friend. Besides better you than me right~” He had caught a loose strand of her hair and was playing with it. She leered at him and took a step back standing her ground.

“Knowing my friend, she’s going to put you into some interesting clothes. I can’t wait to see it~”

~~~~~~

Maggie frowned, interesting clothes...what could that mean. She sure hoped she wasn’t going to have to model...lingerie. A shiver ran down her spine and a scowl appeared on her face. She had to catch a cab to get to it, it was further in the city. Taking a step out she looked at her surroundings. In front of her was a gorgeous old building well preserved, “Is this the place?” she asked mostly herself. The cab driver grumbled a yeah and swiftly drove off. She grumbled, what was his problem. With a long drawn out sigh she headed into the building. The entrance was enormous, the building going farther in. It had to be, Maggie noticed the large stage that was being set up along with a run way.

“Oh hell no...” She mumbled to herself ready to bail. As she turned around a voice caught her off guard. “And...Who might you be”

Maggie turned around and almost choked, a gorgeous woman with a black fur coat adorning herself stood a few feet away. Her long silky hair done in a stylish updo. Despite her young looks her eyes held wisdom beyond her years. “um...I uh...” The woman looked down at Maggies hand, “Are you the little bird whose come to help me with my show.” Maggie gave a look but quickly let it pass, “little bird? uh....where?” “Billy told me.” replied the woman smoothly Maggie almost choked, “Billy huh?” She was trying not to laugh, “well at least you seem nicer than him.” The woman glared a bit, “Has he been rude?” Maggie scoffed, “Rude, you could say that.” The woman smirked, “I see, well little bird. Let me welcome you properly, my name is Miss Nox.” She held out her hand, Maggie took hold of it and shook, “I’m Maggie.” “oh I know.” She replied with a grin. Maggie slowly took her hand back, “Billy told you I take it.” “Oh no dear, I found out on my own. Now follow me please, we have much work to do.” As they walked further in. A few of the employees of the building hurried over fawning over Miss Nox. “Let me take your coat.” She of course let one of them, it falling gracefully off of her. Revealing a tight black dress underneath. Maggie didn’t know what to think of this woman. Was she really just a model. Maggie kept her eyes on her while she led the way, men and woman alike flocking to her asking her if she needed anything. She would lift a hand to wave them off, politely reply with a no thank you.

“Maggie dear, I will be having you model at least four dresses. Five if you are up for it, of course I plan on paying you for assistance today.” Miss Nox stopped to look over the spread for the event. Maggie stopped as well, taken aback, “What? Blueblood never mentioned anything about being paid.” Miss Nox had a curious expression, “Interesting, he was the one who suggested it. Now the food at this table I must insist you do not touch it is for the guests but...there is food backstage that you can help yourself too. I think you will enjoy it, I know you have quite the sweet tooth.”

To say Maggie was even more shocked wasn’t a surprise, “He...suggested it..” “Oh yes, when he told me he was cashing in his favor he suggested I pay you for the event. Perhaps it was to convince you to go through with it more....but seeing as you didn’t know till now. I’m curious Maggie, what is it you did or said to make my fallen angel act so generous.” An all knowing grin adorned her features and Maggie was left speechless, “I..um....psh. There’s no way...wait fallen angel.” Maggie snickered to herself. Miss Nox continued onto the back of the stage with Maggie in tow. Maggie gasped and ran to a table, sure enough what Miss Nox had said was true. A table was spread out with fine treats mostly sweet things. 3 fancy looking beverage dispensers sat next to each other on one side of the table. Each marked with water, pink lemonade and pomegranite tea. “This is for the models, no offense but I thought models were all on strict diets.” Miss Nox picked up what appeared to be a tart, “oh some are, but as I run my company I want my models to actually eat. I also have models of different types here to represent all men and women. It’s only fair. Help yourself, I am going to pick out some dresses that will go nicely with your hair color.” With those last words she sauntered off.

Maggie indeed did help herself, she grabbed a plate and piled it on with tarts, cookies, and all manner of treats. She didn’t know how long she had till this show but at the moment she didn’t care with the spread before her.

She had found a seat near by a small table and watched others walking around. Some getting their hair or make up done. While some were looking for the person who was supposed to be helping them during the show. Apparently everyone was supposed to have a helper of some sort. To get them in an out of clothes quickly. Maggie rolled her eyes, this was definitely not her thing and she can’t believe she lost to that bastard. She snickered to herself remembering what Miss Nox called him.

People gave Maggie odd looks as she had quite the odd expression on while she ate her treats. But Maggie didn’t seem to notice as she giggled to herself quietly.

She didn’t even notice a silent shadow slip its way by her a gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump and she was ready to strike. She stopped when she noticed it was Miss Nox. “oh it’s just you.” she sighed a little with relief and somewhat out of frustration. She really wasn’t feeling up to this, what if she made a fool of herself. “I have all the outfits picked out for you dear, if you will just follow me. I will be the one doing your hair and makeup.”

Maggie didn’t really know what to expect but she surely wasn’t used to the way her hair was being done. Miss Nox was unsurprisingly gentle with her hair, even if she found a knot she took care of it with ease. Once Miss Nox was done, she asked her, “How do you like it.” Maggies hair had been lightly curled letting a bit frame her face, as the rest was put into an updo. Some was turned into a braided crown upon her head. She was speechless and it made her feel...pretty. Miss Nox smiled, “I see you like it. Now because you already have such fair skin. I don’t think I will put too much make up on you. Just enough to bring out your eyes, along with a little lipstick.” Maggie found herself a little flustered at the thought. It didn’t take long either. A dark shade of red adorned Maggies lips along with some autumn colors for her eyes, a small touch of dark green eyeshadow. The her that looked back in the mirror surprised her. She never thought she could look such a way.

She snuck a glance at Miss Nox and mumbled a thank you. Miss Nox only smiled at her, “oh we’re almost done. You have four dresses to display for me today. Come with me please.” Maggie stood up carefully and made sure not to touch her face or hair as much as she wanted too. Miss Nox brought her to the dressing area where all the models were getting into their first dresses with their assistants help. “Aren’t you a model...why aren’t you doing this instead?” Maggie couldn’t help the question that popped out. It made the woman in front of her stop, “yes I am but I also own this modeling agency, these clothes are of my own design. So I get others to model them.” She pulled over a rack of five dresses. Maggie gave it a look, remembering she said four. “The fifth dress is if you are willing to model it for me. You do not have too if you do not want too.” She pulled a dark dress down, the top being black with red accents, the skirts flowing and billowy. It was backless. “Change into this one first I’ll get you the shoes to go with it.” Miss Nox motioned to one of the changing rooms and Maggie took the dress. Miss Nox looked through the shoes nearby, “So little bird what is your relationship to my dear William, if I may ask.” She had closed the door and started to change. Maggie sighed and huffed, “We don’t have any relationship he’s just..” She tried to pick her words carefully, “rude. So I’m rude back.” She heard a small chuckle behind the door, “I see, don’t be too harsh with him now. He’s a much better person than he lets on.” Maggie rolled her eyes not really believing it entirely.

“You know I’m a little disappointed. I was truly hoping he would model for me, though I am glad he sent someone as beautiful as you.” Maggie almost choked at the compliment, and then recollected herself, “him modeling?” She couldn’t see it but assumed that the woman was nodding, “oh yes, he loved to do it when he was young. Trying all manner of clothes and materials on to dresses, suits, heels.” Miss Nox sighed, “but considering his...line of work now. I know he has a reputation to uphold. Here slip on this shoes.” Maggie took hold of the shoes above her door and sat down to put them on, a dark red heel with ankle buckles.

“I apologize on behalf of him.”

Now that took Maggie by surprise, “um...why?” “He’s harsh due to his ...business among other things. Please don’t view him so...how do I put this. I’m afraid I don’t have the words for it.” Maggie listened carefully as the woman known as Miss Nox tried to come up with something. “He used to be so nice, but don’t blame him. His mothers the devil after all.” Maggie frowned, “I don’t fully...understand.” She opened the door and smoothed down the dress. Miss Nox looked at her with a smile, “You look absolutely breathtaking, like a fairy in autumn.”

She brought Maggie over to a mirror to see herself and Maggie looked herself over in the mirror. She looked and felt so beautiful. “We still have some time before I have to go on right?” Miss Nox nodded. “Can you explain what you meant?” she asked mostly out of curiosity. Miss Nox gave a sad smile, “Let’s just say his mother...wasn’t very kind to him when he was a child. Does that make sense.” Maggie frowned but nodded, “Is she still?....” “Alive?...unfortunately so.” Nox replied in a disgusted tone. She handed Maggie a cup of water with a straw, so as not to ruin her lipstick. “I’ll give you her name so you can avoid her.” Miss Nox pulled out her phone, “Her name is Thyone H. Vespa, she is the Boss of the Vespa Gang. You might recognize this symbol.” She pulled a picture up on her phone that of a bee pin. Maggie shook her head, “Never seen it before but I’ve heard of them.”

“Well now you know what they look like. She used to be married to Billy’s father who I’m sure you know was the head of the blueblood family though it wasn’t called blueblood when he was in charge.” Miss Nox said as she turned off her phone. “What was it called?” asked Maggie curiously. Miss Nox grinned, “That’s a story for another and information with a price.”

“Now there’s just one thing we need to do before you go on.”

“And what might that be...” Maggie had a weird feeling in her gut.

“You need to leave your boa.”

Maggie gripped onto it tightly, “no I can’t!” Miss Nox quietly brought her hands down, “Shhhh....there is no need to worry Maggie. No harm will come to it, I saw the moment you came in it was very dear to you. I promise I will keep it safe.” She held her hands out to Maggie carefully with a gentle smile. Maggie sighed and still held it tight and weighing her options and everything that transpired she reluctantly handed it over. “Nothing bad will happen to it?” she questioned. “Nothing bad will happen at all, I promise you.” Miss Nox made a motion to cross her heart. Maggie sighed and nodded. The show was going to start in three minutes.

Maggie gulped nervously and looked out at the crowd, music was on. And of course he was there right at the end of the cat walk. Watching, he smirked and gave a wave to her. She watched a gorgeous blonde walk out in a light blue dress, it flowed behind her, they had a fan blowing gently from above to get that look on all the models. Miss Nox stood by Maggie, “You’re up next, and remember do a pose at the end for 3 seconds and head back to quickly get into the next dress.” Maggie gave a nervous smile and looked at the woman who had quickly accepted her, given her food, and done nothing but help her in this situation she found herself in. “Thank you Miss Nox.” She smiled at Maggie, “You are most welcome, and please. Call me Calliope.”

The show seemed to go by quickly, Maggie having modeled the four dresses. The flowing red and black. The second one, a sheer deep green dress, that had long see through sleeves and exposed the fronts of her legs. With a red ruby necklace to go with it. The third being a red womans suit, Green heeled boots and a black diamond choker. The final fourth being a red gown with her front legs in black nylon exposed, heels clicking upon the stage. Black feathers adorning her shoulders. Calliope having said it was perfect for her, very bird like.

She went back to Calliope, “This was...fun. I had fun.” Calliope smiled, “I’m happy to hear it would you be willing to model the last dress. Once again you do not have too if you do not want too.” Maggie looked at it, it was a mystery to what it looked like. As it was covered in white plastic but she nodded, “I’d love too.” Calliope took the dress off the hanger and handed it to her to quickly change into. Maggie went in and removed the plastic. It was a long gown some of it would clearly drag behind her, a deep red color that glittered in the light, low cut in the front and sleeves that would drape across ones shoulders. She quickly got dressed, and took the red ruby flats that Calliope handed to her.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have one last dress to show you. Modeled by a Miss Maggie.”

The lights came onto the center. Maggie came out carefully, standing tall as Calliope had instructed her. The crowd applauded as she did an effortless turn at the end of the cat walk. She caught his eye and he simply nodded with a grin and clapped.

Perhaps he wasn’t so bad...

eh who was she kidding he was still an ass.

The end of the show came quick and Maggie was getting ready to leave. Calliope came over and handed over her boa, “unharmed like I promised.” Maggie put it on and held it close, “Thank you again.” Calliope nodded with a smile, “oh I almost forgot, here. Your payment, I did it in cash I hope that’s alright.” A rather thick and big envelope was handed to Maggie and she looked at it suspiciously, “it is just cash in here right?”

“Oh yes, I do hope it’s enough for all your help today. Anyway Maggie I believe I will be seeing you around. Have a good rest of your night.” With that Calliope walked off.

Maggie opened the big yellow envelope and sure enough it was cash...a lot of it. She almost choked, “how much is in here.” She saw a slip of paper in it and took it out. It was a note from Calliope.

‘Dear Maggie,

I double counted it myself to make sure you got the full payment. I hope five grand is enough, it’s not much. But I hope it helps you in the near future. It was an absolute pleasure to have you model for me. If you ever are in need of a friend let me know.

Sincerely Your Friend Calliope F. Nox’

Maggie read over the letter a couple more times

five grand!!

for modeling a couple dresses!!!

It’s not much, but hope it helps!!!!

Maggie almost felt herself screech in shock but held it in and quickly left. This money would surely help her future plans.

#mafia au #maggie #Billy #Calliope

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